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Part Three

"Another beer!" she shouted over the din of the crowd. The bar was jumping, as it often was. There was nothing like a bar to entertain the average Graviton and, even though she wasn't fully Graviton, she had to agree that the ambiance wasn't bad. This one was one of her favourite haunts. After a hard day's work at the prison, which currently had three criminals in it, she liked to come here and kick off her boots.

A mug of beer appeared at her elbow, and a handsome Graviton took a leisurely look up and down at her. Free beer for a cheap thrill? It seemed like a fair enough deal, provided he wasn't too awful a conversationalist. She wasn't really looking for a date at present, but what the heck, a good Graviton never turned down free booze. She thanked him warmly and took a long swig.

He was friendly enough. He kept the conversation to safe topics, probably just wanting a one-night stand. The beer was strong and her vision was starting to blur. That made sense, she'd had quite a few beers before he showed up, and her tolerance wasn't as high as that of her mother. He even offered to give her a lift home when she realized there was no way in hell she'd be able to drive herself. As he helped her into the passenger seat her head began swimming even more. The stranger began to laugh and picked up a radio. "I've got her," he said. She blacked out.

Cameo mulled over Mystan's report. They had two names, but nothing concrete. A bulletin put out across the moons might flag them, especially if they didn't realize they'd been found out. It was just the kind of sloppiness that he had been hoping for. It sounded too easy, but maybe he was trying to see layers where there weren't any.

Currently he, along with Nitro and Nuiane were headed for the Royal Moon. While the Icewalkers had been generous enough to ferry them around in their ship, it did have other business it needed to tend to. They would take a rest and continue the investigation from there. Cameo had a private shuttle if he needed it, so transportation wasn't a serious issue. Still, Luna would need a report eventually, and hearing that he spent half his time travelling wouldn't make her happy.

Besides, it would be nice to be around Psikaris, someone who could be reasonable. Nitro had been more than happy to hear that a pair of Psions were involved, as though that confirmed what he thought of the race. It probably also gave him a point over Mystan. Another two hours and he would be home. Happier thoughts.

For his part, Psychro had never felt such anger before. Knowing that Myrik abused and assaulted Fantasy had been bad enough on its own, that plus the threats and innuendos, but to see such acts taking place in front of him was appalling. And for what? To try and get Psychro to give up information that he could just as easily pull directly from his head? It was a bloody power trip, that's what it was. Myrik took great pleasure in breaking people. The worst of it was that he knew some of those women would blame him for their plight instead of directing their energy at the real culprit.

It was tempting, truth be told, to give in. There were many who would claim that Psychro had no redeeming qualities, but that wasn't true. He didn't like seeing others hurt unless they deserved it. In a simple 'me versus you' situation, his self-preservation would kick in, but he still didn't like making that kind of choice. The only exception to the rule was his sister. Poor Psikaris, wherever she was.

" I had hoped that I wouldn't have to make this personal..." Myrik had said. Was he going after Psikaris? The thought was horrifying. An unwanted image appeared of Psikaris, degrading herself like the others had, appeared. He wouldn't dare. Nothing on any moon would stop Psychro from protecting his sister, which meant he had work to do. He settled on the floor beside the door, taking a close look at the guards. None of them were paying attention, one was even asleep. Good. He took off his steel toed boots and quietly began chipping away at the rock on the opposite side of the force field generator.

Black Tiger stared as the door to the barracks opened and the collection of women walked in. They looked angry and confused. There was hurt on those faces, meaning their special mission hadn't been quite so special. Chedra was the scariest to see, her face an expressionless mask. Her body was covered in bruises, and it looked like her nose had been broken. She winced as she sat down on her mattress, but then the self-imposed mask returned. Merma seemed rattled, but went one by one to the others, inspecting their wounds.

"What happened? What was the mission?" Another asked.

"It was horrible," a Darkling/Psion replied. "He treated us nicely and then abused us. That bastard."

"It's all that guy's fault. He had the chance to save us and he didn't, ungrateful wretch. I hope Myrik does to him what he did to me," a Royal/Graviton snarled.

"Psychro," the words were soft. Barely audible over the commotion. "Myrik had me carve the name in my stomach so we never forget who did this." An Icewalker/Lion raised her tattered and blood soaked shirt to reveal the name. It was a shallow wound, but the name was clear.

Psychro? He was still alive then, and Myrik wanted something out of him. It made sense, if what she knew of his reputation was accurate. He loved his women, had slept with some two hundred of them. But he'd turned it down? Whatever Myrik wanted must be terrible if he wouldn't give it up. What could it be?

"Idiots." Black Tiger had never heard a voice with so much bitterness in it. Everyone turned to listen to Merma. "You think it matters? Myrik wasn't going to let any of us go free. What he did was stall our deaths. Even if Psychro had given in, once Myrik was done with the information he'd be in the mines too. You all know it too, Psychro probably knew it. At least he got a couple of good shots in. And I'm willing to bet he'll suffer more for what he did than what happened to us. I'm not saying I enjoyed it, I'd love to cut out Myrik's heart and eat it, truth be told, but I know who the enemy is, and we saw what he's capable of."

A glimmer of life appeared in Chedra's eye. Black Tiger suspected that the woman agreed with the sentiment. If only they had their powers, they might be able to hold their own against these guards and effect an escape.

"You think that's all I'm capable of? You don't know anything." None of them were aware of Myrik's re-entry, and they wondered how long he had been there. Long enough, she was willing to wager. Not long enough, her mind told her. She remembered how he'd looked at her earlier and had a sneaky feeling that she would wish she could disappear.

Merma screamed suddenly. "No! I didn't mean it. I tried my best, I couldn't save you. I'm sorry! Keep away from me. No, please don't. Stop!" she swung wildly, flailing at imaginary foes.

"You see? Your torments are limited only by my imagination. A doctor meeting the ghosts of all the patients who have died on her operating table. Delicious, isn't it?" Myrik watched, effortlessly implanting the thoughts in Merma's head. He let the illusion drop just as suddenly, and the Icewalker/Human slunk to her mattress to soothe her mind.

He gestured and a pair of guards followed him down the aisle. Black Tiger's heart began pounding, he was heading in her direction, looking for her, no doubt. There was just something about the way he walked that suggested it. She whimpered and found that she was trembling as the fear mounted.

"Ah. There you are. Bring her." Myrik pointed squarely at her and the two guards advanced.

"No!" Chedra pounced, sharp claws raking the face of one guard, a thick Icewalker, and shoving past a Royal. Then a strange thing happened, to Black Tiger's surprise. Myrik gestured at Chedra and found that she was able to resist for a few seconds. Those few seconds bought her time to close the gap. Chedra's claws sank into the tender flesh of his chest, right over where his heart would be.

Spurred on, other women stood and began running. Fists began flying, each getting in the other's way, but enough blows were raining down to make it impossible for Myrik to concentrate on anyone in particular. Even the two guards were pulled into the fracas, finding themselves at the mercy of the prisoners.

The rebellion was over quick. Predictably, Black Tiger added to herself. A feeling of incredible weight filled the room, trapping everyone where they were. On the floor, having been jostled in her attempt to join in, Black Tiger watched as a muscular Graviton patted his gravity carbine. "I thought I heard a commotion in here." Another guard, this one also a Graviton, walked around with a stun pistol and proceeded to stun all the prisoners so that they could uncover Myrik and the other two jailers.

"Bring that one too," Myrik said, pointing at Black Tiger.

"You should probably see a doctor," Crackle said. Myrik didn't want to hear it. He'd gotten sloppy with those prisoners. They had embarrassed, and nearly killed him. They probably would have with all that he'd done to them. He cursed himself for his stupidity, even as he wiped the blood from his face with his hands. "I don't need you dying here."

"I'm fine." A hospital would ask too many questions. They might even get the authorities involved, and he didn't need that. Crackle might be right though. Besides, Psychro might get the wrong idea, he might have his hope built up. Or maybe it would work for him. That was a distinct possibility, let Psychro think that Myrik was just angry enough to kill the girl. He didn't even know exactly what he planned on doing to her. She was just a pawn, someone that Psychro knew well, someone who might get him to break.

The girl. Black Tiger, the profile said. She was walking, rather than being dragged, between the two fresh guards he had collected. The fear was palpable off her. Tears streaked her face, and under other circumstances he might have delighted in them. "I'll take her from here," he told them. "Go back and fetch three prisoners who have worked in the hospital, I'm pretty sure we still have three. They can tend my injuries. This one can help me change. Once that's done, we'll visit Psychro."

As soon as the guards turned to go, Black Tiger made to run. Capturing her mind was ridiculously easy and she stopped. "Are you sure you can trust them?" Crackle asked. Finding a hint of his swagger, Myrik smirked at the Graviton.

Fantasy was startled to see Myrik looking in such a state. For once, the blood appeared to be mostly his own. He was in a foul mood too, which didn't bode well for whomever had inflicted the injuries. Was it the Darkling/Tiger girl? She didn't look capable of doing any of that, given how badly she was swaying on her feet. Fortunately, Myrik seemed to have little interest in Fantasy at the moment, and was focussed on the other. The girl hesitantly helped him out of his clothes, exposing his naked body to her. Fantasy saw the gasp, probably the first naked man she'd ever seen.

A moment later a woman and two men entered. The Darkling/Tiger was sent over to sit beside Fantasy while Myrik effortlessly took control of the minds of the three. Fantasy pulled her close and held her trembling body. "Why are they helping him?" the girl whispered.

She'd seen this trick before. Myrik was too damned powerful. Why did power have to corrupt so badly? "My guess is, they don't know they are. He's suppressed recent memories to before they were brought here. To them, they're doing a house call or something." She yearned to learn all she could about what had happened from the girl, but couldn't find the words. She was obviously traumatized and talking about it wouldn't help. Was this all from Psychro? That was possible. He had a strong will. Maybe not. The puncture wound on Myrik's chest looked too small for his hands.

Speaking of hands, she looked down at the girl's. Not only were they trembling, but a cut on the palm had re-opened. Myrik would be upset if there was blood on his carpet, and he was bleeding enough for that to begin with. Carefully dipping a piece of her robe in her offensive water dish, Fantasy dabbed at the wound. At least it would distract both from what was happening.

Cameo touched Psikaris' belly. It comforted him to know that somewhere in there were a pair of children forming. His children. He wanted a better life for them. Moons that didn't care about race, gender, or creed. Which made the case that much more important to crack. He had reported to Luna already, and she was less than thrilled. She had expressed disgust both that this was going on under her nose, and that it was taking so long to get results. News from Third Earth was bothering her too. The Thundercats, now allies, were clamouring for the release of their kinsmen. How, she'd asked aloud, was she supposed to tell them there wasn't a chance of that happening without causing an 'incident'?

At least they now had something. Mystan assured him that local authorities would investigate the homes of the two miscreants, and forward anything of interest. In the meantime they would go over any information that the computers could pull on them. Transmission records, known family, and the like. It mightn't hurt, he thought, to send an extra ship into the asteroid field to see if they could find anything.

He felt hands running through his hair and saw Psikaris trying to smile comfortingly at him. She was just as, if not more so, worried. Between pregnancy and stress over her brother she wasn't doing well. He'd even seen the latest issue of 'The New Mechanical Institute' unopened on the coffee table. Cameo was trying so hard not to burden her with this, but also trying to reassure her that there was progress. "He'll be fine. Come on, you need your rest," he said, pulling her to her feet.

"I know. You'll find him," she said. He hoped she was right, and more that they found him in time.

Elsewhere, his shuttle dropping him off on the Royal Moon, Mystan found his thoughts revolving around how deep the Psions seemed to be involved in the mess. Of four known suspects, three were from his own moon. The High Priests ran the moon though, very little happened, legal or otherwise, without them knowing. So how was this happening then? Neither of the names they had were particularly noteworthy individuals. A toy shop owner and a low level security officer who had invited his friend aboard his ship.

Obviously not very bright either, he thought. A transporter might glitch, but there was no way that a shuttle would take off on its own. Surely, by now, they must know that they had been found out, if only for the theft. He certainly hoped that whoever was in charge of the kidnaps didn't know. Whomever it was, they wanted them kept in the dark for as long as possible. They might up their time table, or slither back even further. It was just aggravating to not know, and his brief communique with the temple had shown that the feeling was mutual. They were working on sweeping the moon with their telepathy for any signs of the missing persons, but the chances were slim.

Mystan arrived at a local temple for Cyris and found sanctuary for the night. He would find Nitro and Cameo in the morning.

It was slow progress. Psychro estimated he'd been at it for almost three hours now. Chipping at the rock face with the steel of his boot without being noticed was a trick and a half. One of the guards had, eventually, deigned to walk by. Wisely, perhaps, Psychro had taken off both boots. He figured that even the densest Lunatak might question why someone was sitting, wearing just one boot.

The door opened and his anger rose again. Myrik. He looked like hell, bruises, small cuts, and Psychro was certain they couldn't have all been from him. What else had happened in his absence? Maybe the prisoners had done it, or maybe that Crackle person he seemed to report to. He wanted to know more, but mostly he wanted to add to Myrik's misery.

Further thought was banished when he saw Black Tiger following behind Myrik. The Psion grabbed her by the arm and pushed her in front of Psychro's cell. "I'm not having a very good day, Psychro. Between your actions and a small incident in the barracks, I'm not feeling very generous. So here's your one chance to save Black Tiger from a life of unpleasantness. Tell me the access codes or I hand her over to these fine gentlemen. She's a virgin, you know."

Black Tiger's face paled, and he saw her furtively look over to the six men at the table. To his immense relief, only one of them looked particularly thrilled with the prospect. Psychro suspected that they would obey, though. He'd seen the effect that Myrik had on people as it was. "Leave her out of this."

"And why would I do that? Were you hoping to have her yourself? I think you were. She is very pretty. So sweet and innocent, so young. You want to prove you're still the man you think you are."

"Take me instead." The words popped out so suddenly that Psychro was surprised at them. It was something Myrik wanted and it might spare Black Tiger. It was rational and logical.

Myrik hesitated himself. Psychro could see the gears turning. "Maybe another time, though I'm happy to hear you say that. Someday I plan of teaching you the side of pleasure you've neglected. But for now, let's come back to the original question. Which is it going to be? The man you dislike, or the innocent child?"

He looked away. No man should have to make this kind of decision, he thought. How could anyone expect him to make that kind of decision? Cameo versus Black Tiger. While he didn't like Cameo, betraying Cameo was akin to betraying Psikaris, and he would never do that. "Psychro. Please, just tell him."

"He's not going to do it, you know" Myrik whispered in her ear. "Those men are going to violate you in ways you never knew existed. And Psychro is going to hear it all. He could save you, but he won't. He doesn't care about you, he's a heartless monster like me."

Psychro lunged at the force field, bouncing off and landing on his back. "When I get out of here I swear I'm going to kill you slowly."

"Undress for the nice men, Black Tiger. It'll be easier on you than letting them do it," Myrik continued, ignoring the outburst. Psychro stared, pounding his fists off the field, dimly aware that Black Tiger was doing as she was told. She was terrified, and he didn't blame her. There was still time to save her, he knew it. Silently he prayed to all the gods that she would be saved.

Myrik's radio chirped and he stepped back to listen to it. "Sorry, gentlemen. There's been a change of plans. This bait doesn't seem to have worked, but something better has come along. Our newest guest will be here soon enough. You may go, Black Tiger."

The gods had a wicked sense of humour, Psychro thought. They'd spared one, but provided another. New bait, a woman that Myrik thought would work better. He swallowed hard, hoping beyond hopes that it wasn't Psikaris.

In his sleep he saw them. A Psion and a Darkling hunting his son. Nitro watched Knave and his daughter sat contentedly outside Cat's Lair, unaware that they were being stalked. The mysterious Lunataks he had seen in Sirilus' last moments moved quickly. The Psion raised a hand and the earth itself rose up around father and daughter, swallowing them up and taking them beneath the surface. The Darkling turned towards Nitro, mouth wide open and teeth glistening. A mocking laughter escaped those lips. "What will you do?" the Psion asked. "When we come for him."

Nitro's eyes opened, startling Nuiane who had been sleeping with her back to him. He waved her back to sleep and stood up. What would he do? He was already trying hard, for the sake of the empire, but would he find the same rage that Cameo felt if his son were taken prisoner? There were many times Nitro had considered killing the boy, but he proved himself just barely useful enough, and there was family honour. And now he had a daughter of his own. A godling child, they said. Though her mother was Psion, she bore little resemblance to her, and she had none of her father's Cheetah markings. She was, in effect, almost completely Icewalker. Would these scoundrels take her too?

He stared at the clock. He'd had a good five hours, and he was rattled. He needed to get back to work. He activated his computer and began searching through Icewalker records for the kind of graffiti their suspect, the Psion named Cranim, had been caught making.

Crackle looked up to see Frostarn entering his office. She was angry, which was normal. She often seemed angry to him. In fact, she was almost always unhappy whenever she was around non-Icewalkers. She tolerated the other moons, but the half-breeds were the lowest creature. They were lower than the muck on her boots.

"I warned you this would happen," she said. She rested her hands on his desk and stared down at him. "Myrik's gotten the prisoners all excited, there'll be trouble soon and you can count on it. We need to squash the rebellion. Kill half the prisoners and maybe even kill Myrik himself."

To the point. He liked that about Icewalkers. They also generally respected authority, but Frostarn only seemed to respect the authority of other Icewalkers. It made her dangerous. A trifle predictable, but dangerous. He had to admit the prospect was tempting, though. Myrik was good, he always got results, but he was eccentric, resorting to things that most people wouldn't consider. And the prisoners had managed a revolt of sorts. Slave labour was difficult to procure though, so a mass execution would set things back. "Maybe finding ring leaders and making an example of them would be a good idea. Kill them yourself, don't let Myrik get involved. He's useful, for now."

"Is he?" she spat on the floor, and Crackle made a note to have someone clean that up. "Damned Psions. He probably used his brain to make you think he's useful. If you were smart, you'd get rid of him. But what the hell, your funeral." With that she stormed out of the room, slamming the door a little on her way.

Was it morning already? Cameo rolled out of bed and donned his uniform. Another long day. They needed an update from the Psion Moon on how the raids had gone, whether a search of Psot and Cranim's homes had turned up anything. It was probably too early, but it wouldn't hurt. He also wanted to go over Captain Shiner's sensor logs again. It felt like there was something he was missing, something substantial that he would probably kick himself for not noticing earlier.

Psikaris was still asleep, for which he was grateful. She needed her sleep, even if she wanted to be supportive. It was so frustrating a feeling, wanting to shelter and let her feel needed at the same time.

Quietly he moved into the kitchen and prepared himself breakfast. A cup of coffee, heavily sugared, and a bowl of cereal. He wondered what the security detail outside were doing for food. An odd little thought. They probably took watches in shifts. They'd be fine. Would he, though? He walked along a precipice of paranoia, he'd even found himself questioning the safety of his dinner last night. The kidnaps were happening in a variety of ways, from the sounds of it. It wouldn't take much to incapacitate a man. He couldn't let fear cloud his judgement. Too much depended on him, not the least of which was his bond mate in the next room.

Which meant that he had lingered at home too long. He threw on his coat and headed out to his office. Mystan and Nitro would meet him there.

* * *

Her rotation had left. For reasons that she could only assume, she had been told she could skip the work shift. Myrik's twisted sense of humour, no doubt, rather than any kind of remorse. Black Tiger curled tighter on the mattress. The thought of what had nearly happened replayed itself over and over. She wasn't naive in the ways on men and women, she knew what happened there, but have a first time like that? Even standing naked in front of them felt traumatic. She felt like having about fifty showers just from the lewd looks.

Those looks hadn't been on Psychro's face, and she had to admit a certain pleasure in that. He had looked angry. She'd flinched when he hit the force field and had almost hoped he would burst through. If only she knew which controls operated it, she might have been able to help him. Myrik had been too focussed on her, and tormenting her, so she might have been able to hit the buttons. There had been six guards, any fight would have ended as quick as it had earlier.

They'd been so close. They'd almost killed Myrik and effected an escape. What had gone wrong? The guards had moved too quick, the prisoners had no powers. It all added up to a sound defeat. When the first rotation returned, they were talking about it, and how brutal the guards had been. Doubtless they were trying to quash any future rebellion.

Had that rebellion made Myrik do what he'd done to her? Would she have gotten off lighter without it? The vile memory of his mind inside hers, that insidious voice commanding her, flashed back. She'd been made to undress him. She'd seen her first real naked man and she had almost seen six more. If she felt this bad without the actual act, she thought miserably, what damage would have been done to her psyche if they had raped her.

The door opened again, and she cried out, imagining Myrik changing his mind. The noise came as a squeak, but a painfully loud one to her ears. Luckily, or not, it wasn't Myrik. It was an Icewalker woman, the one she'd heard was named Frostarn she figured. "Five of you. Here, now."

Frostarn wasn't a woman to mess around. She could be brutal, enjoyed torture, but got nastier if she didn't get her way. Black Tiger saw no one moving and held her breath. What would she do now? Choose for herself, it appeared. A dozen guards spread through the room and dragged five to the centre of the room. While the selections were being made, Black Tiger saw what was about to happen. She knew immediately. She had seen it happen on her home moon on more than one occasion. Coils of rope were looped over the rafters, with nooses formed. The five women struggled against their captors, but they were weakened and outnumbered.

Frostarn led them up onto a large block of ice and had the guards affix the nooses to their necks. "You freaks rebelled against your betters this morning. The five of you will serve as examples. There will be no dinner tonight, either." She stepped forward, fire crackling at her fingertips, heating the ice beneath them. Slowly, painfully slowly, the ice platform melted causing the women, one by one, to begin dangling. Frostarn stood transfixed, watching with pleasure as each woman's struggles grew weaker and weaker, gradually stopping.

When they were satisfied that the five women were dead, Frostarn turned to the guards and gestured to the guards. "Now for the men's barracks."

"Psot isn't very interesting," Mystan reported when they were assembled. "A toy shop owner who has been in the same location for thirty years. His father ran it before him. We're looking into shipping manifests now, a Lunatak smuggled in a shipping crate is a distinct possibility. Strangely, he's not at work today."

"Very. We've got the word out, if he surfaces we'll grab him. What about the other. Cranim?" Cameo asked.

"He's a little better. Three years ago he was found spraying the letters 'MP' on the side of a building. I did a little digging and the store was owned by a Psion/Royal. The owner chased him down and reported him to the Psion authorities. Eight months later the owner went missing. Cranim claimed to know nothing about it, but the authorities suspected otherwise. We're looking into known accomplices. We'll see."

"MP? That sounds familiar. I found that on the side of my ship shortly after Luna promoted me. We stopped a Graviton suicide bomber after that. He shouted something about the Moons of Purity before detonating himself. Killed one, injured five others," Cameo thought aloud. It had been horrific, but they didn't hear anything else from the group so it was swept under the carpet. Now he wished it hadn't.

"So these people have been around at least three years. Great," Nitro said, rubbing his face. "We need to catch them before they kidnap anyone else."

"They're still active. A Graviton reported that her room mate never returned home last night. She was last seen at a bar and left with a stranger. The bartender was too drunk to make an identification, naturally." Mystan rolled his eyes. Only on that moon would the bartender be more intoxicated than his clientele. The report had been on the news, so he'd called the Graviton Moon immediately for more details. "The victim is a woman in her mid-twenties. A mix of Graviton, Icewalker and Psion. Name's Rathja."

Mystan paused as Cameo's jaw dropped. Definitely not a good sign. He didn't have a portfolio on the woman, but suspected that wouldn't be necessary. He raised an eyebrow at the Solarian/Icewalker. "That's Psychro's kid. 'Karis told me about her once. Get me all the information you can on it. We have to go to the Graviton Moon, and I've got another call to make."

Rathja opened her eyes. She didn't know where she was, but it stank of mouldy potatoes. No. That was the sack draped over her head. Her hands were bound tightly, painfully so, behind her back, and her feet felt like they were bound together too. So. Her date had decided to slip something in her drink then. It didn't last long, whatever it was, which might mean anything. Had he already had his fun? No, probably not. Two people were talking in front of her. The man she'd met at the bar and someone he called Myrik? No, that was who they were taking her to.

Who was Myrik, and why did he want her? It was hard to hear exactly what they were saying. The Graviton was saying something about wanting his money, that he had a job to get back to. The other, was insistent that he help transport her. That he couldn't carry someone of her girth. He sounded Psion, and so the remark insulted her. She struggled against her bonds, screaming. The hood was removed, momentarily, and a rag jammed in her mouth. She realized now that they were in a vehicle of some sort. Now that she could see she could see the man she'd met, as she suspected, and a pasty looking Psion. It was the latter who had taken off the hood.

"Quiet. We're taking you to a family reunion, only I don't think your father will be happy to see you," the Psion said, as he replaced the hood to hide where they were headed.

Psychro. It was hardly the first time his family had had to pay for his dalliances. Probably an angry husband or brother. She didn't realize he was on the Graviton Moon, truth be told. Her mother, bless her heart, was still on good terms with him. She even took pride in being the president of his fan club. Number 104 on his list, she'd bragged once. She had a list of women who had heard of his fame, probably from her, who she would set him up with if he was looking for a one-night stand.

Not that Rathja had ever done more than see a picture of the man in the last few years. The last time she'd *seen* him was on her twelfth birthday. Her mother had insisted on him coming to her party. Unfortunately, one of the other mothers had been a former flame and that had caused all kinds of fuss.

Who had he managed to piss off this time, and why were they taking it out on her? Since struggling didn't seem to be getting her anywhere she could only hope that her father had a heart in his chest and would do whatever these people wanted so she could go free.

The image on the other end of the line was quiet. Cameo saw the stunned look on Psikaris' face and knew that the same thoughts were whirling around in her head. Was this a personal attack? First her brother and now her niece. The two kidnaps couldn't possibly be a coincidence. Even though he didn't consider himself overly bright, even he could see the connection. But if it was personal, who was it targeted at? Psikaris? If these Moons of Purity people even tried anything against her they would regret it.

"I suppose I should contact her mother," Psikaris said. Cameo had never met her, but Psikaris had mentioned meeting the Graviton. Heavy Bevy was supposedly very friendly, very polite.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps hearing the news from 'Karis would soften the blow. "Does she know about Psychro?" he asked, suddenly. Two pieces of bad news would be terrible for her to hear.

"I don't know. Thanks for mentioning that. Take care of yourself, and come home safely." Psikaris touched the screen in a gentle caress and ended the communication.

She would be fine, he reminded himself sternly. There were security people outside every entrance. She had a personal tracking device on her, and people monitoring her every move. Short of having a group inside the room with her, there wasn't much else he could do. "You could be with her," a voice inside his head whispered, and it was tempting. But she was a grown woman. He couldn't protect her all day every day. An accident could happen at any time. Was he supposed to hold her hand while she used the bathroom, lest she hurt herself? No. He had to have faith in her. Besides, he was needed here as well, to find Psychro and the others.

Turning from his desk he found Mystan waiting against the doorframe. Seeing that he had Cameo's attention the Psion straightened himself. "I've been doing some thinking," he said. "Of late many of the abductions are connected in some way to ranking officials. Half of those remaining people are ones like Mind Grind, hybrids taken while another abduction is occurring. We don't know much about this group or their motives, but that sounds like they're aiming for something to me."

It made sense. Black Tiger and Psychro were both tied to high ranking officials. Might Mind Grind have been safe if he hadn't happened to be on the same ship. He also noticed that Mystan waited until Nitro was elsewhere before bringing this up. That he could worry about later. Mystan's current issue was more important.

"What about those who don't fit the pattern?" Cameo asked, as they left his office and walked to the landing area. Nitro had gone ahead to make sure Cameo's personal shuttle was fuelled.

"There are five. I'm not sure yet on three, but two work in the palace. A cook's assistant and a guard. I'll continue to work on the last three."

A string of curses erupted. "Two connections to the palace. A threat to Luna perhaps? If someone could get deep into the heart of the palace they might be able to neutralize the queen. We have to let her know."

"More than that, I think it's time we let the populace know. If I know one thing about our people it how much they respect what Luna's done for us. Someone is bound to send information about the Moons of Purity." Cameo chose not to point out how Mystan knew about that. Eighty-one years ago Luna had led an expedition to Third Earth, when she and her crew vanished civil war followed. Leaders were crowned and deposed of seemingly on a monthly basis. The moons had become more and more withdrawn from one another. Mystan had been instrumental in the most recent battle for the throne, supporting Aristarchus and trying to assassinate Tycho.

"You might be right," he said at length. "These people must know by now that we're looking for them, so we aren't tipping our hands. If they can get at so many different people in different places and by different methods then they must have people in sensitive areas already. It will help us warn the public too, hybrids everywhere need to watch themselves and take precautions."

"Exactly. You should talk to Luna first, but then we can broadcast from the Graviton Moon. I suggest you let Nitro or I do the talking. You're a target as it is because of your blood, you don't need to make yourself a bigger one."

A trio of fighters rose off the ground as Cameo's shuttle took off in to space. Nitro wasn't sure how well he could trust any of them, but the Captain of the Fleet didn't seem to be thinking along the same lines which was why Nitro sat at the controls. If, for some reason, one of those pilots were part of the Moons of Purity then he wanted the best pilot available manning the weapons. Cameo was, strictly speaking, the better pilot, but his judgement was clouded by personal issues, and Nitro appreciated that. Loyalty and family were Icewalker staples. Even if one wasn't liked, they were always kin.

Which brought his own mind to Knave, an issue which he forced out of his head. If he let himself become distracted then defence would fall to Mystan or Nuiane, and he didn't have confidence that either had ever touched weapons systems. Besides, Cameo and Mystan were talking to Luna over the radio, so they were otherwise occupied.

He listened to the conversation and found himself grudgingly agreeing with the assessment. Any Lunatak with even a trace of pride would turn in a traitor. The Psions, he thought with a snort, would probably expect profit out of it where an Icewalker would see it as duty.

Myrik woke up. A warm body pressed against him. He smiled contentedly. Venting his mounting frustrations on Fantasy had been incredible. She hadn't seemed to enjoy it, but his current mood seemed to prefer it that way. He was pretty sure he had even called her Psychro at one point.

That man. That maddening man. He was handsome, everything he could possibly want in a person, but with a spirit so strong that he was proving more difficult to break than most of his other prey. He stroked Fantasy's shoulder, causing her to flinch. Her eyes opened and he smiled winsomely at her. The mental intrusion to prevent her from causing him harm had been the best thing he'd ever done to her. Myrik was too aware of her inner desires. She would kill him in his sleep if she could. But she needed him too. Needed him to protect her. She was a pampered little princess. Sure, she thought of herself as tough, she wouldn't go so far as to cry over a broken nail, but she liked the finer things in life.

He nipped her throat, pleased to hear her low growl. It showed that the hate was still there. He thought about taking her again, using her like she deserved, but a greater pleasure awaited. This was almost his final gambit in the breaking of Psychro. And then, once Myrik had gotten the information that Crackle wanted, Psychro would be all his for the taking. A second collar and leash might be appropriate, he thought. "You won't be needed tonight, my dear," he whispered in her ear. "Psychro will break. I feel it." With that he gestured back to her post while he dressed quickly.

The ground sure was solid. Rathja assumed that they must finally be at their destination. She'd been hauled out of the vehicle and carted around for the last few minutes. That had been one long ride, she had drifted off to sleep again at some point and wakened to find the sun beating down on her. The hood was pulled off her head and the bonds on her wrists and ankles were removed. But if she thought she could effect an escape, she was wrong. A pair of strangely outfitted men had weapons trained on her. The two who had brought her left and another came up, this one a Psion. He was grinning, like a predator stalking wounded prey. Which she was, effectively. She'd been cooped up for so long that the blood wasn't circulating in her extremities yet.

The Psion appraised her carefully. "Psychro's daughter. His only child. Amazing how genetics work, I can barely see the resemblance." She felt like cattle being sold at market. Thankfully he wasn't poking and prodding at her, but she felt like he had considered it. A more pressing concern arose.

"What do you want with me?" she asked.

He patted her head, and she swiped at the hand. It was a condescending gesture and she knew it. "Ah, my dear, you have no idea the scope of your troubles right now, so cruel of Drell not to tell you. No matter. I am Myrik, and I have arranged for you to meet your father. He has information on the palace our organization needs, and you are going to convince him to betray the empire. If you succeed, freedom, and all that's at stake is your miserable life. Come, let's see if he feels like talking."

That was a little reassuring. From what she knew of the man he didn't have very high morals. Heck, a few nice words and he would probably have given up his own mother. What this Myrik needed to do was bring a few pretty faces around and he'd do anything this organization wanted.

She was led down a nice hall to a door and pushed inside. Instantly her heart sank a little. Whatever was going on felt bigger than she'd thought. Six more men, clad in the same uniform as her escorts, were standing around the room. She saw the numerous cells and the occupants huddled in them. Suddenly, Rathja wasn't nearly as confident of her survival.

"Good morning, Psychro. It's morning now, in case you didn't know," Myrik said, walking forward up to one cell in particular. With nowhere else to go, as the guards blocked the doorway, she approached her father. He looked haggard, almost exhausted, and he stared daggers at Myrik. Never had she seen that kind of emotion on anyone. Her hopes shrank even more.

"Go to hell," Psychro said. He stared at her, trying to figure out who she was. But then it had been nine years since she'd seen him, so it made sense.

"I brought you a guest, someone who hasn't seen you in years. Family, even." Myrik's tone was light and mocking, like it was all part of an elaborate game.


"So you remember her. Good, I was rather hoping you would. It makes what comes next a little more important. You see, Psychro, you still have information we want. I'm getting rather antsy, especially after your conduct the last two days. I've been embarrassed by you, attacked by you, and scorned. It's making me look bad to my superiors. So I give you a chance to give in. Tell me the access codes and we'll be fine."

"Or what? You'll rape her like you tried with Black Tiger? Where is she?"

Myrik stood behind her, hands on her shoulders. She tried to move, but found her body suddenly unresponsive. What was he doing? He was a Psion, probably messing in her head. Between the invasion and Psychro's comment she was feeling very scared. She didn't know any of the situation between this Black Tiger and these two, but she didn't think she wanted to either. "You would like that, wouldn't you. To see your beautiful daughter naked and spread before you. Disgusting pervert that you are," Myrik said, and immediately Rathja knew how hypocritical the words were. "But no. If I am anything, I am unpredictable. Her honour will remain intact, or it would if it wasn't for the drunken night behind the Brick Wall Tavern." Rathja blushed at the memory, and tried to break his control. How effortlessly he was rooting through her mind.

At a gesture the six guards surrounded her and Myrik stepped to the side of the cell. "In a moment these fine gentlemen are going to see how long it takes to beat someone to death, unless you step in and save her. We're not asking much. Just give us your sister's bond mate. You don't like him anyway, so you're really not losing anything."

Rathja stared from one man to another. The guards certainly looked more than willing to carry out the order. Psikaris' bond mate? The one person in the world that Psychro would never let come to harm. Lovely. "Psychro... Dad, please do it. Tell them what they want," she begged. She fell to her knees, not realizing the psychic hold had been released.

"I'm sorry. I love you, but I can't. For the empire."

"For Psikaris you mean. I'm your daughter. If you love me, set me free!" Psychro turned away, but she saw tears streaming down his cheeks. Deep down she knew he was being honest, but the rational part of her mind couldn't accept it. The first blow came from behind, a clubbing strike to her back.

He couldn't watch. Psychro stared at the far wall, knowing that his own flesh and blood was being pummelled behind him. He could hear the sickening thuds from their fists, the crackling of bones, the tortured screams. His name over and over and over again.

Inside, Psychro yearned to help her. Her life could be spared with a single word, but the words wouldn't come out. More was riding on this than one life. The lives of many hung in the balance, including others that he cared for.

Silence, other than a cough. Psychro turned and saw the mangled body. Rathja, his precious Rathja, was still alive. Myrik cradled her against his chest, blood streaming down her face as unfocussed eyes turned in his direction. "There's still time, Psychro," Myrik said. His voice was soft and almost tender, as though he truly regretted what was happening. Psychro knew better, though. "She can be saved if we get her to a hospital. I'll see to it, you know. Let her go to the hospital and be fixed up, good as new. She might even tell the authorities about me, she knows my name after all. They're looking for you already, we know they're investigating all kinds of leads. This might be the hope they need. Proof that you live, too. Psikaris will be happy to hear it."

"You're a liar." There was no chance that Myrik would let Rathja live. The organization was too big to risk it all on something like that. He would agree and Myrik would kill them both anyway. Psychro wasn't born yesterday.

"You don't have much choice but to believe me. You've seen what we can do. We can get anyone we want. How many family members do I have to bring in here?" Myrik said. An image, no doubt implanted by the Psion, of Psikaris in the same position appeared. The sight was so appalling that Psychro threw up on the floor. "I believe I've made my point. You have five seconds before I withdraw the offer."

What choice did he have? He could watch as his entire family was slaughtered, or he could take a chance that there was some shred of honour in him. He didn't trust Myrik, he couldn't, and yet. Rathja moaned, and that small sound did it. "You win, you son of a bitch," he said, hanging his head.

"Splendid! You two, take her to the nearest hospital." As Rathja was carried out, Psychro hoped he'd made the right decision. And if he was wrong, the last image she would have of her father was him saving her and betraying his people.

Fantasy couldn't believe what had happened. The disgusting pervert who liked to call himself her master had been in such a hurry to leave that he had forgotten to chain her up. More to the point, he'd also left his computer behind. She knew that the door was locked, though she tried it anyway just to make sure. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

The computer was easy to hack into, she'd watched him enter his password often enough hoping for such a chance. People thought of her as shallow and almost ditsy, which was a useful image to portray. Myrik certainly thought her less than intelligent. Oh how she hated him. He filled her mind with so many neural blocks to prevent her from hurting him and filled her body with his... she shook her head of the memories. She needed to focus. Somewhere in the computer was information she could use to help herself and the others.

Psychro was about to break, Myrik had said. He seemed so confident that she knew he was probably right. They wanted something to do with the palace, she'd pieced together. It made sense. His file wasn't particularly interesting, though she found the family connection mentioned. A brother-in-law who commanded the fleet. Another half-breed. If they took him out it would be a major coup. Nothing jumped out at her, though.

Taking out Myrik was the key to any revolution, she knew. Myrik was cocky, and made sure that he was important in the grand scheme of things. The mental blocks preventing them from using their powers were tied to him. Without him actively re-enforcing them they would dissolve away. He'd teased her about that prospect once, knowing full well that she couldn't hurt him. But if she could get the information out maybe one of the others could.

But who and how? She skimmed through the other bios. Someone with a strong mind was needed, someone whose natural skills might overcome the weakening barrier. She continued through the files: Kraedon, Psychro, Black Tiger, Mind Grind, Chedra... The last one caught her attention. A Psion mixed with Cheetah. Two races known for psychic powers, that would probably boost the odds of overcoming the mental block.

Fantasy began laughing. Chedra was perfect. Myrik had made a note on her bio to do a more extensive exam of her later because she had actually resisted his control momentarily during the failed revolt. Memories of that chest wound surfaced. To inflict that kind of damage one would need a strong will, and the Cheetah speed would only help that. So that was half the problem down, and she suspected she knew how to get a warning to this woman. It meant playing nice with Myrik a little longer, but it would surely work. She continued scanning the computer for as long as she could. Myrik had a distinct footfall, and she was sure she could shut off the computer and be back in the corner before he knew she'd been such a bad girl. For now, he had to think her obedient and broken. Soon, though, he would learn otherwise.

Examining the latest batch of Caramium at the main security checkpoint, what little of the radioactive material had been harvested, Crackle was startled to find a pair of guards carrying the broken body of a woman. Disposing of corpses was a tricky job around the base, so many died from exposure, but this one didn't look dead yet. A coughing fit by what appeared to be a half Graviton crossed with something else confirmed this. "Where are you taking her?" he demanded, stepping in front of them.

The two saluted as best they could. "Myrik told us to take her to the nearest hospital sir. She needs it after the beating she took," one said rather nervously.

Crackle was pleased to see this attitude, it meant that there was some respect for his authority around here. But not from Myrik, it seemed. Why would he do something so foolish as to help a prisoner? Crackle wasn't fond of these half bred freaks, and could care less whether they lived or died, provided they served their purpose. What he did care about was his business. If the prisoner, whoever she was, told the authorities what she'd seen, they would try and track him down, shut down the operation, and throw the leaders into prison or worse. Graviton justice was an oxymoron, but when they were motivated, it was harsh. Executions were common enough for the big crimes.

"No you aren't. You said she took a beating? Finish the job and dump her with the rest." Confident they would obey, he carried the small box containing the Caramium and took the elevator back to the surface, trying not to hear the sounds of the assault.

"...Seven, one, epsilon," Psychro said, hating every word. There was no turning back now. The codes were out in the open now, all hastily written down on a scrap of paper by Myrik. A gnawing fear that he'd made a mistake was sitting in the pit of his stomach.

"Very good. And you didn't even try and trick me. I'm impressed," Myrik said. Psychro looked confused, which brought that smug grin on the Psion's lips. "You didn't think I would take you just at your word, did you? I read your mind and I know that you gave me all the codes you knew, like a good boy. Now, I need to go report these to my boss, but I'll be back to reward you for your faithfulness. You've been a very good boy."

Psychro's skin crawled at the lusty look he'd been given. It left little doubt what 'reward' he intended to give him. He desperately needed to get out before Myrik returned. It occurred to him, as he settled back in front of the bare rock that he was chipping away at, that the guards would probably take it easy on him. Myrik seemed to be important around here and might be displeased if his prize was damaged. It made the work a little easier to do.

He really had nothing against homosexual or bisexual behaviour, it just wasn't his thing. One of his past lovers had tried to bring a second man into their tryst and he'd been so uncomfortable with the concept that he'd ended the relationship immediately. Myrik wouldn't be giving him the choice, and there wouldn't be a woman involved either, which made the wrongness so much worse.

Getting Luna's approval was important, and Cameo was grateful that she was willing to try things his way. She told him she would beef up security around her, and keep a close watch on them. Amok was still the safest bet in protecting her, as he seemed largely immune to the powers of most Lunataks. He was only one, though, and the enemy's numbers were as yet unknown. While Amok could often handle himself in a fight, he did have limits.

What he really wanted to do was beef up security around Psikaris. If his fears were accurate, and someone was targeting those in positions of power, then both he and she would be prime candidates. Of Luna's advisors he could count on one finger the number of hybrid Lunataks; himself. And what better way to get at him than through his bond mate? But they didn't live at the palace. They lived near it, in a apartment complex. They were in a lower security area. Vulnerable.

He looked over and saw Nitro being prepared for the news conference. It brought a trace of a smile to see the two ordinarily serious men being fussed over to make them presentable on the screen. A Graviton in grey ushered them to a podium.

Heavy Bevy clutched her handkerchief in a house not so far away from the studio, though she had no way of knowing. Her daughter abducted. The thought of it was horrifying. And Psikaris said that Psychro was too. To lose them both... She shuddered. She had the television on, she'd forgotten to turn it off when Psikaris called, so she paused when she saw that her favourite soap was being interrupted for a special report. She un-muted the television.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a man whom the screen identified as Mystan said. "We have uncovered a threat to both the empire and to Queen Luna, may she reign forever. An organization believed to be calling itself the Moons of Purity are engaged in kidnaps all over the system. Our best guess at present is over a hundred in the last three years. The victims are people of mixed race heritage."

The one called Nitro took the microphone next. "We don't have a complete idea what the purpose behind the abductions is, or what they have planned, but an attack on one Lunatak is an attack on all of us. We ask for anyone with any information about either the kidnaps or the Moons of Purity contact your local authorities immediately. Every Lunatak is honour bound to ensure that anyone who would hurt the empire is brought to justice."

"Too many families have already been hurt. People torn from their loved one, friends mourning. Don't let the next victim be someone you know."

"Mixed race Luantaks are encouraged to take extra precautions for their own safety, and report suspicious activity. Thank you."

An empty beer can smacked into the screen. Heavy Bevy felt incredibly angry. If only that announcement had come sooner her baby might be safe, and now there was nothing she could do but sit and wait.

"That went well," Mystan noted, joining Cameo and Nitro over by a refreshment table. He selected an oily pastry from the pile and bit into it. The green filling was salty to the taste, but not overly unpleasant.

"Laid it on a bit thick, didn't you?" Nitro said, helping himself a pastry with a dark purple swirl on the top.

He considered it for a moment. "The honour and justice line might work well on Icewalkers such as yourself, but I think you'll find the empire loyalty stronger throughout the Moons. And referencing family and friends is simply a case of tugging on the heartstrings. Either way, we're bound to get some responses soon enough."

"We have to respond!" Frostarn said, slamming the palm of her hand on the table. Crackle had replayed the report to the Icewalker, Drell, Raven, and Myrik. He'd had the sense to record the message immediately when they interrupted the cooking show he'd been watching. How in blazes had they learned so much? His own people indicated that the authorities weren't even close.

Time was running out. With the nature of the message, and the respected persons involved, someone was bound to let slip something. The operation would either have to be scrubbed or shifted elsewhere. Perhaps it wasn't too late to try and influence either of those men to his side. Everyone had a price, the trick was finding it. "I agree. But how? Myrik I need those codes."

"Right here. I was actually on my way here with them when you called. Psychro broke easily enough with the right pressure. A little threat to his family and he crumbled," the Psion said, tossing his notepad on the desk.

Crackle was still annoyed with him over the stunt with the injured prisoner. Maybe that was how word had leaked out. "I had a prisoner killed. The guards said you were going to let her go to a hospital. Have there been others? Maybe one of them blabbed to the authorities," he said bluntly.

"You what? I gave my word."

"I don't care about your word. I've half a mind to kill you here for that little stunt. Between the rebellion and this?" Crackle stood, noting that Frostarn and Raven stood up with him while Drell remained neutral. Whether the telekinetic would get involved if a fight broke out would be interesting.

"There's another possibility, you know." Aggravatingly, Myrik didn't flinch, so confident in his position was he. "Those two Psions never reported in. Psot and Cranim. Maybe it was them. I never trusted Cranim. Too much of a street thug."

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Drell commented. "We can figure out who's to blame later. We have a crisis to deal with. How are we going to resolve it?" Silence hovered over the room. Drell was absolutely right. Petty infighting wasn't going to solve the problem. They needed a plan.

He watched the proceedings with only mild interest. Myrik listened to the debating around the table, none of them sure what to do in a crisis situation. They'd grown lax over the years, too comfortable in their position and confident that no one would ever find out what was going on. Oh, certainly, the prospect had cropped up once or twice. But a well placed envelope of money was usually enough for the some lawmaker to turn a blind eye. It was only half breeds disappearing, and usually they had been good about selecting only those from the lower class. Miscreants and criminals who wouldn't be missed anyway.

The push to get into the palace, to upset the balance of power, had caused higher profile people to be taken, and that had led to this inevitable situation. What had they expected, really? They were, by and large, idiots. Idiots who he rather enjoyed the company of because they provided him with a playground to run about in unsupervised. No one questioned him because the results were there. He'd flung a notebook on the table so often with vital information, codes, names, places, schedules, that they relied on him. They relied on him to keep the population in control within the compound, and he'd slipped only the once.

That failed revolution with that spotted bitch that he clearly needed to spend more time with. He would rip her mind to shreds trying to figure out what had happened. Was it something specific to her, or was it his preoccupation?

Ah yes, Psychro of House Myntaello. Such a curious specimen he was. He'd encountered those with spirit before, those with sculpted bodies, but Psychro was the complete package. He had a nice package too, one he knew how to use, watching his lovemaking to Fantasy proved that. While confirming the codes, Myrik had taken the opportunity to scan his memories and saw the plethora of women in his life, which only confirmed what he had heard about the man.

He showed such devotion and attention to his lovers, even if it was mostly to assuage his ego and puff up his reputation. The thought of such tenderness on himself made Myrik's skin shiver. But to do that he would need a tighter hold on the man's emotions. Some added motivation that he didn't already have. But what? If threatening Black Tiger got an offer, what would it take to get more?

The answer was obvious. There was one thing, or rather one person, that possessed Psychro's soul. One person whose capture might spur such fervour. If Myrik held Psikaris' life ransom Psychro would be the most devoted slave ever. He smiled wickedly, while his compatriots were oblivious to his inner thoughts.

Focussing again on the conversation, he heard confusion. Bluster, threats. Frostarn wanted them to turn their full arsenal on the palace itself to send a message. As if that would work. "If I may," he said aloud, quietly enough that they all stopped talking to hear him. "It seems to me that our focus is on removing Luna from power. With her eliminated there will be confusion. The nearest blood heirs to the throne have removed themselves from contention; Aristarchus is in prison, and Tycho has renounced his claim. Therefore I suggest we concentrate on that."

"They'll be expecting an attack on the queen. You heard that," Raven said, falling smoothly into the trap. The Darkling only spoke when there was a thought in his head, so he didn't speak very often.

"Which is why we divert their attention. What I propose is an attack on the highest ranked half-breed. They know we're after them and so they'll assume that's the focus of our assault. While they're looking towards Cameo, our primary group attacks the palace. We have the access codes, we have the layout. We sneak some people in beforehand, sneak others in during, and kill the queen before they're even aware we're there. Simple. And as a bonus, we might just capture two more high ranking slaves," Myrik said, clapping his hands.

The idea sank into the heads of his friends, spurred by a gentle telepathic nudge. It sounded reasonable enough to them, and they would never be aware of Myrik's true goal. He would find a way to claim Psikaris for himself and then Psychro would be his.

On to Purification - part four
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