Chapter 1 – Hunter

Richard Tettler struggled to keep awake. If it was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was politics. It wasn’t made better that he had thought to have left it when he’d retired. He was a great politician, that he knew, but he just couldn’t take how boring it could be at times.

He just couldn’t with himself to bother over new laws when he had his head full of his daughter’s engagement. She had fallen in love with the last man Tettler had wanted to see in his home: Another Zampolit. He wanted to keep Jessie as far away from the Commissariat as possible. He’d spent his best years there, yes, but it was no safe occupation and it didn’t ensure a safe pension. It had in fact meant early retirement from service in Tettler’s case, and he did not want Jessie to be put through the same pain as her mother… although she had died before Tettler had lost his leg.

To keep his mind occupied, Tettler regarded the other men in the room. There was of course Zampolit Volodnikov, his daughter’s fiancé, who sat opposite to him. Ivanovitch Dimitry Volodnikov was a tall and burly man in mid-thirties, with grey eyes and black hair. Tettler had read his file and he had been accused of violence and abuse of soldiers in the Red Army several times. He was too violent for Tettler’s taste. He carried the black leisure greatcoat that most Zampolits used and he filled it out well with his barrel chest. And now, that man was engaged with his daughter. Tettler fought back an urge to spit him in the face. Violence was the way of a fool.

On Tettler’s left, his old friend Colonel Jack Regan sat. Tettler had known Regan for a goodly while and trusted him greatly. Regan wore the camouflaged greatcoat used by the Red Army in the Anglo-saxian systems, a part of space that Tettler came from himself. Regan was in his early fifties, his hair greying, but as to prove that it wasn’t going sparse, he kept it long and fastened together with a silver clasp. He was broad and muscly, unlike Tettler whom was slightly built, and Regan’s right eye had been replaced with a mechanical device, since he lost it to an air-shark. Despite his position, Regan rarely resorted to violence to solve problems.

To his right, Tettler found a man he knew little about. He was clad in simple clothing, which almost make him look like a worker, with sober colouring. He had made little noise since he entered, but Tettler knew there was most surely an incredible intelligence behind his ice blue eyes. He seemed young, not much older than Volodnikov, and his hair was raven black, if unruly and long. He was built just as powerfully as Volodnikov too, though he didn’t have the zampolit’s strong jaw line. A long scar ran down the young man’s left cheek, from ear to chin.

On the right of Volodnikov, Tettler immediately recognised the portly bulk of his old friend Igor Grimelkin in his resplendent suit. Grimelkin was a People’s Commissar and was the political commander of the Red Army. Tettler trusted him to hell and back. Although overweight, Tettler knew Grimelkin to be a good fighter, but just as Tettler, Grimelkin rarely resorted to violence. Grimelkin had remained where he was for more than twenty years due to intelligence and an ability to avoid problems. He was about as old as Tettler, but had broader shoulders and white hair, in difference to Tettler’s silver grey.

On Volodnikov’s left sat a thin young man, not more than twenty-five years old, in the dark blue uniform of the Red Navy. Tettler did not know him personally, but he saw that he was a captain. Inwardly, he smiled. It wasn’t men who commanded the star ships; it was boys. The People’s Commissar of the Navy was not more than thirty-five years old, so Tettler had been told.

There were many more men in the room, but, just as with the Navy captain, Tettler did not know them. He decided to try to pay some attention to what was being said. He had no real idea why he’d been called here. It had been on Grimelkin’s orders, but it still bothered Tettler why he was called here. He was Chief Investigator of the Murder Squad back home, but that was because he wanted to keep his mind occupied, not that he need the money. He felt a sudden itch by his right eye, or where it once had been. Now he wore a black leather patch over where it once had been. Regan had lost his eye just a few years ago, but Tettler had lost his more than a decade ago, before the technology used to replace destroyed eyes had been developed by the Scientologists.

Scratching himself by his eye patch, Tettler watched the overweight politician that stood at the far end of the table; speaking of matters Tettler cared little about. It was mainly about regions where quotas hadn’t been filled. It didn’t concern Tettler, so he ignored them. As the politician finished and went to sit back down, the young man on Tettler’s right got up and moved up front. He put down a handful of fingernail-sized data-discs on the table before himself and sorted them out before looking up and addressing the men before him.

‘Comrades of the Neo-Sovietic Galactic Imperium, may I introduce myself as Morgun Pollux, Scientologist in Bio-engineering and Sociology.’ To prove his position, he produced his badge of office. It was a silver five-point star with a pair of crossed lightning bolts behind it.

‘The reason you are summoned is of the highest confidentiality. I hope you are aware of that.’ Pollux looked around as the assembled men nodded their confirmation. ‘Good, because what I’m about to tell you, could damage the Community if it ever came out. Irreparable damage to the Community.’

Pollux took up one of his data-discs and clicked it into a projector, not larger than a man’s head. The wall behind Pollux lit up and showed a stellar chart.

‘This is, as you all know, N-SGI space and territory,’ Pollux said as he grabbed an index-stick. ‘It has the central-systems, the Anglo-saxian, the German systems, the recreational systems, the systems that have been issued to the Scientologists as well as the border systems.’ Pollux adjusted the chart to the left a bit with a word in a language none other knew. ‘This, comrades, is the western borders, with the Freeport worlds, the Latin and Indian worlds as well as the large black hole, which we have chosen to name Mir. These all are within the spiral arms of the Galaxy. Only recently, the last two hundred years that is, have we discovered inhabited planets in the halo between these worlds. They also house the only intelligent alien life forms encountered by humankind, of what we know…’ Pollux added with a scowl. Everyone knew what he meant.

‘Yet, these planets are in clusters that have been designated Angel and Demon cluster. We Scientologists have been given the great honour of inspecting these worlds and their inhabitants, and our conclusions are as follows:’

Pollux took out the chart-disc and replaced it with another disc. The wall lit up again, the lights in the room fading automatically and it this time showed two species of alien: demon and angel, with information and pictures of the two. The information was split up in two sections, one for demons and one for angels.

‘This, comrades, is what we discovered in the two clusters. We have dubbed them angels and demons after their appearance, as you undoubtedly will understand. The angels are spread over three worlds, whilst the demons only over two. However, the demons dwell beneath the earth, whilst the angels live up in the skies on small, low-gravity worlds. We have drawn the main conclusion that they have developed from the same species long ago, having a similar DNA code. They are, in a way, distressingly alike humans; that is that they have 24 pairs of chromosomes and 4 “pieces” in their DNA puzzle. The main differences between the two are that demons are sturdy of build, having higher strength than humans due to a higher mass/energy ratio than us. The angels are thin of build; skeletal we would say, having hollowed bones to allow their flight capability. This gives them an extremely frail body, risking to be crushed by its own weight, should it be brought to a world with normal gravity, according to our standards. The angels’ wings aren’t feathered, as we would think. By due analysis, we’ve made the conclusion that they are a highly evolved form of fur.’

Pollux made a pause to let all this sink in. And then he went on.

‘The thing that unites these beasts, because they are truly beasts, is their savagery. Whilst the demons still use claws, fangs and sheer force, the angels have created incredible swords for their use. These swords are lightweight and monomolecular edged, undoubtly shaped by means of reality bending instead by the means of metallurgy-‘

‘Excuse me, comrade Pollux, but with reality bending, do you then mean the trickery of bending spoons and such shit?’ Volodnikov interrupted. Pollux fixed the burly zampolit with a stern look.

Volodnikov suddenly found himself looking into the muzzle of his own side arm, now in the hand of Pollux. ‘I mean exactly as such,’ Pollux said. He slid the pistol back down on the table, which stopped before Volodnikov, who put it back with a grumble. No one else said a word. It was common belief that the Scientologists trained their minds to perform such tasks as bending reality: telekinesis and telepathy as it was called. An advanced and technological way of bending reality was what made it possible to travel the stars faster than light. Matter and anti-matter made the large star-ships run, but it was the mind that performed such tasks down on personal level.

‘We know, through tests and examinations, that both species maintain degrees of reality bending powers, psychics as it is called, to a far greater extent than humans. However, their ferocity impedes on further psychic development, which is sad…’

Pollux took out the disc from it hold and turned the projector off. ‘Ten years ago, we discovered that the angel and demon DNA could be merged with human DNA, with fine results. So of course, we started researching that-‘

‘Excuse me, but do you seriously mean, my dear Pollux, that you’ve bred half-humans, merged with this… alien DNA?’ Now it was Grimelkin whom interrupted Pollux.

Pollux smiled warmly at the generously proportioned old man. ‘You have a sharp mind, People’s Commissar Grimelkin. Yes, but breeding is not the correct word. You do not need one male and one female. No, one can inject the DNA, or blood, of one of these creatures directly into the human blood stream. The alien DNA has turned out to be very… hrm… aggressive. It merges with the human DNA string and remodulates it to its own purpose, thus causing mutation.’

A general hubbub filled the room at the mentioning of the word mutation. It was uncommon that such showed up, the human body having adapted to the new radiation levels of the other planets it now belonged to, but when it did, it most often had a reason. No one would have thought to cause mutation by purpose, would they?

Pollux waited for the hubbub to reside and then began to talk again. ‘As I said, we began researching the possibilities of a controlled mutation. The results were optimistic. We could, after a few failings, control the mutations and thus go onto the next stage; to create a new, more able breed of human.’ Pollux noticed the nervous looks he was given. Even the cocky Zampolit Volodnikov looked terrified now. ‘We Scientologists have been serving you, the Community, for more than two thousand years. Under these years we’ve given you invaluable technology and knowledge. In respect, you’ve granted us military protection and a stable home. Not to mention free hands in our quest for knowledge. I thank the Community on behalf of my entire people. Long have our people thought of a way to show you our eternal gratitude. And now we have found it,’ Pollux said and smiled softly. They all looked so shocked, yet he was to present them with the ultimate weapon.

‘Comrades, the time has come for you to choose. We Scientologists have developed the ultimate weapon, the super soldier that humanity has always strove after. We have succeeded where others have failed. At this moment, brothers of my caste, as sisters too, are informing other comrades of your kind on other planets in the entire N-SGI about this weapon. Some of you will meet and discuss the use of this weapon. Let me put it this way; as you know, all mentioned in this room is confidential. This weapon is a Community Secret! Shall word of it ever leave this room or your mouths…’Pollux paused a moment and fixed them all with a cold gaze. ‘The Scientologists will do what ever is needed to keep it confidential.’

‘We have now been able to create,’ he continued, ‘One angel warrior and one demon warrior in service of the Community. However, despite our best intentions, we have not been able to entirely rub out the savage instinct of these two species. However, this can be turned to good use. Once given their orders, they wills top at nothing. The specimens we’ve created are assassins, comrades. The ultimate assassins. Unlike the other weapons we’ve taken into your service: the Starstreak galactic cruiser, 45/FtA missiles and the Tremor Armoured Walkers, to mention but a few. However these assassins require your acceptance, as the others were ordered to be developed, but not these.

‘Therefore, I turn to the Commissars amongst you to consider this offering. The creatures can be exterminated without problem should you decline. Should you accept, however, the two warriors Angelic and Demonsar are at your service.’

As so, Pollux stepped down the line of men by the table and handed each political officer a small disc. And as he’d reached the last one, he moved without further ado out from the conference room. A few minutes of silence followed the exit of the Scientologist, and then the assembled men milled out of the room as well.

‘There’s something to scarcely believe,’ Grimelkin said as he turned the tiny disc his meaty paw. ‘Do you even believe a word of that, Rich?’ Grimelkin turned round to see Tettler limping out of the room.

‘As you said, Igor, scarcely,’ Tettler replied. ‘But I believe that it will pay off to study whatever is on these discs.’

‘Speaking of discs,’ Grimelkin said and put a hand on his belly. ‘I’m hungry. Want to join me for dinner, Rich?’

‘Why not? But I have to be home early… My daughter…’

‘I understand,’ Grimelkin said with a kind smile. Grimelkin knew how much Richard’s daughter meant to him. She was his all.

‘I know a good place where we can eat,’ Grimelkin said after a few moments of silence. ‘It’s not ‘five star’ as the Federatives would say, but it’s decent and you don’t need too many coupons for a stodgy meal.’

Tettler merely nodded his assertion. He knew how to trust Grimelkin to sniff out a place to eat, and judging by his girth he was able to sniff out the best ones. Tettler limped after his friend, Grimelkin stopping at intervals to let him catch up. He knew better than to let Tettler come too far after. Grimelkin knew that Tettler had his best years after him. He would never be able to defend himself against eventual scum with his blind eye and his half mechanic left leg. Grimelkin sighed. Despite the best efforts of the Community, crime was rife in the outskirts of cities, or the lower levels in the case of mountain cities. It just couldn’t be helped. Teenagers enjoyed in some sick way to attack the wanting and sickly. Not as much for profit as for entertainment. And the enforcers dare not venture to such places because the gangs flocked together as soon as they entered the ‘Outzones’.

‘Is that little place of your in the Outzones, Igor?’ Tettler asked dubiously after a good half hour of walking.

‘Not quite,’ Grimelkin replied awkwardly. ‘There is good protection from enforcers, if you wonder. And besides, I know the tender of the place personally.’

The Community maintained dining places and lunch bars, but they were tended and ‘owned’ by special tenders, who had been chosen specifically for their duty. Despite this, there were big differences in the quality of the food served between Outzone diners and mid-city restaurants. This reflected on the coupon-prizes, but it meant not such a big difference as one might think. It was common to see smeltry workers sitting beside People’s Commissars mid-city, and in reverse to see officers in the Army and Navy next to caretakers in the Outzones, all conversating, like old friends, which often was the case.

Grimelkin stopped outside an anonymous door and looked after Tettler, who came limping a few metres after him. Grimelkin made an appreciative, if barely noticeable, nod towards a stocky man in a black greatcoat. The guard slid back into the shadows without a sound. After that, Grimelkin walked after Tettler into the restaurant.

‘Igor!’ Grimelkin heard a familiar voice behind him. He turned to see a tall, thin grey-haired man approaching him. He was dressed in what once might have been a dress suit, but know was well worn and used to its edge. It had a strange fit over his bony body.

‘Well well well…’ Grimelkin said and embraced his old friend. ‘Pavel! It has been such a long time!’ Grimelkin detached himself from his friend and eyed him over. ‘You haven’t changed much though, comrade Volkov.’

‘Unlike you!’ Volkov smiled back. ‘You’re a fair bit bulkier than last time!’ He looked at Tettler. ‘Between you and me, comrade, Igor here looks more and more like he would be better off than you and me, eh?’

Tettler smiled. ‘Perhaps… I have no knowledge of social classes. None of us should.’ The smile never left Tettler’s face, but the other two meant distressingly well what he meant. There was still some gaps in the social structure, despite two thousand years had passed since the N-SGI’s forming.

Grimelkin regained some courtesy and introduced Tettler and Volkov to each other. Volkov was somewhat amazed to have Tettler there. The old zampolit had gained some respect of being a masterful crime solver. He had on his conscience many a solved murder, of which most were set in the Outzones.

‘Now, Pavel, we are both here to have dinner. A table, if you please?’ Grimelkin said after a few moments of joking. Volkov bowed to his old friend, as a mark of reverence for how much of the Community’s trust rested on Grimelkin’s shoulders, and showed them into the main dining chamber from the entry hall.

When both politicos sat down, Volkov personally came by with the menus and then left the two men alone.

‘Is he a refugee?’ Tettler asked after much silence between the two. Grimelkin looked up from his menu and into his friend’s only eye.

‘I am not truly sure on that point, Rich. I believe he made a journey to the Republic in his youth. Took the chance whilst in peace-times.’

‘We are still in peace-times, Igor.’

‘Of course! And may there never be another Interstellar War between the two governments!’

Tettler raised an imaginary glass. ‘Cheers to such thinking, People’s Commissar of the Red Army!’

A young waiter came by and picked up their orders shortly after this. He too seemed happy over Grimelkin’s presence. When the wiry young man had left, Grimelkin went on to talk about galactic politics, something that distressed Tettler.

‘Tell you the truth, Richard; I am not much for conflict. We need peace to regain our strength from that horrid war. Both sides took such horrendous damage. I fear that another war like that would destroy all humankind, be it Neo-Sovietic or Federative. I just hope I live and have my health long enough to stabilize our relationship with the Galactic Federative Republic.’

‘Many others doubt that as a good idea, Igor. They don’t trust the Republicans. And I understand them! Who would trust such capitalist pigs?’

‘I see your point, Richard,’ Grimelkin sighed. ‘But it is necessary that we remain in peace as long as the damage from the war is still visible. Not only to them, but also to us. Besides, what is wrong in being at peace?’

‘They oppress enormous amounts of people there; you’ve seen it, Igor. They harm themselves and they do not want any help to get away from the inevitable revolution of the masses. Any sociologist can understand that! The Republic is breaking in the seams and the N-SGI holds the key to be able to stem the revolution and prevent them from destroying themselves in civil war. Alas, they refuse our help stoically.’

‘I too don’t give much for their government system, but I do, just as you, care for the suffering people. So why argue against me Richard?’

‘You said we weren’t ready for a new war? But what if the threat isn’t foreign, but domestic?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I am meaning the Scientologists. They came on with us when the N-SGI was formed. They have served us loyally these last two thousand years. All they’ve asked for is a place to live on, and materials so they can strive for their goals of ultimate knowledge. But I’ve been thinking, Igor. Now they have the power to create new species. Completely new species. They have created-‘ Tettler hesitated and looked around. No one was paying them any attention. ‘They have created monstrous assassins. Creatures that will and can kill anything and anyone. Creatures that won’t stop at anything preventing them from achieving their goal. Say that we decline. Will they truly destroy the specimens they have? I doubt it. This knowledge is of too high value to them. What will they do? Sell it to the Republic? Or even worse: create an army of their own to use against us in a war of freedom. I hate to say it, Igor, but the Scientologists have had too free reins lately. We must heel them in, because they know more of us, than we of them.’

Grimelkin didn’t reply as the waiter came back with their orders and placed them on the table. He wished them a good meal and disappeared soundlessly. Grimelkin took a few munches of his food before replying. ‘I see what you mean, Richard, and I am amazed I haven’t thought so myself.’

‘Blame it on my years in the Murder Squad,’ Tettler replied without looking up.

‘I’ll consider voicing that in the politburo, you know. It might not be so popular, but if the Scientologists were to give us up, we’d be very vulnerable.’

‘Amen,’ Tettler replied without thinking. He then suddenly looked up, his wrinkled cheeks red from his blush. ‘Sorry,’ Tettler hurried himself to say.

Grimelkin fixed him with an acid stare. ‘Much that I enjoy your friendship, Richard, but I hope you one day give up this vain belief in a higher entity. There is no God,’ Grimelkin seemed to spit the word out. ‘All that is done is the makings of men, women and machines.’

The two continued to dine, chatting about lighter matters instead.

Tettler didn’t realise that time flies when having fun until he caught a glimpse of the time when he looked up at the large clock in the restaurant. It was close on mid-night.

‘Oh, crud,’ Tettler swore as he hastily extinguished his cigar. ‘I am sorry, Igor, but I must go home now. My daughter has probably been up waiting for me.’

Tettler groped in his pockets for coupons, but Grimelkin stopped him. ‘Rich, don’t. It’s on me. Now, you go home to your lovely daughter. And take a piece of advice; catch an air-cab.’

Tettler nodded and said hastily good-bye of his friend before he limped best he could out in the lobby and got his coat. Grimelkin watched him go and sighed.

‘Why won’t you let her go, Richard?’ he said to himself.

Grimelkin sat smoking for a while all by himself until Volkov showed up from nowhere.

‘Has your company left?’ he asked politely.

Grimelkin nodded. ‘Care for a smoke, Pavel?’

Volkov sat down and lit a cigar. ‘I wouldn’t mind. It’s been a busy day. Oh, you wouldn’t know!’

They started chatting about old times and memories together. Grimelkin lost perspective over how long they’d been talking. All of a sudden, they ran out of topics.

‘Pavel, how many coupons do I have to pay?’ Grimelkin said after a moment of silence.

Volkov thought for a moment and then said; ‘150 plus… “Tip”.’

Grimelkin smiled. It was common to give some extra coupons to people who behaved well. It was against the law, but no one cared about this particular detail. It was just to a show of gratitude.

‘Alright,’ Grimelkin replied and pulled out 200 coupons from his pocket. He handed them to Volkov, but the man refused.

‘No more than 160, Igor,’ Volkov said as he shook his head.

Grimelkin thrust the coupons into the thin man’s hand. ‘You take these, Pavel, whether you like it or not. You need it, I know. You have a big family. Besides, you need a new dress suit. And I don’t need my excess coupons, as the only thing that gives me is an impressive paunch. Please, Pavel, take them.’

Reluctantly, Volkov closed his hand around the coupon bills and put it in his pocket. ‘I’ll have to show this, you know. To the ministry, I mean.’

Grimelkin nodded. ‘Of course, put it up under Extra Allowance. I’ll sign.’

Volkov looked baffled. He’d never seen Grimelkin like this. ‘Is there something wrong, Igor? You don’t usually act like this…’

‘I am a troubled man right now, Pavel, that is why, I believe,’ Grimelkin replied and took one last smoke of his cigar and then extinguished it. He then got up with a groan and said good-bye of his old friend and walked out in the lobby to get his coat and go home.

Tettler carefully closed the door to his home and removed his shoes. It was well after midnight and he believed his daughter to be soundly asleep. He did not want to disturb her. It was in her sleep that she reminded him the most of his much-lamented wife. Awake, she was all too much like him. Removing his coat, Tettler heard a strange noise from his daughter’s bedroom. Taking no chances, he pulled out the pistol he had in a holster mounted on the inside of his coat. He checked it and cocked it as silently as he could and then walked towards his daughter’s bedroom as silently as his leg allowed him to. Still, it was remarkably silent.

‘Jessie?’ he called testily. No response.

He spun round the doorway and fixed his pistol on a dark shape that bent over the angelic looks of his daughter. It was tall, well over two metres, and very thin. As it turned its gaze towards Tettler, the old man involuntarily shrugged as a cold rush went through him. He saw the eyes of the thing blaze red.

‘You have a beautiful daughter,’ it said silently.

‘Indeed,’ Tettler replied, not lowering his gun. ‘And I’d enjoy greatly that you stepped away from her.’

The thing took two steps away from the bed, still under Tettler’s never-flinching aim. Then it dove through the open window four metres away with astonishing speed. It disappeared through the curtains in a rush of wind.

Tettler was soon by the window and looked out through it. Up, down, left and right. There was no sign of the creature… or whatever it had been. It had not been human.

‘Damn!’ Tettler cursed out loud. This unluckily woke his daughter.

‘Daddy?’ Jessica Tettler asked as she tiredly opened her eyes and looked at her father by the open window.

The old zampolit turned round and looked warmly at his daughter. ‘Nothing special.’

He put the pistol away and sat down next to her on the bed. She removed his black eye patch and revealed a stark white eye with no iris and no pupil. A jagged old scar showed off against his skin over and under the mutilated eye.

‘You always say that when something is very wrong, daddy,’ she said lovingly and kissed him lightly on his cheek.

‘Perhaps I do,’ Tettler replied. ‘But this time I mean it, Jessie.’

Tettler got up and removed his jacket and waistcoat and then sat down next to his daughter again.

‘Has Volodnikov been here?’ he asked suddenly.

‘No, I haven’t met him at all today,’ Jessica replied surprised. ‘Why do you suddenly care for him, dad?’

‘I don’t,’ Tettler replied with a furrowed brow. He had scarcely thought the shade to be Volodnikov, but he just wanted to make sure. He sighed.

‘Dad, what was it that you chased to the window?’ Jessica replied after a few moments of silence.

Tettler was silent for a short second and then replied; ‘It was a cat that had confused its way in here.’

‘And for that you needed a gun? You’re a terrible liar, daddy, know that.’

‘Maybe I am,’ Tettler said and grinned. He lay down beside his daughter and gently stroked her hair. He was so tired.

Jessica cuddled up close to her father. ‘You miss mother, don’t you?’

‘I do,’ Tettler replied and felled a silent tear as the memory of his beloved wife ravaged his mind once again.

‘I miss mom too,’ Jessica said and rested her head against her father’s chest.

Richard Tettler didn’t reply. He had fallen asleep.

It was eight in the morning when Tettler was awoken by an angry sounding buzz. It was the vista-phone and he got out of bed with a groan. He turned it on and was surprised to the chief commissioner at the other end of the line. He also saw the man start slightly at the sight of Tettler’s destroyed right eye.

‘I hope this is something important, Gregoriev,’ Tettler grumbled.

‘Indeed it is,’ Gregoriev replied curtly. ‘I need you down at the central-office at once. We need your brains.’

‘There’s always young Einholt,’ Tettler said.

‘He won’t do,’ Gregoriev answered. ‘You have the experience and Einholt isn’t of the quite right mettle for this.’

‘Let me make an educated guess,’ Tettler sighed. ‘Murder?’

Gregoriev smiled grimly. ‘More than so.’

Jessica awoke by a sudden yelp from her father. She sat bolt upright and looked towards the kitchen. ‘Daddy?’

She got out of the bed and walked into the kitchen. She saw her father sitting with a glazed look in his one good eye. The vista-phone was turned off. Suddenly, her father got up and put on his waistcoat and jacket, after adjusting his shirt somewhat. He the pulled on his coat and the peaked cap he used. He still considered himself a man of the Red Army. Before his shoes went on, he collected his pistol and put it home in its holster.

Jessica stopped him just as he was to step out of the apartment. ‘Dad, what is going on?’

Tettler turned to his daughter with a sad look in both his eyes, however it now was possible. ‘Something terrible has happened, Jessie,’ he said sadly.

‘What has happened? Daddy, I demand an answer!’

Tettler looked impossibly pained as he looked his daughter straight in the eyes.

‘People’s Commissar Igor Grimelkin was found murdered this morning.’

With that, he left before his daughter could speak.

To be continued