“No one could survive a wound like that, even with a medscope.”
She looked down the row of tanks. “You think this is some sort of medical research? Maybe the Guild is testing enhancement procedures and drugs.”
“Maybe.” It still didn’t feel right, and every good pilot knew you had to trust your instincts. He spied a computer terminal ahead. The desk had three curved screens suspended above it. Each screen held an image of a flame-haired woman. He glanced over and saw the woman in the neighboring tank.
In the first image, the woman looked human. In the second, he could see her facial features were changing, morphing. In the last, she had a tiny row of ridges down the side of her face. He frowned. She looked like she was Pictori, like Ria.
“Hey! Hey, you can’t be in here.”
The voice echoed from the center of the lab. Zayn and Ria spun and saw a man hurrying toward them. He wore a white lab coat and had surgical goggles pushed up on his head. The cranial ridge on his forehead and lack of hair was common in his species—the Weent. A race known to have some of the quickest minds and highest intelligence rates in the galaxy.
“Out.” He made a shooing move with his arms. “You need to get out now. I won’t have?—”
Ria reached out and slammed the man against the nearest tank. “I want some answers. Now.”
The man blinked. “You can’t?—”
“Where are the babies?”
“B-babies?”
“Future assassins.”
“There aren’t any babies.” The doctor focused on her. “You’re Pictori.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re an assassin, then.”
“Consider me retired. Who are you?”
The man shifted nervously. “Dr. Wendell D’aarn. I work for the Guild.” He tilted his head. “You were created here.”
Ria looked over his shoulder at the tank. Zayn felt his gut-deep dread solidify.
“I just told you, I’m Pictori.”
D’aarn shook his head. “The Pictori are a species I created.”
The pride in the man’s voice made Zayn want to slam a fist into the man’s face.
Ria’s eyes narrowed. “Like I said, I’m Pictori, from the Devil’s Nebula.”
“Ever met a Pictori outside the Guild?” the doctor asked.
She frowned. Then she slammed the doctor against the tank again. He gave a yelp.
“Dr. D’aarn,” Zayn said. “I think you better give her those answers now.” He kept his gaze on Ria and her pale face.
“You’re saying the Guild makes babies in this…lab?” she asked.
D’aarn shook his head. “Gosh, no. They make assassins.”
Zayn and Ria traded a look. The guy was making no sense.
“All these people—” he waved a hand at the tanks “—they’re all adults. I’m morphing them into assassins. I manipulate their DNA, wipe their memories, add new ones. Some, whose original identities need to be hidden, are morphed into Pictori. I also add subliminal assassin training. They wake up with all the basic skills an assassin needs. They need far less physical training before they’re ready for the field.”
Zayn watched Ria rub the scar on her arm. “Master Tarr broke my arm in training when I was eight.”
