by M. D. Hall
His ship came to a stop, and the wait began.
He did not have to wait long. ‘Genir, this is Kirion, you have your orders. Open Fire!’ Genir remained silent.
Ω
Kirion looked at Darl and raised an eyebrow. ‘No response, Commander.’
‘I can see that for myself!’
‘Perhaps, the restraint we placed upon him has affected him in some way,’ Kirion suggested. ‘It is, after all his first combat mission.’
‘Don’t be absurd, there’s more to this than fear of combat,’ he pointed to the image of the battle, playing out before them. ‘Where’s the danger…well?’
Kirion merely shook his head, but after a moment added. ‘There could be a fault with his communication system.’
‘What do diagnostics say?’
’Nothing to suggest any breakdown of systems,’ the XO paused for a moment before adding. ‘Should we not try his implant,’ and pre-empting Darl’s objection, ‘before taking an irretrievable step that involves the son of a Hero of Gallsor?’
Darl, about to refuse the request, stayed his hand. ‘I don’t suppose it would do any harm. Very well try that.’
Ω
Genir felt the tingle that presaged an incoming message to his implant.
Ω
Kirion did not have to say anything. There was no longer any room for doubt. Darl shook his head, almost as if he was still coming to terms with what had happened. ‘Have two of his squadron flank him, and if he doesn’t come voluntarily, they have my permission to drag him back. The rest of them are to finish the Tellurian off!’
Darl’s second in command responded with the merest nod.
Ω
Genir watched as fifteen of his squadron swarmed past him, and opened fire upon the doomed Tellurian ship. It was not long before he was able to turn his attention to his new wingmen. They did not communicate, nor he with them, there was no need. As they banked away to Eclipse, he dutifully followed. Deep down, he knew his actions would make a difference, and he was equally sure his father would have approved.
Δ
The meagre group of Tellurians watched as the mighty Te’an ships launched hundreds of small fighters, which swarmed towards the tiny Earth fleet.
The mother ships refrained from firing into the kill zone. From the moment the Earth ships appeared, they never stood a chance. This had merely been sport to entertain the Te; the cruisers need never have involved themselves at all, and it was doubtful any damage had been done to the lead Te’an ship.
The hope that had flickered briefly in the hearts of every Tellurian watching was now, utterly extinguished.
Jon tore his eyes from the image floating in the centre of the room, not wanting to see the inevitable slaughter that was to follow. In so doing, he saw the faces of the President, Hugo Black and Gerry Wye. While each man would have a different story, they all shared one thing in common; each had, for different reasons, played an essential part in realising what was now unfolding before their eyes.
The President was unknown to him, and thus a closed book, but he had the appearance of a broken man. For all that, he looked over to Jon and gave him a rueful smile.
The unpleasant man who had greeted them on their arrival - he tried unsuccessfully to banish an image of Emily from his mind - seemed almost catatonic.
As for Hugo Black, he knew that his mind would be racing to find a solution, however improbable.
The three screens were blank, whether through the actions of the Te, or because the leaders needed to put their houses in order, he had no idea.
The remaining ships, constituting the entirety of Earth’s defences were soon destroyed, save for one which lay stationary in space, facing a number of the smaller, Te’an craft. Before the inevitable outcome of that encounter could be witnessed, the hologram shifted focus to return of the mid-size ship and the majority of the fighters to their respective mother ships.
The silence in space was mirrored within the room.
Ω
‘Make sure the hanger is empty before he is allowed to disembark. His entire squadron is to be debriefed before they rejoin the crew. They need to understand only one thing: Silence!’ Darl ordered without taking his eyes off the returning dart, with its disgraced officer.
‘Of course, sir. As to his destination, brig or house arrest?’
Darl looked surprised. ‘You’re not serious?’ The lack of response confirmed that his XO was deadly serious. ‘This is the death penalty we’re talking about Kirion. Disobeying a direct order during hostilities, and we don’t send an officer to his room with no supper, for that!’
Kirion still said nothing, as his commander clenched his jaw and flexed his fingers, before slowly nodding his understanding. ‘Once we put him in the brig, there’s a military tribunal and things best left unsaid come into the open, whereas under house arrest we can assess him and, if necessary, he never sees the light of day and nothing he says outside of restricted and redacted reports, reaches inquisitive ears,’ he smiled grimly to his XO. ‘You're right, of course. We need to contain this. As long as his squadron remain silent, on pain of whatever we can think up to scare them, it could work out well.’ Evidently happy with the solution - he had lost interest in the battle which had now reached its inevitable conclusion - he brightened. ‘Time to return to the bridge, our final orders will be coming through very soon. You are to go straight to the hangar and supervise everything. Impound the ship as evidence…oh, I almost forgot, we’ll need to have a little talk with our errant pilot, when matters have calmed down.’
As the two men left the ready room, each went his separate way without another word between them.
Gorn watched his commander, and saw glimpses of the man who confessed to him so many months ago. He knew there was greatness in his people, but not in this man. When Darl smiled at him, he returned the smile and nodded.
He had given Hugo Black and Jonathon Tyler the opportunity to prevent what was about to unfold, and while he was now blind to what was happening on Telluria - it had been too dangerous to access the Avatar while in the operations room - it was clear the Custodians had chosen not to intervene. He noticed Darl tilting his head, an involuntary gesture many unconsciously adopted when receiving an internal message. Straightening up, the commander barked. ‘We are ordered to proceed with acquisition and sterilisation. You each know your duties.’
Despite the horror Gorn had just witnessed, he knew that most of his comrades would only see what the Agency had meticulously planned, the Tellurians were the antagonists. Any evidence to the contrary would be ignored. He did not know if he had made any noise, or given any indication of how he felt; at this precise moment, he was past caring. He had failed and even betrayed his only friend, watching him grow ever closer to his inevitable act of self destruction, watching but doing nothing to prevent it.
A mental picture of Genir, being taken to the first of many tiny rooms that would become his home for the rest of his life, cut off from everyone who ever cared for him, loomed before Gorn. What he did was noble but foolish, and no one would ever know.
Exhausted, Gorn stared at the stream of data flooding his holo image, nothing in particular going through his mind. It was as if all responsibility was pouring out of him. He had no idea how much time had passed, when he felt a frisson, a spark of an idea that spread through his mind, igniting other ideas, plans, schemes. His mission was something chosen for him by his mother and his aunt; perhaps he failed because he never wanted to fully understand the implications of his actions, but that did not matter any more. What mattered was Genir. The plan to save his friend lay fully formed at the forefront of his mind, a plan only made possible by his commander. The young officer and failed conspirator looked across to Darl, engaged in conversation with Trang, and smiled as a simple thought formed, thank you.
ΩΔ
Tala took her time in moving her gaze from the hologram to the President. If she was relishing every slow and torturous mom
ent, it was not apparent.
The holo image changed, and once again the middle-aged, balding man appeared. His eyes swept across the traumatised group, finally alighting upon their stricken leader. ‘Did you seriously think we would be unable to cope with anything you did to our weapons systems. We have overcome powers vastly superior to anything you could possibly imagine.’
The tone in the man’s voice changed, becoming almost conspiratorial, not unlike a schoolboy who is bragging to his inner circle of friends how he cheated on the end of term test. ‘I must tell you that I was not wholly truthful a few moments ago when I said we would destroy you. The Accords do not permit us to open hostilities. Being signatories to the agreement would not permit pre-emptive violence against you, until you became emergent. In launching your interstellar capable craft you became just that. It simply sealed the matter when we acted in self defence,’ he sighed, before adding, ‘I am sure you will agree that our ships simply appeared out of weft space. You launched your craft and fired upon us. As a consequence, we are no longer bound by the Accords.’ He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as if standing on a secluded beach where the waves crashed against the shore giving out that unmistakable, refreshing smell of the sea.
The man opened his eyes, his smile a fixture, before saying in a satisfied tone. ‘Now, we may exact retribution in any manner we see fit.’
Hugo stole a glance at Tala who was staring at the Artefact, her eyebrows knitted.
The image addressed the entire room. ‘I imagine you are a little preoccupied, but I am sure you can see the delicious irony of what has just happened,’ then looking again at the President, with an expression of mock sympathy. ‘Not one of your better days? One bad decision after another, but it would be remiss of me if I failed to thank the one person without whom none of this might have been possible,’ he turned his head and looked to the side of the President. ‘Tala has told me so much about you, Mr Wye. We are so grateful to you, and I do wish there was some way I could reward you…but everyone goes.’
Those who were still capable of taking anything in, looked at Wye whose mind had completely closed down, his eyes empty he had stopped listening minutes ago.
The balding man shrugged, before turning back to the President. ‘Without your Chief of Staff persuading you not to trust Mr Black, the agreement might never have been signed, and we would have been forced to leave, imagine that!’ It was at this point that Tala tore her attention from the Artefact and looked at her mentor. Hugo could see the quizzical look had not departed, he’s relishing every moment of excruciating pain he’s inflicting, and she’s not comfortable with it, he thought. He searched for a way to turn this to their advantage, and came up short.
‘In a few moments, my colleagues will depart with these two men.’ The man inclined his head in the direction of Jon and Hugo. ‘The planet will be irradiated in such a manner that only Tellurian life will be affected, and I would like to assure you that the destruction of your species will be painless, but it would be untrue. The structure of your bodies will break down while you are still alive. The complete process takes five days, after which no trace of you will remain.’
Raising his eyebrows, he added. ‘It is far more hygienic for us. Can you imagine the logistical nightmare entailed in disposing of seven billion bodies?’ Totally immune to the horror he was describing, he continued. ‘As you heard the commander say, we require some time to remove items we consider valuable. I should tell you that the shock troops will have no hesitation in forcibly eradicating any obstacles to the inventory process. You will have a few days in which to prepare yourselves for the inevitable.’
The last comment was made in the tone of a man who expects his audience to be grateful.
A minute passed, with no one saying anything. The man looked a little surprised and not a little disappointed. ‘I expected pleas for mercy. We usually get them from human species, as we are so alike physiologically. Perhaps you are not quite as stupid as your actions thus far, have suggested. Of course, you are right not to plead as we will not spare you, although it is probably more accurate to say we cannot, some of our civilians might not take it too well.’ He chose not to elaborate.
He was like a cat cornering a mouse, wanting to enjoy the distress of his prey. Again the reaction was silence, to accompany the realisation that all hope was gone, with nothing to be done but wait for the final, inevitable conclusion that would be the eradication of all Tellurian life.
As Garnoth considered the small group he found, in the majority, a silent resignation. Even among the few who remained firm, there were the unmistakable signs of fear. He was in no doubt, that every single one of them would do whatever they could to save themselves. He was wrong. The President would readily sacrifice his life for the people of his planet, while Jon and Hugo were desperately trying to figure out a way to turn the nightmare around.
When he saw the resolve writ large in the faces of these three men, he felt a modicum of admiration for their brave, but hopeless cause. Eventually, his eyes came to rest on the young woman who earlier caught the attention of Gerry Wye. She, initially looked at the image with defiance, but under the constant gaze of their tormentor, her resolution faltered, before failing altogether. She turned and rushed for the locked door. Finding her exit barred, she initially threw her slight weight against the unyielding timber before slumping, defeated against the barrier to her freedom.
This had been Garnoth’s first contact with Tellurians. Tala’s reports suggested more resilience. Has she had permitted herself to become attached to this race of sub-humans, permitting emotion to muddy the clear waters of her resolve? There is one way to find out. He looked back to the terrified young woman, sheltering against the door and made up his mind, he had found his specimen.
Addressing the crowd, he looked at Tala. ‘I do not have the time to demonstrate how you will meet your end. However, I can show you what will happen if you obstruct our shock troops.’ There was a moment’s pause as his eyes lighted upon the Artefact. ‘Before we commence the demonstration I would like you to take possession of that interesting little box, Tala.’
She nodded dutifully, wondering why there was any need for a demonstration. Surely, there’s been a sufficient display of our power. These people are crushed…why’s he doing this?
Stepping over to the table, ignoring the eyes following her, she picked up the Artefact. Removing a small galet from a pocket, she passed it over the unremarkable object; no energy readings, or indeed readings of any kind. It sat inert, in the palm of her hand, then began to glow softly and warmth from the little device suffused her entire body, before it vanished.
‘Oh,’ remarked Garnoth, ‘that was most unfortunate. Perhaps it did not like you, my dear.’
Tala felt strange but was unable to place the feeling, then it, like the Artefact was gone. The carefully aimed barb from her mentor washed over her, without registering.
Despite the minor setback of the disappearing trinket, Garnoth was enjoying himself even more than he thought possible. He knew he was a cruel man, gaining pleasure from the suffering of others, but he had ceased being self critical more years ago than he would care to remember. True, the pleasure was vicarious, but it reminded him of why he resisted the lure of retirement. Back home, he had to employ more indirect devices to achieve his aims, convincing himself that the satisfaction he derived from his subtle machinations was more than a match for any in-field delights. He was now forced to admit he had been fooling himself, nothing matched this.
He accepted that an impartial bystander might consider, what he and his people were doing, monstrous enough, without seeking to terrorise a tiny group who would be unable to report their experience to anyone. Imagining how he might react, if placed in a similar predicament, he knew instinctively, that he would face his doom honourably. It was this mindset that distinguished the Te from these creatures. The fight was knocked out of most of them, and there was no sign of any further resistance. They migh
t share the same genetic code, but nothing more.
His reverie was interrupted by the sight of Beron - still holding on to Jon - moving towards Tala. The, normally taciturn, agent was not averse to violence when it was necessary, but he could see no benefit in what Garnoth was about to order. He was concerned the Supreme Council would take the same view, and their displeasure might rebound on him. If he could speak to Tala she might be able to persuade her mentor to reconsider.
‘Beron, how may I help you?’
The look in the spymaster’s eyes stopped the agent, instantly. Beron was a stranger to fear, and found himself in unknown territory. Without speaking another word, Garnoth communicated he would brook no interference. One look at Tala confirmed that Beron would find no help there; he made his decision, perhaps the best and safest course would be to mention it to his father when they returned home. After all, Vaaris could perhaps use the information to embarrass, or even remove his arch rival.
As Beron backed away with Jon, Garnoth silently regarded the agent with contempt. The look on Tala’s face became noncommittal.
Satisfied he would not be interrupted again, Garnoth turned his attention back to more important matters. There would be questioning of the humans, which normally would not involve him directly, yet that exercise might also prove interesting. The assimilation of the planet would be a matter for the military, and the bureaucrats. All too quickly, for him there would be the inevitable, slow atrophy of retirement, albeit luxurious. With no imminent projects on the horizon, even he might find it difficult to remain in post. He decided to make this mission one that would sate his needs for some considerable time to come.
