by S M Briscoe
Orna did not reply immediately, appearing thoughtful as she looked out at the landscape, almost as if reminiscing. “I met your parents before you were born,” she began, finally. They were both . . . special, like you, and dedicated to using their gifts in the aid of something . . . greater than themselves. Something good. Something worthy of giving their lives for.” She paused a moment, allowing time for the statement to sink in.
Jarred had always suspected his parents were gone. Yet, hearing Orna say as much still stung him. They were one of the mysteries of his past, never to be reunited with. He felt a pang of loss, somewhere deep within himself, perhaps in a place that still stored some memory of them, knowing with certainty that he would never see them again. He allowed the brief sadness to pass on its own, instead of forcing it away, and looked to Orna to continue.
“It is rare that two of their kind would find each other,” she said, seeming to know he was ready to hear more. “The result of such a union would be quite potent. Any offspring would be . . . unique, even amongst others of your kind. Your birth represented hope for many of us, including your parents.”
Jarred cocked a brow at her last statement. “Hope? Hope for what?”
“For everything,” she answered him, matter-of-factly.
The statement surprised him more than many of things she had revealed to him over the course of their dialogues, and that was saying something. The answer caught him off guard, mostly because he had no idea what it meant. “I’m not following you,” he said, finally.
Orna didn’t speak for what seemed like an eternity as they continued walking. “Events,” she began, slowly, “that have already passed and those that have yet to transpire are relative to one another in time and space. If one of the two plains was distorted, the lines dividing past, present and future could be altered. There are some who have the ability to shift their consciousness, to propel their minds across these plains and glimpse the universe without time. Such beings have foretold many things that have come to pass. Millennia ago, they prophesied a union between two of your kind, the offspring of which would be a weapon against great evil.”
“A prophecy?” Jarred repeated the word to ensure he had heard it correctly. He had believed Orna to be a strange being, if not a bit enigmatic, but he wouldn’t have labeled her as delusional, which was clearly the case. “You’re saying my birth was . . . prophesied . . . and I’m this weapon against evil.”
Orna did not seem fazed by his obvious disbelief. “I understand your skepticism.”
“Oh, you picked up on that, did you?”
“You have said that you want answers,” she went on. “I can lead you to them, but it is up to you to accept them or not.”
Jarred shook his head at the absurdity of the conversation. He had been thrown off by her seeming knowledge of his past, and of his lost memory of it, but now he was just beginning to think she was on the wrong side of sane.
“It is difficult for you to see past the physical realm of this world,” Orna continued. “The, still dominant, homo-sapien in you is not well equipped to do so. In time that will change.”
“Well, right now the homo-sapien in me thinks you’ve blown a fuse.”
“You do not need to rely on my words alone. You can find the truth for yourself. The path to your own enlightenment can begin here, if you should choose to take the first step and open your mind. You must accept that nothing in this universe occurs by chance. Our meeting was not coincidence. All of the events which have occurred have done so in order to bring us here, to this crucial point in time, so that you may begin on the path to fulfilling your destiny.”
“What are you talking about?” Jarred was actually stunned by the path their conversation had taken. “You’re here because of Sierra and her resistance pals and whatever it is they want with you. I was just unlucky enough to get caught up in this mess with all of you . . . temporarily.”
Orna looked thoughtful. “They have their parts to play, as we all do. They were also the means to which we would be brought together. As was the man you hunted, who led you to the moon where the ship I was aboard had been forced to land. So too, the young woman and her brother, who convinced you to give me aid.”
Jarred was suddenly taken aback . . . yet again. “Wait. How did you know that?”
“All of these things,” she continued, seeming to ignore his question, “were needed for our paths to cross and to bring us here to this sacred place.”
Jarred followed Orna’s gaze as she looked out at the mountainous region before them. They had come to the edge of a steep cliff wall that gave way to a breathtaking view of the serene landscape. It reminded him of the place he had once called home, which was probably the reason for the strange feelings of familiarity he had been experiencing since arriving here. Pulling himself away from the view, he returned his attention to Orna.
“What about this place?” he asked.
“It is here that your journey begins,” she answered.
Jarred shook his head at her, a bit dumbfounded. “What journey?”
She blinked her large eyes at him, a look he had grown accustomed to seeing, though he was no closer to understanding its meaning. “That is for you to discover.”
Jarred rolled his eyes and let out a tired sigh.
“One’s destiny cannot be delivered to them,” she continued. “It is a path that must be walked.”
“What if I don’t believe in any of these things you’re talking about. Destiny or good and evil?”
“Soon enough, you will,” she replied, the statement causing a chill to run up Jarred’s spine. “There are forces at work in this universe that you cannot yet comprehend, but the time is drawing near when you will have to face them. But you are not yet ready to do so. You have squandered your gifts with aimless wanderings, running from your past and the path that has been laid out before you.”
Jarred’s confusion quickly turned to anger and he snapped back at the small being. “This is my life to choose! No one else’s! I decide where it leads. You’re not the first to try and tell me what path to travel. The last one was the closest thing to a family I’ve ever known, and I didn’t listen to him. What makes you think I would listen to you?”
“I do not expect you to listen to me,” Orna returned, once he had finished blasting her. “I expect you to follow your heart. To do what is right.”
“What is right,” Jarred echoed, almost laughing. “Can you tell me what that is exactly?”
“I cannot,” she answered him. “It is something one must decide for one’s self.”
“Of course,” Jarred scoffed. “How convenient that every question can be answered that way. Well let me tell you something about the universe we find ourselves in. I’ve travelled to its darkest corners and I’ve seen the foul nature of the people in it. It isn’t all warm and fuzzy. It’s a cold, dark place.”
“It is darker than you know,” Orna said. “You have only glimpsed its foul elements. Far worse things than you have ever encountered lurk beyond the rim of your perceptions. And they will soon be upon us. You must be prepared for them.”
Jarred shook his head. “You’ve got the wrong person. I’m no one’s hero. There’s no path for me. Like everyone else, I’m just trying to go my own way.”
Orna stared at him for a long moment. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I have misjudged you.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.”
Orna continued to regard him, her dark alien eyes seeming to look straight through him. “There is a light in you, Jarred Archer. Even if you choose not to see it. You may choose to cloak yourself if the persona of one that cares only for himself, but your light will always shine through it. You cannot hide the truth of yourself. And you cannot run from that truth forever. There comes a time in every person’s life when they must come to terms with and accept who they are.”
Jarred let out a weary breath as he turned away to stare out at the mountainous scene before him again, feeling almost fatigued fr
om the battle of words he was quickly learning he could not win. More so, much of what she was saying was striking a sensitive nerve inside him. As much as he wanted to deny it, some of it was the truth. He was and had been hiding from who he was. He didn’t want to face it. It had been easier to pretend he wasn’t . . . what he was. That way he didn’t have to try to understand or come to terms with it. Whether he believed in the things she was saying or not, this strange being, in some part, knew him, had known his parents, and claimed to know something of his future. If she could truly lead him to the answers he had spent so much of his life avoiding . . . then maybe it was time he finally stopped running from them.
“And how do I accept who I am . . . if I don’t know who I am,” he asked, turning back to face the small being.
She was still watching him, patiently, as if having been simply waiting for him to work through his own inner conflict, already knowing the conclusion he would eventually come to.
“Then you must learn.”
Chapter 21
Trycon's airways were uncharacteristically void of all civilian traffic, as they had remained since the Dominion ordered airspace closure and city wide ground curfew was put in place less than twenty four hours earlier. A steadily increasing number of military patrol craft were all that remained, creeping ominously across the skylanes, the TrySec patrollers that had initially been utilized during the terror alert, now grounded as well.
From his room wide office viewport, Governor Jonas Falin could only watch in impotence as control of his city was stripped away from him layer by layer. At the initial onset of the supposed terrorist incident, he had obligingly cooperated with High Commander Durak and his forces, committing Trycon’s security and law enforcement personnel to aid in extinguishing the threat.
As a satellite based colony, they had minimal first hand contact with the Dominion, thus there was very little interference in how they governed their populace. When an opportunity arose, such as the one they were in now, it was in Trycon’s best interest to show its willingness to cooperate fully with the system’s supreme governing body, and to have them leaving satisfied enough to not feel that a permanent military presence was necessary. They had managed to do so thus far.
Yet this time was different. In only a few short hours, what had appeared to be a contained terrorist threat had escalated into a full scale emergency and city wide lockdown. The Dominion had originally arrived with a small contingent of troops, relying heavily on Trycon’s own security forces for support. That collaboration had deteriorated very quickly as a seemingly endless flood of Sect reinforcements arrived to replace the majority of his own personnel, leaving them to stand on the sidelines. The open dialogue between his own forces and Durak’s had now dwindled to the point of nonexistence. The last status reports, as limited and uninformative as they were, had come nearly twelve hours ago, some time after the last known contact with the suspected terrorists, and he did not anticipate he would be receiving any more.
Truthfully, Jonas was no longer interested in status reports or whether or not he was being kept in the loop. For all intensive purposes, the Sect had assumed control of Trycon and as their grip continued to tighten on the city, his primary concern had become ensuring that it did not stay that way. Upon receiving the communique that the High Commander desired a meeting with him, he saw his opportunity to do just that.
Though the message had come through as a request, he knew that it was anything but. Durak did not make requests and he had his own agenda, the goals of which, Jonas didn’t entirely know. He could only hope that whatever that objective was, its resolution would also result in an end to the military’s siege of Trycon.
The comm chimed to alert him of his guests’ arrival and he glanced back over his shoulder at the closed double door hatchway. More nervous than he would have liked to admit, he took a steadying breath and straightened the front of his suit before turning to walk across the room. He nodded to one of the two security-mechs standing guard on either side of the hatchway and both turned to face the large set of double doors. The doors slid open, remotely activated by one of his personal security units, revealing Durak and his own military entourage, being escorted by more TrySec personnel, as they crossed the floor of his outer office reception area. His eyes were quickly drawn to a handful of fierce, and somewhat primitive, looking humanoids, of a race he was not familiar with, two of which were very closely trailing the High Commander.
Doing his best to keep the dread from showing on his face, he greeted Durak at the doorway and turned to walk alongside him as he and the two fierce beings entered his office, the remainder of the detail and his own security remaining outside in the antechamber. “High Commander, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
Durak nodded. “Unfortunately, the situation is one that has called for some urgency, Governor, so I hope you will understand if I dispense with the usual pleasantries.”
“Of course.” As they came to a stop in the center of the room, he turned and found himself staring into the face of one of the fierce looking humanoids. Startled, he took a step back before continuing. “How is the search proceeding? Have the terrorists been apprehended?”
Durak looked past Jonas as he answered, glaring out through the office viewport. “No, they have not.”
“That is unfortunate. Trycon is a large city, which I’m sure makes the search more challenging for your troops. My forces are, of course, at your disposal if you should require them. Their first hand knowledge of the city would greatly benefit your search efforts.”
“I appreciate your offer, Governor, but it is our belief that the terrorists may have escaped the boundaries of this city.”
Jonas didn’t succeed in masking his surprise. If it were true, the terrorists’ escape could mean that Durak and his troops would be pulling out of Trycon, sooner rather than later. “Really? Have they gone off world?”
Durak continued to gaze out through the viewport. “That has not been confirmed.”
Seeing his opportunity to possibly end the military occupation, Jonas chose his words carefully. “Seeing as it is your belief, High Commander, that these terrorists may no longer pose a threat to the citizens of this city, when might we begin to consider lifting the ground and air space closures?”
Durak did turn to face him now. “I am afraid that will not be happening, Governor. The current security measures will stay in place.”
“For how long?”
“Indefinitely.”
Jonas felt a sudden chill run down his spine. “I don’t understand. If the terrorists are no longer thought to be in Trycon, why must the lockdowns stay in place?”
“That is a military matter, Governor. I am afraid that is all that can be disclosed to you on the subject.”
“All that can be disclosed to me?” Jonas returned, outraged. The look from Durak quickly reminded Jonas of who he was questioning and he softened his tone before continuing. “High Commander, I apologize for my outburst, but I simply do not understand the reasoning behind this decision. As Governor to Trycon, it is my responsibility to object to these continued measures and humbly request that you reconsider or, at the very least, allow me some kind of explanation as to the reasons for their prolonged implementation. What am I to tell the public?”
“Your objection is understandable. Unfortunately, it no longer holds any bearing. It is my duty to inform you that for all intensive purposes, Trycon is now under military control and will be used as a local base of operations during this . . . terrorist threat. As for the public, as long as they adhere to the security measures we have put in place, their safety will not be jeopardized. It is my hope that you will stay on as a public voice for maintaining calm in the populace, but as a formal Governor to this city, your services will no longer be required.”
Jonas was actually shocked into speechlessness for a moment before finding his voice again. “High Commander, this is . . . this is outrageous! It’s unprecedented! No legitimat
ely elected government can simply be removed. Even the Dominion has laws. You cannot simply walk in here, strip me of my position and . . .”
Durak cut him off, sharply. “Actually, Governor, I can.” His attention had moved away from Jonas briefly, his gaze drifting towards the two primitive looking beings standing close by. Strangely, it seemed almost as though the High Commander was being observed by them, something that did not appear to sit well with him. He turned back to Jonas. “In such times of crisis, laws are expendable . . . as are politicians.”
Jonas had no doubt that the threat was a real one. He cast a quick glance towards his security team standing opposite Durak’s troops in the outer office area, who appeared to be growing tense. No more so than himself. His options had all but slipped away, the situation moving from bad to worse in the span of their short conversation. His worst fears were being realized. The military was indeed taking over. He couldn’t allow this to happen.
“High Commander,” he said, a little bit more unsteadily than he would have liked. “A direct threat against an elected official of the Dominion government, even from its highest ranking officer, is a threat against the state itself, and in so . . . an act of treason. Under the circumstances, I have no choice but to contact the High Council and inform them of your actions here.”
Durak appeared to smirk. “Now who is making threats, Governor.” After a moment’s pause, he continued. “Tell me, Governor Falin, how do you intend to contact the High Council . . . with your communications web deactivated?”
Jonas felt his stomach tighten into a sickening knot and he glanced back at the personal comm station on his desk. Cautiously, he took a step towards it, no one attempting to stop him. A quick check showed nothing but static across all web frequencies and off world comm channels.
“You’ve blacked out off world communications,” he stated, not turning around.
“A consequence of the terrorist attack on your city,” Durak answered. “One of many.”
