by S M Briscoe
Chapter 28
Kern had breathed a heavy sigh of relief after dusting off from the Toguai village landing site with cloaking field initiated and fully functioning. He now found himself holding it again as they began to pass by elements of the Dominion blockade. This would be the true test of the unique device’s capabilities. If it failed and any one of the multitude of ships’ scanners picked up any trace of them, they would stand no chance of escaping. All he could do at this point was stay his course, slow and steady . . . and hope. By the dead silence on the flight deck, he assumed everyone else was doing the same.
The sheer immensity of the blockade sent a shiver up his spine. He watched with nervous amazement as the ship’s sensors identified each vessel, the makes and classes scrolling across the display in front of him. There were hundreds of them, mostly cruisers and frigates, gunships patrolling the spaces between them, all maintaining a synchronized orbit around Solta. Inside of that orbital ring, the highly sensitive scanners had registered thousands more pings that most wouldn’t have. A planetary minefield wrapped around the planet’s exosphere. Should he ever meet Arden Taliss, he would need to thank him for his precautions. Usually a minefield was used as a bold form of deterrence and would be highly pronounced. This one was meant to go undetected. They had negotiated a safe path through it with relative ease, but the fact that it was there at all gave him a bad feeling.
The Dominion had obviously gone to great lengths to ensure that no one escaped or entered Solta’s atmosphere, but without alerting anyone outside to the nature of what was actually happening on the surface. What were they telling everyone? On and off world communications had been jammed. People had to be wondering. Though it was a moon, Solta was still a highly trafficked world.
“It looks like we’ve passed through their jamming field,” Jarred announced, as though in response to Kern’s unspoken questions. “Comm channels are coming back up. There’s a tone of chatter bouncing around out there.”
“Who’s talking?” Sierra asked.
Kern spared a glance back to see Jarred’s hesitant look before he finally replied.
“Everyone.”
“What do you mean, everyone?” Sierra questioned.
Jarred shook his head as he looked back to the comm. “I mean . . . everyone’s talking. The comm lines are jammed with crossing waves. Something big is going on and it’s got a lot of attention.”
“Yeah,” Kern agreed. “The Sect just set up a major blockade on one of the system’s biggest trade moons. That’s bound to get some attention.” He motioned out the front viewport. “Why don’t we concentrate on the task of passing through it ourselves?”
“I’ve got a broadband news feed coming down the line,” Jarred stated, as if not hearing Kern’s plea to make a hasty retreat. “Official channels across all bands.”
“Bring it up,” Sierra demanded, impatiently, obviously more interested in discovering the source of all the attention than breaking the blockade.
“-cannot yet be confirmed,” a female broadcaster was reporting, as Jarred keyed into the live news feed, “but civilian casualties are estimated to be in the hundreds of thousands. The detonation is said to have caused catastrophic damage to Trycon’s inner core, the yet to be determined fallout reaching out as far as the outermost city limits.”
Kern nearly jumped out of the flight seat, having to force himself to keep his focus on flying. Detonation in Trycon? Hundreds of thousands dead? That couldn’t be true.
“Did she just say detonation?” he echoed. “In Trycon?”
Neither Sierra or Jarred answered, both keeping their focus on the comm transmission.
“Due to the biological nature of the attack,” the broadcaster continued, “Solta itself, and its surrounding space, has been placed under military quarantine. Unauthorized travel in, what has now been deemed, the restricted zone, is limited to military personnel only, which has hindered efforts to obtain detailed imagery of what was once Trycon’s core. Additionally, attempts to make contact with Trycon or any of the settlements on Solta have been unsuccessful, purportedly due to a build up of electro magnetic distortion generated by the explosion.
“According to military officials, the yet to be identified terrorist faction was specifically targeting the city’s governing district. It is unknown as to whether or not Governor Falin or any members of his caucus survived the attack, but officials appear doubtful.”
Terrorist faction. During their narrow escape from Trycon only a few days earlier, a fictitious terrorist threat had been used as the reasoning for the military enforced lockdown of the city, themselves declared as those would be terrorists. Now there had been a terrorist attack, supposedly killing tens of thousands of innocent citizens and they, as the terrorists, obviously hadn’t committed it, which left Kern to wonder who had. He hardly had to try. The answer was obvious. And horrifying.
“We have just received word-” the reporter continued. “Head of State Cal Dorion is just moments from releasing a public statement on the attack. We now go live to that feed from the Gaian capitol.”
Kern did spare a glance this time as Jarred brought up the live holographic feed, the large floating image of the Head of State filling the flight deck.
“Citizens of the Dominion,” the Head of State began. “I speak to you today under the most tragic of circumstances. The senseless terrorist attack perpetrated against the beings of Solta has shocked and saddened us all. On behalf of the Sect governance, my thoughts and prayers go out to those that have lost their lives and to their families and fellow citizenry who continue to suffer in the continuing aftermath. Even now, military, policing and emergency response forces from around the system work, in combined efforts, to stabilize the situation. I would ask that reporting broadcasters and concerned citizens alike respect the seriousness of the quarantine in effect and allow these forces to do their work.
“Fellow beings, I understand your worry and doubt. I understand your fear. Such monstrous events test our resolve and cause us to doubt ourselves. I ask you now to stand firm with me and the beings of Solta. This attack was not only perpetrated against the citizens of Trycon, but against us all, as we are all beings of the Dominion. What happens to one of us happens to us all. As we mourn this great loss and seek to aid those directly affected by this attack, we must also take action to see that such a thing does not happen again. We will identify those responsible for this massacre. And we will bring them to justice. Before all citizens of the Sect Dominion, and the Gods Themselves, I promise this.
“To the perpetrators of this vile act, who call themselves freedom fighters, and to any who would do harm to the loyal beings of this system, I send this message to you now. There is no distance that you can travel, nor haven in which you can find refuge, that will shield you from our vengeance. For rest assured, vengeance will be met, swiftly and decisively. You have wounded us, but we are not beaten. With this act of cowardice you have only hardened our resolve. We will not rest until justice is done. You will be rooted out from whatever dark corners you crawl into and, before the free beings of this system, the full might of the Sect will be brought down upon you.”
Kern saw the holograph of the Chief of State vanish in the reflection of his front viewport, being immediately replaced by the broadcast’s anchor. “Strong words,” he began, in a somber tone, “from the Chief of State in response to the violent attack on the city of Trycon. As emotions run high across the system from the shockwave caused by this tragedy, we can only hope that -”
“Shut it off,” Sierra snarled, obviously furious and as disgusted as Kern was. After Jarred had complied, cutting the transmission, she seemed to take a moment to compose herself before finally speaking again, her voice calm but with an ice cold edge to it. “I need to see it.”
“You need to see it?” Kern repeated, questioningly. “See what?” The obvious answer came to him almost as the words had left his lips and he began to protest. “Oh, no. I think that’s a bad
idea. We’re almost out of this.”
“Turn us around,” she ordered. “We’re not leaving yet.”
Sierra,” Kern pleaded. “There’s nothing we can do-”
“Just do it!” she barked, angrily.
“He’s right,” Jarred agreed, sympathetically. “Seeing it won’t change anything.”
“Maybe not for you,” Sierra returned. “I’m sure you could care less. But I need to see what they’ve done. I can’t leave until I have.”
There was a silent pause and Kern resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder. He could imagine the stare down that was taking place after the stinging comments. Sierra had always had a way with words.
“Bring us about,” Jarred said finally, the angry rebuttal Kern had fully expected not coming. “Heading one-seven-five. That should set us up for a direct pass over the area.”
There was no sense arguing any further. Sierra was his superior and Kern would follow her orders, though he had hoped Jarred might be a bit more persistent. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was just that, regardless of what had happened, there was little to nothing they could do about it. Seeing the carnage wouldn’t change that, though it would increase their chances of being spotted.
Taking a last look at the open space just ahead of them, he turned hard to stern and altered course to take them back along the moon’s equator. Trycon was on the satellite’s far side now and they would have to make nearly one full orbit to pass over it, which just meant more time flying under the scrutiny of the Sect blockade. The good news was the cloaking field seemed to be doing its job. They hadn’t been shot at yet, which was definitely a good sign. With any luck, it would stay that way.
Solta being relatively small compared to an actual planetary body, it didn’t take long for Trycon to come into view, the city appearing as a shimmering grey matte from their low orbital pathway. As they passed over it, Kern glimpsed a dark gathering of clouds on the horizon, collected above an amber glow he knew would have been the city’s core, or what was left of it. The glow quickly swelled in size as their approach brought them over the devastated area that must have spanned a nearly twenty kilometer radius, the sight causing Kern’s stomach to tighten with nausea. Hundreds of thousands dead would be a light estimate. The actual number he was afraid to even consider.
“Maybe you shouldn’t see this,” Jarred commented behind him. A glance back showed that the suggestion had been directed towards Elora, who was gazing out through the nearest viewport overlooking Trycon. Kern could understand that. She had experienced enough trauma herself with the loss of her brother, who they were now attempting to go after. The horrific site below would do nothing to calm her strained nerves.
“I’m fine,” she answered, distantly, keeping her eyes on the viewport.
The flight deck grew quiet then, and remained so, allowing their orbit to carry them over the scene in cold silence. What was there to say? The devastation defied description, as did the malice behind it. The evil that had caused it. That was something he did have words for.
“They’re saying we did this,” he nearly choked, with disbelief.
“We did,” Sierra answered, solemnly.
Kern turned to look back at her and arched his brow. “You can’t be serious.”
Sierra didn’t flinch. “We didn’t pull the trigger, but what happened down there happened because of us, because of what we’ve done . . . and what we’ll continue to do. This is just the beginning. It’s going to get worse. A lot worse.”
Kern shook his head, gazing down at the burning crater below. Was that truly the reality they were faced with? Their actions had brought this on all of those people? Kern couldn’t believe that. He couldn’t believe that his actions, his good intent, had led to this. If it was true, how could he continue, knowing what would happen.
“Then why are we doing it,” he asked, partially to himself, “if this is the result?”
“The Sect will stop at nothing to maintain their hold over this system,” she answered him, absently. “Even if it means destroying the very thing they’re trying to hold on to. That’s why we’re doing this.”
Kern glanced back to see the obvious self doubt in Sierra’s features, though the feeling must have been short lived as they were quickly replaced by a look of steely resolve.
“And it’s why we have to keep going,” she finished.
Kern wasn’t fully convinced, but he turned back to look out the viewport again. It was a lot to swallow. He had the blood of thousands on his hands, however indirectly, with the potential of adding more to the tally. That was something he wasn’t sure if he could handle, or live with.
The deck fell into silence once more, the seconds seeming to pass like hours, until finally, the smoldering patch that was once Trycon’s governing core, vanished beyond the edges of the ship’s viewports.
“Get us out of here,” Sierra said, finally.
Kern shook his head, now somehow hesitant to abandon the city that lay in ruins beneath them. Maybe that was why Sierra had needed to see it so badly. So that it wouldn’t be so easy to just turn away. So that she would remember. He had to agree on that point. He would never forget what he had seen here. The images would most likely haunt him for the rest of his days. He guessed that was the point.
“We can’t let them get away with this,” he commented, to no one in particular. “They have to pay for what they’ve done to these people.”
“They will pay,” Sierra answered him, reassuringly, the menacing tone returning to her voice. “They won’t get away with it. We’ll have our chance to avenge Trycon. It just won’t be today.”
* * *
Staring down at the scorched blemish on Trycon’s large city face, which was all that remained of the city’s governing district, Rho’uk could not help but feel uneasy. Death, even on such a scale as this, was not to be mourned. All life ended. How and when was in the hands of the Gods. It was his duty as a warrior to take life when so required, and to give his own when the Gods willed it to be his time. Blood was spilled and life was spent in war. This was the way of things. Though, it was the blood of warriors that was to be traded for glory under the watchful gaze of Turaus. Not that of . . . innocents.
In war, there was always collateral damage. This could seldom be helped and was a cost of doing battle. This was different. These innocents, as to say they were not warriors, were not simply caught in the cross fire. They were the intended target. Durak had initiated the attack as a means of gaining public sentiment against the insurrectionists, while creating the needed veil of cover that would be required to ensure that operations on the moon went unnoticed for the time being.
But it had not been the insurrectionists that had struck, as the masses were being informed. It had been Durak, and by extension, the Dominion, which meant that he himself, as a loyal servant of the Sect, was also responsible. The lives that had been taken in the staged attack did not weigh on him, so much as the purpose behind the action. These terrorists, as they were being called, were attempting to undermine the Sect’s power, and in doing so, dishonored the will of the Gods. The attack on Trycon would be more proof of this to the citizens of the Dominion, yet it would be false proof.
Rho’uk understood the need for secrecy. For subterfuge. These were tools in his own arsenal. As the striking blade of Turaus, Rai Chi warriors needed to be skilled in a variety of tactics, with the ability to employ them all with deadly efficiency. Though, when they were employed, it was to be against one’s enemies. That had not been the case today, and it was this that was the source of his current internal conflict.
If the insurrectionists were the enemy, as they wished harm against the Gods, the Sect, and by extension, all of its citizens, and his purpose, as ordained by the Gods, was to prevent them from doing so, why was Trycon now burning as a result of their own actions? Was this not the very thing they were attempting to thwart?
Never one to be unsure of his duty, Rho’uk suddenly found hi
mself feeling strangely conflicted. What was his purpose here? To extinguish the threat the insurrectionists represented? To Trycon, they had become that very threat. That was a thought that did not sit well with him.
Shifting his gaze, he looked from the moon to its looming parent world. Turaus. Was this what the War God wished of them? Was this His will? Were all things and doings not the will of the Gods? Perhaps that was where he should seek his clarity. With Them.
Yes, of course. How foolish of him. He needed to put his faith in the Gods where it belonged. Trust in Their wisdom and Their path for him. He would pray. Then the answers would come.
SPACE, NEARING RYZA
Appearing as only a minuscule dark speck in the massive shadow of its ringed parent world, Ryza looked as though it was sinking into the gaping maw of an horrific beast. The site left Jarred feeling unsettled, a thought in and of itself that disturbed him. He was hardly the type to be rattled by symbolic imagery, but he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that there was something ominous waiting for them here. Waiting for him.
Approaching the industrialized moon, he found himself reminded of the stairway he had climbed so many times as he’d made his ascent to the temple that was home of, what he could only describe as, an all consuming darkness. The dream had haunted him for all his life, or as much of it as he could remember. It had followed him, a dark companion in the shadows of his mind, but until now it had been only that. A dream. Upon finding the sword, it had suddenly become something real and tangible. Was it a vision of his future? He didn’t know, but the thought of truly being faced with whatever waited for him in his dreams made him uneasy. He never saw what dark presence dwelled within the temple. He had no clue as to what it represented. He never returned either.
Jarred scorned himself for letting, what he viewed as being, his childish fears get to him. He wasn’t a boy waking from nightmares anymore. He was a grown man and was more than capable of handling himself in any situation. The only thing waiting for him on Ryza was Ethan. If he planned on getting the boy out safely, if he was even there at all, he would need to have his wits about it.
