by Kyle Mata
“What about the rest of humanity?” Karr pressed.
“What about them!?” Hector raised his voice angrily. “What has the rest of humanity ever done for us? For centuries, the rest of humanity has done nothing but try to invade and steal from us. We are who we are because the rest of humanity left us for dead! Do you forget why you were removed the last time you were here?!” Hector stalked up to Karr. He stood a few centimeters taller than his younger brother, but Karr did not move.
“I have not forgotten.”
“That’s enough, Hector,” Arbenn said, pushing the two apart. “Karr came to you because he thought you’d take him seriously.”
“Oh, I do, and the Rae are quite the threat. I’ll be sure to put all Guardians on high alert, and I’ll warn the Gunda’clan.”
“And leave the rest of the galaxy, the rest of humanity, to be enslaved? Then we will have an enemy force to fend off that will be greater than anything we have ever faced before.”
“Listen to me, Karr, listen very carefully. Read. My. Lips. The rest of humanity can rot.”
Hector sat down at his desk very calmly. “Let them come. Their forces will be turned to dust before they can enter atmo.” There was a beep on the desk; the Guardian head of clan-city security was at the door. Hector tapped a button to allow him entrance. Four Shadowri Guardians trudged into the room dragging Thomas, Daena, and Roux.
“What is the meaning of this? Who are they?” Hector stood in anger.
“Offworlders, sir. We discovered them at the marketplace. They say they are friends of Karr… but he’s been—oh.” The Security Guardian stopped midsentence when he noticed Karr stood before him. The Guardian simply slid his faceplate up, and pointed at Karr. Hector turned toward his brother and drew his Tirium sword.
“You know I should kill you for this.” Hector hissed with fury.
“Whoa, Hector, calm down.” Arbenn attempted to calm her elder stepbrother.
“I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!” Hector screamed. He took a step closer toward Karr. Karr had his hand on his LT sidearm, ready to draw it in an instant. There was a nearly tangible tension in the room as the brothers faced one another. Hector’s face suddenly went blank of all emotion; he returned his glowing sword to the sheath on his back. “You have put me in an awkward position, brother. Those who look up to me as Archon might see me as weak if I do not punish you, but others may see me as cruel to execute my own brother.” He took a seat at his desk and replaced his helmet. “Karr Mun’tyre, as the Archon of Clan Mun, you are hereby stripped of your Commando title. You are banned from ever returning to Tira, and you are now, officially, Disarmored.”
Without a word, Karr put his helmet back on carefully. He walked over to Arbenn and gave her a hug without so much as a word. He then walked to where Thomas, Daena, and Roux were bound.
“Unbind them,” Karr said flatly. The Guardian looked puzzled back and forth between Hector and Karr. Karr suddenly kicked the Guardian into the wall with immense force, denting the thick metal. The Guardian slumped to the floor. The other Guardians in the room pulled their weapons and pointed them at Karr.
“I will not ask again,” Karr growled.
“Unbind them; escort them back to their ship,” Hector commanded with about as much enthusiasm as if he were ordering a cup of ‘cof. The Guardians quickly obliged. Karr stepped first into the elevator, leaving Arbenn and Hector alone in the office. Before the door closed, Daena looked back to see a look of pain and loss on the female Shadowri’s face.
It was an awkward and silent walk back to the Owl. Every Shadowri on the streets between Central and the landing pad stopped to stare at the offworlders. Once the rocket was boarded and the ramp began to close, Thomas flipped an ancient inappropriate gesture toward the Guardians who waited for their ship to leave.
Roux climbed wordlessly into the cockpit and prepared to take off. Daena walked up to Karr, partially afraid he would lash out at her.
“I’m…so sorry, Karr,” Daena said sheepishly. Karr just looked down at her. He remained silent for a little longer than his standard pause before responding.
“It is alright.” He pulled off his helmet and stood near one of the passenger seats. The others mag-clamped into their seats for departure.
“Where do we go now?” Roux asked down the ladder, uncomfortable that she had to break the silence.
“Fortshione. It’s time I reported back.” Thomas said quietly, even he felt guilty about what had happened to Karr.
The Athena’s Owl lifted vertically off into orbit. The passenger bay and cockpit rotated automatically as the ship went horizontal after breaking out of the atmosphere. Just moments later, the Shimada warp-reactor hummed to life and the Owl entered a warp-jump pocket, destined for the Nyrotsi capital planet.
CHAPTER 12
FORTSHIONE
Once the Athena’s Owl was safely in the warp-jump, Roux carefully climbed down to join the others.
“What did that Archon mean when he called you disarmored?” Thomas asked Karr.
“And he called you brother—was he really your brother or is that just a clan thing?” Daena asked. She was happy that Thomas had broken the silence but felt guilty for berating Karr with questions. Karr continued to stand quietly like a statue with his head bowed.
“He is my stepbrother and the Archon of my clan,” Karr finally said. “There is, in a sense, a fourth caste.”
“A fourth caste?!” Roux nearly squeaked. “I’ve never heard of a fourth—” Daena shot Roux a look that could kill. Roux quickly silenced herself.
“The disarmored consist of any Shadowri who has been banished or exiled from Tira for dishonoring their clan. It is a punishment worse than death. When a Shadowri dies, they keep their title forever in death. The disarmored do not.”
“All for bringing offworlders to your planet? That doesn’t seem fair at all,” Thomas said. Karr just looked at him for a moment. “Also, you… kept your armor.” Thomas felt as though he was pointing out the obvious, but why name someone ‘disarmored’ and allow them to keep their armor?
“A Shadowri’s armor is like their skin; it is as much a part of them as their eyes or their muscle. Each Shadowri, even the disarmored, have earned their armor. That is a fact never disputed, even in exile.”
“What do you do now?” Daena asked.
“Find a new surname,” Karr replied flatly. The cockpit beeped, indicating that they were about to drop out of their warp-jump. Roux and Thomas climbed up to the cockpit to request clearance into Fortshione airspace.
Daena had seen Karr hug the woman on Shadowri’tira, which she assumed was his sister, Arbenn, the one he had told her about. Daena didn’t take Karr for the sensitive type, but she ventured a hug. She knew that if she were in his boots—or whatever he called them—she would want a hug. She put her arms around him and felt like she was hugging a battlecruiser, but she had committed and stayed there for a moment. She finally felt one, then both of his arms firmly encompass her.
Karr was confused as to why Daena was hugging him, but he noticed she would be unclamped when they left the warp-jump, so he turned on his mag-boots and returned the embrace; this way she wouldn’t be tossed around the cabin like a rag doll.
Though, he also appreciated her hug.
He used to share hugs with his mother and sister, and possibly his biological father, but he didn’t remember. It had been a very long time. He felt a sudden pang of sadness over the fact that he would never see his mother or sister again. He hugged Daena a little tighter, careful not to hurt her.
They only broke their wordless embrace when they felt the ship touch down and heard Thomas and Roux begin to climb down the ladder.
Traders and businesspersons from the Mason’s Guild visited Nyrotsi systems all the time, so they would certainly experience less resistance on Fortshione than they had at their previous destination.
Thomas lowered the ramp and beamed with pride as he looked unto his home world. “Welcome to Nightfan
g city, the military might capital of the galaxy.” The city was equal parts city and military base. Most of the buildings were identical; they were all painted the same dark brown. Battle tanks and street speeders zipped about the roads with equal frequency. Daena couldn’t help but recognize how ugly the city was. It was so stark and spartan; it seemed more likely to be designed (and inhabited by) machines rather than humans. The team strolled down from the ship and Thomas found a nearby information terminal, which he tapped into. He first checked the casualty list from his battle group.
“Tragic,” Thomas said as he scrolled through the casualty list, pinged with pain each time he recognized a name. He felt winded once he realized the extent of the list. As he made it toward the bottom, he found a startling name.
LIEUTENANT COMMANDER THOMAS J. WINCHESTER
That should be true. Thomas thought seeing himself on the deceased list. What sort of commander survives while his entire crew dies? I’m like that pathetic excuse for a mythical leader Odysseus. The burden of leadership felt heavy upon Thomas’s shoulders.
“Come on, let’s go to headquarters so I can brief my command about the Rae.” The group followed Thomas into the busy battle-ready city.
As they walked, they passed a colossal dry dock where fleet ships of various sizes and models were being worked on before returning to service. Thomas noted that the spot where the Leviathan-class Mega-Cruiser NRS Osiris would usually park for repairs was currently vacant, and he had not seen its signature on radar in orbit.
“Hmm, that’s interesting—where is the NRS Osiris?” Thomas stopped a random maintenance worker who stood on the walkway with them. “Hello Spacer, where is the Osiris? I figured after such a battle it would require extremely extensive repairs.”
“The Osiris? You mean from Second Fleet? It was destroyed. Those damn Coalition will pay for that one, Sir.” The Spacer replied with a salute, and then continued on her way.
“The Coalition?” Thomas whispered to himself, hoping Daena had not heard. He continued toward headquarters, desiring some answers.
As they walked, people recognized Thomas was in a military uniform and cheered or thanked him for his service. Those of lower ranks stopped to crisply salute him, but most paid little mind to the others, even Karr in his Shadowri armor went unrecognized, probably for the better. In the past few decades, few Nyrotsi had seen a Shadowri and lived to talk about it.
“I’ll head to command and find Admiral Tavington. His ship survived the battle over Scorpion, I know it, I saw it. He’ll be pleased to see a survivor from Second fleet, I’m sure,” Thomas explained to the others.
Suddenly, a klaxon sounded across the city. People stopped everywhere and crowded around the nearest information terminal they could find. The unlikely alliance did the same.
Admiral Tavington himself appeared on screen in full dress uniform. The tall tough looking elderly man with his scarred face and cyber-optic eye was hard to mistake.
“That’s him, that’s the Admiral!” Thomas said.
“Citizens of Fortshione, my fellow Nyrotsi.” Tavington’s commanding voice boomed throughout the entire city—and across the entire planet. Between his words, there was utter silence as the entire city ceased prior business to listen to the man, the numbered fleet admirals were celebrities to the Nyrotsi. “The Coalition of Freed Planets has once again overstepped its boundaries. As you all know, a cease fire was signed ending the Outer Belt War when the Nomen began popping up, causing the tragedy on Gigantia,” He paused, allowing a moment of silence for the lost world.
“A few days ago, in orbit over Nomen RV-100342-324,” Tavington continued, “better known as ‘Scorpion,’ the Coalition fleet ambushed and destroyed my ship and my fleet. I, and only a handful of the bravest naval spacers, survived the battle.”
The screen changed and showed footage of various Nyrotsi ships exploding, shot by Coalition battlecruisers that were superimposed over the Rae fleet. There was even footage of the NRS Osiris exploding. There were gasps and screams of terror from the gathered crowds.
“He—he scuttled the Osiris? He must have murdered thousands.” Thomas was stricken. He knew Tavington was not the most honorable of the numbered admiralty, but this was inconceivable. How could he pull off something like this? Was there a military coup? Thomas knew the Dominar himself needed to know about this.
“As I speak to you now, First and Third fleets are on their way to engage Coalition forces in Coalition space outside Grainor and Gardenia before they have a chance to attack us at home!” Tavington boomed. Daena looked on in shock, hearing the name of her home world. Thomas did his best to ignore the others behind him and continued to stare at the screen. Roux found herself examining the Nyrotsi citizens more than listening to the Admiral. She noted that some people cried, some people stood in stunned silence, but most people cheered as though he was some glorious hero, rather than a treasonous terra-snake. Thomas was furious; he needed to speak with the Dominar and find out what exactly was going on. Another war with the Coalition was a huge mistake, especially with the threat of the Rae looming.
“Come on, we need to talk to the Dominar before this gets out of hand,” Thomas said while Tavington started a speech about the resolve of the Nyrotsi people. He took off toward the Capital Bastion, a castle-like structure where the Dominar and his constituents resided and worked. Thomas Winchester was a Nyrotsi patriot through and through, but he was no fool and would not stand for this treachery. The others ran to keep up.
“Gets out of hand?!” Daena roared. “This has already gotten out of hand; the Coalition certainly did not attack your fleet!”
“Daena, I know, even better than you do. I was there. I witnessed the Rae fleet’s attack first hand. I lost my entire crew. That’s why we need to get to the Dominar, now.” Thomas knew what those fleets would do to the Coalition planets, his mind racing back to Vir and Tique. The only thing that would stop them was a direct stand-down order from the Dominar himself.
Luckily, Dominar Riegus was a family friend of Thomas. The Dominar would come visit Thomas’s grandfather for Past-Wars-Waged Day every year; he even personally pinned on Thomas’s pilot wings at his graduation ceremony years ago. The Riegus and Winchester families had worked hand in hand for generations now—in both peace and war.
As the team approached the Capital Bastion, Thomas noticed an elevated level of security, one like he had never seen before. He approached the door, which was guarded by two Nightfang marines in assault gear. He had never seen this door actively manned.
He attempted to brush past the marines, who were of a considerably lower rank than him. They moved in front of him, blocking his entrance. Thomas was outraged.
“Step aside, I am Lieutenant Commander Winchester and I demand the audience of the Dominar.”
“Impossible, sir. The Dominar has been moved to a safer location,” The Nightfang on the right said through his faceless helmet. The Dominar had never moved from the Bastion, especially in times of war. The Bastion was the safest place in the galaxy with a fortified upper structure and several stories of catacombs weaving deep into the planet’s crust.
“What did you say your name was again?” The other Nightfang asked.
“Lieutenant Commander Winchester. Just scan me—what is this, the 400’s?” He offered a finger for a hand-scanner the marine held up. The small machine pinged with a match and the Nightfang exchanged looks.
“Commander Winchester you are under arrest!” A look of confused disgust overtook Thomas’s face. One Nightfang moved to incapacitate Thomas and Thomas evaded the grab. With a well-placed hand, he used the weight of the Nightfang’s armor against him and sent him toppling to the ground. The other pointed his rifle at Thomas and found the armored fist of Karr smashing the front of his helmet. Karr had fought enough Nightfang to learn the weaknesses in their armor. The second Nightfang crumbled over his companion. Thomas snatched the scanner out of the air before it shattered on the ground.
“I
think it’s time we left,” Thomas said, turning to run back to the docking yard.
“Stop them! He’s a spy for the Coalition!” The marine pinned to the ground called. As a few people turned to look where he was pointing, the crew slipped into the anonymity of the crowd surrounding one of the information terminals. Once they were on the other side of the now dispersing masses, they slowed to walk with the speed of everyone else.
“What’s going on?” Roux asked quietly enough to be heard only by the others.
“Tavington must have started a coup within the fleet and…” He paused for a moment, choking on the next words. “He must have overthrown the Dominar, because there is no way Dominar Riegus would leave the Bastion—especially now.”
He couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘assassinated’ because until there was a body; there was hope he was still alive. And if he was still alive, then the Dominar could return peace between the Coalition and the Nyrotsi people. Dominar Riegus was the biggest advocate for peace talks during the Outer Belt War, and the Zebra Nebula War. But it would all be quite irrelevant soon if the Nyrotsi and Coalition started killing each other and the Rae swooped in and finished them both off.
They made it to the Athena’s Owl, having narrowly dodged a few police patrols. Luckily, it seemed they were looking for a rogue fleet lieutenant commander, who blended easily with the crowd around a shipyard and did not pay much attention to the tall armored Shadowri he traveled with.
They rushed aboard the recently fueled ship and Roux requested clearance to take off while quickly moving through her preflight checklist. Thomas took the copilot seat to aid her. They lifted off as soon as they had clearance.
“Where are we going?” Roux asked loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“Gardenia!” Daena and Thomas shouted in unison.
As they entered their warp-jump, Roux looked over at Thomas beside her and said, “Well, you and Karr have something in common now.” He shot her an unamused look before returning his attention to the shield energy converters, an old habit from his dropship days.
