“What’s your plan?” Colin asked.
“Earth needs to be aware of what’s happening. They need to know about Uklavar. Even if my father doesn’t believe me, someone on Earth is bound to. We have to take the chance and go home.”
“All of us?” Charles asked.
“No, just Colin and I will go to Earth,” Da’Mira said. “We will need a fighting force, and the Highlanders might be our only hope for that.”
“Aye, I might be able to convince my clan to join our cause, they relish a good fight. Though I must confess, it will be difficult to persuade other tribes to commit to our cause,” Colin said half-heartedly.
Da’Mira offered him a reassuring nod, and said, “Meanwhile, Charles, you, Jonna and the rest of your team will return to the COSMOS and find out what else the ship can tell you. With Jonna possessing the knowledge of the Cosmea, it should be easy.”
“Nothing on this expedition has been easy, Milady,” Hyta said grimly.
“The old woman speaks the truth,” Colin said. “I daresay things will become graver these days ahead. Our primary goal will be to find and stop that horned bastard from finding and releasing his army...”
“And enslaving the people on Earth,” Jonna added.
“Or destroy it...” Charles spoke up.
“Doubtful,” Jonna said. “Uklavar, in all of his malevolence thrives on those who worship him. Even near the end of the last war, he had his minions for that, but the Cosmea destroyed most of them, except for these loathsome creatures.” She tugged on the energy tether holding the insectoid creature.
Da’Mira shunned away from the monster and asked, “There are more beasts like this one out there?”
“Even the Cosmea didn’t know what monstrosities Uklavar kept. I can’t tell you if this is the last of them – except for his army.”
“Wait,” Charles spoke up. “Do you know where his army is?”
Jonna shook her head, and with a diminished tone said, “It’s not so much where they are as when they are. Uklavar’s army is encased in a temporal bubble that is constantly moving, shifting his army in time. As far as his army is concerned, they are awaiting their master’s orders – it’s an order we must prevent them from receiving.”
Frustrated, Colin drew a breath. It chilled him to the bone. The objective was clear. Yet, foremost on his mind was his sister. The beast had her and even though stopping him from releasing his army was the ultimate goal, Colin hoped when it came down to the end, he would do the right thing. He looked out among his companions, their fate rested on him choosing to stop Uklavar, or saving his sister.
He wasn’t sure which was the most important.
A Tannador Shuttle – High Earth Orbit.
Inspection of the Tannador Food Processing Facility – Foregill Station
October 11, 2442
Quinton and Martin never discussed their late-night conversation two days prior. They kept their relationship businesslike and under control, though it was apparent that Martin found Quinton attractive, and Quinton found him intriguing. In all of Quinton’s relationships, he’d never met someone that fired his soul like the young Commander did. If he’d allowed himself to indulge as he had in the past, he would have had Martin in his bed by now. Yet, there was more to it, than a sexual relationship. Quinton was transfixed on the idea of where Commander Martin, and all of those under his command came from.
A regiment the size of Martin’s didn’t simply fall through the cracks, they didn’t sprout up overnight. They were well trained discipline men and women. This took time and resources that House Anders didn’t have. In fact, none of the Great Houses had that kind of money, so the original question still lay planted in Quinton’s mind. Where did these highly trained soldiers come from?
The Monarch shuttle hung, drifting under Foregill station, its outer spotlight illuminating the underbelly of the space platform. “Should I hold this position?” Martin asked.
“Run an integrity scan of the hull,” Quinton said. “It’s been several months since the last report was filed.
“These old girls have been in orbit for three-hundred years,” Martin said stroking his fingers across the holographic controls in front of him. “I’d say they’re space worthy, Milord.”
“That’s the reason for these inspections. They’ve been in space a long time. Its important we keep a proper check on them.”
“This should be work for a D class assistant, not a High-Born noble.”
My father did every inspection himself,” Quinton said. “‘You can never leave the livelihood and the fate of man kinds only source of food production to anyone but a Tannador, my father would say. He did it, and I’ll do it.”
“Your father was a great man.”
“My father was an ass. But he meant well, and I think in the end, he saw things differently.”
“How so?” Martin asked.
“You for instance. When my father was younger, he would have never entertained the idea of a private security force. It would have been against the very idea of what the Union stood for. Yet he allied himself with you, without so much of a question as to where you came from.”
Martin was quiet, he looked at Quinton waiting for the inevitable question.
“Alright, I’ll ask,” Quinton said putting the shuttles controls on automatic. “Where did you come from Martin, and how did you get trained in such a way?”
Martin exhaled, as if he was relieved Quinton had asked. “I wish I could tell you where I come from Milord, but I can’t. I don’t know anything about my life prior to becoming a member of the Anders defense team. I was trained to uphold certain principles and obey my commands in detail.”
Quinton regarded Martin for a long time. The young commander was well-conditioned and knew what to say. He wouldn’t give away information unless he was commanded to do so. “How many soldiers are in your ranks?”
“I am not sure, Milord.”
“Yet you maintain you are loyal to me?”
“I maintain that I am loyal to my commands, and my commands are to serve you, within reason.”
“Who gives you, your commands?”
Martin kept his eyes level on Quinton but didn’t offer a reply.
Quinton maintained his composure, even though he wanted to give a command of his own, but Martin was well trained, and he doubted he could drag the information from him. Changing his tactics, he asked, “And the conversation we had the other night. You reported that to your superiors?”
“No, Milord. That was our own private affair.”
Quinton drew a breath and smiled. He reached over for Martin and touched him on the arm. “You can’t blame me for trying to get information from you.”
“No, I cannot.”
“And you’ll understand if I keep trying.”
“If I might say something?”
Quinton nodded for him to continue.
“If you will be patient, in time everything will be made known to you. I have been assured of that.”
“When will that be?”
Martin did not answer.
“I see,” Quinton retracted his hand.
“Even I am not privy to all the information,” Martin said. “What I will tell you, is there is a time fast approaching that will explain everything to us both.”
“And in the meantime.”
“In the meantime, I will be your constant companion. Where you go, I go.”
Again, Quinton reached out for Martin, this time they held hands, clasping their fingers. “I would like that,” Quinton said. The idea of Martin being at his side was settling – but it was the unknown that unsettled him. Soon there would be a Union meeting, and the use of a private security force would be the main topic. How could Quinton explain it all? Denial would not be an adequate defense. He wasn’t Hek’Dara, who could talk his way out of anything. Not knowing all the variables was like walking into a gunfight without knowing who to shoot.
A proximity alarm rang and drew
their attention back to the control. The shuttle had drifted slightly and was very close to Foregill’s hull.
“Compensating,” Martin said firing orbital thrusters. The ship righted itself.
“You realize sooner or later I won’t be able to protect you, and the Union will demand a complete inquiry.”
Martin shook his head, and replied, “All I can say is, the Union will no longer be of importance once everyone knows the reason of our existence.”
“But you can’t tell me?”
“No, Milord. Like I said, even I don’t know the whole story. All I know is I am to protect the Tannador family, until the time has come.”
Quinton shifted in his seat. “Take us back home, Martin. I’m tired and need to think.”
“There’s one more thing, Sir.”
Quinton eyed Martin, nodding for him to continue.
Martin’s eyes turned glassy, and he said, “Could we keep what we’ve talked about here between us, until such time the Lady Anders deems it necessary to divulge all information?”
Quinton’s heart raced. He didn’t like being kept in the dark. It was like being lied to, and he hoped he could hold Martin to his word. Yet, Quinton could tell by the tone of his voice that he spoke the truth, or at the very least the truth according to him. “I will keep this between us Commander. But if I feel my house is in jeopardy, I will be forced to demand answers... and I will get them.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else, Milord,” Martin replied.
Earth – High Orbit
An Everhart shuttle in route to the Lunar Surface.
March 8, 2262
For over one-hundred years Moyah Everhart lived in seclusion, never wavering from the idea that Uklavar was coming and her days were numbered to prepare the Earth for a battle she feared would come too soon. She played with time, moving people and things around like giant chess pieces. One wrong move could collapse her civilization and open the door for slavery and oppression. Every choice made, prepared her world for battle, but it still wasn’t enough.
With every decision, Moyah blamed herself for the dreaded path mankind had gone down. From the ORACLE system, to the breeding facilities producing thousands of children a year, to the ever-growing power of the Orlanders. Trying to save the human race, brought it ever closer to extinction, but Moyah would see it through to the end.
In the years since she arrived on Evergarden she had never ventured away from its protection. How could she explain that she’d never aged? There were already enough stories about her, that she didn’t need to add to them.
Stories of the wretched old crow that dictated her empire from her throne of webs. Some called her the spider lady, others a witch, and she didn’t blame them – perhaps all of them were true.
When she was a girl, living on Earth as Avara Rodan, she heard and told stories of the evil old woman who used science and magic to keep herself alive. In many ways that wasn’t far from the truth. Little did she know that the stories she wove were about her. It was an ironic twist of fate.
Thick-skinned, Moyah didn’t fear the stories. Perhaps one day people would realize that she was the one factor that gave them a chance for survival. She refused to allow anything or anyone to stop her.
For the first time since her arrival on Evergarden, Moyah made her first journey away from home. The breeding facilities on Earth have been working to full capacity for almost eighty years, producing slaves for the High-Born – a ruse, to keep them in the dark of the facilities true meaning. The production of an army.
The first generation were trained as architects, builders and laborers to prepare a training sight for the conceived army. Next came the engineers, and technicians for the designing and construction of ships... battle cruisers and destroyers to take the fight to Uklavar. Bankrolled completely by the Everharts, Moyah sent four exploration ships out into deep space in search of wealth to keep the money flowing. Within the next thirty years the first generation of warriors will be bread and the building of an army will begin.
Moyah leaned into the window near her seat to get a look at the approaching moon. No one from Earth paid the natural satellite attention anymore. Which made it the perfect place to begin.
“The lunar complex is nearly complete as per your instructions, Milady,” Gilban Ston passed over a palm device with schematics of the newly erected dome located on the dark side of the moon.
Moyah eyed the plans, checking to make sure her chief advisor hadn’t made any changes – Ston had a way of taking matters into his own hands sometimes without her permission. She’d had several advisors over the decades, but Ston was her least favorite. Maybe because he wormed his way into the post when the opening became available. Despite his flaws, he did have the fortitude to get things done, and it was for that reason alone she kept him employed.
“Is everything up to your satisfaction?” Ston inquired.
“How many personnel are in the dome now,” Moyah asked.
Ston cleared his throat, and said, “Twenty-four hundred, technicians, laborers and craftsmen, they...”
Moyah interrupted, and asked, “Has work began on the underground chambers?”
“Not until next month Milady. It will take two to three years for the project to be completed, before we can even hope to begin the building of ships and training of troops. The project is on schedule.”
“Ares,” Moyah said.
“Milady?” Ston queried.
“Ares, was the Greek God of War,” Moyah said. “We are building an army to fight the ultimate war. Hence forth, the project will be called Ares.”
“Very good, Milady.”
Moyah sat back in her seat. Though Uklavar wouldn’t awake from his prison for another one-hundred and eighty years, the pressure was mounting. There was so much to do. By her calculations three generations of warriors will be born, train and die before the battle can be fought. But the cast would be set, warriors would train each generation and once the monster came to Earth, Moyah would be ready. She hoped.
“There’s something else Milady,” Ston sounded disconcerted.
Moyah eyed him and nodded for him to continue.
“We are having trouble with a Highlander clan at our facility in Scotland. The Orlanders have requested permission several times to find and eradicate the tribe. They have become a thorn in our side, so to speak.”
Moyah shook her head no, and said, “The Highlanders are off limits. The Orlanders know this. They will not engage the Highlanders under any circumstances.”
Ston replied with a hesitant nod and cleared his throat, said, “Couldn’t we at least add more security to the facility to deter any other attacks?”
“Request another fifty men from the Orlanders, with a reminder not to hunt down the clan. Is that understood, Ston?”
“It is, Milady.”
Moyah drew another breath, again she was playing chess, wondering if her actions were building the future she remembered, or rewriting it?
Gatehouse, Home of the Family Lexor
High Earth Orbit
October 12, 2442
The last time Gregaor Xavier arrived at Gatehouse after a long expedition, he was met by cheering people – floating telecom devices, broadcasting his return and his parents who bored the crowd with endless speeches of his triumphs. It was surprising how much things had changed in the last several months. When he climbed out of his shuttle after landing it in the docking bay, not even the deck crews paid him any attention, though there were some whispers and strange looks from the workers. Only it didn’t matter to Gregaor. He was here for the Great One – Uklavar. His story was set, he knew what he was going to tell everyone, and it had to be convincing. When he was done telling his fantastic tale, no one would want to return to Kepler 369.
He rode up in the lift, the silent whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of the passing decks was hypnotic, and he rested his shoulders against the wall behind him. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath but flung them open again w
hen he heard the screams of the people on Kepler 369. He couldn’t allow himself a moment of rest. Every time he slept all he could see was death at the hands of his master. Sleep was a weakness, and although it consumed him, he fought its urge to take him. He would not allow it to defuse his resolve. Sleep was the enemy. It tried to lure him away from his master, it tried to tell him what he was doing was wrong.
Gregaor refused to believe what his dreams told him and for that reason, he kept himself awake on purpose. He wouldn’t allow it to persuade him and place doubt in his mind. He was stronger than that. I am stronger than that.
Uklavar’s commands were cemented in his mind. Prepare Earth, and discover what power was emanating from the planet. The Great One had felt the presence of a great mind growing more and more powerful. His Lord needed to know what it was, for Uklavar would have use of it. His Master was strength and from that strength he would achieve the power needed to take over the Nine Great Houses and prepare them. Power was something his mother could never achieve, but Gregaor had a plan and it didn’t include telecom devices or selling collectables with the Xavier’s images on them. There were other ways to achieve power, ways his mother would never had resorted to, but Gregaor had come this far, and even though his dreams reminded him he was sacrificing a part of his humanity, he didn’t care. He would sacrifice it all if he had to.
“I couldn’t believe it when the landing bay contacted me,” Lucinda said when the lift doors opened. “That my son had returned.”
Gregaor stepped out of the elevator and brandished a forced grin. “You almost sound sympathetic,” he said walking past her.
“I was worried –”
Gregaor chuckled, and turned toward her, but before he said anything, he saw in her something... different. “You’re never worried.”
“What makes you say that?”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t say that?” Gregaor asked with a glib smile on his lips.
“Come now, let’s not play games,” Lucinda said.
“Nonsense, mother, that’s all we’ve ever done,” Gregaor said waiting for some kind of reaction from her. None came. There was something clearly amiss, but Gregaor decided not to press the matter. Not yet. He studied her, looking for something to back up his claim, anything that would tell him there was something a matter with her.
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