Iástron

by James C. Dunn

  From her hiding place she watched her uncle sit at the end of the farthest table, beside the elevated chair, clasping his hands together and eyeing the council members sat directly opposite. The chair to his left was empty, but sat in the next she recognised the disgruntled face of Captain Ernesta Mendoza. A little along she spotted the cheerful countenance of another captain. Fresh-faced and naturally tanned, Diego Ferranti sat still, his handsome blond curls drooping down in such a way that every so often they forced him to blow them from in front of his eyes. Anna found herself grinning at his amusing expression whenever it occurred.

  Before any of them could get comfortable the large doors of the room creaked back open and in strode Lady Maxim Pinzón. The woman had always scared Anna; she had a strange, powerful air about her. Pinzón glided the length of the room in seconds, her own long purple cloak floating behind her as though trying to escape. She never looked in high spirits. Everyone rose to greet her as she drifted between the two tables; though judging by the Lady’s face, which glowed almost as purple as her cloak, she could not have cared less had they remained seated. Stopping at her chair as two members of the Guard slammed the chamber door closed, she breathed deeply, before gently sitting, crossing her legs, and joining both hands upon her lap.

  At once Anna was forced to move as two of the Titanese Guard that had entered with Lady Pinzón made their way towards where she was hidden. Her body filled with the adrenaline of dread, fearing she had been seen, but she managed to slink behind another grand grey statue of a past lord of Titan holding a coiled blade high above his head. She stopped moving and stayed deadly quiet, remaining breathless but fortunately unnoticed.

  In an attempt, it would seem, to abandon tradition, introductions were overlooked and Lady Pinzón made a start. ‘A dark day is looming,’ she declared. ‘And with it the time has come for us to decide what is truly important to us and our people.’

  The room remained silent, and then a high-pitched voice spoke. ‘What was important to us a century ago is still important to us now,’ said Anthea Godíno, struggling to reach over the table. ‘What was important to us one month ago is still important to us now. My dear colleagues, nothing has changed—’

  ‘Everything has changed!’ a deep voice boomed from the chamber door, which now stood wide open. ‘Or do you not see what goes on past the end of your nose, Anthea?’

  ‘Now hold on—’

  ‘But of course,’ the newcomer went on, ‘not everybody can be expected to comprehend the transformations that occur as well as others.’

  Anna felt herself glaring at the newcomer as he paced down the room, clutching a long, dark staff which bounced off his puffed-out chest. He reached Ruben Berenguer, who stood and placed a hand upon his breast in salute.

  ‘General Mauldeth,’ he said.

  ‘Berenguer,’ Mauldeth replied, not reciprocating the courtesy of his counterpart’s gesture. He lowered himself into the empty seat beside, virtually disregarding his very presence. He took a deep intake of the cigarillo he held between his thumb and forefingers, before putting it out on the table and blowing the smoke in Ruben’s direction. Her uncle did not respond and faced Mauldeth, composed.

  There followed an uncomfortable silence before Pinzón turned to Mauldeth and said, ‘Has the chatter died down, General?’

  He held her gaze. ‘If you’re referring to the events in our docking city, rumours have taken much longer to die down than expected, though the upmost has been done to distinguish any talk of the appalling incident altogether.’ As he spoke he glanced at her uncle, raising his eyebrows as though expecting some sort of apology for bringing the weapon into the Twelve Cities. Anna wanted to jump out and defend him, but her uncle simply sat there, silent.

  ‘And what of repairs to the city?’

  ‘Just about completed, my lady. The auxiliary tunnels have seen fit to allow small crafts and crews through, in part, but large military vehicles and equipment may soon be deployed. Interstellar crafts should be able to lift-off by morning. Though I must say, and I think many here will agree it needs to be said, that I hope this event will open your eyes to the real reason we have age limits on active soldiers, no matter how decorated they are.’

  Only one spoke back. Captain Diego Ferranti jumped to his feet, his blond curls floating in front of his face. ‘If you are insinuating that the attack on the dock was somehow General Berenguer’s fault, I would tread carefully, Mauldeth!’

  ‘Hear, hear!’ cried Anthea Godíno as though she had been waiting for a chance to get back at Mauldeth for his entering comment.

  ‘And I would hold my tongue when speaking to a senior officer, boy!’ Mauldeth snapped.

  Ferranti went to retort, but Anna watched her uncle shake his head faintly. Still glaring at Mauldeth, Ferranti sat.

  ‘That is quite enough,’ Pinzón said, rising from her seat. ‘In line with what the General has already said, rumours of this successful attack have spread to many, if not all, Alignment worlds. Titan’s Twelve Cities penetrated for the first time in FIFTY YEARS! I won’t have it!’ She slammed her fist onto the table, before taking three rapid breaths. ‘As many of you know or will have guessed, intelligence points to Crilshan agents, who, in an attempt to assassinate General Berenguer, planted the device inside the Quasar’s shuttlecraft. Though how or when we have yet to discover.

  ‘I also have much graver news. The time was arriving when you would have been informed of our plan to counter the Dishan Alliance’s renewed offensive . . . but it now no longer matters. The summons to the Baren Igoth were being called clandestinely for over a month before the attack. Berenguer, Mauldeth, and I saw to it ourselves.’

  Murmuring broke out among the tables. The Baren Igoth; Anna remembered being told of it in Contemporary History classes. The secret meeting had only ever been called twice, the last during the Titan-Crilshan war of fifty years ago. Were things that serious?

  ‘Silence!’ Mauldeth bellowed and the clamour died down.

  Pinzón continued with a sigh. ‘However, it appears that with news of our recent attack, coupled with the vicious invasion of Rotavar, such fear has travelled far and wide, and so no world will now present itself at the Baren Igoth for fear of such an attack on its own people.’

  Shocked faces lined the tables.

  ‘That’s madness!’ said Diego Ferranti. ‘Surely they must realise that we stand more chance of taking on the Dishan if we do so together!’

  ‘Every man for himself,’ Mendoza said, patting him on the shoulder. ‘That’s human nature.’

  Anna stared at her uncle Ruben. She could see it in his eyes: he had already known. That would explain his behaviour of late; the task appointed to him of summoning the Baren Igoth had failed. She looked beside him at Mauldeth, whose lip she was sure curled slightly as he too glanced at her uncle’s sullen face.

  But then, as though waking from a long sleep, Ruben blinked deeply, before sitting up and pointing to Anna. ‘Admiral Estegran. Do any of you know how he died?’

  Nobody replied. Anna breathed deeply, realising he was directing their attention to the statue of the man above her.

  ‘Admiral Pavolo Estegran died,’ Ruben said, ‘in service to the people of Titan. Eight-hundred years ago the then-tyrannical Empires of the Fourth System attacked the Third System. Accentauria was overwhelmed. Titan responded. Yes, to help our allies, but also to show the enemy that they could not get away with acts of such cold-blood. He died proving that we were stronger together.’

  Pinzón nodded as she returned to her seat.

  ‘What I mean to say, my lady, is that the Systemal Alignment was once a united body. All worlds shared mutual respect and understanding. We fought together, celebrated with one another, and we lived and died in common purpose. As the leaders of Titan we must uphold this honour and reunite the Alignment, with or without the Baren Igoth.’

  ‘And how,’ said Mauldeth, ‘do we do that, when no damn world will dare unite with us?’


  Ruben smiled. ‘There is one that will.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Pinzón asked.

  He nodded. ‘I implore you now, council members, to agree to aid the colony Rotavar against the invaders who now hold it to ransom. If we were to defeat the dark presence there we would not only gain a most loyal ally, but strengthen the belief among the Alignment that together it is possible to overcome the Dishan Alliance.’

  Anna gazed around the room at the silence that came over them. Her uncle’s captains were nodding firmly, as were many across both tables. Captain Ferranti’s curls hung across his face and Anna could have sworn there was a tear in his eye. There were a number of faces, however, which did not look convinced by Ruben’s line of reasoning, and Mauldeth himself, now red in the face, stood pompously from his seat and positioned himself behind Anna’s uncle.

  ‘It is hard,’ he said, ‘with such grand oration arguing the cause, to see past the proposal the general here is suggesting. Of course we could send a vessel or two to aid the arguably insignificant colony that is Rotavar. We could send a whole fleet and wipe out the entire Crilshan invasion force from the area! But consider this, council members: from a military perspective, which is why I am here and what I do best, liberating Rotavar is strategically futile. Their numbers come nowhere near the Dishan Alliance’s strength. Neither do ours for that matter. But wasting resources on—’

  ‘If we succeeded it would not be a waste,’ Ruben said.

  ‘Oh, stop fooling yourself! Rotavar is a feeble world, nowhere near our might.’

  ‘That sounds awfully like something a Crilshan would say if you asked me!’ Ferranti responded, rising.

  ‘Yes, well no one is asking you!’

  Anna found herself edging forward and had to pull herself back. She so desperately wanted to fight her uncle’s corner. She watched her uncle put a hand to his temple as Ferranti and Mauldeth squared off. Both stood facing each other, faces fuming so intensely Anna thought smoke would pour from their ears.

  Pinzón rose and slammed her fist down on the table between them. ‘That is enough! Compare egos all you wish, but a decision has been made. I admire the sincerity in all of your beliefs, but it is Titan I am trusted to protect. Titan alone.’

  Ferranti and Mauldeth sat and listened to Lady Pinzón speak. ‘Despite our best efforts,’ she said gravely, ‘the Dishan Alliance has grown again to great power. The entire Second System is at their mercy. Proximan armadas already present difficulties for any unarmed vessel travelling close by. We cannot fight them alone, so we will begin by securing our own world as no doubt all others are doing. Idealism is exactly that, and we cannot afford to be unrealistic in these ever dangerous times.

  ‘The worlds of the Four informed us of their allegiances when they refused their summons. And so I regret to inform you all that no aid will be sent to Rotavar—’ murmuring at once broke out ‘—as General Mauldeth is correct: it would be a waste of resources.’

  ‘The day Slimar Mauldeth is correct, I’ll drop dead of amusement!’ a voice cried from the chamber door, which once again found itself groaning wide open.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CALLISTA BERENGUER WATCHED dozens of shocked faces eye her from their seated positions. She took one step forward and at once the two guards stood inside took hold of her arms.

  ‘Get off me!’ she said. ‘Get off!’

  After a minor scuffle—the two men coming out of it worse than the old woman—Maxim Pinzón waved the guards back outside and they hesitantly allowed the old Iástron to enter.

  ‘I have something that I would like to say,’ Callista said, hobbling into the room clutching her staff and dragging her oversized cloak along the marble floor. ‘Oh, do put your yellow teeth away, Slimar!’ she said to Mauldeth, who had clenched his jaw as she entered.

  ‘Seldom do we allow into our chamber any person not a member of the Council or Guard, Callista,’ Pinzón said. ‘Especially when such a crucial meeting is taking place. Normally this conduct would result in a heavy punishment.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll grant me the honour, Maxim.’

  ‘We shall see. So . . . speak.’

  It would have taken a fool not to notice the tension that filled the room, or the rigidity with which many of the council members now sat. Callista knew that not all were familiar or indeed comfortable with the old woman, who had admittedly taken it upon herself to interfere with Council meetings and policies, knowing things about each of them that she really should not have known.

  Shuffling down the middle of the tables she smiled widely and greeted those captains and council members who supported Ruben. Diego Ferranti took her hand and kissed it courteously. She acted to the contrary but Callista wasn’t opposed to the attention. The old woman reached the end of the tables and stood directly before Lady Pinzón.

  ‘You do not trust me, Maxim, and I don’t trust you,’ she said, frankly. ‘But you are our Lady and in command. I know deep down you want what it best for Titan and its people, but the dark power ascending from Crilshar and the System of Proxima will engulf each and every world, one by one, until none is left. And if we are strong enough to last until the end, the end it will still be.’

  It seemed to Callista as though Pinzón was really considering her words; she continued to sit back in silence. But the quiet did not last long.

  ‘Are we actually entertaining this crack-pot?’ said Mauldeth.

  ‘If you don’t like what I have to say, you could always drag me out the room yourself,’ she retorted, coolly.

  ‘Oh I don’t have to.’ Mauldeth stood and raised his arm. The guards nearby moved forwards, ready to take hold of the old woman.

  ‘Very funny,’ she chuckled. ‘Then again, Slimar, you always were quite amusing.’

  ‘Guard, escort her out!’

  Ruben stood. ‘That isn’t necessary.’

  Mauldeth’s supporters rose from their seats at that moment, hands on their holstered weapons, as did Captains Ferranti and Mendoza, knocking back the chairs behind them. Anthea Godíno clambered out of her chair too, though she found herself surrounded by opposition.

  Callista walked slowly towards Mauldeth, aware that Anna edged more and more from behind her statue. Stay where you are, child.

  ‘You strut in here,’ Mauldeth spat, ‘acting like our lady, when all agree you are past any and all use. Crawl back to your bedsit, crow.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘Oh, you will.’ He glanced to the additional men now entering the chamber.

  ‘Call them all, General. You’ve demonstrated your prowess, wooden as it is.’

  He smiled toothily and gestured to the armed men.

  ‘Stay where you are!’ she uttered to them deeply, and everyone’s eyes widened in shock as the Titanese Guard stopped advancing and stood as still as the stone statues set around the room.

  ‘Drag her out!’ Mauldeth said. ‘DO IT!’

  Again the Iástron spoke. ‘Stay where you are!’ And no one moved.

  ‘Very well,’ he said, removing the coil from his belt.

  ‘No!’ Ruben said, moving to stop the man from stunning her.

  Mauldeth pushed Ruben aside and Ferranti lunged forward. Callista raised her staff as the dark general ignited his weapon.

  ‘STOP!’

  Every last body turned in silent shock to see Anna Berenguer, who had leapt from her hiding place, now stood petrified before them. Maxim Pinzón fell back into her chair, quite obviously exhausted. ‘Is nobody guarding this meeting anymore?’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ANTAL JUSTUS STUMBLED through nothingness, at the edge of oblivion. Surrounded by darkness, and unable to hear a thing, it was as though he had been deafened by a clamour-wave or some nearby explosion. He stretched out his hands to feel around and slowly came into contact with a rough, jagged surface. It felt cold to touch, like rock hidden deep beneath the ground.

  Taking one uncertain step forward he focused his eyes ahead, blink
ing continually just to ensure his eyes weren’t closed as, faced by a black void, it appeared they still were. He continued onward for mere minutes before he saw it: a light, straight ahead, dim and flickering as though it was moving.

  Justus dashed after it. He moved as fast as he could while drowning in the crushing darkness. He ran and ran . . . the light became closer . . . his heart beat faster and faster, drumming out the rhythm in his racing strides. Then he heard the word he always heard when he dreamt. ‘Gilaxiad! Gilaxiad! Gilaxiad!’ It was a woman’s voice, which itself became louder and stronger. He didn’t recognise it. He never did.

  He came to the end of the tunnel and stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead glowed the dark, perpetual, all-consuming orb he’d seen in his nightmares for as far back as he could remember. But something was different. There was somebody there with him. It was a girl. She turned—

  ‘No!’

  Justus shot up from his bed, covered in sweat, his breathing faster than he could cope with. A figure stood in the open doorway at the end of his bed, its silhouette blocking most of the light from the corridor outside.

  ‘Sir,’ spoke the figure. ‘We’re here.’

  The sliding door shut and Justus swung his legs out over the edge of the half-sized bed. ‘Bastard nightmare,’ he said, clutching his head as though it would remove the aching pain within. Struggling to disregard the dream and the girl he’d seen, whilst at the same time debating with himself her strange presence, he attached a leather belt to his red tunic over which he wore his deep black coat. Putting on heavy boots he strode out of his room, down a corridor, and into the cramped cockpit of the Nyx.

  There stood the man that had woken him, joined by two soldiers clad in dark armour, and finally Constantine Lesper, who leaned over in conversation with the two pilots now steering the ship into—