by A. K. DuBoff
Cris’ face lit up while he read the text while Saera looked confused.
“Looks like the treaty text to me,” Cris said.
“I can only make out the occasional word. What does it say?” Saera asked.
“Today we strike an accord,” Cris began the rough translation in slightly stuttered cadence as he worked out the words. “Peace will… endure so long as the terms are upheld. The… destructive Gates will remain sealed. Each race will stay in its… designated realm. If ever the Gates are reopened by Tarans, they will be destroyed.”
“I think that last bit is more ‘wiped out for all time’,” Wil said.
“Uh, I’m not a fan of either of those translations.” Saera scowled at the inscription.
“Me either, but this is helpful. We know for certain that our violation is tied to that tech, specifically.”
“But why?” Saera asked.
Wil reread the text. There was no further explanation. “It doesn’t say. Bomax, I thought there’d be more here.”
“There might be.” Cris looked closer. “Does that look like micro inscriptions to you?” He pointed to the vertical height of the circular disk.
Sure enough, it looked like it could be rows of tiny text.
“We need to magnify that.” Wil captured an image of the band on his handheld and projected it as a holographic image, zooming in until the characters were easily read.
Wil pored over the text. There were pages and pages of information—all of the details they’d been missing. “Stars! I can’t believe it.”
“What?” Saera asked, peeking over his shoulder.
“Those Gatekeeper-Taran hybrids? Apparently, they’re not new. That’s how the Gatekeepers first made contact with our Taran ancestors, by going to live among them. But they were found out, and the Priesthood started studying them. They were fascinated by them being impervious to telepathy, but that they still possessed a link with one another.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“The nulls. That side effect from the Priesthood’s neurotoxin.” The pieces began to fall into place in Wil’s mind as he reflected on the tech the Priesthood had deployed during their last stand and bid for ascension. They had deployed the neurotoxin as a means of telepathically networking the masses across multiple Taran worlds. “If I had to wager, I bet you they used this research as a foundation for the neurotoxin—tried to isolate the ‘networking’ component, but it also made a small percentage of people nulls in the process.”
She shook her head. “We’ve had evidence of aliens right in front of us for decades and didn’t know it.”
“That explains why we couldn’t identify many of the sequences in the neurotoxin.”
Saera crossed her arms. “This is so messed up.”
Cris scoffed. “The Priesthood would do anything to further their own ends. I can’t say I’m shocked by this.”
“You realize what this means, though,” Saera said.
He tilted his head, not sure what she was getting at.
“They knew about higher-dimensional life. They understood that such beings were networked as one to move beyond their physical forms.”
The realization hit Wil like a punch in the gut. “This text is where the Priesthood got the very idea of ascension.”
“Taking inspiration from a war that almost wiped out Tarans once.”
He shook his head. “And willing to do it all again with no regard for what would happen to everyone else.”
Saera stared with disgust at the documentation. “Not that I needed a reminder about why they had to go, but wow. Kind of makes me want to take them down all over again.”
“I second that.” Cris took a deep breath. “It all makes perfect sense. We should have known there was more.”
“We wanted to close that chapter and never look back. I won’t blame us for not wanting to dig too deeply at the time.” As TSS High Commander, Wil knew that was too dismissive an approach. Duty should come before personal feelings. But, stars, the Priesthood made it difficult to remain objective.
“All right, so we have confirmation that the treaty violation is for the Gate tech itself,” Saera summarized. “Arvonen and his Gate research cronies obviously won’t be an issue anymore, since the Gatekeepers dealt with them. But we can’t be certain they were working alone. If this tech is the crux of the whole issue, we need to root out anyone potentially pursuing that kind of research and put a stop to it.”
“Yes, agreed.” The TSS’ resources were about to be stretched very thin. Wil had been in that situation before, but he hadn’t expected to find himself faced with that challenge again. Our people are well-trained and capable. We’re ready for this, he tried to assure himself.
“There’s something else strange in here,” Cris said, continuing to scroll through the text while Wil and Saera talked.
“Good or bad strange?” Wil asked as he tried to catch up to what his father was reading.
“More a curiosity. It’s about Earth. It’s mentioned in these documents.”
Wil snapped to attention. “Wait, what?”
Saera looked between the two of them. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I’m as surprised as you are.” Cris paused in thought.
“It raises an interesting point, though,” Wil jumped in as he began thinking through the branching possibilities. “Why has the Taran government and the Priesthood gone to such lengths to protect the planet?”
“Humans are of Taran descent, regardless of whether they know about us or not,” Cris surmised.
“Yes, but there are other rogue colony worlds that aren’t provided the same protections. What makes Earth special?”
“I always figured it was the proximity of TSS Headquarters,” Saera said. “The moon would be in bad shape if the planet blew up.”
Wil cocked his head and looked at her. “Well, of course. What I mean is, Tarans have gone to great lengths to keep the Empire’s presence hidden. It’s always felt like there must be a reason for it. The cost and labor associated with that secrecy is astronomical.”
“I suspect you have a hypothesis,” Cris stated.
“More of an inkling, at the moment. I wonder if it has something to do with this ancient alien tech from the galactic war.”
“What makes you wonder that?”
“There’s no shortage of ancient alien stories on Earth. In the time we lived down there, I figured most of it stemmed from former Taran interaction—and that’s certainly part of it. But I wonder if there was also something else going on. Perhaps even one reason colonists from so many disparate planets settled on Earth to make it the cultural melting pot it is today.”
“What could be there?” Cris wondered aloud.
Wil shrugged. “I have no idea. But, what if all of those ancient sites on Earth were built in those locations because there’s something important there? Buried deep beneath the pyramids or Stonehenge, or any number of other historic sites.”
Saera raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I think you watched too many of those conspiracy shows on TV. Wouldn’t something have been found, if it exists?”
“Has anyone bothered to look? Taran researchers, I mean,” Wil clarified. “Everything I’ve ever heard is that modern-day people write off Earth as a nothing backwater world. But there must be some reason the specialized stewardship we show the planet started all of those years ago. We go through the motions now because that’s how it’s been done as far back as anyone can remember, but why?”
“I must admit, you raise an interesting point,” Cris admitted. “To my knowledge, Earth is a no-fly zone except for sanctioned military and political operations—and, naturally, some space tourists occasionally skirt the law and mess with the local humans. But research historians? No.”
“The mystery continues,” Saera said dramatically.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a good suggestion for how to begin an investigation on Earth,” Cris said.
“It’s
something to keep in mind, anyway.” Wil gazed at the toradite crystal record. “At least we got what we came for. We’ll get some other eyes on it to make sure we didn’t miss anything. On that note, we should return to Headquarters.”
“Stay the night,” his father suggested. “Fill everyone in on the discoveries. It might be quite a while before we have another chance to be together.”
“We shouldn’t delay,” Wil said to Saera telepathically.
“The research team at Headquarters can get started on the image analysis without us. One more night here won’t make or break things.”
“All right, one more night,” Wil yielded. “Then we have to get to work.”
— — —
Something had changed. Only a short while had passed since Lexi had met with Oren about the grand vision for the Sovereign Peoples Alliance’s movement, but she’d noticed a shift in the energy around the office. People were more serious and fervent in their actions. They sat huddled in small groups talking rather than watching vids on the main viewscreen. When they did watch anything, it was flipping through the official media broadcasts to see the spectrum of political coverage.
The rally on Duronis was no longer the focus, but the political commentary had persisted. They had sparked a conversation, which was the point.
So why doesn’t anyone seem happy? Lexi looked around the lounge room at the serious faces. She was by no means the lowest-ranked person in the organization—especially not now, after her promotion—but everyone seemed to be picking up on something she wasn’t. It was frustrating to continually feel like an outsider. And she knew she wasn’t stupid. What the fok is going on?
“Lexi!”
The sudden call of her name from Shena made her jump. “Yeah, what?” Lexi replied.
“You’re late for the meeting.”
What meeting? Lexi rose from her seat to see Shena motioning for her to follow. “No one told me there was one.”
“Oh, oops.” Shena shrugged. “I guess I forgot to pass on the message from Oren.”
Forgot or didn’t care to? Lexi followed the other woman, as requested. “What’s the meeting about?”
“Next steps.”
“Is this meeting a new thing…?”
“You mean this one specifically, or these kinds of tactical discussions?”
“The latter,” Lexi clarified.
“Oh, we have them every couple of days.” Shena said it so casually, Lexi almost felt silly for asking.
But she was well aware that she was right to feel surprised. The people she slept next to, ate with, talked to every day, had been having secret meetings ‘every couple of days’ for who knew how long, and she hadn’t had a clue.
It was obvious, then, that the others in the Alliance probably learned something in their last meeting that had set them on edge. That’s why everyone had turned somber and she was still clueless about why. The explanation made her feel better, but only marginally. It still didn’t offer any insight into what.
Think about Melisa. She reminded herself. You need to stay the course for her.
If it wasn’t for that singular drive, Lexi would have run far away from the Alliance after the way things had been going the last few days. The mounting tension was the sort that could only be released from a physical altercation. She wanted political change, but not through violence.
Of course, she couldn’t say any of that out loud. She needed to play along, be an unwavering supporter of the Alliance and its quest for independence in the Outer Colonies. Sovereignty of the planets. So, she followed Shena downstairs… and directly through the door at the end of the hallway, which she’d recently gone through with Oren. The door that Shena said was always locked when Lexi had asked her about it.
As they passed through, Shena must have noticed Lexi’s expression of confusion and annoyance. “Sorry, I had to lie. Only those who’ve been initiated get to come down here, and we don’t like newbies getting too curious.”
“How many are on the inside?” Lexi asked.
“You’re about to find out.”
Incidentally, it was a lot. When Lexi got to the bottom of the stairs, she found the secret storeroom was filled with at least half of the people she interacted with on a daily basis. Many of them were people whom Lexi had asked about the bigger picture, and they’d denied knowing anything. Has everyone been lying to me?
She had no idea what to believe anymore. The layers of secrecy and compartmentalization reeked of shadiness of the highest order. Not for the first time, she had a horrible sinking feeling that the Alliance’s plans were building toward something awful.
The low hum of conversation in the crowd quieted suddenly as a figure stepped up onto one of the crates, which had been positioned at a central point in the tunnel.
“Our first phase has succeeded. People are talking,” an older woman’s voice easily carried in the acoustics of the space. She had the accent of someone from the Central Planets, oddly enough. Lexi couldn’t make out many physical features from the distance in the dim light, but she had graying black hair, mahogany eyes, and carried herself with confidence.
“You are one critical part of our path to victory for the independence we all seek. You have joined the Alliance because you believe things can be better. That the Taran elite have lived in their manors for too long without understanding what it means to be a citizen of this great civilization.”
No, actually, Lexi thought to herself. Not the leaders of Sietinen and Dainetris, anyway. Don’t they get any credit?
“…and that’s why we must make our voice heard! We started with the demonstration on Duronis, and others will soon follow. This is only the beginning. We have a long road ahead of us, but the greatest victories are won with the hardest battles. Play your part. Trust in our mission. Together we are unstoppable.”
The crowd burst into applause—almost deafening in the confined space—as the older woman stepped down from the crate and disappeared down the tunnel.
Wait, that’s it? The speech was frustratingly cryptic and short. Not to mention, the content was dubious.
Unlike the skepticism souring Lexi’s mood, Shena was beaming, apparently energized by the speech in a way Lexi had never seen her.
“I can’t believe she actually came to talk to us! Wow.” Shena’s eyes had the starstruck sheen of someone who’d just met their idol.
Lexi was officially lost. Who the fok was that and why is everyone so excited? Nothing was making sense. “Yeah, great speech. Uh, who is she?” Lexi asked, suspecting she was supposed to know—if only someone would tell her something useful.
“Magdalena,” Shena said with zealot-level reverence. “She’s the founder of the Alliance.”
Lexi nodded and smiled, doing her best to fake that she cared. It’s official, I’m in a cult. Unfortunately, there was no backing out now.
— — —
By the end of the day of staring at his viewscreen, Jason needed to clear his head and burn off some energy. Without a class to keep him occupied, he’d been stuck all day buried in administrative tedium. Maybe some time at the gym would do him good.
He headed to the workout arena on Level 10, which was shared by Agents and Militia members alike. A track circled the perimeter of the large space and a wide assortment of weight equipment was arranged in the middle. Other open areas had padded floormats for stretching or sparring. Though it was a communal space, the Agents and Agent-track trainees tended to keep separate from the Militia members, just as officers wouldn’t typically fraternize with the enlisted in Earth’s military. There was no specific regulation against it, but rather it was simply the way the TSS’ culture had shaken out. Jason tried to dispel that division, whenever opportunities presented themselves; they were all people working together toward a common goal, so different abilities or ranks shouldn’t divide them.
His most common ‘in’ with the Militia crowd was through Corine, whom he’d grown up with on Earth. She was Michael’s da
ughter and had also been raised without knowledge of the Taran Empire. They were never particularly chummy growing up, but the shared experience of learning there was a galaxy-spanning civilization had brought them a little closer over the years. However, though both of Corine’s parents were Primus Agents—Michael a Primus Elite, even—she didn’t have abilities.
Through unfortunate timing, she’d fallen on 1st Generation in the cycle of Gifted trait expression. Since only those 8th through 12th exhibited telekinetic and telepathic abilities, it would probably be close to a couple hundred years before any of her descendants could train as Agents in the TSS.
It was heartbreaking when Jason thought about it. Those abilities were so much a part of himself, that Jason couldn’t imagine life without them. If he ever had a child of his own, he’d look forward to the day of their Awakening when he could begin guiding their exploration of those new abilities; it had certainly brought him closer to his own parents. Though Michael had never said as much, Jason imagined that it must be difficult not to have that kinship with his daughter—for her to know she was missing something. Joining the TSS in the Militia division kept them together as a family, but it wasn’t the same.
Jason looked around for Corine but didn’t see her. There were other Militia members at various stations within the facility, but he recognized them as those who weren’t keen on starting a conversation with an Agent. That was okay. To each their own.
For that matter, he didn’t feel much like talking at the moment. He hit it hard alone, running laps after warming up and then completed a full set on the weights. It was a welcome task now, but he would have needed to do it regardless; artificial gravity wasn’t as strong as planetside, and the workouts were an important part of preventing muscle atrophy.
Feeling a pleasant level of worn-out, he exited the gym and headed toward his quarters. Halfway to the elevator, his handheld buzzed with an incoming vidcall. Still sweaty and flushed from the workout, he didn’t particularly want to answer it, but he saw it was coming from his sister’s personal account. He spotted a munitions storeroom nearby. He palmed it open with the biometric lock and ducked inside to answer the call.