by K A Carter
“How are you feeling?” she said deadpan.
S’tiri shifted his eyes scouring the room, the blackened beads covered by purple lids flickered through blinks. “I’m fine, where is Donas body. And Clune. Where is Clune?” He took his time to respond, a wound on his chest made talking shoot bolts of pain up his neck. He grunted in pain but held it in to a small sniff out of a fleshy nose.
“Clune is somewhere telling cadets what to do. He’s shipping out to Diezoth. You know how it is fighting a war.” She shrugged and stepped a little closer. “Donas is in the intensive care infirmary. He’s alive, but they are still figuring out what’s wrong. Whatever he was hit with seems to have done more damage than it has to you. I’ll check on him for you. You need rest, you’ve been out for weeks now. “Z’oni added. She ambled away from the hovering medical bed. S’tiri’s eyes settled back into the sockets as he fell asleep.
Muyala looked like a bright orb in the glow of the red giant. An added week onto his already unconscious recovery, made S’tiri more than delighted to see his home world. He reminisced of cityscapes that stretched like oceans.
The Abriool was small in nature, only out of necessity to transport those soldiers that required leave. The ship entered the atmosphere giving pass to amber clouds that implied a rather thick stratosphere. It docked on a personnel landing pad that protruded from a skyscraping military establishment.
The Balia region of Muyala had changed since he had last been there. The melting pot of on-leave military workers and soldiers, and the working-class inhabitants of the vast city below. Despite the war, it seemed as though life had a casual continuation; almost uninterrupted. No blockades of goods. No halts in the intergalactic trading with the somewhat close by neighbors, the Myrians. It could’ve been that it hadn’t reached close enough to the inner sector to produce effects, or that the Irinan A’tai and its government military counterpart, the Irinan U’naan Navy, had taken steps to keep the war as far away as possible.
S’tiri believed both were true, but that it would strain life on the home planet and the colonies further out sooner than the officials would expect. Z’oni had told him before he left about a greater threat, forces we have yet to understand, were the words he could remember as he hobbled through a rather busy under-street. He hadn’t decided where to go, Home to a brother and ailing father. Or to a military funded housing complex.
The Balia working class carried rectangular holo-tablets and wore innovative interwoven suits and casual wear with interesting markings on them, they were characters from the Irinan language; U’atu. Other regions nearby were both the richer on one side and the poor on the other. S’tiri had spent time in each during his younger years, he wasn’t always the honor-stricken soldier that he claimed himself to be now; the soldier Sogul Runen, Donas, Sogul Clune, Z’oni, even Admiral T’sul encountered in the midst of a drudging battle.
Donas was in recovery but shipped back on a different transport. Having had come from a rich family, S’tiri had figured Donas to be back in a lush Lusci’ta skyscraping home in the Sudul province not far away. The richer province as it was. S’tiri and Donas hadn’t had contact since back on the cruiser in the medical bay. S’tiri hoped that he was okay and that he would see him at least once more in the future. It wasn’t clear at this point. Nothing was.
S’tiri checked into the military housing complex. A loft furnished to suit a single person and only stocked with the bare minimum of foods. A glossy white finish coasted most of the walls with a large holo-screen on the north wall by a window looking out to a fairly nice view.
The thought still crossed S’tiri’s mind; whether he would go visit his family when the time was right. He felt a sadness when thinking of them. An older brother sacrificing everything to stay back while he journeyed off to join the Navy. He knew he was resented for that. K’esano hadn’t seen him since he left. S’tiri estimated that at almost five galactic-standard-time years ago.
He hadn’t adjusted to wearing casual clothing yet. S’tiri took three days of his leave to gather enough resolve to visit his family home.
The lift pad was crowded and rather untidy, pedestrians bumping into each other with minimal courtesy. S’tiri took notice of the transportation clerk that stood at the far end leaning against a smudge ridden wall. “Have somewhere you need to be?” the clerk said in a grunt. S’tiri nodded but took a step back; he stood in front of a hauler that had passengers on it, only four that he could see. Other cadets and soldiers on leave that couldn’t afford to rent any speeders. S’tiri took a seat close to where the driver couch was. A few more got on before the hauler left.
The traffic in the air was steady and consistent. It made S’tiri uneasy. War will do that to you, he thought. And that eased his anxiety. The hauler took an hour to circle to where S’tiri’s family home was. It was located close to the Balia and Praeta borders. Being close to the Praeta border meant that highborns would journey over now and then to pick a fight with Balia younglings. S’tiri remembered brawls that kept his mother worried and father proud in his younger age. His brother never did much to shield it from him. Protection from such social intricacies weren’t culturally significant, but even more so in the Z’etamurod family.
Old pillars lined a rugged loft entrance, the mezzanine level was empty and showed no advertisements like the other parts of the city. Most of which was an abandoned part off Balia, due to the economic shaming that accompanied a Praeta-Balia border.
S’tiri motioned towards the thick motion-door. With one step closer at eye level a scanner flickered and released a lock. The door slid open to a rather dreary inside. There were empty treatment bottles and scan tech on the table close to a large hall. S’tiri didn’t hear any sounds but a small beep coming from the far end of it. In it lay his father, unconscious. It was his former room crafted into a makeshift medical operation. The bed was old in nature but had all the essential body screening necessities.
“So, you actually came back this time.” A light sounding voice came from behind him. It was K’esano. He held a medical duffle and wore a uniform. Medical Training Academy it read in U’atu characters on the sash. “I was beginning to think I’d never see you again” K’esano added. He took steps toward him and opened his arms with an embrace. It took S’tiri a moment to accept the embrace and return it. “It’s good to see you brother.”
“What happened to our father?” said S’tiri, breaking his silence. When he had left his father, O’rinadi, had only displayed traces of sickness within treatable levels.
K’esano didn’t respond, walking past S’tiri to a terminal at the side of the medical bed. It showed a scan of their father’s body. K’esano tapped it and zoomed into the abdominal area. “He has Rell.” He said in a disconsolate tone. “His sickness spread to his brain.”
S’tiri didn’t know about it enough hto show sadness but knew that it looked fatal. K’esano explained further seeing the unwavering look on his brother’s face. “It is a degenerative disease that attacks the nervous system. It is genetically rooted, father didn’t have nearly enough money to diagnose himself - “
“When did this happen?” S’tiri said becoming slightly aggravated, holding onto his reserved posture.
“A little over three years ago,” replied K’esano. “I know you were busy being a soldier, but had you been here, it would’ve been a much easier to - “
“How could I have known; how could I have been here,” said S’tiri defensively.
“Don’t give me that, you had leave each year you’ve been gone and you never took any of them. Why? I don’t know, but the fact is he is sick and dying, and I’m the one doing something about it,”
“I - “S’tiri stuttered. Before he could give a response, his holo-tablet rung in his side pocket.
“This is Chief Science Officer F’reoi Catknan at the A’tai U’naan . Is this Soldier Three-Four A2 S’tiri Z’etamurod?” The crackly voice said in a highborn drawl. “Yes.” S’tiri uttered in a gaz
e with his brother. “Admiral G’ilag T’sul requires your presence at a primary headquarters, further details will be explained at arrival on base,” said Catknan.
“Very well,” responded S’tiri. As he tapped the holo-tablet off, he refocused his attention to his brother. He had turned his back, looking down at the bed, hanging on the fringe of life. K’esano had joined the academy to find a solution and it showed in his posture, glare and tone. “I’ll see you in another five years.” K’esano said, remaining with his back turned.
“I’m not going anywhere; I will be back to talk.” S’tiri added as he left.
At the U’naan facility, S’tiri felt a churn in his lower belly. It followed the greetings of the Admiral and the Science Officer in a large briefing room. The room contained shutters on the windows closed shut, leaving the bright panels in the ceiling as the only source of light in the room.
“We’ve come across some unsettling discoveries in light of the war,” said Admiral T’sul, he addressed a half full room. Just across from S’tiri sat Sogul Runen. She had traded in her armor for a fancy U’naan uniform that’s accolades were rather thin for a Sogul. She hadn’t seen as many battles as some of the others. Next to her Sogul Rhais, a relatively seasoned Sogul. He glanced up at T’sul as he spoke. His face disproportionate and bearing a discoloration just above the ridges of his nose. Beside S’tiri, Z’oni held a holo-tablet in hand, the information on it indistinguishable to S’tiri even when trying to take a closer look at it. At the very far end hidden in the darkness of the chair opposite of the light above was Donas. He was silent, and almost catatonic. Only by his subtle adjustments in his seat to look at the diagram displayed in front of him, did his coherence seem anymore apparent. “The information agent Z’oni managed to gather from Marhal, Scraig, and an assault on Diezoth, was prudent to putting together the pieces.
“Those pieces being?” said Sogul Runen. She murmured across the active, oval holo-table. Her eyes caught S’tiri’s in a stare.
“The Elassi have a military pact with what was until recently, a fringe species; almost extinct.” The admiral continued. “Reports of them have popped up everywhere in the past standardyear. They are known as the Draul and from operational reports, we can confirm that most of their species have mobilized into an armada of ships. We don’t know where, we don’t know how many exactly. But it’s enough that they can spare ships just about anywhere across the known quadrants.”
While Admiral T’sul explained, images flashed off the holo-screen based into the middle of the briefing table. The first one was a scan of a Draul ship. It was ominous in its appearance and had weaponry protruding from each side. The report also mentioned that it was seen in orbit on Diezoth, conducting an orbital bombardment as well as taking on Irinan Navy carriers. The second image, that of Malazatr the commander of the ship that targeted Diezoth and nearly took the lives of Z’oni and the group on Marhal.
Z’oni and the Admiral had already gone over the image prior to the briefing but acquainted the others with it. S’tiri ran through scenarios of what the information could mean. All of them had to do with more war to come in the near future. Despite the economic war machine that was their home planet keeping the effort in a perfect balance, adding in an armada of Draul meant throwing even more resources at it. Although previously believed extinct, it was only due to the inhospitable transformation of their home planet that knocked them out of the political standings hundreds of years ago. And the alleged journey into uncharted space that seemed to have been exaggerated fueled stories of any remnant of their society being lost for good.
S’tiri had no doubt that high ranking officials had already signed off on more war, but he wondered how long the government would be able to keep it up.
Through the hologram, S’tiri noticed a rather uninterested Donas. He hadn’t spoken to him in months almost. He looked to be okay, at least from a physical perspective. Around the table, were a rather unorthodox group of soldiers. The two Soguls Runen and Rhais being there, only made it odder to S’tiri. It was unusual for even Soguls to take part in the briefings and debriefings that normally were conducted by A’tai and U’naan officers. He had seemed to relinquish a role of a soldier and take on a more governmental job. That’s what T’sul insinuated as far as he was concerned.
“Given the information the A’tai has gathered, an order of diplomatic outreach for aid has been enacted. Our centuries of keeping to ourselves seems to be over,” said T’sul.
S’tiri threw a confused look at the admiral, the others staring glimmeringly at the images. Another popped up. It was a faction badge that consisted of a rounded-edge triangle. In between the triangle were two circles that met each other in the middle. Around the odd shape was another circle. It was blue with white stripes.
“The U’naan Xenoists have looked at possible species that have currently inquired about diplomacy. Out of those few we are only seeking to reach out to one of those for the time being.”
“We already have an ally, the Myrians are keeping our economy going, and have helped in supply transportation,” said Sogul Rhais, in a rather desultory manner. Rhais was a traditional Myrian sympathizer. Marrying into a secular House in his younger days and tying the two ends together by becoming a Sogul; climbing the ranks of the Irinan Navy.
“I’m referring to putting actual troops on the ground actual ships at our aid, and more so an alliance that spans outside our sector.” T’sul said with a dignifying tone. “We’ve contacted a species of bipedal apes known as the Cooperative Planet Federation."
Chapter 6: Nario
The hall the meeting took place in stood cathedral-like in the heart of what was Saraya. A collection of seats lined the inside but were all empty. The viceroy of Phobetor towered over the others like a mantis over ants. Her name was Vrewulf. Nario acknowledged her pleasantness compared to the others. Gentle with every gesture from when she walked in, to sitting in the committee chair across from him. Out of all of the information tablets he had sifted through he hadn’t managed to get to most of the Phobetian information. He spent too much time on the Voathi, since they read to be the more relentless of the partnering races. At this point, Vrewulf was as unpredictable as he was to her. From the one tablet he glossed over, he had gathered that the Phobetians were morally pacifists, and lacked interpersonal relationships. No such things as family groupings or marriages, which was rather remarkable. Having not been on the planet, Nario didn’t bother to judge the societal choices of the species. He did take note that being brought up in a non-family environment seemed as foreign to him as the diplomacy that he had been sent out to seek.
The Voathian was wearing a bronze uniform with an unidentifiable insignia, to Nario’s surprise, the data tablets had an abundance of information on them, and the first thing that stuck out was the tribal nature of thier culture and history. Unlike the others, he wore a name badge but Nario couldn’t make out the characters. He didn’t know whether it was an issue with the decipher tool on his HUD or that the characters were too foreign to process just yet. It was determined in the data that the representative’s name was Swarran. The son of the head tribe chief, Duvvag of the Duresh clan.
Alongside Nario, sat Thoram basking in his pivotal role. His gills shuttered in their aquatic neck chambers. “As we all have been acquainted before we have a guest in our presence. Ambassador Nario Dios-Lobin, if you’d kindly introduce yourself to the committee,” said Thoram benevolently.
Nario stood up with an unsure posture but quickly adjusted it. “I am the ambassador of the Cooperative Planet Federation. I represent a peaceful people - “Nario was interrupted by the crude Swarran, swinging an exoskeleton, three fingered hand at him.
“Surely this is a tactical move, your race is in development, and have a history of aggression towards each other.” Swarran’s voice sounded like bees buzzing in unison.
“I apologize for consul Swarran’s quarrelsome note. But he is indeed right. Why should this committee trust t
he Human Federation or for that matter you with an agreement of this magnitude” Vrewulf was amiable. She was much less ornery than Swarran, her grey skin tinted as she shifted in her seat. A thin viceroy gown tapered down bony legs but fell short at the edges of her boots.
“I understand the concern. For a very long time your republic has sustained an optimal prosperity amongst each other; long before my people obtained the technology to reach you. I ask that you give us an opportunity to grow with your guidance and partnership. So that we can become long standing allies.” Nario was for all definitions of the word, a hero. He wasn’t educated in being a politician but could provide a speech if needed. He took note of the room, labeling each committee representative based on their dispositions. Swarran would prove to be the most difficult to convince, but Nario being a war-hero, would likely warrant respect amongst the Voathi. Viceroy Vrewulf commanded a planet under her own regime. It was common practice for her to be the primary individual handling all endeavors regarding the Lanx. One of the three heads of the government. Despite it, she seemed the most pleasant among them, even with Thoram present. Which led Nario to his last constituent, Thoram. He was already a sure ally, but Nario had not yet uncovered his motives behind the fact. Something seemed to be off about him.
Slippery voices fluttered behind the hall doors, as they opened large amphibians wearing capes of different colors approached the group. The stocky, muscular one that strutted in front of the others had snake-like features. Nario attribute the others to snakes walking on two massive legs.
“Very bizarre of you to hold this hearing without the company of the Thanes, Executor.” The one in the front said with a croaky voice.
The being’s massive, scaly arms flapped at his caped that connected to his suit. The thanes began to fill up the seats that circled the inner ones.