by E L Strife
“An Earthling wielded it. I was unaware you knew of them,” Atana said.
The members turned their attention to a male seated to the Coordinator’s right and the woman three seats from Atana’s left. Both had two permanent creases between their brows.
“I am not Linéten,” the man abruptly defended.
The woman beside him, with a diamond-white braid, swiveled in her seat. “Krett, you know why we’re looking at you and Balie.”
“Libesh, shut it.” Krett’s features crossed with something ugly, his eyes darkening to the deepest shadows of a forest.
“I don’t know why,” Balie countered, the peach tint to her skin brightening.
Krett sighed through his wrinkled nose. “Fine. I have a faint memory of these weapons. Haven’t seen them in decades. Linétens and Primvera have been feuding for countless generations. Balie is too young to remember the last battle, and things have been quiet for a long time.”
“We will discuss this more in private,” the Coordinator interjected. “We need to focus on what we were going to address with Atana then let them get back to helping the people.”
Atana wanted to stay, to work through the details of Krett’s knowledge. But the Coordinator was right. The people were her priority. She was a sergeant, not a member of Command.
“The rules you and Sergeant Bennett have broken have challenged our status as respected guardians on this planet,” one twin said. “Your intractable manner is a qualification for retirement.”
Chapter 20
HER VEINS STUNG with embarrassment and anger. Atana silently cursed the stars.
Like hell, they were discharging her now.
“A lot of shepherds have disobeyed Code, including you by exposing your identities to me and Azure prior to the mutiny. Our people have returned because of Azure’s help, from his faith in our desire to cooperate and work with them,” she defended.
“You cannot choose one life over many, disregarding Rule Four, particularly when it is for personal reasons, Rule One,” the Xahu’ré male to her left interjected, nostrils flared. “The Earthlings don’t know he is on our side.” He’s an alien to most of us.
Keeping her body still, Atana focused her energy on controlling her tone, begging to lash out in frustration. “Azure’s knowledge of Suanoan technology is irreplaceable. He is our prime resource for fighting the Kyras. You asking us not to protect him violates everything we stand for and a verbal contract with Agutra.”
A hint of confusion danced across his face.
“You are right about one thing.” She glared at him. “Our people don’t know which aliens are good and which ones are bad.”
The man lowered his head, cracking his knuckles in his lap.
Atana visually addressed each member at Command’s table. “You need to tell the people of Earth the truth and explain the Human Cataloging system. Deception is no way to preserve alliances with the civilian world; it is a ticking bomb. We need to tell them so our planet doesn’t rip itself apart as things unfold and cause all our species to lose their place of refuge.”
No member made a move to speak.
Atana hated wasting time. “The Suanoa are coming. They will show up with the Kyra ships. I read the code myself. We have a responsibility to the people: ‘to safeguard the innocent and preserve peace for every heart.’ You know this; you created this. Yet, I see you hesitating when provided the opportunity to evolve the mission of UP and extend it beyond the reach of our planet to help others. They are alone up there!” She thrust a finger toward the sky. “We need to help them.”
“Earth isn’t ready.” Dequan sighed.
Atana’s teeth clenched. She should be working, helping, not arguing about politics and fighting Command’s intolerance. “How would you feel if you had been lied to your whole life and then found out, through an acquaintance, everything you thought you were wasn’t true and you were supposed to save millions of lives with nothing but your own two hands?”
Lifting her hands, she manifested turquoise orbs and sneered at Command. “I’m not the only one you’ve lied to.”
A handful of members’ eyes widened.
Oh, shame, she muttered to herself in satisfaction. Not all of them were on serum.
“Now you have to sort yourself out while you fight for those who lied to you.” Curling up her fingers, she tamped the fires out. Bennett’s responsibility was to the universe, making her millions seem like a day of R & R. Her eyes lit with ferocity. “You used me. Rule Seven: Honesty prevents failure. Rule Four: Treat all Earthlings Equally. Do not place the value of one individual, no matter their affiliation or worth, over the masses. Rule Ten: Respect Command. They protect us like we protect the people. Lying counts as protecting? Rule Eight: Lead by Example. You want us to be hypocritical?”
She spun around, her fingers dredging into her wavy hair. After a breath, she turned back to them, pulse racing. “It is your turn to do the right thing—be honest with those you protect so they can come to grips with who and what they are before the world has to join forces and fight against our common enemy. We are not strong enough on our own, especially if we don’t know ourselves. You don’t respect the self-doubt that causes. If the people of Earth change during the stressful moments they will inevitably endure during this battle, they will begin to ‘unskin’ on their own like Sergeant Bennett, Josandizer, and myself. Then, you will have true chaos on your hands.”
Dequan straightened in his seat, hands planting on his armrests. “Enough, Sergeant Atana. Get control of yourself. You are not here because of your opinions. I’m mandating a report in to Rio’s office.”
A growl started deep in her throat.
Azure rested a hand on her shoulder. I think you’ve made your point.
Glancing at the men and women who looked more like scolded children, some fuming, some whose eyes glazed over with possible tears, Atana stopped and pinched her nose bridge, forcing back the pounding anger.
“I’m also sworn to always tell the truth,” she continued, softer. “These are facts based on what I know, from being on Agutra. You weren’t there. How could you know? Besides, several of you have shown emotion in the time I’ve been here. Does Rule Two not apply to Command? Why, again, do you not lead by example as stated in Rule Eight?”
“You think we put everyone on serum to control them?” another blue-eyed member asked. “While it prevents ‘un-skinning,’ as you called it, we wanted to find out who would be affected and who wouldn’t. We knew it would tell us who the most important ones were. It was all the Prophesy.”
Confusion tightened Atana’s lungs, and her breath grew ragged. She could see the arctic filter brighten over her eyes, adding contrast to the shapes of the Command members and the room they were in. It was bad enough they had lied to her and the people of Earth about their true origins—and to Bennett about how his father had passed.
“You sent me up there—” She paused, scanning them, her voice fading to a mere rasp. “Hoping I would sacrifice myself to save the planet?”
“There wasn’t an exact fate or individual described in the Prophesy,” the woman with the spiked scarlet hair said.
“You picked someone at random?” Atana scoffed. “Did you ever think about what you would do after you had a dead-weight ship floating outside your exosphere?”
No one moved.
“How about now, with the Kyras on the way? My sacrifice would have been for nothing because I wouldn’t have been here to help fight them too.” Several tiny orbs circled her body as she bottled the vindictive urges fizzing to the surface. “We have little chance of survival as it is if you don’t make changes before it’s too late!”
Sahara. Azure nudged her with his mind. We are surrounded by innocents. You must still your spark.
The woman writing throughout the meetings paused her pencil. “Some of us know who you are because of what we are. The choice was not random.”
Atana swayed and stumbled back, out of Azure’s
grasp. The realization she was a pawn, coupled with fatigue, made her dizzy. “All the floating debris, the thousands of kiatna? What about them?”
The members sat silent.
“Don’t brush off sacrifice like it meant nothing to you!”
“We are all kindred in death,” Krett offered.
“Don’t feed me your K I N D line. Their deaths were not triumphant or glorious. Kindness can’t help them. They must be honored and not forgotten,” she seethed. Every muscle burned, begging for a release.
To the Coordinator’s right, a man who had been silent for the entire meeting tried to speak. The woman with the spiked scarlet hair hushed him from across the table. The Xahu’ré pilot, who had helped Azure hide his M45 a few days prior, glared at the woman.
Atana’s fists tightened. “Be aware, there is no better recipe for the downfall of a governing structure than that of distrust and dislike of the people for their ruling body. If they are all in agreement, they will destroy the very structure you have all worked so hard to create, one piece at a time. It’s the entire reason we were successful yesterday. We were united, humans and non-humans, shepherds and survivors.”
Her outburst didn’t render a twitch.
“We are all equal, united as one. It’s in the oath, your oath!” she growled, slamming a fist on the table rattling the few mugs and loose tech items on its surface. Atana tracked the members that jumped in their seats. “Seven of you are not on serum. I just counted.”
“Sahara, please.” The pilot waved off splutters of protest from across the table. “Nephma, we’ll discuss this another time. It’s too late to stop now.”
Strength drained from Atana. They knew her real name?
“She is right. Yes, it changes our system, but it’s a necessary adjustment for success.” The man leaned forward, his chair squeaking. “We need to tell Earth so they perceive us as forthright and strong. If we tell them, they will look to us for their continued protection. If we do nothing and enough information leaks out, we could be perceived as deceptive and, therefore, power hungry, degrading our entire purpose.” Tapping the surface of the smart table in front of him, the man’s dark finger sent a video to the screen behind the Coordinator. “She’s worked closest with both sides, of anyone, other than Sergeant Bennett and their team. She’s making valid points.” He sped through the video from Station Hope. “Ah, there it is.”
He replayed for the members, the scope of the damage she and Azure had caused the abaddon deck as viewed by Space Station Hope’s cameras.
“She is Martiis Tivar’s daughter. She will do anything to protect her family. Viorans know.” He scanned the Xahu’ré at the table. “Primvera remember.” He looked to Krett.
They bobbed their heads in agreement.
“Of course you would support her—them,” a woman with dark eyes and cowlicks on the sides of her short-haired head grumbled. “You’re all Xahu’ré and nearly half of Command. Add the two Mirramor, then Balie, Krett, and Vimno, who say yes to whatever anyone else wants, you’ve got the vote.”
“Not everything.” Balie picked at her fingernails. The permanent creases between her brows tightened. “Do you not feel it? That she is good?”
The woman scoffed and slid back in her seat. “No, I don’t feel it.”
“Omut,” the Coordinator warned. “Keep your attitude in check, please.”
After a long silence and concurring nods from the rest of Command, the Coordinator looked up at Atana. “What would you have us do, Sergeant?”
Atana inspected them, some cringing, others looking more attentive. She didn’t linger long in the shock of them asking. “I-I want you to lead by example. Whatever you ask of your shepherds, you will commit to yourselves.”
“We have a reason for not going on serum and for—”
She snapped, cutting off the man to her left. “Follow the Code or be retired. Sound familiar?”
Azure shifted nervously between his feet. But when she looked up, his sapphire eyes held a hint of amusement.
Feeling a breath of unusual power within, Atana added one more thing. “Oh, and you will induct Azure and give him a team to include any and all he wishes, no limit. They will be housed here and treated equally, as will all doku, perimeter guards, and any others who assist with our efforts in any way. No serum mandate. They must choose to go on it, including the shepherds from the Agutra takeover.”
Dequan sat forward in his seat. “We must maintain control of the system! You are violating too many rules, Sergeant Atana! I vote you be re-evaluated. You cannot step above us and make decisions on UP’s behalf.”
“I disagree,” the Xahu’ré pilot stated boldly, several fingers rubbing up his forehead. “I spoke with Rio earlier, and he believes going back on the serum at this point is futile for the shepherds who have spent time above. Said they’ve broken the manic phase because of the trauma and it won’t work on them anymore. It would be a waste of resources.”
“I can’t believe you support this!” A man to Atana’s right snorted. His dark brown hair and subtle features made him look the most human. He rested a hand on the corner of the woman’s backrest beside him.
“Sergio, manners,” the Coordinator warned. “All of you.”
“Anything else you request?” one twin asked, a haughty edge to his voice.
“Linas.” The Coordinator glowered at him.
She inspected each member. “Since you asked, I suggest you tell everyone the truth, the Earthlings, Agutra survivors, including the shepherds.”
“Sergeant Atana, what you speak of is treasonous!” the other twin barked, popping up from his seat so fast he knocked his chair over.
“I think you need serum,” Azure said with steely resolve. “Or learn control like the rest of us.”
“I knew it.” Krett threw a finger at the man five seats to his right. “Not on serum!”
“Jorjan, sit down. Krett, you’re not helping,” the Coordinator commanded. “Sergeant Atana, Azure, if you would wait outside. We’d like to discuss things.” Calmly.
“Yes, Command.” She opened the door and nodded for Azure to leave.
Chapter 21
A GUST of air left Atana’s lungs as the door shut behind them. She didn’t care she’d basically cussed out Command. Their structure and authority were now outdated, risking more lives than it could help.
“I’m sorry I spoke on your behalf. Command is solid in their decisions. This is the way things need to be.”
Azure slumped back against the wall. “I have realized my word means nothing here.”
She paced in front of him, arms crossed. “Bennett’s team respects you. All the shepherds who were up there with us too.”
“Because they’ve seen me, they know me. They know I am not as different up there. Here everyone looks at me like I am a monster. Kios and I are alone. Ramura and Teek are having problems too.”
“They will come to understand in time.” She smiled at him, despite her lack of confidence. “You know humans take a while to adjust to things.”
“Four are, and even they don’t all feel right. The six Xahu’ré know your father, Tivar, know our kind. Why are they resisting this?”
Atana shook her head. “If they don’t accept you, we might as well quit and run.”
His brows furrowed. “What? Why?”
She shrugged and leaned against the wall across from him. “I don’t think we can pull this off without you. You know the Agutra, the collectors, the maintenance system and controls. You are key in our ability to utilize the Suanoan vessels to our benefit.”
“You really don’t remember Zephyr Station at all, do you?”
“Wouldn’t matter if I did. We need all the help we can get.”
Silence spread around them. Atana continued her pacing, wondering how long the wait would be and if she should go back to work. She could feel Azure’s gaze following her. After several minutes, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “What?”
He bra
ced a bare foot against the wall and tilted his head, still staring. His blazing eyes drank her in with the thirst of a man who’d just crossed a desert.
The door swished open, and both turned to see the Coordinator step out. “Please come.”
Atana and Azure entered and stood at the end of the long table once again, wondering what decision Command had reached.
The Coordinator held up a large tablet with a screen illuminating the silhouette of a hand. “We have decided, as a collective, to induct you—”
“Wait.” Atana pulled up her band and connected to the cameras in the room. “Nalli, dial Paramor, please. I want every closed-circuit UP feed, except the main hangar.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The shepherds need to know for in-house peace.” Atana selected Command’s screen on her wristband. “His people need to see he’s honored here, for PR’s sake.”
The Coordinator leaned his head back in understanding. “Wise choice. If you are ready then—”
Paramor’s face blinked on at the end of the room.
“Get someone to hold us up!” she shouted at him.
The video feed lifted. People filtered in around Paramor, muttering indiscernibly.
She dipped her head. “My apologies. Please, continue.”
The Coordinator cleared his throat. “Place your left hand on the screen and state your name and origin.”
Azure rested his fingers on the screen barely large enough to accommodate him. “Azure of homeworld Vioras and lead perimeter guard of Semilath Agutra Sector One Three Seven.”
A bar of light zipped along his palm, and his wristband illuminated, logging his voice patterns.
“You will repeat the oath after me.” The Coordinator’s eyes lit inside smiling frames. “My strength comes from those before me.”
Azure took a breath. “My strength comes from those before me.” The screen beneath his palm brightened to a steady blue.
Atana glanced through the glass to the Central Auditorium below. Shepherds were slowing their paces and watching as the impromptu ceremony proceeded, Azure’s gray body and field shirt filling the pixels.