by Vi Voxley
"Trust me," he said.
Nothing else could have lifted his heart the way Lana did, smiling and then disappearing from sight. The fact that she did trust him emboldened the general even further. Corden had never doubted his abilities, but with Lana, everything else in the world felt doubled, including his spirits.
His gesha was scheduled to meet with the originals and direct them to the scientist crew. A part of Corden still felt like he should have killed the Palian who saw him. It felt like a loose end, a factor in his plan that he hadn't chosen. He resolved to handle the matter later.
Right now, he had enemies to deal with.
***
He had to wait until the originals went through the docking bay and were sent off with the scientists. Corden didn't want to get too close to them. He knew he could stay hidden, but taking more risks in an already dangerous situation seemed too much to him. The general stayed exactly far enough away to keep an eye on Lana.
It was with some relief that he saw that Worgen wasn't there.
That was the Brion pride he knew and appreciated so much. Worgen had already decided he'd won, so there was no need for him to come and see to the details. It was the exact attitude that lost wars to despots and tyrants, and honestly Corden was thankful for that.
An overconfident enemy had already made a fatal mistake and was bound to repeat it until his death.
Yarel joined him after he'd played his part, while Lana returned to the bridge to report to Worgen. Even that small gesture grated on Corden's nerves, like her hearing Worgen's voice somehow made her closer with Worgen.
"How did it go?" he asked the Palian.
"Good," Yarel said. "Better than expected, honestly. I didn't think it would be so easy."
"There wasn't much that could go wrong."
"Do you think it will be worse?"
"One way or another, yes," Corden said. "This can't end without a fight, and a battle like that doesn't have a predictable outcome. We are all in danger, but it doesn't mean we'll lose. I won't let it happen."
"She did well," Yarel said.
Corden smiled, a new instinct whenever someone mentioned Lana in his vicinity. He hoped Yarel wasn't doing it on purpose or he'd pay for the privilege. But the Palian seemed to be above such tricks. He was honestly complimenting Lana's performance.
What else could it be called but a charade, and all of them actors in it?
"She sent them off?" Corden asked.
"They're on their way. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yes. This is the only honorable way."
"I mean the second half of it. How could you trust them?"
"In times like these, trust must be earned, but one has to be prepared to give it too. Remind me exactly how long have I known you?"
The Palian smiled, the first true expression Corden had seen on his face. That was promising. The commander looking like a proper Palian again showed he had hope, a perpetual state of his species that only truly horrendous events were able to shake. Like the appearance of a legendary monster.
"Fair enough," Yarel said. "If you are sure."
"You do not know me, so let me put it this way: if I choose to trust someone, you can turn your back on them."
He left the Palian behind and headed to the lab. On his way, Corden saw signs of the Torons on a rampage everywhere. In one hallway, he actually noticed a whole arm lying in the middle of the floor. He wondered if it was left behind by accident or if it was a warning to the other Brion units.
It was lucky for them that Worgen didn't seem to want to spare his originals on the beasts. Corden hadn't heard any report of them stopping to put an end to the Toron assaults. The clone units were busy enough though.
The general regretted he hadn't been able to tell Lana that part of his plan either, but he didn't doubt her ability to explain the events away. After all, all he'd done was give the Torons a little nudge and a direction in which to channel their anger. While the Torons were providing a distraction for Worgen, he was able to focus on the bigger problem.
The originals were not really taken to the lab. Instead, they'd been told to wait in a gigantic hall meant for some sort of tests the lab required. Considering the sheer size of the room, Corden didn't really want to know what experiments they were conducting there that were safe near such a civilian population.
Be that as it may, it was empty now and had been given to his command. Yarel had ordered the scientist crew to lead the Brions there, secure the room discreetly, and not return for any reason. No one was to set foot near the place. That would be a bit suspicious to the Palians, but the Flora had succumbed to the overbearing fear that seemed to permeate the fleet like any other ship. There weren't many questions.
The only troubling part for Corden was that Yarel reported exactly how terrified the scientists had been to put their lives on the line. The off chance that the Brions would somehow realize what was going on was laughably small, but Corden supposed it wasn't a comfort to those who really feared the originals.
Despite their fear, the Palians had done as asked. The originals were locked in, still unaware that once more, their fate was not in their own hands.
The perks of an unknown technique, Corden thought. How can you tell what is supposed to happen and what is not?
He was observing the Brions from above, from a vantage point above the ceiling beams as he preferred. The ceilings of space ships were usually smooth, but almost all of them had rafters and ledges to support an agile warrior. After all, Brions were much more masterful in the art of covert movement than they were given credit for.
The Brions were getting restless, though. They'd been asked to wait, but naturally they should have been a priority.
Corden climbed down from his perch above their heads, still hidden by the shadows under the roof. When he'd come far enough, the general dropped the rest of the way, landing neatly before the nine warriors. Like one, they drew their spears, pointed at him.
Corden's valor squares pulsed a challenge to them. The general never boasted, relying on his reputation to speak for him, but these warriors didn't know anything about who he was. Only perhaps a mention in passing as the man who died aboard the Raptor, though he had scarcely heard them exchange a word amongst one another, which didn't make him exactly noteworthy.
The message his valor squares sent them was fairly simple. In words, it might have said something like, "I'm not dead and you will not kill me either." There was more—the Brion crystals were infinitely complicated objects—and it stopped the warriors in their tracks.
Not out of cowardice, no. They didn't come to a full stop, but they approached him like a real enemy now. No straight-forward charge, no needless heroics. They settled into a battle formation, coming closer with practiced unity.
That was the kind he'd seen before on the Raptor. Real warriors, not their cheap copies.
"Is this what you became warriors for?" he asked, the tone of his voice cutting through them like a blade.
He saw their immediate reaction, but bare to the naked eye. Like a slap to the face, it froze time. All nine had halted in their advance, spears lowered slightly.
The question was an ancient one. During their warrior training, every Brion was sent on a number of missions. One of them was a false one, designed to test the warrior's natural inclination to obey their commanders.
Many disliked the idea, but the Elders insisted and Corden was glad for it. Those who wanted the false mission's removal were men who wanted to simply follow and never think. But the whole purpose of the false mission was to see how far a warrior would go under orders.
It began with small sacrifices, building to bigger compromises. Warriors who carried out the mission despite everything were never admitted. Judging by how long it took for the warrior to realize the mission, their captain would greet them with a different message on their return.
"Is this what you became warriors for?" he'd ask them and no punishment was ever that cruel.<
br />
Nothing compared to betraying all Brions; no physical pain ever came close to knowing you'd failed that important test of knowing what was right from wrong.
The question didn't mean getting kicked out of the academy. Only those who carried out the mission were removed from the ranks and greeted by nothing but a curt dismissal. In an ironic way, it was a sign you were in—that the captain wanted you to repent and be a better warrior for it in the future.
Corden remembered hearing that question after he'd lost his temper many, many years ago. As he rested his head between his hands, fiddling with the strand of hair that would become his braid, he had worn that same look on his face as the originals did now. So his estimation had been correct. They'd all heard the question too.
Some things never changed.
He'd known it would get their attention. No one ever forgot the moment they're told that they failed the one thing they were born to do.
"It's been a long mission," he said.
They stared at him and Corden stared back. Small, subtle signs spoke volumes to him. A few gazes burned with hatred for him, for dragging up a memory they'd clearly suppressed. A few looked lost. And those he was interested in were angry too, but the anger was turned within.
"About time you quit."
In the silence that followed, laughter rang out. One of the originals was laughing, but it was a hopeless, maniacal laugh.
"Quit," he repeated with a hoarse voice. "There is no quitting anymore. We are the mission. We will never leave the mission. This is where we will die."
That was familiar too. Many warriors, when they realized they were too far into the doomed task, thought it was better to follow through to the end. It was considered the worst of failures, but no one told the young Brions that.
Corden knew, because he'd dealt out his fair share of missions and judgments during his long service.
"It is never too late," he said. "I am testing you right now. I will make this easy for you because you are clearly not that bright."
He ignored the furious growls from some of them. They were beginning to edge closer while four of them stood so still it was like they were nailed to the ground.
"You have strayed so far from the true Brion path that I shouldn't have to point it out to you. Serving that madman, allowing copies to be made of you, sharing your glories with your imitations. I offer you one last way out."
"There is no way out!" roared the man who had laughed.
Corden paid him no attention. His eyes were fixed on those who still hadn't moved.
"I offer you no forgiveness. No consolation. You'd spend your entire life making up for choosing the wrong path. No one would ever trust you."
"And what is the worth in that?" asked another who was coming closer to him. "There is no reward in it. No victory."
"There is very little, yes," Corden finished. "All I offer is everything. You will get to die a Brion. You will see home again, see Briolina."
"We will see Briolina anyway," said the first lost soul. "General Worgen will bring back our true way of life. One of power and victory."
With absolute calm, Corden pulled his spear free. The valor squares on his neck burst to life in a victorious, justified bright blood red. The clear white walls of the hall were painted in his colors and the originals hesitated.
Corden waited, thinking of Lana. The men before him didn't scare him, but not knowing what was going on with her did. He ached to be back near her, looking after her safety. She was the only certain and sure thing in his life. Her and—
"He will never reach Briolina," he said, the hall magnifying his deep, powerful voice. The general saw the men take a step back. "Last chance."
After a second that seemed to last for an eternity, two men moved. Their companions glared with unguarded shock, but to their credit, neither turned to look back nor slowed down before they stood before Corden. Both stared at him with gleaming eyes filled with unimaginable emotion where before there had been nothing.
"General," said one. "Sir," said the other.
He gave both a look, but graced neither with an answer. They took places on either side of him.
A risk, Corden thought. Possible threats out of my field of vision.
He thought of Lana again, of never seeing his gesha's beautiful smile when all he wanted was to hold her in his arms, one more time, forever.
"Your names," he ordered, keeping an eye on the seven that remained opposite him.
"Tuven."
"Ilen."
"I will remember," he replied. "Kill them."
They charged.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Corden
The two turncoats kept their positions by his side. That was good. They'd passed their first test of hundreds to come.
Fighting with them was uncomfortable, but Corden settled himself to deal with it. Their battle stances were slightly different, the way they moved always a bit off, but they took his stride and managed to follow fairly well. It was unusual for all three of them, which was far from an advantage, but two was more than he'd expected.
Corden chose to ignore them after an initial check to see if they were going to try and stab him in the back. But seeing the almost glazed-over look in their eyes, he knew they wouldn't. Both of the warriors had a goal now. Corden didn't know for a fact what about his words had turned them—Briolina or their honor or all of it—but clearly it had worked.
He suspected it was Briolina. The home of all Brions, in more ways than one. Their home world was a symbol of them all, the one thing that united every Brion out there. The planet that had spirit, apparently capable of holding a warrior true to it even after a century.
The other seven were all the more determined to kill them for it. Corden saw each of them for what they were. The two who'd argued with him had gone too far, no longer seeing a way back from their treacherous path. Even Corden's offer hadn't been good enough for them. One or two looked like they were going to turn sides during the fight, but Corden wouldn’t let them. It was too late; they'd missed their chance.
He cut through them, his spear moving so fast it kept a neat, circular area around him untouched. Anyone who stepped into it was bound to lose at least a limb. In the middle of it, Corden was a whirlwind of motion, the spear twirling in his hands wildly, blocking strikes from every side.
Without a warning, he twirled the spear around in his hands, aiming a powerful strike behind him. He could hear it pierce the armor the warrior wore, the telltale signs of a ruptured lung evident in his wheezing breath. The man collapsed, instantly trampled by the others to end Corden.
They had failed his test and they knew it. Although they had lacked the strength to accept his punishment, they hated the general for reminding them of their failures.
Corden grinned. It was good fight, a righteous one. He wasn't only taking down enemies, he was getting revenge for all Brions that the originals had shamed.
The two fighting alongside him were silent and grim, no doubt thinking of their endless punishment, but Corden had little sympathy for them. In contrast, the six still standing opposed to them were snarling, hissing in fury. They were doing everything they could to bring Corden down, but he refused to give them that satisfaction. The six kept coming for his legs, but Corden jumped back every time, using the deadly spears for stepping stones in the next moment.
He wished he could have given them more time to realize their inevitable defeat, but the thought of Lana kept urging him onward. Corden wanted to return to her as soon as possible, to see if she was all right. He trusted Yarel to handle the organizing, but not to protect Lana when the need arose.
He tried a feint, striking too wide of an arc. Immediately, one of the originals stabbed the spear toward his heart, but Corden ducked under it, lightning fast. He grabbed ahold of the spear and held it in place to block the next strike. The force of the blow shook the spear free from its owner's grip and the next moment found the warrior dead with a red line on h
is throat.
Corden had already turned to the others, dropping the spear. It looked like keeping a good hold on your weapon was a recent thing. Even Worgen had let himself be disarmed like that.
By his side, Tuven and Ilen were doing their share. They'd both brought down one of their former brothers and no regret showed on their faces. It seemed eternity was a lonely place and finally their age showed in their eyes, a century of bad decisions. Corden charged ahead of them, bending almost in half when he had to lean back to avoid getting his throat pierced.
The trick allowed him to bring his own spear about, cutting a deep gash in the other warrior's stomach. The man slumped, entrails spilling out from between his fingers.
That left the last two. Normally, Corden would have finished them himself, but he left the task to his two new warriors. He stood back, allowing them to go one-on-one against the originals. At times, the fight was fierce, but neither of them called for his aid and Corden wouldn't have offered if they had. It was their test, their trial.
When it was all over, he was more than pleased to find himself and his two standing. They were both panting while Corden had barely worked up a sweat. Even the originals were no real challenge for him unless some bizarre occurrence happened that distracted him from the fight.
He looked the two warriors over and they stood under his gaze like young boys on the day the Elders determined their future.
"This was your first trial," he said. "Are you ready for your second?"
"Yes, General," they responded as one.
Corden knew the rank was right, but he felt like he needed to give them a new title to salute to soon. It was too obvious they'd been used to answering Worgen like that and he didn’t intend to be a replacement for him.
"The Flora is a big ship," Corden said. "You will find a place to hide and stay out of sight. Do not allow yourself to be seen. We will meet tomorrow in the landing bay near here."
They both nodded, although Corden noticed the doubt in the eyes of one of them.
"Is this a test, General?" the man asked. "If we see something that is wrong, should we still hide?"