Brysdyn, who knew all too well what it was to be isolated and helpless, answered the call for help by dispatching ships in response. The message spoke of a world devastated by biological warfare. Centuries of war had resulted in one faction unleashing a deadly toxin that would end the conflict decisively. Unfortunately, as always with biological weapons, the toxin exceeded expectations and spread beyond enemy territory to the rest of the globe.
Despite delivering a swift and painless death to all the infected, the toxin spared those yet to reach puberty. Only Cathomira's children remained when the carnage ended.
They numbered in the hundred thousands, wandering ruined cities and abandoned countryside, terrified and hungry. By the time the Empire arrived, malnourishment had taken many, while others became prey to the wildlife reclaiming the planet. Infants and toddlers incapable of fending for themselves bore the worst of it. Some older children made an effort to keep them alive, eking out a grim existence in a world of rotting corpses.
When the first rescuers arrived from Brysdyn, they found something they never expected—another White Star world.
The children, bewildered and traumatised by their ordeal, were human.
While they did not know how to regard the strangers who suddenly appeared from the sky, there was no denying their origins. The ancestors of Cathomira were children of the White Star. The rescuers were convinced this was fate. In the midst of so much death, these starving waifs had become the salvation of the Empire.
With the arrival of the New Citizens, the people of Brysdyn felt as if they had been granted a second chance and were determined not to squander it.
The future lay before them and, this time, they would get it right.
* * *
It was almost evening when Jonen left his skimmer by the main street and took the path leading to the Census Registry Building. An amber glow settled over the area, with cracks of sunlight streaming through the branches of trees as he approached the structure.
The Registry resided in the Kleist District. The area was known to the natives as the Domain and was the heart of Imperial government on Brysdyn. From where he stood, he could see the Imperator's Domicile standing on the hill in the distance, overlooking the Quorum Hall. On the other side of the hill was the Enclave, home of the Security Elite.
He knew he should have been here earlier, but Mira would have rebuked him for neglecting his other patients for the sake of one case. The offices closed for the day in an hour and the ever-lengthening shadows along the tree-lined path prompted him to move faster along the paved road.
Like all government buildings, the Registry was an impressive building repurposed for modern use. Constructed in white marble with wide stone steps, a colonnade ran along the front face of the building. The main entrance was sealed with a set of ornately carved wooden doors that swung open when a visitor approached. It was guarded on either side by statues of sombre-faced orators of the past.
Entering the building, he found the lobby of the building almost deserted, as expected during this time of day. Jonen went to the computer terminal in the centre of the wide floor to bring up the listing of various departments. Scrolling through the list of departments, he found the one he wanted and headed out the elevator that would take him there.
While the foyer maintained some of its historical grandeur, the converted office seemed rather dull and uninspiring. Beige walls, dark carpet and too few windows made the place feel cold, even if the temperature was regulated. Jonen made his way to the department of citizenship records, hoping this wasn't a waste of time.
Mira had given him the idea to come here. While complaining about yet another argument with her sister Teela, Mira had accused Teela of being spoilt as a child. Mira's younger sibling denied this most vehemently, of course.
“How would she know?”Mira snorted. “She was too young to remember.”
Inspiration struck. If the younger New Citizens could not remember the planet with the blue sky, perhaps the older ones could? Interestingly enough, only the very young New Citizens appeared to suffer the Dreaming. Perhaps older children did not because their memories of the past were complete, while the others only saw fragments in their dreams.
It was a question worth pursuing.
* * *
The Department of Citizenship Affairs occupied the entire space of the floor Jonen stepped into when he emerged from the elevator. The size of the place was not surprising, since the records archived here predated the colonisation of Brysdyn. Genealogy information preserved in their worldship during the Exodus now resided in carbon crystal data banks on the premises. After the Empire expanded, the name of every family on every annexed world conquered was also recorded and stored. Every citizen of the Empire could trace their lineage through the information stored within these halls.
If he wanted to find the New Citizens, this would be the place to do so.
Entering the foyer, he saw that he was not alone in trying to reach the offices before the end of the day. There were an assortment of humans and non-humans waiting in line, either applying for citizenship or updating their records. Taking his place at the end of the queue, he waited patiently as it moved along.
“How can I help you, Sir?” A woman not much older than he inquired when he reached the counter.
“Yes, good afternoon. I'm looking for any information regarding New Citizens, particularly those sent off world. I would like to locate any one of them who might have relocated back to Brysdyn.”
The woman raised a brow at his request. Her severe features made Jonen think of a headmistress at a school. Dark eyes studied him as her lips pursed into a thin line, making her appear more intimidating than helpful.
“Are you a media collator of some kind?”
“No, I'm a mentalist. I'm conducting some research and I would like to speak to some of them. Are you able to help me?”
The question puzzled him. Even he knew he appeared too bookish to be mistaken for someone who made their living on the Transband. His psychoanalytical mind started studying her like a patient. Even though she maintained a professional demeanour, something about her manner implied his question had unsettled. This cannot be the first time someone inquired about New Citizens?
As if reading his mind, she responded promptly, relaxing visibly.
“We don't get many requests like this. Are you looking for anyone in particular?”
“Well, I'm searching for any of the older children brought here from Cathomira. I'm trying to get some information about their experiences of their home world.”
“I see,” she gestured at him to follow her. She moved to the terminal at the far corner of the counter, allowing the line behind him to progress. On her departure, someone else stepped into her place to attend to their inquiries.
Jonen followed her, feeling self-conscious at being singled out from the crowd. It made sense, of course. His request was unusual and might require more time than normal to deal with. The woman projected nothing but professionalism, but he couldn't shake the memory of the uneasiness he'd seen in her face earlier.
As she tapped on the keyboard at the terminal, Jonen distracted himself by surveying the room and studying the people in line.
“I'm sorry. That information is code locked.”
“Code locked? What does that mean?” He stared at her.
“It means you need authorisation to access these files.”
“I thought this kind of information is public access,” he countered, disappointed he wouldn't get what he needed today.
“Not according to the computer.” She studied the screen in front of her and then shifted her gaze to him again. “I cannot give you the reason why it's locked, but it's most likely to protect their privacy.”
“Where do I get authorisation?” Jonen remembered how much he despised bureaucracy and the endless red tape it seemed to spawn. No matter how simple the situation, you could always count on the Civil Service to complicate it.
“You will need to fill out this application,” she handed him a data pad with the assumption he would like to pursue the matter.
Taking the datapad begrudgingly, Jonen studied the screen and saw the application required his personal details and the reason for the request. With little choice but to comply if he wanted the names, Jonen surrendered to the demands of process.
“Who gives the authorisation?” Jonen handed her back the pad.
“I couldn't tell you,” she shrugged as if she were in the dark as much as he.
And right away, Jonen knew she was lying.
* * *
Elsewhere, a short time later, a com unit beeped insistently.
The shrill sound continued for the next few minutes, until its owner wondered what crisis warranted such persistence. The man hurried into his office, annoyed at the absence of the aide who had left for the day a short time ago.
Activating the device, a face appeared on the display screen above the main panel. Recognition rose within him like the slow-moving steam from a hot cup of brew. It was a face from the past.
“It's been a long time,” he hid his uneasiness at seeing her. “What can I do for you?”
“There may be a problem, Sir.”
Contacting him after so many years meant this must be a credible threat. She would contact him for nothing less.
“How so, Agent?”
“As you know, I have been assigned to the Department of Citizenship for the past thirteen years,” she explained. While he might remember her, she suspected he might not remember her assignment.
He was grateful for the reminder because he hadn't remembered even if he knew her. “I am a busy man, Agent. What is the problem?”
“I am sorry, Sir,” she stammered, uncertainty in her voice. “Someone is inquiring about the New Citizens we sent off planet.”
Her words escaped like the dank, fetid air of an unsealed grave. For a moment, he did not react, although the announcement shook him to the core. No, not a false alarm at all, he thought silently. Being the consummate professional, he hid his surprise from her and resumed the conversation.
“Who?”
“A mentalist, he claims. His name is Jonen. He owns a practice in the Rura District. He claims he's doing research.”
“A mentalist?” the harsh edge of his voice softened with genuine surprise. “How interesting.”
“What should I do, Sir? I think I managed to put him off for a few days, but he looks quite determined. I'm certain he will be back.”
He stared out the window and watched the sun continuing to set for a few seconds as he decided what ought to be done. Fate was a patient predator, he thought. When this began, he remembered the tight knot in his stomach following him for days. Knowing what he did exhilarated him and terrified him at the same time. He consoled himself with the knowledge that what was done was worth the price, but his actions still made him break into a sweat and sent fear running down his spine like ice.
Until this moment, he had believed the truth would stay buried. Perhaps age made him complacent and blunted the edge of his sharp, analytical mind into being so presumptuous. Whatever the reason, the situation needed to be dealt with immediately.
“Send me all the details and I'll take care of it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Without another word, General Edwen, Commander of Security Elite, terminated the line.
VI
Accident
There were few things in Jonen's life he could rely upon without any question. One of them was his love for his work, the belief that most people were good and that Mira would always be at the office before he arrived each morning. The last was probably more unshakeable than the first two. For all the years Mira had worked for him, Jonen could not remember a time when he arrived at the office before she did.
Mira's dedication to her work and, to some degree, him, was a constant in his life, one he could not imagine being without. Their relationship was more than professional, but less than sexual. There was no doubt they shared intimacy, but it was not of the flesh and, in Jonen's opinion, was far more meaningful.
So it was disconcerting to find Mira absent when he stepped through the doors of his office.
It was her habit to open up the premises, review his appointments and make amendments if necessary, then have a hot cup of brew waiting at his desk when he arrived. Today, he found the office locked and was mildly irritated at having to remember the security code to the door. It took him almost five minutes to key in the possible permutations, because he so seldom used it.
Her absence concerned him. Even though she disliked doing it, Mira knew she was free to contact him at home if an emergency arose. On the few occasions she was forced to come in late, she always managed to let him know the day before. Mira was a creature of habit and was far too meticulous to have simply forgotten.
As he walked into the waiting room where her desk held court to a number of comfortable waiting chairs, it was odd not seeing her there. The office, painted in warm colours and furnished to look comfortable, felt gloomy without her. Of course, he knew the décor was meant to lift the spirits of his patients. It just felt gloomy because she wasn't there.
Shaking his head to dispel his sentimental musings, Jonen continued to carry out the tasks Mira made her own at this time of the day. How surprised she would be when she came in and saw he'd done it all. He was convinced she thought him incapable of fending for himself without her.
It did not take him long to open up the office, make the cider and go through her appointment tablet to see his schedule for the day. His first appointment was due in about half an hour and he grumbled, not looking forward to it. The patient was a dowager from an aristocratic family who felt she ought to be treated like a Raisan empress. Mira had scheduled her early so he could feign the arrival of another patient if she chose to go over her time.
Cringing, he still remembered when he was treated to the prestigious history of her family because she knew he had no other patients after her. It was the only time he ever considered getting out of the business.
After opening up the office, he reviewed patient files behind his desk, still unconcerned about Mira, until he glanced at the chronometer on the wall. It was getting late with still no word from Mira. While genuine alarm was starting to fill him, he was also debating whether or not he was working himself up for no good reason. He was just beginning to feel the temptation to contact her at home when the com unit on his desk trilled noisily.
Ah, that would be Mira.
Her excuse for being absent from work, like the rest of her, would be impeccable. Mira never missed work unless she had a very good reason. Her devotion to him made such occasions rare. Pressing a button on the device, he saw the image struggling to appear through a glitch of static.
Only it was not Mira's face.
It took him a moment to realise he was staring at Mira's sister, Teela. It took a further second to realise something was wrong. Teela was a much younger woman than Mira. There was a ten-year age difference between the sisters, but right now it appeared as if she'd aged a decade overnight. Her eyes were puffed and red, her expression desolate, and it was obvious she was extremely distressed.
Immediately, Jonen felt his throat tighten and his insides twisting into knots.
“What has happened?” His voice was a whisper.
“Mira's dead, Jon!” Teela gushed, making no effort to contain her anguish. She descended into fresh sobs, unashamed and aware he was sharing her grief. Over the years, through her sister, he had come to know her well. Teela considered him a family friend and perhaps the closest thing Mira would ever come to finding a husband.
Jonen felt his head swim. The need to understand how such a thing could happen suddenly eclipsed the pain tearing away at him.
“How?” His jaw ticked as he fought the tide of grief threatening to overwhelm him.
“It was an accident. A CP called me about an hour ago and told me. He said Mir
a was involved in an accident with a skimmer. It hit her when she was crossing the street from her house. The animals didn't even stop to see what they'd done!”
“Thank you for telling me, Teela,” he said in a soft, strained voice, no longer seeing her as he switched off the com unit without giving her the chance to respond.
For a long time, he merely sat there, numb.
It seemed unreal to think about the world without Mira being in it, that she could be taken from him in such a senseless way. Traffic accidents happened to other people, not his Mira. He wanted to scream and cry, but the strength in him was gone. His training was telling him he should let his grief escape, but he couldn't do anything.
Finally, he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. With a loud sob, Jonen released the torrent of grief sweeping him into a greyer world.
* * *
The Enclave was busy today.
Major Danten, Deputy Commander of Security Elite, observed this as he marched through the organisation's central command. Danten was well into his forties, a man with tawny-coloured hair beginning to streak with grey and intelligent grey eyes that missed nothing. Under his uniform was a well-muscled physique, worked to perfection through years of discipline. He wore his stature with an authoritative presence, revealing he was a man to be reckoned with.
Today Danten felt nostalgic.
Walking through the halls of the Enclave, he saw fewer and fewer youthful faces and too many like his own, men who were past their prime. The lack of youth meant declining enlistment and, despite the activity in the halls at present, the Elite was still understaffed. It was sad to see that, among all those uniforms, only half belonged to field officers, while the rest were mainly administrative staff.
More and more, he found himself wishing for better days. Danten had enlisted in the Elite two years before the first Scourge victim died. There was nothing grander than to serve in the Imperator's Security Elite. The Elite maintained the security of the empire. Wearing the sleek black uniform was something to be proud of. People looked up to them, as if they were invincible, and Danten remembered feeling the same as well.
Children of the White Star Page 5