The stranger relaxed a little after their blasters were put away and Garryn decided he might now be ready to listen to what Garryn had to say.
“We mean you no harm. We were told that this planet was devastated in a nuclear holocaust. There are warning buoys mining the area. I believe they might have interfered with your signal. It was too weak to overcome the interference.”
He took this rather well and Garryn wondered if he had really spent the last twenty-three years here, keeping a vigil for a rescue. There were so many questions that Garryn wanted to ask him, but the Prime restrained himself while the stranger was still so unnerved about seeing them.
Instead of plying them with questions, the stranger lowered his weapon and started to laugh. His laugh was deep and throaty, without any trace of humour, only bitterness. Garryn and Flinn exchanged puzzled glances, but said nothing for fear of provoking the man further.
After a moment, he composed himself and spoke, “I thought they would come up with something more original.”
“Who's 'they'?” Garryn asked.
“The Security Elite.”
Garryn's expression darkened. Now, he realised why the mishmash of clothing the man wore seemed familiar to him. Under the wear and tear and the patches of foreign fabric was the same dark uniform of a Security Elite officer. “You're one of them, aren't you? You're Elite?”
“I was.”
“My name is Garryn. He is Flinn. I came here looking for answers, friend. I think we can help each other.” Garryn approached him cautiously, his hand extended for the man to accept in friendship or agreement. Garryn wasn't selective on which.
The man's face softened, lapsing into a kind of contentment when he placed his weathered palm against Garryn's to return the handshake. “It was so good to hear our language again. I never thought I'd ever hear it spoken from another Brysdynian. I am pleased to meet you, Garryn, and you too, Flinn.”
This time, he spoke in Standard Galactic.
“My name is Aaran.”
XXIV
The Greater Good
Twenty-three Years Ago
Within an hour of Edwen coming on board, the Starlight was underway. Only the bridge crew were aware of the ship's destination, but Aaran knew they were headed for Earth. The meeting with the General unnerved him, though he did not understand why. Nevertheless, he felt the excitement of discovering another White Star colony.
Three ships would meet them on route, the Fury, Vigilance and the Nimbus.
Each were ships of the Elite, pulled away from their current assignments far away from Brysdyn and the Scourge. As the fleet converged, Aaran's anxiety continued to grow. Greeting a culture unaccustomed to extraterrestrial life with an armada of warships seemed like overkill to the science officer, but his protests were ignored. It only heightened his concern about the General's plans for this world.
The day before the rendezvous with the other ships, Aaran returned to the cargo hold where the Voyager probe was kept. If they were going to meet the people of Earth, then it was prudent to conduct more studies into the culture. Upon entering the hold, he expected to see his science staff continuing the analysis of the probe as instructed. What he found was an empty room. The equipment, his staff and even the probe were gone.
Bewilderment gave way to anger before he spun around on his heels and stomped out of the room to demand answers.
As Commander Delea's science officer, the two men had come to an understanding early in their relationship. Delea appreciated Aaran's ability to get results when time was crucial, in exchange for a pure research environment when Aaron needed to solve a difficult problem. Delea always afforded him the courtesy of not interfering with his examinations until he was ready to present a conclusion.
He was barely thinking as he made his way up to the bridge. Full of indignant rage, Aaran arrived on the bridge completely forgetting it was no longer Delea's ship. As he stepped onto the imposing centre of the Starlight, he saw the General taking up position in the command chair. The anger he felt was extinguished in a single moment of clarity like ice water splashed across his face.
Delea was not responsible for the removal of Voyager. It was Edwen.
Reason returned to him rapidly when he saw Delea standing beside the command chair, taking up right flank to Lieutenant Danten's left. Perhaps there was some logical reason to Edwen's actions. As the thought crossed his mind, he felt a wave of shame at his cowardice. It was obvious the General had usurped his research, probably assigning a team of his own personnel to head the project. Aaran was affronted by the insult. He was good enough to conduct any research the General needed. He had five years experience in the field!
Stop it!
The effort of his inner mind to save him from himself was almost as ferocious as a physical blow. He forced himself to calm down before he said or did anything to endanger not only his career, but quite possibly his life. Edwen had the power to erase him from existence and was reputed to have done just that to better men than he. Prudently, Aaran decided against confronting the General and went instead to his workstation.
“Lieutenant Aaran.” He heard Edwen's voice and froze.
“Yes, Sir?” He turned to the General, showing none of the outrage he felt about the probe's removal. He noticed Commander Delea seemed unable to meet his gaze, while Lieutenant Danten's face revealed nothing but cocky arrogance.
“I think you should be aware that you are no longer to be associated with the Voyager probe. From this moment, you are to conduct yourself to the regular duties of your position as science officer.”
He knew he should have let it go, but the finality of those words made him throw caution to the wind. “Permission to speak, Sir?”
“That's enough,” Delea spoke up quickly, trying to save the boy from himself. “You have duties to perform.”
“Let the man speak, Commander. I'm curious to hear what is on his mind.”
Aaran saw Delea wince and his inner voice cautioned him from acting irrationally, but he couldn't help himself.
“With all due respect, Sir, if there is some question regarding my competency in regards to analysing the probe, I would like to know what it is. There is still much to learn about the Earther culture. We should not abandon research prematurely, especially since we are going there.”
Suddenly, Edwen's face darkened. “Who said we were going there?”
“Aren't we?” Aaran asked, and felt a surge of fear running through him when he realised it was meant to be a secret.
Edwen glared at him through narrowed eyes and Aaran wondered if he had crossed a line speaking so frankly with the General.
“You are not to have anything further to do with the probe. Am I understood?”
This time Aaran did not mistake the threat in his voice.
“All data regarding the probe has also been erased, so there will be no continuation of the work, by you or by anyone else.”
Aaran's outrage exploded without him even realising. “Why? That was valuable scientific research belonging to Brysdyn! How dare you destroy it!”
“You will not take that tone with the General, Lieutenant!” Danten snapped angrily to the defence of his master.
Delea merely sighed and Aaran realised he was now beyond helping. Edwen rose to his feet and stared at Aaran with little mercy.
“How dare you presume to question me, you arrogant upstart? Do you even comprehend what it is happening on the home planet? Do you have any idea the things we have seen these past five years? You, with your world of books and numbers and facts, so completely out of touch with what is happening at home. I do not require your opinion on what must be done regarding the probe. As far as you are concerned, it no longer exists.” Edwen's head snapped towards Delea. “This man is to be confined to his quarters for the duration of my stay on this ship. If I see him any time before I leave, you may consider yourself relieved of command.”
Too stunned to speak, Aaran did not even noticed when he w
as escorted off the bridge.
* * *
Days later, he was escorted to the same cargo hold where the Voyager probe had been analysed, only to find it occupied by five long missiles, outdated for almost a century. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Aaran wondered where Edwen had managed to obtain these in such pristine condition. He did not doubt their mechanics were in similarly good state.
A hundred years ago, the Empire had banned the use of biological warfare in its campaigns. The missiles used to deliver toxic payload were decommissioned and placed in storage. As Aaran stood next to them now, he could see the compression unit that would turn liquid into a gaseous mass. Although these projectiles were in no way beautiful as Voyager was beautiful to him, Aaran admired the elegance of their construction.
“I felt I owe you an explanation.”
Startled, Aaran turned around to see the General in the corner of the room with a contingent of Security Elite officers and Lt. Danten. For a moment, he was almost afraid to meet the General's gaze. The man stood before him, with his aide close by, wearing an expression Aaran could only describe as resignation.
“What is this?” He gestured to the projectiles.
Edwen ignored his question, turning instead to the others in the room, including the guards who'd escorted Aaran to the cargo hold. “Leave us.”
The leader of the security team stared at the General with question.
“Now,” Edwen repeated icily.
Within seconds, they marched out of the room, leaving Edwen, Danten and Aaran alone.
“You are an exceptional scientist, but shockingly naïve. I question why you joined us in the Elite.”
He had joined because he wanted to help Brysdyn, had wanted to belong to something greater than himself. There were so many reasons, but none of it mattered anymore.
“You said you were going to explain. What is this?”
“Survival,” Edwen answered walking towards the closest projectile. “What it is, my boy, is the survival of the Empire.”
“I don't understand.” Aaran looked at him, puzzled.
“I think you do.” The General stared back.
Perhaps he did at that. Aaran sucked in his breath, trying to control the horror sweeping through him like the rising stench of foul water from a dank sewer. Yes, he did understand what Edwen meant, but Aaran had to hear it from the General himself to know it was real.
“What are they armed with?”
Edwen nodded in Danten's direction, giving his aide permission to take up the explanation he was so graciously giving Aaran.
“Prothos B34,” Danten answered.
“I've never heard of it.”
“Of course. You wouldn't have,” the aide retorted with similar contempt. “Prothos B34 was manufactured on the Halos Research Station approximately a year ago. At this time, all research on the project has been destroyed and its creator is indisposed.”
“You mean dead,” Aaran spoke before thinking better of it.
Neither Edwen nor Danten denied the allegation, but the aide kept speaking, ignoring the interruption. “Prothos B34 was developed as a possible vaccine for the Scourge. Unfortunately, as we found with many of the possible vaccines presented to us over the years, it had a small drawback. It could only protect children from the age of infancy to those prior to the onset of puberty.”
“Was it ever deployed?”
“No,” Danten replied. “It was in the process of undergoing trials when the Cure was announced. With a vaccine supposedly capable of curing the entire population, Prothos became obsolete.”
“And now?”
“Now,” Edwen took up the narration again. “Now Prothos will save Brysdyn. All it needed was a few modifications to the original vaccine and the properties of the drug took on an entirely different nature. Instead of a vaccine, Prothos B34 is now a powerful nerve gas. With five projectiles, we can effectively wipe out the entire population of a planet.”
“Why don't we just drop the charade? Don't insult my intelligence by saying you have no target in mind. You mean to use these monstrosities on Earth!”
Aaran was horrified by what they intended, and even more confused by their reasoning. What could possibly justify all this?
“You are correct,” Edwen answered, unperturbed by his outburst. “We do plan to use it on Earth.”
So now he knew and the words spilled out of him like the dying request of a condemned man.
“How does this save Brysdyn, General? How can genocide save the home world? The Empire is almost a thousand years ahead of them in technology. We are a unification of more than hundred star systems. How can one planet with practically no spacefaring capabilities, relying on carrier wave transmissions, be a threat to us?”
“Genocide? Is that what you think? I'm afraid you are mistaken. Perhaps I did not explain clearly enough.” He glanced at Danten and gestured for him to speak.
“Prothos B32 is a nerve gas and it will kill two thirds of the population. However, we will be taking survivors home with us from those remaining.”
Aaron's mind reeled back to the conversation he'd shared with Edwen during the man's initial arrival on board the Starlight. he recalled the stories Edwen had told him about Brysdyn, about the deaths and the end they faced because the Scourge.
May you never know a time where a simple bonfire frightens you more deeply than any enemy of Brysdyn.
At the time, Aaran had viewed the admission with sympathy, being unable to imagine what it must have been like for Edwen to bury two sons in the midst of some much desolation. Now, he realised Edwen's intentions were far more sinister than anything of which Aaran might have thought him capable. What was it the General had said?
We face extinction, Aaran.
“Lords,” he whispered staring at both men, his mouth agape with shock. “You're going to take their children, aren't you? You're going to murder the adults and take their children!”
Edwen's face revealed no emotion, but his eyes seemed darker now someone finally said it.
“The Empire must live, Aaran,” he said softly, almost believing the words himself. “To survive, we must be beyond petty concepts of good and evil. The slar in the forest does not weigh right or wrong when it needs to feed. It just does. This is no different. If we are to survive, we must consider ourselves above remorse or guilt. We must think of ourselves first.”
“That is a lie!” Aaran shouted, leaning against the nearest projectile for support. His lungs felt heavy, as if all breath was forced from them. “The slar does not eat its own and it does not shed the blood of another pack or steal its young! You may justify it as much as you like, but if you do this thing you intend, if you butcher all those people, then whatever decency in being Brysdynian dies along with them!”
“Perhaps you are right, but I swore my life to the service of the Empire. If there is an afterlife to which I must be held accountable, I shall accept my punishment. But, for Brysdyn, no sacrifice is too much.”
Aaran closed his eyes and turned away from the two men, unable to look at them anymore. In his heart, he knew the die was cast. Earth was going to be sacrificed.
Her invitation to visit was going to be her doom.
* * *
They returned him to his quarters and kept him confined. His spirit was shattered and, in the midst of its destruction, he descended into despair. Trapped in his quarters, he imagined what was happening beyond the hull of the ship and his dreams were filled with a world dying. He thought about how eager he'd been to reveal his findings about the probe, to glory in the discovery of the century.
The price of his ambition was the death of a world and the price of his conscience was equally high.
Aaran did not know how long he remained in his quarters. He saw no one other than his guard and had no visitors except the guilt-ridden conscience whispering accusations at him during his waking moments. When the guilt became more than he could bear, he consoled himself with thoughts about the Voyager p
robe, wondering where it was now. Was it destroyed or sent hurtling into space to continue its lonely journey?
When Delea came to see him, he'd lost track of how much time he'd spent confined.
Deprived of anything to help him distinguish night and day, Aaron could not really say just how much time had passed when Delea visited him at last. He thought it must have been weeks or more, because the stubble on his chin was thick and his skin had taken on a decidedly pasty pallor.
The man who entered the cell was a considerably different person than the one Aaran served with the past five years. Delea looked as if he'd aged a decade in a matter of days, but then so had Aaran. They faced each other like the last sane men in a world gone mad. Finally, they were equals.
“How are you, Sir?” he asked, sitting across the commander at the table in his quarters. His voice was almost a croak. It had been so long since he'd spoken to anyone.
“Better than you, it seems.”
He chuckled slightly, even though it was gallows humour. “I've let myself go in here. So little to do.”
“I'm sorry this happened to you, Lieutenant. I tried to warn you…”
“It's alright, Sir,” Aaran stopped him before he could continue. “I didn't help myself. How long have I been in here?”
“Three weeks. I cannot help you, Lieutenant. I don't even think I can help myself.”
Aaran realised being trapped in here saved him from having front row seats to what was happening to the Earth. Delea's eyes showed just how much of his soul was lost to save Brysdyn from extinction.
“It is done, isn't it?” he finally asked.
“Yes,” Delea nodded grimly. “It was done well and thoroughly.”
“The rest of the crew went along with it?”
“Of course they did. Why wouldn't they?” Delea snorted bitterly. “It's only the bridge crew who are aware of where we are. We are at radiation alert with all external canopies lowered. The rest of the crew can't see outside to know they're not where they are supposed to be. As far as they're concerned, we are in the outer perimeter of a star system called Cathomira.”
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