Triton: The Descendants War Book 1

by John Walker

  He shouldn’t surround himself with people who have the nerve to recommend assassination. Severan hoped his son would be above such things. I suppose I should be glad he didn’t act on the recommendation… that he didn’t throw his life away in some ill-fated attempt to ascend to my position early.

  Attempts on his life came with the territory. Shortly after he had taken over, a small group had attempted to kill him. They’d planted a bomb in the podium where he had planned to give a speech. It had gone off during the sound test, killing the technical crew. The military had rounded up the planners. They were executed and their deaths had solidified his rule.

  Unfortunately, that hadn’t been the last time. His wife had died in such an attack; another mistake by his enemies. That time they had been given intel he would leave a particular place ahead of his wife. He’d been detained with a conversation and she had stepped outside. They had shot her, killing her in an instant.

  Renz had only been fifteen at the time. He had taken his mother’s death hard, insisting the perpetrators be hunted down and killed immediately. His ruthlessness had come out much sooner than anticipated, spawned by the loss of his mother. Severan never knew if his son mourned the loss of his mother or took it as an affront that she’d been murdered.

  It didn’t matter either way. The boy grew into a man soon after and rose through the ranks of the military. His rise to general mostly came about honestly though some of the review boards gave him passes where Severan might not have. Once the boy took the mantel of general, he came into considerable power, even more than as the son of the Lord Marshal.

  And through his short career, he had crushed many planets. There was much to be proud of… almost as much as needed to be concerned with. But that wasn’t the biggest problem on Severan’s plate. He faced an insidious problem which brewed for months right under his nose. The Prophet represented an issue he hadn’t expected.

  It was biting him now. Not only had the man eluded his soldiers and best spies, but he managed to get off world. Severan had no idea where he might be but his broadcasts hit the airwaves often enough to be troubling. His technical people managed to suppress many of them but damage was being done.

  Even if I wanted to follow Renz’s plan of killing him, it isn’t exactly as simple as that. The man preached peace through violence. Rise up against the military, take them down, return to the old ways. Such nonsense had come up before but he quashed it much faster back then. He wondered how.

  Was I more ruthless back then? Severan couldn’t say. Age calmed all men, settled their blood, made them think before they acted. At that point in his career, he sent soldiers out immediately to gather up the dissidents and marched them off to die in the camps. Right alongside the impurity… those aliens put to work until they died.

  Many things had changed for the supreme leader of the Kahl. He’d been considered part of the Lost when he was a child, a person with no prospects. Joining the military gave him a sense of purpose but it also introduced him to the real plight of his people. They lacked vision. They had no purpose.

  Once he identified the issue, it was only a matter of time before he found a way to fix it. Thinking back, he smiled at how easy it sounded. His own perseverance had overcome the fact he barely knew his parents. He had spent more time in an orphanage than in their care. The lack of their presence in his life pushed him to marry… to have Renz.

  But he never figured on what some of his people considered a normal life. Once he took control, he had lost the privilege for anything of the sort. Instead, he and his family rose above the common, living better than he ever imagined possible. He harnessed the incredible focus of his culture and channeled it into galactic conquest.

  Which worked well. Their efforts put them at odds with some incredible opponents. They would all fall eventually. With men like Renz leading the armies, those with true zeal for their efforts, victory was inevitable. Even with someone like the Prophet attempting to undermine their efforts.

  Severan believed he would be rid of the religious fool. But he needed the information Renz sought… and more importantly, a location for his nemesis. To that end, he believed he had just the person for the task. His second meeting of the day after his son. A woman he’d come to rely on several times in the last decade.

  Milna Lithe had done some terrible things for him since she came into his service. Like him, she’d been an orphan and also like him, she had drive. Fortunately, she did not want rank or power. Merely a chance to hone her skills and recognition of her successes directly from the Lord Marshal.

  The price was small considering all she’d accomplished and what she suffered for him. During one particular assignment to deal with pirates preying on their borders, she had found herself at their mercy for three days. They’d scarred her, cutting her face on the left cheek and forehead.

  When she broke free, she slaughtered the lot of them, torturing their leader to death. Severan found it shocking they had caught her at all until he discovered she’d been betrayed by one of their own intelligence officials… a man desperate to acquire the resources the pirates had stolen in an effort to promote his house’s interests.

  Milna had killed him too, and since then she had worn a hood in anyone’s presence but the Lord Marshal. She entered his office quietly, taking a knee with her head bowed. Her blonde-white hair was swept back into a ponytail, shaved on either side. Pale skin leaned on the side of unhealthy, made more stark by her black cloak, shirt, and leggings.

  She remained armed, wearing a knife on the left and a pistol on the right. Milna had been one of the only people he allowed to carry weapons in his presence. It was a sign of trust for her, something she valued far more than any riches or accolades. This was just one of their unspoken arrangements.

  “Thank you for coming,” Severan said. “I hope you’ve rested since your last assignment.”

  Milna merely nodded.

  “I have a new assignment for you. It may be more challenging than any of the others.”

  “I live to serve.” Milna’s voice was soft; little more than a whisper. He had to lean close to hear her at times.

  “Have you kept up on intelligence briefings? The secret ones?”

  “I have, my Lord Marshal.”

  “About the Prophet?”

  Milna stiffened, nodding again.

  “Then you know we have yet to discover his location or the people who aid him. He has evaded our soldiers for too long. I have to take drastic action if I want to capture him.”

  “You wish me to locate and terminate?” Milna didn’t look up.

  “I’m afraid it will not be that simple.” Severan turned away, looking out the window. He knew that deep in the capital, near one of the administrative buildings, a crowd had gathered earlier in the morning. They had raised a protest, crying out for reforms they had no right to demand. His people had broken them up.

  All part of the Prophet’s plan, I’m sure.

  “You cannot kill a man like the Prophet.”

  “A blade or blast will silence him, My Lord,” Milna said. “The repercussions will be simple enough to contend with. Simply slaughter those who rise in his place. Show the people they cannot take matters into their own hands. That they will not be tolerated. Make their deaths public. It will make a statement.”

  “Is it the one we wish to stand behind?” Severan asked. “And how many of our civilians must we destroy to restore order? The lives of a few are meaningless, but some of those in the street are older. They have children in the military. People they care about. That they want to come home from the wars. No. We cannot take such a heavy-handed approach.”

  “Forgive me,” Milna said, “but I do not know what it is you wish me to do then.”

  “You’ll be in a difficult spot. Time is of the essence but you won’t be able to rush this. You must infiltrate the organization organically. Convince them. Do whatever it takes.”

  Milna finally looked up at him, her gray-blue eyes
wide. “How far do you mean for that to go?” The scars on her face didn’t mar the sort of dangerous allure to her but Severan knew his opinion was singular. Many considered her wounds disfiguring. It made it difficult for her to blend in; to live outside solitude.

  “All the way. Nothing is off-limits. Know that you will have to be completely on your own. No backup. No support. And if you run afoul of our soldiers, they won’t hesitate in their effort to stop you. I authorize you personally to deal with them as you need. Under no circumstances must you be captured. Do you understand?”

  “It may be required,” Milna replied. “In order to sell a cover. But I understand what you mean. I will do everything I must, my Lord Marshal. When am I to begin?”

  “You’ll know when.” Severan approached, touching her cheek. “For now, return to you home. Rest. This is the last time we’ll speak until you’ve succeeded. Good hunting. Be well.”

  Milna stood, bowing at the waist. She didn’t say another word. Just turned, boarded the elevator, and departed. Severan watched as the doors closed. His shoulders slumped. He had only three such operatives. Putting one out in that way hurt. He had a bad feeling she may not survive.

  So many things can go wrong. He sat at the desk, staring out the window. She’s one of the few people I can trust to pull this off. I have to believe. Part of him wished Renz had been more like her… perhaps not as blindly obedient, but as efficient. Quiet. Thoughtful. He would’ve been such a force to be reckoned with.

  Severan hoped Renz might surprise him in the end. When he returned with the data, after finding out why it had been disturbed. Chances were good he’d discover a natural phenomenon, some kind of seismic activity. Regardless, he’d bring back a piece of Kahl history. A weapon against the Prophet’s people.

  I have to fight that war on two fronts, Severan thought. My son on one side, my operative on another. Somewhere in the middle, we’ll flank them and conclude our business. But until then, I need to be patient. Practice what I’ve pushed for so long.

  He closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. It was time to meditate.

  ***

  Renz returned to his ship, heading directly for his quarters. He poured himself a drink before checking the schedule. They would be able to leave the system in less than two hours. He had logistics ensure they were supplied for a three week run. Without knowing the precise nature of their work, he had to be prepared for anything.

  Kivda Ziol entered the room without knocking. The soldier had been his confidant, one of the only people he had considered an actual friend. Unlike the others he needed to contend with, Kivda never suggested he assassinate his father. In fact, he insisted on patience. The old man would die eventually.

  Best to enjoy your time without the responsibility. Consolidate your power. Be prepared.

  Renz didn’t like it, but it rang true.

  Kivda stood a good two inches taller than him with flaming red hair and the lightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Muscular, powerfully built, and robust, he represented the absolute highest standard of military soldier. He rose through the ranks with Renz, always having his back, building his reputation.

  Together we rise. Kivda always looked to the future. He proved far more forward-thinking, working every situation five to ten moves ahead. In many ways, Renz thought his father would’ve preferred Kivda as a son. The man never acted impulsively and had an unnerving control of his emotions.

  “I understand we’re heading out soon,” Kivda said.

  “You don’t knock?” Renz asked. He didn’t mean to sound testy, to come off as annoyed. It just came out. Which is why I envy him, I suppose.

  “I thought we were beyond that.” Kivda leaned against the wall. “Where are we going?”

  “A random planet in the middle of nowhere. We’re gathering data; some artifact. I don’t know. A fool’s errand for my father.”

  Kivda clicked his tongue. “That man doesn’t send people out on fool’s errands. He’s a methodical thinker. If he’s committing you and this ship to this mission, it matters. You have no idea what for?”

  Renz weighed whether or not he should reveal the reason. He didn’t know if it was wise. Drawing attention to a man like the prophet ran risks. The kind he didn’t want to be responsible for. Though Kivda might never join such a crusade, telling him about it brought up a particular weakness in their culture.

  One that should be hidden until it could be squashed entirely.

  My friend isn’t much good to me if I keep him in the dark.

  “You’re hesitating,” Kivda said. “What’re you afraid of?”

  “Talking about a taboo subject.” Renz slammed his drink, refilling the glass. He thought to offer his guest some but changed his mind at the last moment. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to even talk about.”

  “This ship has two hundred people aboard,” Kivda replied. “They’re going to find out when we get there. Why not tell me now so I can assist you with planning? With thinking about the situation?” He tilted his head. “Or did your father say something that makes you not trust me suddenly?”

  “Why would you even suggest that?”

  “Because before you left, you weren’t acting like this. And now…”

  “I’d just rather be out crushing our enemies.”

  “Some missions provide greater victories,” Kivda said. “So please. Tell me what you know.”

  Renz finished his next drink, peering into the empty glass. He considered his next words carefully. Some of what he had to say could be considered blasphemous. The Word they lived by, the concept they must dominate the galaxy, came down from texts left by their ancestors. His father was said to reinforce that mindset.

  The church held moderate control over society prior to the introduction of the Word. Once their culture embraced their destiny, zeal drove them on. Interpretation of the documentation his father presented led to enhanced understanding of their obligation to the universe.

  This Prophet character somehow threatened the balance… somehow.

  “Alright then.” Renz gestured to a chair. “Sit.” He explained the situation about the information from their ancestors, the writings that may or may not be on that distant world they were being sent to. He further mentioned that his father expressed concerns about it, genuine worry. “I don’t understand why it matters. Or how this Prophet person is a threat.”

  “What I’m about to say,” Kivda said, “must remain in this room. We cannot discuss it with others present. Is that understood?”

  “I’ve already told you more than I should have,” Renz replied. “So yes, this is a confidential conversation.”

  “In that case, think about this. Some of us are too well educated to follow our religion blindly. Faith relies on no one demanding proof. Our priests talk about how it is a personal decision and you have to find it on your own. But that’s not what they actually mean. They want us to believe their word absolutely. So they offer us what we want most.

  “Doctrines bolstering our superiority, making it sound like we are the masters of everything we encounter. It creates a singular focus on our sworn duty to dominate the galaxy. To crush our enemies. And while I do not doubt we have the right, you have to wonder why the priests mind someone speaking against them.”

  “What do you mean? It’s blasphemy.”

  “Faith must have the endurance to withstand criticism,” Kivda said, “or else it isn’t real at all. You see?”

  “You’re suggesting they’re afraid of the Prophet because he might expose a false belief?” Renz shook his head. “What if they’re simply worried that he’s confusing the issue? His zeal can’t possibly match the might of the church.”

  “When one man is willing to stand up like this and shout down all the voices telling us one thing, that has power.” Kivda shrugged. “Right, wrong, or otherwise, we’re looking at a crisis spawned from years of war. Has it benefitted us? Absolutely. But once our culture no longer suffered, once we had slaves
doing our grunt work and a bustling economy…”

  “You think we needed to refocus?”

  “The rank-and-file person doesn’t necessary care about glory. Even as we celebrate it with them. Everyone had to serve in the military at one time or another before returning to our colonies and homeworld to conduct their business. To provide services or continue their bloodlines… giving us more warriors.

  “The Prophet offers an alternative. And the reason your father believes we can find a way to contradict him is because it’s clear our new nemesis does not have what he needs to prove the church wrong. He’s building his forces, creating a resistance of sorts. Your father intends to defeat him at his own game.”

  “Do you think that’s even possible?”

  Kivda nodded. “Of course. Your father’s a brilliant man. He wouldn’t have lasted this long otherwise.”

  “I personally think we should track him down and have him publicly executed.”

  “Not every problem can be solved with violence,” Kivda replied. “Not only is it impractical but it can waste resources. For example, what if this Prophet can be turned to our side? What if your father shows him further proof of our divine right? Such a person could assuage the resistance we’ve dealt with. Bring the people back inline.”

  “Resistance.” Renz scoffed. “Cowards who have no qualms about committing terrorist acts.”

  “They’re dangerous in their own right as well. But the bottom line here, the truth of the matter, is this can be a major advantage for us.”

  “How?”

  “When we find whatever it is, we’ll have it for a while before we return home. Whatever secrets it contains, we’ll know for ourselves. And when we bring it back to your father, we’ll know if he makes any changes.”

  “You don’t believe, do you?” Renz asked. “You’re not a religious man.” Suggesting such a thing was another blasphemy, one he recognized as unfair. Cruel even to a friend. But he had to know. He had to hear it from the man’s mouth. Are you willing to come out and say you defy the church?