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Episode 65: Finding the Way
Nova stood still as the Gamilon woman adjusted her dress to suit her height and then worked on the sleeves so they would be more manageable.
"Thank you." Nova said to the woman as she stepped off of the low stool she'd been perched on.
"You need not thank me, Princess." The Gamilon woman bowed, "It is my pleasure to be of assistance to one such as you."
Nova smiled, unsure of how to answer that. Instead, she looked down at the hemmed dress, testing the new length with her foot and then taking a few steps to make sure she wouldn't trip on it. She raised her arms on either side of her and found that, though the sleeves were still quite large by her standards, their volume had been reduced a bit so that it didn't feel like she would drown in them anymore.
"It's perfect," Nova said to Elisa. "You are very good at this." She examined the stitching on one of the sleeves and noted its consistency and preciseness.
"I have many skills that I hope will be of use to you while you are here," Elisa replied respectfully as she took a step away from Nova. "Is there anything else you require, Princess?"
"No, thank you," Nova replied. She wished she had a larger vocabulary. There wasn't too much she could say without sounding strange or giving herself away.
"Would you like me to stay and keep you company?" Elisa asked.
Nova shook her head, "No, thank you."
"Very well," Elisa bowed again, "I will have a paging device with me should you need anything. You can call me by pressing that button," Elisa pointed to a small yellow orb situated halfway up the right doorpost, "I will be here as quickly as possible."
Nova nodded and smiled as the Gamilon woman quietly left.
Nova waited until she was sure her appointed aide was gone, and then she let out another deep sigh, "How can I let anyone know where I am?" She muttered to herself. "There's no way I can get a message off to the Argo. I don't even know how far we've gone since leaving the ship."
She looked around the room.
It was a strange place, nothing like the cell she'd been in on board that ship, and certainly nothing like her quarters on the Argo. The walls were made of something greyer than the walls inside her captors' ship. She walked over to the nearest wall and touched it. It felt like the same substance, even though it was a different color. The bed looked like a bed, though it was shaped differently than the ones she was used to. It was somehow more elegant, like the rolling of an ocean wave as opposed to a flat board.
The room wasn't very big, but it was pleasant. The temperature was appropriate to her long sleeved dress and she didn't feel hot in here, though if she went outside, she was sure it would be most uncomfortable as the temperature was surely hotter than it had been when she'd disembarked.
It felt like it was almost midday.
Nova looked around for something that might tell her what time it was, even if she couldn't really read it, maybe it would give her an idea of how they kept time here.
She hunted around, looking at the walls and near what looked like a desk and mirror she'd found before. She checked the two small tables as well, but nothing stuck out to her as being a time-keeping device. Maybe they didn't want her to know what time it really was outside.
"Maybe they don't use clocks," she thought. "I ask the computer what time it is sometimes…"
"Computer, what time is it?" She asked the empty room.
To her amazement, an answer came, "It is fourteen minutes after the noon hour."
"So it is the middle of the day," she said to herself, but not too loudly, just in case there was someone else outside.
"I wonder if I can leave this room…"
Nova stepped over to the door and stood in front of it.
Unlike for Elisa, it didn't open for her. Instead a red light appeared above the door and an unpleasant sound buzzed for half a second.
Nova stepped away from the door and then tried approaching it again with the same results.
"Well, so much for exploring," she thought. "I wonder who else is here. What kinds of criminals do they keep in a place like this?"
"Computer?"Nova began, unsure of how to word her question so that the computer would understand her. She couldn't quite form the thought she was looking for in anything close to the Gamilon language, so she gave up and said in plain English, "What is this place?"
"Leptopoda is the seventeenth prison world. The other sixteen are located throughout Gamilon-Iscandari Alliance territory."
Nova's eyes widened, "Gamilon-Iscandari Alliance?" A chill ran through her as she thought, "Is Starsha really somehow involved with the Gamilons…?"
The computer interrupted her thought as it said, "The Gamilon-Iscandari Alliance was formed one hundred and forty-five years ago when the Cometine Empire destroyed Iscandar, leaving no livable surface area. Gamilon and Iscandari scientists collaborated to create a machine that could remove the harmful radiation that riddled Iscandar. Through this alliance, the Rophi Shamayim was created and Iscandar was restored to its former glory."
More questions flew through Nova's mind as she listened to the computer relay this strange tale.
"How can this be…?" she thought. "What will we face when we reach Iscandar? If Iscandar is a friend to Gamilon… will we even be able to get our cure and bring it home?"
Nova stepped away from the door again slowly. She felt like she was in a fog as she walked back to her bed and sat back down on it.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. All of this new information was making her head hurt.
"If only I could get out of here and see more of this place, at least I would have something to do other than sit and wonder about Starsha… Why am I wondering anyway? I've met her – well, not 'her' per-se, but at least a representation of her. Why am I doubting her at all? She's helped us so many times… Oh, Lord, help me to believe her, even now… She's given us no reason to think that she is anything other than what she claims to be – a friend."
Nova lay back on the bed and let the room's silence fill her.
"Separation sequence engaged," the computer announced.
The words echoed through the chaotic bridge as Dommel and the rest of his officers prepared for the saucer section of the ship to detach from the main ship body.
"Collision with the mining drill in twenty seconds," the radar operator put in.
"Ten seconds until separation," the computer droned.
"Nine."
"Eight."
"Seven."
"Six."
Dommel's eyes were locked on the drill, which was close enough now to be seen with the naked eye. It plowed towards them, heedless of the damage it would do when it hit. Dommel only hoped that they could put enough distance between them and the center of the coming explosion as possible.
"Five."
"Four."
"Three."
Dommel grabbed the nearest duty station and braced himself.
"Two."
The other officers without seats did as their general had and took hold of anything they could – chairs, railings, whatever would keep them on their feet during the separation.
"One."
"Separation initialized."
The entire bridge section jolted forward, and then with a mighty lurch, it zoomed away from the main ship, leaving it to the mercy of the oncoming drill.
"What's that?" Derek asked, pointing at something on Sandor's display that looked like a small white dot moving away from the enemy flagship. "And look at those other ships; they're all scattering – all four carriers. We didn't do it fast enough."
"Wait, Wildstar," Sandor held up a hand to silence the young man. "Unless they're a lot faster than we've observed in the past, they can't get their flagship out of the way of that missile in time. Even if they change course, I can follow them. They can't escape."
Derek nodded slowly, "Before you destroy it, do the missile's sensors tell you anything else we might need to know?"
"The four carriers are moving off, heading farther into the clouds. It looks like they're retreating."
"Are they still inside the blast radius?" Derek asked.
Sandor gave the young man an incredulous look, "I'm not a wizard, Wildstar. I can't tell just by looking at the missile what kind of blast radius it has."
Derek shrugged, "You've told us more with less."
Sandor sighed and looked through a few things on the missile's computer core very quickly. "Yes, they're still inside it – all except one of them. The smallest carrier is already outside the missile's range. And there's an even smaller ship that's outstripping the four carriers. That one will be well out of range before the missile detonates."
Derek grunted, a bit frustrated that they couldn't bring down all of them at once.
"How long until the missile hits?" Derek asked.
"Ten seconds," Sandor replied.
Wildstar eyed the flagship on Sandor's display and muttered, "This is going to be the longest ten seconds of the entire trip, isn't it…"
Sitting in his quarters, Desslok glanced through record after record, searching for any mentioning of the kidnapping of Astra of Iscandar. It was mid-afternoon by now, and though he'd begun his search immediately after his conversation with Starsha the night before, thus far, he'd had no success in finding any evidence of what she'd seen.
The information network was a place of dark secrets, some of which he knew he hadn't found yet, and some he never wanted to find. There were things here that even his deposed brother wouldn't want to stumble onto.
He stared at a listing of several documents – orders from some of the councilmen and women to troops planetside, and some to deployed ships. He started at the beginning of the list and waded through it, opening one document at a time and reading through it slowly, trying to find anything that might be odd or suspicious.
There were orders for the mass production of ship parts, the training of new GRN recruits to be parceled out to specific military bases around the planet, even orders for supply route changes due to the rebel strikes.
The orders were organized by the name of the person or persons responsible for issuing them.
The Leader worked through the first two sections of records without finding much of import. Then he began the third.
"Miezella Celestella," he thought as he read the councilor's name. The woman had an obscene amount of records attached to her. Since her arrival here in Belarus – before it had been renamed – she had briefly served as advisor to the Usurper. Her services had proven… insufficient to keep the traitor from being overthrown.
Desslok's eyes narrowed as he scanned through several records. They all seemed to be quite ordinary until he came to one in particular.
"To Dommel Lysis, Commander of all GRN forces," read the address.
Desslok opened the record and began to read it.
As his eyes moved through the document, rage began to build in him. It was an anger that he had not felt in a long time – since the overthrow of the Usurper – an anger that burned hot and purposefully.
Finally, he'd read the entire document.
The last two sentences read, "To end the war with the Eratites, we must stop the Iscandari Queen. To do this, we must take what means the most to her and destroy it."
"Astra…" the Leader thought, "Astra is all she has left. This must be what Starsha saw on the Eratite vessel."
Desslok growled at the words displayed before him, a long-dead fire rekindled in his eyes – the fire of will, will to fight.
"Dommel, I do not think you would fulfill the base desires of such a one as Celestella." Desslok thought. Then, without another word he withdrew his communicator from its pocket and made a call.
"Leader Desslok," Celestella bowed before the ruler of the Gamilon people. She looked around the dimly lit conference room. No one else was present. She had been alone with the Leader before, but this time, something about him made a chill of fear run down her spine. "Is there something you wished to speak with me about?"
"Oh, indeed, Celestella," the Leader replied from the far end of the room. As usual upon her arrival, he had his back to her. "There is a matter I would discuss with you, in regards to your orders as of late."
"I took care of the insurgents as you wished for me to do, Sire." Celestella bowed again. She felt her breath come a bit shorter and her hands started to shake just enough for her to clasp them behind her back so that, if the Leader were to turn and look at her, he would not see her nervousness.
"Perhaps," Desslok replied dismissively, still keeping his back towards her. "That is not what I wish to speak with you about."
Celestella fought to keep her hands from trembling more than they already were, and she hesitated to say anything else, lest her voice give away her state of mind.
The air in the room grew thick with tension, and Celestella felt it descend like a wall of bricks falling on top of her.
An unbearable silence fell over the small room as Celestella waited. The longer it drew on, the more she wanted to turn and flee the Leader's presence.
"Where is she?" The Leader asked, in a voice so low that Celestella nearly missed the question.
"S – sire?" she stammered in reply.
"Where is the Iscandari?" His voice rose to a normal volume this time, but with that added volume came a threat that made Celestella's very inner being quake. That moment, she knew she'd gone too far when she'd ordered the capture and killing of the Iscandari princess.
"I – I do not know what you mean, Sire," Celestella denied, looking down at the dark floor in front of her. Even as she said the words, the scar on her back began to ache, a reminder of the last time she'd tried to interfere with the Iscandari woman.
"I sincerely doubt that."
Celestella heard the Leader turn to look at her. She didn't dare meet his gaze.
The sound of slow footsteps echoing on the hard floor rang in her ears as she stood frozen in place. She tried to make her feet move – to leave – but she could not. She was bound to that one spot by the fear commanded by the wrathful presence of this man.
"Look at me," the Leader's voice, though lower in volume now, was filled with something that made Celestella more afraid than she had been since she was at the mercy of her Mistress, the Malha, begging for her life.
Celestella tried to raise her head, to obey this fearsome presence, but to no avail.
She yelped as a gloved hand reached down and jerked her head up to meet the fiery eyes of the Leader. She stared at him, eyes so wide that she thought they might roll out of their sockets.
"Tell me, Jirelian," the Leader hissed, "Is she still alive?"
"I – I – do not know," Celestella managed, sheer terror making her stumble over her words. The scar on her back began to burn, sending hot pain through her entire body.
The Leader let go of Celestella's chin and with an angry snarl turned away from her again.
Her knees felt as though they might buckle under her, so great was her relief at being released from the Leader's grasp. But the agony spreading over her from her old wound nearly drowned her senses.
An instant later, the Leader was three inches from her face as he roared, "Get out of here! You are hereby banished from Gamilon and all her territories. You will never set foot on this world again, on pain of death."
Celestella took a step back. Pain clouded her thoughts, and she couldn't think well enough to know what to say in reply. Finally, she whispered, "Y – yes, Sire…"
Cold dread settled in her stomach as she slowly backed away from the Leader and left the room. Even before the door shut behind her, she fled down the halls, looking for someplace where she might ease the fire that now felt like it would burn through her entire being.
The abandoned Gamilon flagship exploded into a ball of light as the mining drill ripped into it, tearing through the still-hot engine.
Dommel watched the scene as it unfolded on the viewscreen in front of him.
"How many of the carriers will be… caught in the blast…?" Dommel asked his XO quietly.
"Three out of the four have no chance of escaping," the officer replied.
Dommel bowed his head, pain etched in his face at the thought of the deaths of so many, most of whom he knew in some form or fashion. His jaw clenched. He opened his eyes, and turning them back to the viewscreen he ordered, "Set course for the Eratite ship."
The General's eyes narrowed, "These sacrifices will not be in vain."
"Yes, Sir," came the reply.
As the flagship and three of their four carriers disintegrated, Dommel's tiny remaining force sailed through the clouds of Keshet in search of vengeance.
Elisa walked slowly through the solitary ward. She looked from one locked cell to the other, knowing that she wouldn't be seeing anyone, but still wondering about all the men and woman who were housed here. Some of them hadn't seen the light of day for years. Others were sentenced to wait here until their executions – though that fate was reserved for the vilest of criminals.
Her footsteps echoed in the dim dreariness. She stopped at a few cells to read what little information was displayed on the prisoners' doors. Most of what was there included a serial number, age, gender, planet of origin, and a list of crimes committed by the individual. Other than that, there wasn't really much else to see.
She passed one cell that housed a twenty-eight year old young woman who had been convicted of murdering her entire family, including two young children and an elderly mother.
Elisa shuddered to think of doing such a thing.
Another cell contained a middle-aged man who'd bombed a warehouse full of immigrants just before they'd been allowed into the capitol. There had been at least twenty reported casualties.
"How many children don't have families because of these people…?" She thought, hugging herself as she did. "And how many of them even care about the death they've spread…?"
She continued walking until she came to the last cell, the one she'd seen empty lately. The door displayed the information for its new occupant. Right now it housed a fifty-eight year old man from Gamilon.
Elisa read down farther, looking for his crime. When she finally found that section, it was curiously sparse, listing only one word – treason.
Elisa's eyes widened. Could this be who she suspected? Immediately a thousand thoughts raced through her head as she tried to figure out a way to see who was inside this cell.
Then an idea came to her. It was risky – extremely so, in fact – but it was worth a try.
Elisa left the solitary ward and wound her way through the dim corridors until she came to the prison kitchen.
She shouldered her way past a knot of servers who were taking serving carts of food to pass out to the prisoners. Once past them she saw the person she really wanted to talk to, the head cook.
"May I request something of you?" Elisa asked, sliding past another server on his way out of the kitchen.
"Who are you?" the man asked, clearly unimpressed by her presence in his busy kitchen.
"I am the aide to the Princess Astra of Iscandar while she is in residence here," Elisa replied, "And I have a favor to ask of you, if you will allow it."
Elisa felt her face flush a little. The room was still quite warm after the preparation of the food.
"You want something to take to your Princess?" the cook asked, condescendingly. "Fine. Take whatever you want to her. I don't care." He waved a dismissive hand.
When she didn't leave he eyed her again, clearly getting more annoyed. "Well, be off with you."
"That isn't what I wanted to asked about," Elisa replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other nervously. "I – I want to help serve the prisoners in the solitary block today."
"Whatever. Fine, just stop clogging up my kitchen. Find the server with the red cart. He's headed to solitary. And do what he tells you. Some of those criminals can be as conniving as a fox trying to get ahold of tame chickens."
"Th – thank you!" Elisa bowed slightly to the cook as she quickly left, looking diligently for the man with the red cart.
Episode 66: Will
"Wildstar, we're receiving a transmission," Homer pressed his headset closer to his ear, a confused look on his face. "It's – it's coming from one of the Gamilon ships, and –" Homer's eyes widened and he quickly turned to face Derek, "It's got video with it."
"Put it on screen," Derek directed, "And make sure the translator's on."
With a short nod the comm officer obeyed and within a few seconds the transmission from the enemy appeared on the viewscreen for all to see.
Expressions of surprise rolled through the bridge as they saw for the first time the man who'd lured them here. He was tall and broad and he looked to be about the equivalent of thirty something Earth years. He had very short brown hair, and intense green eyes. His uniform was nothing like any of them had ever seen before. The green and black design wasn't even close to the uniform the pilot Melda had worn when they'd taken her aboard.
"Crew of the Earth ship," the translator supplied as the enemy commander began to speak, "I am General Dommel Lysis, Commander of all GRN forces. I would speak with your commander."
"I'm the acting captain," Derek stepped forward.
The enemy general looked surprised, "Surely not. One so young could not command a force this great…" The man's voice trailed off and a smirk replaced the frown he wore. "I have spoken hastily; if you truly are the captain of this vessel, then you are a most worthy foe. We had your backs against a wall, and yet, somehow, you survived." The General laughed under his breath, "The sheep have turned on the wolves it seems."
Derek didn't know what to say to the man. What was there to say? Instead he nodded slowly and waited for the General to continue.
General Lysis paused for a few seconds, and then went on, seemingly unphased by Derek's lack of a reply.
"I have known but one man capable of such feats as you have accomplished this day," the General said, a faraway look in his eyes, "Today he is our people's king. Should you ever meet with him in battle, ship from Earth, you would do well to be wary."
"What is it you want?" Derek finally asked.
"I want you to surrender – unconditionally," the General replied. "That is all."
"We won't do that," Derek replied, his voice low, eyes narrowed at the enemy commander. "Earth doesn't surrender to anyone, including you."
General Lysis nodded slowly, "I see. Well, then you leave us no other choice." The video feed winked out, leaving only the black viewscreen in its wake.
"Saijo, what're they doing?" Derek asked the radar operator.
"The sensor net is failing!" Miki exclaimed, "They're shooting down the buoys."
"They can't take them all out," Derek replied, "How many ships are out there?"
"Just one," Miki replied, "It's small, nowhere near the size of one of their carriers."
"So where's the carrier that escaped?" Derek asked, more to the entire bridge than to Miki specifically.
"I don't know, Sir, I don't see anything else on the radar. It could be hiding in a blind spot now though. We have a huge hole in the sensors." Miki stared at the radar display with all her might, trying to catch everything she could.
"Orion, any improvement on the engines?" Derek asked the old engineer.
"No, Sir. We're still dead in the water. We couldn't move if we had to," Orion replied, a thin line of sweat dripping down his face as he said it.
"So we're stuck?" Derek asked the entire bridge crew. "There has to be something we can do. That ship's probably going to attack us. We have to act now, or we're not making it out of this."
"Trust your crew, Wildstar." The deep voice of Captain Avatar rang through the bridge as he descended to his station in his chair. He looked terrible, but he was sitting up and well enough to speak. "Sandor, I believe you have something ready for us."
Derek stared first at the Captain, then at Sandor. "What's he talking about?" Derek asked the science officer.
"With the engines down I don't know if we'll be able to muster enough power to do it," Sandor said, "But… if the enemy attacks us, we can project a partial shield using some of the engine's energy."
"A shield? Out of the same stuff we used to blow that continent on Jupiter away?" Derek asked, not believing what he was hearing, "And you didn't mention this when we were getting beaten up by Gamilons?"
"It hasn't been tested, Wildstar," Sandor protested, "I don't even know if it'll work at all, and if it does, the shield will only last for about five seconds before it has to power down. And it can only cover a small portion of the ship."
"The enemy ship's making a run at us," Miki interrupted. "Thirty seconds to impact."
"Where will it hit?" Derek asked.
"I don't know it – it just dropped off the radar again." Miki replied, a look of frustration on her face, "If Forrester were here, she'd figure something else out."
"Well, she's not here right now," Derek shot back, irritation in his voice.
Seeing the look of surprise, and a bit of hurt on Miki's face Derek added, "Sorry, just do the best you can. That's all anyone expects." As he said it he sent a message to Dr. Sane asking when Nova would be able to return to the bridge.
"They've showed up again!" Miki exclaimed, "They're headed straight for the bow of the ship. Collision in five seconds."
"Brace for impact!" Derek called out to everyone.
Five seconds later, there was no explosion or jolt from a ramming attack.
"Sir, they've gone right under us," Miki reported.
"Wildstar, it looks like they're anchoring themselves to the third bridge," Sandor reported.
"Get everyone out of there. If they're planning on boarding us, I don't want anyone in the line of fire," Derek ordered. An instant later he was on the ship-wide com issuing an emergency evacuation of the third bridge and all areas immediately surrounding it.
The Captain sat and watched as the young crew did as they were told and followed Wildstar's orders as well as they could.
"They're leaving," Sandor reported.
"Then why did they…?" Derek stopped for a moment, then his eyes widened, "Sandor, get that shield up around the third bridge right now. I think they left a bomb attached to the ship."
Sandor studied one of the displays on his duty station, tapping the screen several times, and then switching to another display.
"Sandor, what's going on over there?" Derek asked nervously.
"It's coming, Wildstar. I have to start it up correctly, or it's sure not to work at all," Sandor replied.
Derek nodded in response, feeling the tension in the room rising. Three seconds later, when he was about to asked Sandor for an update on the shield again he felt his comm unit buzz once, an indication that he'd gotten a message form someone. He ignored it.
"Sandor, we need that shield," Derek chided again.
"There!" Sandor exclaimed, "It's online. How much protection it can offer, I can't say, but it's online."
An instant later, the entire ship rocked with the force of an explosion.
"Damage report," Derek called out above the wail of alarms.
"The blast blew off some of the plating on the underside of the ship, but," Sandor tapped a few things on his duty station and the alarms silenced, "We're alright. The shield held."
"Where's the enemy ship?" Derek asked Miki.
"I don't see it, Sir," Miki shook her head as she carefully adjusted the radar to make sure she hadn't missed them. "Unless they're in that sensor hole, I don't think they got far enough away from the ship in time."
"Got themselves with their own explosive, huh…?" Derek muttered as he fished his comm out of his pocket and checked to see who'd sent him a message a moment ago.
"Reply from Dr. Sane," it read.
Derek opened the message. As soon as he started reading it, his face turned white.
"What is it, Wildstar?" Sandor asked, noticing the young man's sudden silence.
"Nova never made it to the med bay," Derek replied. "Dr. Sane hasn't seen her and no one else down there knows where she is. One of the other nurses talked to her shortly before she was supposed to get there, but… she never came. It's been -" he checked the date stamp on his comm - "thirty-six hours. Why didn't they say something before now?"
"I'm sure she just stopped to help the people she ran into on the way there," Sandor replied. "She'll turn up soon."
Derek nodded slowly, a bad feeling clawing at the pit of his stomach.
Dommel groaned as he lifted his head off of the bridge's deck plates. He blinked several times, trying to see better in the darkened room. Lights winked on and off all around the bridge. He pushed himself up to his knees, wincing as his head started to pound. He felt debris slide off his back as he managed to make it to a sitting position.
All around the bridge officers and crew alike lay motionless on the floor or slumped in their chairs.
Dommel cursed under his breath. They hadn't been able to get away fast enough. He groaned again as he gathered his legs under him and made it to his feet. Pain shot through his right leg as he put weight on it.
He looked down and realized that he was bleeding from a nasty wound in his upper leg. It looked bad, but not life-threatening. He would be able to fix it up by himself if he had to.
He hobbled over to the nearest officer and leaned down to shake the man awake. When the officer didn't respond, Dommel turned him over and discovered that he was dead.
He moved on to the next man and tried to wake him, but to no avail. He was dead too. He went to another and then another, finding only faces filled with death.
He knelt in the middle of the bridge and bowed his head. Pain shot through his wounded leg again, but he ignored it for the moment. The lives of his crew were more important than his short discomfort.
In the manner of his people he lifted his face towards heaven and uttered a prayer to One he did not even know, but Whom he hoped might hear his prayer for these many souls who had been so cruelly taken from this world.
When he was done, he slowly stood, stepping carefully between the bodies of the fallen. He made it to the radar station. Thankfully it was still functioning enough to show him that the Eratite ship hadn't moved.
He checked the other sensors and found the remains of one of the enemy's sensor buoys nearby. At least he was in one of their blind spots for the moment, and if he didn't move the ship out of the area, they might never know he was still here.
He stepped away from the radar and sensor stations, careful not to disturb the dead. He turned again and looked out the front viewports, staring into the void, eyes straining to see the ship that had dealt him such a blow.
Far off in the distance he could see a tiny speck that glowed among the clouds. He narrowed his eyes as anger began to build in his heart.
"You will pay for the lives you have taken today, Eratites," Dommel growled, "And when you do, I want to be there to see it."
With that assertion, Dommel pried his eyes away from the enemy ship and focused instead on doing what he could to survive what would be the longest journey home he had ever endured.
He stepped over to the navigator's chair. The young man lay lifeless on the floor, eyes open, staring into nothing. Dommel reached down and closed the boy's eyes before taking a seat in the chair and setting the autopilot to hold their current position until further notice.
From the navigator's chair he brought up the engine status. He cursed when he saw it. The main engine was operational, for the most part, but the warp functionality wasn't available. He would have to fix it before he could use it again.
Frustrated, he stood again and made his way across the bridge, heading for the exit. About halfway there he stopped in his tracks as a familiar chirping caught his ear.
He looked around quickly, trying to determine where the noise was coming from. He took a few steps in one direction, then stopped and listened again. He looked around more carefully this time and saw a small pile of rubble shift a bit.
Dommel quickly knelt and dug into the pile, tossing piece after piece away until he'd found the source of the chirping.
"Juji!" he exclaimed, carefully hauling the bird out of the debris. "What are you doing over here?"
The bird chirped happily and scrambled out of his master's hands. Once on the floor he poofed out his feathers and wriggled his entire body from bill to tail until all the dust and debris were out of his plumage.
"Chirrup!" Juji declared while animatedly bobbing his head up and down.
"I'm glad to see you too," Dommel replied, holding out an arm for the animal to come and perch on.
Juji took him up on the offer and jumped up onto his master's arm, and then he proceeded to rub his head on Dommel's face.
"Yes, yes. Alright," Dommel protested, "I have to get this leg taken care of." He patted the bird on the head and started back towards the bridge exit. "We've a long way to go before we get back home again."
The throne room was quiet and relatively empty. Only one guard stood on either side of the Leader's throne as Krypt approached him.
The violet-skinned councilman bowed before the Leader, waiting for Desslok to speak.
"There is something I would ask of you," Desslok began, "Something I would not request of one whose loyalties I believed to be… divided."
Krypt straightened and looked at the Leader puzzled.
"I do not understand, Sire," he said.
The Leader nodded and proceeded to explain, "Now that Celestella is gone, I am appointing you in her stead, Krypt."
Krypt was strangely quiet for long moment before he replied, "Me? But, Sire, I do not have the capability to do such –"
"I believe you do," the Leader stopped him in mid-sentence. "Now, the task I must ask of you is a difficult one. Find the Princess Astra of Iscandar and bring her here to me."
Krypt's eyes widened, "But, Sire, I thought she was on Iscandar with her sister the queen."
"She is not," Desslok replied without explanation, "Now go and find her. If I should discover her whereabouts before you do, I will send you word. You will have every resource you should require at your disposal."
"Y – yes, Sir," Krypt quickly bowed and disappeared to do his ruler's bidding.
As soon as Krypt was gone Desslok dismissed the guards and waited until the hall door had shut behind them. Once he was alone he sighed and let his head fall into his hand. "Where has Celestella sent you, Astra…?" he asked no one in particular.
Raising his head again, he stood up and walked over to one corner of the throne room. He laid his bare right palm on one particular section of the wall. A second later a soft blip emanated from the wall in front of him followed by the hiss of an unsealing door. The wall disappeared, opening for him to enter into the unknown depths of the secret tunnel. He had known of its existence for years, but had only recently discovered the portion that led to the throne room.
He slipped his glove back on as he stepped into the darkness. The door re-sealed behind him and instantly, a light appeared on the wall a bit in front of him so that he could see far enough to walk without falling. As soon as he passed the light, it winked out, and another lit a little farther down the passage.
The tunnel sloped downward gradually, and in places there were short staircases. The Leader proceeded down each one, heedless of the dank smell and the fearsome shadows that haunted this forgotten highway.
He came to the place in the wall that he knew would lead him out onto the floor that contained his quarters, but he didn't stop, instead he kept going, looking at the wall every so often. Finally, he saw what he wanted to find. It was an old mark, one that he remembered well. He studied the blemish as the memory of the day it had been scratched into the wall came back again.
"Only the Rophi Shamayim could save him now," Desslok stated, his voice hard, "But there is no time to retrieve and prepare it, and Garen is no longer among us."
"If only we'd found him sooner..." Wolf whispered, not daring to speak any louder lest he too fall into hopeless mourning. "If only we'd known..." he choked out the last word, covering his eyes with his hand as his own tears began to fall.
Then, for a long moment, no one spoke; the only sound was the weeping of Deror's family.
Breaking the silence, the boy reached out towards Dommel and Elisa one more time and, with a strange peace on his face he said, "Good-bye, Amah... Aba... Good... bye..." then he closed his young eyes and fell into the sleep of death."
"NO! No! No!" Elisa fell onto her face and pounded the ground with her fists, trying to deny the horrific sight she had just witnessed. Surely there was a misunderstanding; surely her son was not the one lying on that cot, surely he was safely home and in bed now. But then she looked up and saw the form of her deceased child, her only son, and began to wail in utter despair.
Another kidnapping, what seemed like a lifetime ago happened in the room just beyond this wall. It had ended in both victim and perpetrator falling prey to the same disease that wracked the planet. Dommel and Elisa's only child had died that day, along with a little bit of both his parents' hearts.
The Leader turned and continued on down the tunnel, stopped here and there remembering the steps he'd taken the day of that kidnapping. At least now there were lights along the way. Before, it had been lightless and black as the death that haunted this passageway.
Now that Belarus had been moved, the deadly ooze that had festered here was gone, drained out by the moving process. At least one good thing had come from that effort.
Desslok stopped before an old wooden door. It was sagging just a bit on its rusty hinges and it squealed in protest as he pushed it open. Its lock and ancient knob had long ago finished rusting away and the locking mechanism that had been in place during the kidnapping of Dommel's son was hanging limp and useless. They'd broken it on their way down here years ago.
Desslok stepped into the old room. It smelled older than it looked, but that did not dissuade the Leader as he continued on through the room, stepping purposefully up to yet another door and pushing it open.
A light on the wall glimmered off to his left as he looked around this second room. On the floor, in the middle of the small space, lay a heap of ashes, the remnants of the man who'd kidnapped the boy that night.
Desslok stepped up to the pile and sifted through it with one boot, spreading the man's remains over several feet worth of floor. He heard a faint thunk as his boot hit something solid towards the middle of the ash pile. He raised a curious eyebrow and leaned down to examine whatever he'd discovered.
He reached down and carefully fished the object out of the gray dust. He turned it this way and that. It was oval-shaped and glinted silver in the places where the ash hadn't built up.
Holding it in his palm, he blew off some of the accumulated dust, leaving a fine layer of gray all over his glove.
He rubbed as much of it clean as he could and held it up again. When he recognized the symbol emblazoned on the object he narrowed his eyes, understanding now what had happened all those years ago.
"You were one of the Malha's…" the Leader hissed at the pile of ash, "Well, we may have lost the fight to save Dommel's son all those years ago, but I will not lose the war to save my people from the plague your mistress used my own brother to instigate."
The Leader flung the silver object across the room where it clanged into an old box and fell to the ground, broken in two.
"Be warned – I will see my people saved, no matter what I must do to accomplish that."