Haladras
03-08-2007, 9:49 PM
This is something I wrote in a day or two for a college writing class. I know the ending needs majore revisions, but I would like a clue for those subtler ones.
The italics might not show up in Word form. So the <i> and <i/> things are symbols for italics.
Last Tale of Xarxes
Captain Toras Salm sat in the dark confines of his quarters, watching wisps of smoke rise from the Tryathlene device that he held in his creamy skinned hands. He had tried to quit, but his resolve never seemed enough.
<i>It never is enough,</i> he thought grimly.
He brought the conical pipe to his lips, inhaled deeply, and sighed in relief as the soothing vapors coursed through his body; taking all of his worries to some forgotten realm. He again stared at the smoke that rose from the pipe, morbidly fascinated by the very thing that might mean his death one day.
<i>That’s my resolve. Always fleeting, never staying in one place long enough, and popping up only to trail again into nothingness.</i>
He rubbed the bristle that grew across his sharply sculpted chin, and wondered why he had decided to join the Hegemony in the first place.
To stop the Irebek, of course.
He nodded. Yes, that was it, that was the only answer.
But that didn’t justify the death of Korben.
<i>He was a traitor. It was a good thing that I listened to that Senator- what’s his name? Oren? Yes, that’s it, Oren- or else the entire Galaxy could be in jeopardy!</i>
He shook his head. <i>No, Oren was found a year later accepting bribes, wasn’t he? And Korben was just one person. But, no...!</i>
His hands went white on the Tryathlene pipe. No! It had to have been justified, he could have done anything! People will listen to anything these days. We could have had an entire civil war on our hands!
Just then, there was a knock on his quarters. Salm stashed the pipe under his bed, stood, awkwardly, for though he was slender, he still had a beyond-average height of six feet, and answered curtly, “Enter.”
The door hissed open and in its place stood a short, brown haired youth.
The ensign stepped back from the darkness of the room, obviously afraid that he had disturbed the commanding officer’s rest. “Shall I come back later, sir?”
Salm shook his head, chuckling. “No, ensign. Duty comes first. And your duty at the moment is…?”
The ensign’s body relaxed, his mind at ease. “To escort you to the guest’s lounge, sir.”
“Very well. Lead the way.”
***
“Here we are, sir.”
Salm stared suspiciously at the Ensign, then at the small door in front of him. “Are you new here, Ensign? I know this ship like the back of my hand, and this certainly isn’t the guest’s lounge.”
The deckhand shook his head. “Sorry sir, orders.”
Salm sighed before replying, “It isn’t my place to question those orders, sorry.”
“No need to apologize, sir. I’d better be on my way to the bridge.”
Salm watched the youth stride through the corridor until he left his sight. He then turned his attentions to the metal door in front of him, attempting to guess at what it hid.
First he analyzed the facts. It was a part of the crew quarters, that much he could tell simply by the deck it was located on. Then there was the fact that the Star’s Flame had not received any assignments in a very long time. <i>Most likely it’s a data probe or an automatic messenger.</i>
Finally, he decided that there was nothing else to do but open the door. The apex slid into the upper bulkheads, revealing a dazzling set of luxury items.
The quarters were richly decorated, featuring several bookcases filled with all types of literary textbooks. A polished oak table dominated most of the room, with several matching chairs placed at its edge. The floor was bedecked with rich fur carpets, their presence giving the temporary residence a bookish sort of feel.
But it was not what was in it that concerned the Captain, it was who.
“General Pellas! A pleasure.”
The man who sat on one of the polished oaken chairs was swarthy limber, was of average height, but somehow distinguished from others. “The pleasure is reciprocated, Captain.” His tone was crisp and concise, yet it still carried a hint of Texan drawl. Pellas offered his hand.
Salm shook it. “My, my, how long has it been? Ten years?”
Pellas smiled, no longer maintaining any semblance of formality. “That sounds about right. How’s the wife and kids?”
The Captain’s boyish grin lessened somewhat, it was a touchy subject. “I can’t really say. Besides the communiqués from Torrenes IV, I haven’t really heard from them.”
The General took the hint. “Well, I suppose I should get down to business.”
The other man rid himself of his ebullience entirely and straightened his uniform. “I should have suspected that you were here for something other than trivialities. Shall I order a member of the crew to deliver some mess food?”
Pellas winced at the feeble joke. Spacial rations had gained infamy for their reputation of inedibility ever since their creation. “Thank you, no. I had a far more…edible meal on my shuttle.” He gestured towards the remaining chairs. “A seat, Captain?”
Salm took the seat, realizing that formalities were once more in place. “So what are the new orders from the Council, General? Are we being sent back to the Torrin line, again?” The Torrin line was the boundary between Hegemony and Irebek space, where nearly a thousand craft held their own against the massive Irebek war galleons.
Pellas held up his hand. “First of all, I am no longer a General in the Hegemony Fleet, at least temporarily. In this mission, I am a mere ambassador; so there’s no longer any need to call me ‘sir’.”
Salm was taken aback. “They’ve decided to demote you?”
Pellas snorted. “Of course not, I’ve been designated as a civilian under a military commission, and expect to be treated as such. After the negotiations-”
The Captain stopped him. “Negotiations? With whom?”
Pellas stopped. “With some world called Xarxes. Apparently, it contains an abundance of minerals that are used in ship construction, and it’s decidedly neutral. Bringing it on our side would be a considerable gain for the Hegemony.”
Salm interjected again. “But we still have men on the planet surface below us. Surely the Hegemony can chose some other vessel that can-”
“All of them are fighting at the moment, Captain. We have lost more ships than we thought we would fighting against the Irebek. You’re it. Withdraw whatever men you can from Yarine and make plans for departure before the end of the week. If you have to leave beforehand, so be it.”
Pellas’ smile grew even larger. “Just like the Academy, isn’t it? Except, this time, I follow, and you lead.”
***
Salm strode down to the cargo holds, where the rest of the crew were congregating. His task was simple, and exactly the same as all of the other crewmen: to enter stasis in preparation for the voyage.
Since Xarxes was one of the fringe worlds, one that was on the opposite end of the galaxy, it was necessary to prevent aging to preserve the fighting fitness of the men. The answer was cryogenics, or more specifically, stasis.
The ship would be manned by a skeleton crew; a crew that was reserved especially for such situation. The crew would be composed of the youngest of the main body, assuring that any aging would not affect their ability to fight.
<i>We must be prepared for an Irebek attack at all times. Any laxness on our part could kill us.</i>
He was met by Pellas at the double door entrance to the hold. Salm was about to salute when the other man stopped him.
“Forget that, I’m not a General anymore, remember?”
Salm quickly put his hand down, grinning. “What are you doing here? I thought you hated the cold? Find it rather refreshing, myself.”
The ex-General shuddered, his skin turning pale for an instant. “Exactly why I’ve decided to remain conscious. I’ve determined that it would be more expedient for me to lead the youngsters.”
“Sure you can keep up with them?” said the Captain.
Pellas nodded. “I’m sure. But I’m going to join you in a year or so anyway. Go. The sooner you start, the sooner we can get to work on this mission.”
***
The moment Salm stepped from the capsule, he felt the aftereffects of cold sleep. Drowsiness, irritability, and even red-rims around his blue eyes. He ran his hand through his close-cut blond hair. <i>Finally, we can get to work.</i>
He exited the hold and headed towards the bridge.
***
“Captain, we can take care of the status reports. Really!” said the engineer incredulously.
“It can’t possibly do any harm.” He scanned the room, his eyes in a permanent squint due to the flurry of blinking lights that covered the various consoles and data-collectors. “It will do me a bit of good to do the menial labor after stasis. A Boxing Day of sorts, as it were.”
The bridge hand shook his head with disbelief. “Alright, Captain. Tell me if you experience any difficulty. Two years is a long time.”
He was about to leave when the commanding officer stopped him. “Don’t worry, Darl. I wasn’t always a Captain!”
***
Little time had passed before Salm had finished the scan, yet during it, he found something rather peculiar.
He summoned the engineer. “Lieutenant Darl? Has there been any unauthorized additions to the <i>Star’s Flame</i>?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
Salm decided to assume. “Were you in stasis for the majority of the journey?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Captain frowned. “Then the only one who had the ability to access the internal systems is...”
In that moment, the same ensign who had escorted him to Pellas’ quarters halted in front of him.
“Sir,” he said hurriedly, “General Pellas requests your presence on the bridge immediately.”
Salm turned towards the exit, his jaw firmly set. “Good. We have quite a bit to discuss.”
***
“Why, General, why?!” seethed Salm as he paced around Pellas’ quarters, finally stopping to place his hands on the General’s desk.
“Why what, Captain? What’s the problem?” Pellas meshed his fingers together, his lined face showing obvious concern.
“I thought that was what you summoned me here for. To present your problem.”
“I think that it is pertinent to bring this out before we proceed.”
“Alright General, I’ll tell you what the problem is,” Salm straightened from the desk and assumed a formal posture. “The problem is that I’m sitting on enough gas to poison a whole planet, that’s what worrying me. Flammable, no less.”
“I’ll have it investigated immediately.”
“My eye! You need proof?”
Salm went to the large monitor placed in the wall and typed in a series of commands into the blue-lit keyboard next to it.
The screen suddenly flared to life, displaying a diagram of the ships rear fuel retainers.
The Captain pointed at the screen, his arm quivering. “Now tell, me.”
Pellas sighed. “I suppose there’s no hiding from you, old friend. While you were in cold sleep, I set into the nearby spaceport of Laterre for some…modifications.”
The General slumped in his chair, as if all will had simply been sapped out of him. For once, the eighty or so years of life wore heavily on this man, one of Salm’s dearest friends. “I couldn’t, Salm. I was under orders to keep it secret. Though I am aware that this is your ship.”
The other man nodded. “I understand, but that still doesn’t explain why?”
Pellas straightened, all signs of fatigue or dotage gone, a hard light in his eyes. He stood and began to pace. “They have contrived to stay in the shadows, Captain. But still, this happens in every government, I guess. Rebels are hardly unknown, even in galactic times.”
Salm’s jaw dropped. “Rebels? Even if there are Rebels, how does that affect this situation?”
“They’re hiding on Xarxes.”
Finally, the other man discerned the gist of the conundrum. “General, you aren’t serious.”
Pellas stared at him plaintively for a split second, then that puzzlement turned into amusement. “No, no, Captain. Though we are able to do it, contaminating an entire planet would be an outrage. Could you imagine...?”
Salm chuckled. They could do it, certainly. But it would cause more of an uproar than any dissidents ever could.
Pellas’ face immediately calmed again. “However, I wasn’t sent here for nothing. I’m going to command the Star’s Flame while you negotiate with the natives for the appropriation of the revolutionaries.”
Pellas held up his hand, and Salm’s jaw snapped shut. Salm already knew why he was here. Command knew that he would never agree to leaving the Flame, so they sent the estimable General to enforce the decision.
But that didn’t mean that he was devoid of questions. “So what’s the poison for?”
“Frankly, it’s if any Irebek stick their meddling snouts in. We’ve found that it’s quite effective, especially with boarding parties.”
“Thank you, sir.” Salm smiled.
As he left the quarters of the former General, the Captain felt a great lifting of the spirit. His doubts about Korben’s death had been assuaged, and he was now sure that Oren was just a fluke in the system. He left unfettered, a bird in flight.
Though something nagged at him. He was an intelligent man, and he heard something in Pellas’ voice that just didn’t fit. But right now, he couldn’t care less. He, was free. Free of this insane guilt that had plagued him since that distant age of fourteen. Free of the self-inflicted pain and agony. No matter what the consequences, he cared no more.
***
As soon as he exited the cylinder-like craft and set foot on Xarxes, Salm was struck green with envy. Endless grassland stretched out in front of him, bordered only by a small, lush forest behind him and disturbed only by a small, weather-beaten path stretching out in front of him. The vibrant green grass looked quite picturesque, and inviting, waving in the wind and shining with the new morning sun…
He motioned to the shuttle pilot, his mind made up. “Return to the Flame, I won’t need your assistance any longer.”
The young pilot spit through the gap in his teeth on the pristine grass. “But yer several miles from the village, sar. Sure ya’ don’t wanna hop on the old girl?” He motioned towards the shuttle. “I know the seats ain’t comfortable, but they’re better than walkin’ all the darn’blasted way.”
Salm chuckled heartily, a laugh that came straight from his belly. “The walk will do me good.”
The pilot shook his head. “Suit yerself.”
***
A few hours later, Salm was found puffing and panting down the path, sweat making his uniform cling to his skin like some living animal. He had been running for at least a few hours, and was about to call up the Battlefield and take the pilot up on his offer when he found it.
The path ran up a steep hill, which eventually turned into a severe ridge that formed a nearly impenetrable ten foot high wall. The path inclined until the land leveled into a large, high plateau. And on this plateau was the village.
It was a primitive village, one that resembled the collection of ancient dwellings that had once been located on the continent of the Americas-except this community was much larger.
It nearly resembled a city, with multitudes of connected animal skin huts replacing atmostowers. Remains of campfires long gone were placed here and there, as if the site served as a modern campground rather than a village. And in the middle of the huge primitive metropolis was an enormous tent. Around this, garishly dressed people garbed in primitive skins and bright yellow paint milled through the narrow “streets” and alleys of the village.
But Salm’s concerns were more immediate. Three figures made their way down the face of the plateau, their intentions set on him.
The main figure was a woman who strode with imperious grace- born to command. Two warriors clad in clothes that matched hers- leather armor and spears- flanked her; obvious bodyguards.
She strode forward. “Stranger, what brings you here.”
Salm shook his head, chuckling. “I am merely the bearer of a message. You have dissidents hiding in your village. Surrender them, and you shall hear no further quarrel.”
The woman shook her red-haired head. “You ask too much, Thrall.”
Salm’s joviality disappeared in an instant. “How? And who are you?”
“I am Chief Tisnera of Xarxes. Come, for you know not what you serve.”
***
Salm sat in one of the skin tents, smoking his pipe (he had stashed it in his uniform). Darkness lingered around the tent- a physical manifestation of his psyche. Only a single thought bounced around in his head.
<i>I’ve been such a fool. </i>
Throughout his life, he had never been a tool of anyone, and yet, he realized, he had been for as long as he had served the Hegemony. He saw how Oren manipulated him, how Pellas had likewise exploited him, as no man had before.
<i>I was never quick to befriend anyone, but when I did… Salm looked at the pipe. I never doubted them. </i>
Then he heard a noise at the front of the tent. He turned his head to look… and saw Tisera. The red light behind her was that of dawn, and Salm couldn’t remember having slept.
Tisera sat next to him. “What’s wrong?”
Salm was about to refute the question when she stopped him. “I saw your face when you spoke with Lyther.” Lyther was the leader of the Rebel sect on Xarxes. “The poison on your ship…. It must have seemed impossible that the Hegemony could be so heartless.”
Salm laughed bitterly. “My emotions can be read just like that, can they. I guess that’s always been the case. Pellas used it to deceive, and the Hegemony used it to cover up the deaths of countless worlds. But really, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
The Chieftess gave her a plaintive stare.
Toras shook his head. “I guess there’s just no putting you off, is there. Alright, it goes like this.” He began to absentmindedly trace meaningless figures in the sand. “Ten years ago, in the Academy days just near the time the Irebek began invading, I was a training cadet. Cocky, reckless, and looking for whatever recognition I could. Quite a change from what I am now….” Tisera’s harrumph stopped his reminiscing. “Sorry, I’ll stay on track. All was going well- I was at the top of my class- when some of my friends-Pellas included- were paid a visit by a local bureaucrat named Oren. He was visiting under the guise of some fund or another. But really, he was asking us to investigate an Intelligence lead a fellow student, Korben . It was well-known that he and I were good friends, and the others had nothing against him. But what Oren promised was powerful: commendations when we all graduated.
“As expected, we eventually caved into desire and engineered a raid on his quarters. What we found there was substantial evidence that he was giving information on the Academy’s defenses to the Irebek.
“It was clear what to do: we had to bring this all to Oren. But still, we had some controversy. Pellas vouched for Korben’s innocence, and said that we should withhold it from Oren. But the majority agreed with me, Pellas was never the favorite with everyone, and so, Korben was arrested and sentenced to death.” Both of Salm’s hands gripped the Tryathlene pipe, the knuckles white with pressure. “My word killed that man, and ever since, I’ve regretted it.”
Tisnera stood to face him. “Why do you feel remorse?”
Salm frowned. “I never really took time to plumb that emotion. But I suppose it stems from something that I have always known. Hints of the Hegemony’s corruption everywhere.” He lowered his head. “Nothing can atone for my actions.”
Tisnera turned away from him…and then she came back around and gave Salm an open-handed slap. Rage twisting his face. But before he could open his mouth, Tisnera explained her actions.
“You stay here, when you should be taking action elsewhere. What kind of an officer are you? The only way you can counter your actions is with actions. If you want to truly achieve redemption, then do so. If you do not, then you are being duped again.”
With these words, Salm set his jaw and left the tent. Calling up the shuttle as he did so.
***
“Tell me what you’re going to do with that gas, and don’t lie this time.”
Pellas rose from his chair, indignant. “What are you suggesting, Captain?”
Salm slammed his hand on the table, pure anger painting his visage. “Don’t try to play coy. I know what you’re going to do, and I know how you’re going to do it.” Before he set back out to return to the Flame, he looked up the statistics of how to release toxic gas into a planet. The only sane way was to inject the gas into a large warhead and fire it at the planet.
“The only thing I want to know is what happened?! What brought about the change, Ben?” said Salm.
Pellas sagged, all the fight seeping out of him. “Enough of this charade. Toras, I had no choice. I’ve seen the fates of all those who have defied the Hegemony, and, let me tell you, none of them came to a good end. I have my own wife and children, Toras. I can’t just leave them to gallivant on some blasted fool crusade! My orders, you already know.”
The General’s features grew hard. “And I will carry out those orders, no matter what. You were, and still are, my dearest friend, but I won’t let that stand in the way.”
“Hoff it. You have any idea how many people are down there?” Salm said.
“That does not concern me.”
“Is this really necessary? Can’t we contain them?”
“Not a chance.”
“I’ll inform High Command of this!”
“You forget that I am sanctioned by them. You have your orders.”
“And if I don’t comply?”
“Then I shall remove you from command.”
“Very well. Good day, sir.”
As he strode back to the shuttle port, he speculated on the sudden change of General Ben Pellas.
<i>When I first met you, I found you profound, you not only being a very literate and competent human being, but an avid reader of Gibbon, Zeruchovitz, and Mallinachi. I saw you as a genius. But now, you are only a pawn; a mere piece among countless others. In the end, you are being used just as much as I am.</i>
***
The ex-Captain was hard at work: cementing and making air tight a half-spherical wooden barricade. It wasn’t as if the barricade would ever make any difference-the metal of the capsule was tempered titanium-but it helped him (and others) suppress panic about their impending doom. He had burned his old uniform, had broken his pipe, and made the resolution to never again serve the Hegemony. But considering that they were in charge of the only craft that could transport personnel to and from Xarxes….
<i>I’m going to die down here.</i>
He kept his concentration on his hands, but somehow, he felt that he didn’t need to. Salm felt no fear for his life.
<i>I made this choice. My death is of my own device.</i>
Not for the first time, he contemplated the plight of his soon-to-be widowed wife and fatherless family, but that pain was silenced by a simple fact. L<i>If this threat isn’t dealt with, then the result is the same.</i>
Suddenly, the wood beneath his hands was blotted out by a dark cloud. Salm looked up to see the Flame. Then, a small red light emitted from the craft in the direction of the settlement, and Toras was sure he could see a small pod detaching itself from the bulk of the vessel.
In these last moments, former Captain Toras Latorenne Salm reminisced one last time about his wife, his children, Chieftess Tisnera, and the unhappy soul that was General Ben Pellas.
The italics might not show up in Word form. So the <i> and <i/> things are symbols for italics.
Last Tale of Xarxes
Captain Toras Salm sat in the dark confines of his quarters, watching wisps of smoke rise from the Tryathlene device that he held in his creamy skinned hands. He had tried to quit, but his resolve never seemed enough.
<i>It never is enough,</i> he thought grimly.
He brought the conical pipe to his lips, inhaled deeply, and sighed in relief as the soothing vapors coursed through his body; taking all of his worries to some forgotten realm. He again stared at the smoke that rose from the pipe, morbidly fascinated by the very thing that might mean his death one day.
<i>That’s my resolve. Always fleeting, never staying in one place long enough, and popping up only to trail again into nothingness.</i>
He rubbed the bristle that grew across his sharply sculpted chin, and wondered why he had decided to join the Hegemony in the first place.
To stop the Irebek, of course.
He nodded. Yes, that was it, that was the only answer.
But that didn’t justify the death of Korben.
<i>He was a traitor. It was a good thing that I listened to that Senator- what’s his name? Oren? Yes, that’s it, Oren- or else the entire Galaxy could be in jeopardy!</i>
He shook his head. <i>No, Oren was found a year later accepting bribes, wasn’t he? And Korben was just one person. But, no...!</i>
His hands went white on the Tryathlene pipe. No! It had to have been justified, he could have done anything! People will listen to anything these days. We could have had an entire civil war on our hands!
Just then, there was a knock on his quarters. Salm stashed the pipe under his bed, stood, awkwardly, for though he was slender, he still had a beyond-average height of six feet, and answered curtly, “Enter.”
The door hissed open and in its place stood a short, brown haired youth.
The ensign stepped back from the darkness of the room, obviously afraid that he had disturbed the commanding officer’s rest. “Shall I come back later, sir?”
Salm shook his head, chuckling. “No, ensign. Duty comes first. And your duty at the moment is…?”
The ensign’s body relaxed, his mind at ease. “To escort you to the guest’s lounge, sir.”
“Very well. Lead the way.”
***
“Here we are, sir.”
Salm stared suspiciously at the Ensign, then at the small door in front of him. “Are you new here, Ensign? I know this ship like the back of my hand, and this certainly isn’t the guest’s lounge.”
The deckhand shook his head. “Sorry sir, orders.”
Salm sighed before replying, “It isn’t my place to question those orders, sorry.”
“No need to apologize, sir. I’d better be on my way to the bridge.”
Salm watched the youth stride through the corridor until he left his sight. He then turned his attentions to the metal door in front of him, attempting to guess at what it hid.
First he analyzed the facts. It was a part of the crew quarters, that much he could tell simply by the deck it was located on. Then there was the fact that the Star’s Flame had not received any assignments in a very long time. <i>Most likely it’s a data probe or an automatic messenger.</i>
Finally, he decided that there was nothing else to do but open the door. The apex slid into the upper bulkheads, revealing a dazzling set of luxury items.
The quarters were richly decorated, featuring several bookcases filled with all types of literary textbooks. A polished oak table dominated most of the room, with several matching chairs placed at its edge. The floor was bedecked with rich fur carpets, their presence giving the temporary residence a bookish sort of feel.
But it was not what was in it that concerned the Captain, it was who.
“General Pellas! A pleasure.”
The man who sat on one of the polished oaken chairs was swarthy limber, was of average height, but somehow distinguished from others. “The pleasure is reciprocated, Captain.” His tone was crisp and concise, yet it still carried a hint of Texan drawl. Pellas offered his hand.
Salm shook it. “My, my, how long has it been? Ten years?”
Pellas smiled, no longer maintaining any semblance of formality. “That sounds about right. How’s the wife and kids?”
The Captain’s boyish grin lessened somewhat, it was a touchy subject. “I can’t really say. Besides the communiqués from Torrenes IV, I haven’t really heard from them.”
The General took the hint. “Well, I suppose I should get down to business.”
The other man rid himself of his ebullience entirely and straightened his uniform. “I should have suspected that you were here for something other than trivialities. Shall I order a member of the crew to deliver some mess food?”
Pellas winced at the feeble joke. Spacial rations had gained infamy for their reputation of inedibility ever since their creation. “Thank you, no. I had a far more…edible meal on my shuttle.” He gestured towards the remaining chairs. “A seat, Captain?”
Salm took the seat, realizing that formalities were once more in place. “So what are the new orders from the Council, General? Are we being sent back to the Torrin line, again?” The Torrin line was the boundary between Hegemony and Irebek space, where nearly a thousand craft held their own against the massive Irebek war galleons.
Pellas held up his hand. “First of all, I am no longer a General in the Hegemony Fleet, at least temporarily. In this mission, I am a mere ambassador; so there’s no longer any need to call me ‘sir’.”
Salm was taken aback. “They’ve decided to demote you?”
Pellas snorted. “Of course not, I’ve been designated as a civilian under a military commission, and expect to be treated as such. After the negotiations-”
The Captain stopped him. “Negotiations? With whom?”
Pellas stopped. “With some world called Xarxes. Apparently, it contains an abundance of minerals that are used in ship construction, and it’s decidedly neutral. Bringing it on our side would be a considerable gain for the Hegemony.”
Salm interjected again. “But we still have men on the planet surface below us. Surely the Hegemony can chose some other vessel that can-”
“All of them are fighting at the moment, Captain. We have lost more ships than we thought we would fighting against the Irebek. You’re it. Withdraw whatever men you can from Yarine and make plans for departure before the end of the week. If you have to leave beforehand, so be it.”
Pellas’ smile grew even larger. “Just like the Academy, isn’t it? Except, this time, I follow, and you lead.”
***
Salm strode down to the cargo holds, where the rest of the crew were congregating. His task was simple, and exactly the same as all of the other crewmen: to enter stasis in preparation for the voyage.
Since Xarxes was one of the fringe worlds, one that was on the opposite end of the galaxy, it was necessary to prevent aging to preserve the fighting fitness of the men. The answer was cryogenics, or more specifically, stasis.
The ship would be manned by a skeleton crew; a crew that was reserved especially for such situation. The crew would be composed of the youngest of the main body, assuring that any aging would not affect their ability to fight.
<i>We must be prepared for an Irebek attack at all times. Any laxness on our part could kill us.</i>
He was met by Pellas at the double door entrance to the hold. Salm was about to salute when the other man stopped him.
“Forget that, I’m not a General anymore, remember?”
Salm quickly put his hand down, grinning. “What are you doing here? I thought you hated the cold? Find it rather refreshing, myself.”
The ex-General shuddered, his skin turning pale for an instant. “Exactly why I’ve decided to remain conscious. I’ve determined that it would be more expedient for me to lead the youngsters.”
“Sure you can keep up with them?” said the Captain.
Pellas nodded. “I’m sure. But I’m going to join you in a year or so anyway. Go. The sooner you start, the sooner we can get to work on this mission.”
***
The moment Salm stepped from the capsule, he felt the aftereffects of cold sleep. Drowsiness, irritability, and even red-rims around his blue eyes. He ran his hand through his close-cut blond hair. <i>Finally, we can get to work.</i>
He exited the hold and headed towards the bridge.
***
“Captain, we can take care of the status reports. Really!” said the engineer incredulously.
“It can’t possibly do any harm.” He scanned the room, his eyes in a permanent squint due to the flurry of blinking lights that covered the various consoles and data-collectors. “It will do me a bit of good to do the menial labor after stasis. A Boxing Day of sorts, as it were.”
The bridge hand shook his head with disbelief. “Alright, Captain. Tell me if you experience any difficulty. Two years is a long time.”
He was about to leave when the commanding officer stopped him. “Don’t worry, Darl. I wasn’t always a Captain!”
***
Little time had passed before Salm had finished the scan, yet during it, he found something rather peculiar.
He summoned the engineer. “Lieutenant Darl? Has there been any unauthorized additions to the <i>Star’s Flame</i>?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
Salm decided to assume. “Were you in stasis for the majority of the journey?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Captain frowned. “Then the only one who had the ability to access the internal systems is...”
In that moment, the same ensign who had escorted him to Pellas’ quarters halted in front of him.
“Sir,” he said hurriedly, “General Pellas requests your presence on the bridge immediately.”
Salm turned towards the exit, his jaw firmly set. “Good. We have quite a bit to discuss.”
***
“Why, General, why?!” seethed Salm as he paced around Pellas’ quarters, finally stopping to place his hands on the General’s desk.
“Why what, Captain? What’s the problem?” Pellas meshed his fingers together, his lined face showing obvious concern.
“I thought that was what you summoned me here for. To present your problem.”
“I think that it is pertinent to bring this out before we proceed.”
“Alright General, I’ll tell you what the problem is,” Salm straightened from the desk and assumed a formal posture. “The problem is that I’m sitting on enough gas to poison a whole planet, that’s what worrying me. Flammable, no less.”
“I’ll have it investigated immediately.”
“My eye! You need proof?”
Salm went to the large monitor placed in the wall and typed in a series of commands into the blue-lit keyboard next to it.
The screen suddenly flared to life, displaying a diagram of the ships rear fuel retainers.
The Captain pointed at the screen, his arm quivering. “Now tell, me.”
Pellas sighed. “I suppose there’s no hiding from you, old friend. While you were in cold sleep, I set into the nearby spaceport of Laterre for some…modifications.”
The General slumped in his chair, as if all will had simply been sapped out of him. For once, the eighty or so years of life wore heavily on this man, one of Salm’s dearest friends. “I couldn’t, Salm. I was under orders to keep it secret. Though I am aware that this is your ship.”
The other man nodded. “I understand, but that still doesn’t explain why?”
Pellas straightened, all signs of fatigue or dotage gone, a hard light in his eyes. He stood and began to pace. “They have contrived to stay in the shadows, Captain. But still, this happens in every government, I guess. Rebels are hardly unknown, even in galactic times.”
Salm’s jaw dropped. “Rebels? Even if there are Rebels, how does that affect this situation?”
“They’re hiding on Xarxes.”
Finally, the other man discerned the gist of the conundrum. “General, you aren’t serious.”
Pellas stared at him plaintively for a split second, then that puzzlement turned into amusement. “No, no, Captain. Though we are able to do it, contaminating an entire planet would be an outrage. Could you imagine...?”
Salm chuckled. They could do it, certainly. But it would cause more of an uproar than any dissidents ever could.
Pellas’ face immediately calmed again. “However, I wasn’t sent here for nothing. I’m going to command the Star’s Flame while you negotiate with the natives for the appropriation of the revolutionaries.”
Pellas held up his hand, and Salm’s jaw snapped shut. Salm already knew why he was here. Command knew that he would never agree to leaving the Flame, so they sent the estimable General to enforce the decision.
But that didn’t mean that he was devoid of questions. “So what’s the poison for?”
“Frankly, it’s if any Irebek stick their meddling snouts in. We’ve found that it’s quite effective, especially with boarding parties.”
“Thank you, sir.” Salm smiled.
As he left the quarters of the former General, the Captain felt a great lifting of the spirit. His doubts about Korben’s death had been assuaged, and he was now sure that Oren was just a fluke in the system. He left unfettered, a bird in flight.
Though something nagged at him. He was an intelligent man, and he heard something in Pellas’ voice that just didn’t fit. But right now, he couldn’t care less. He, was free. Free of this insane guilt that had plagued him since that distant age of fourteen. Free of the self-inflicted pain and agony. No matter what the consequences, he cared no more.
***
As soon as he exited the cylinder-like craft and set foot on Xarxes, Salm was struck green with envy. Endless grassland stretched out in front of him, bordered only by a small, lush forest behind him and disturbed only by a small, weather-beaten path stretching out in front of him. The vibrant green grass looked quite picturesque, and inviting, waving in the wind and shining with the new morning sun…
He motioned to the shuttle pilot, his mind made up. “Return to the Flame, I won’t need your assistance any longer.”
The young pilot spit through the gap in his teeth on the pristine grass. “But yer several miles from the village, sar. Sure ya’ don’t wanna hop on the old girl?” He motioned towards the shuttle. “I know the seats ain’t comfortable, but they’re better than walkin’ all the darn’blasted way.”
Salm chuckled heartily, a laugh that came straight from his belly. “The walk will do me good.”
The pilot shook his head. “Suit yerself.”
***
A few hours later, Salm was found puffing and panting down the path, sweat making his uniform cling to his skin like some living animal. He had been running for at least a few hours, and was about to call up the Battlefield and take the pilot up on his offer when he found it.
The path ran up a steep hill, which eventually turned into a severe ridge that formed a nearly impenetrable ten foot high wall. The path inclined until the land leveled into a large, high plateau. And on this plateau was the village.
It was a primitive village, one that resembled the collection of ancient dwellings that had once been located on the continent of the Americas-except this community was much larger.
It nearly resembled a city, with multitudes of connected animal skin huts replacing atmostowers. Remains of campfires long gone were placed here and there, as if the site served as a modern campground rather than a village. And in the middle of the huge primitive metropolis was an enormous tent. Around this, garishly dressed people garbed in primitive skins and bright yellow paint milled through the narrow “streets” and alleys of the village.
But Salm’s concerns were more immediate. Three figures made their way down the face of the plateau, their intentions set on him.
The main figure was a woman who strode with imperious grace- born to command. Two warriors clad in clothes that matched hers- leather armor and spears- flanked her; obvious bodyguards.
She strode forward. “Stranger, what brings you here.”
Salm shook his head, chuckling. “I am merely the bearer of a message. You have dissidents hiding in your village. Surrender them, and you shall hear no further quarrel.”
The woman shook her red-haired head. “You ask too much, Thrall.”
Salm’s joviality disappeared in an instant. “How? And who are you?”
“I am Chief Tisnera of Xarxes. Come, for you know not what you serve.”
***
Salm sat in one of the skin tents, smoking his pipe (he had stashed it in his uniform). Darkness lingered around the tent- a physical manifestation of his psyche. Only a single thought bounced around in his head.
<i>I’ve been such a fool. </i>
Throughout his life, he had never been a tool of anyone, and yet, he realized, he had been for as long as he had served the Hegemony. He saw how Oren manipulated him, how Pellas had likewise exploited him, as no man had before.
<i>I was never quick to befriend anyone, but when I did… Salm looked at the pipe. I never doubted them. </i>
Then he heard a noise at the front of the tent. He turned his head to look… and saw Tisera. The red light behind her was that of dawn, and Salm couldn’t remember having slept.
Tisera sat next to him. “What’s wrong?”
Salm was about to refute the question when she stopped him. “I saw your face when you spoke with Lyther.” Lyther was the leader of the Rebel sect on Xarxes. “The poison on your ship…. It must have seemed impossible that the Hegemony could be so heartless.”
Salm laughed bitterly. “My emotions can be read just like that, can they. I guess that’s always been the case. Pellas used it to deceive, and the Hegemony used it to cover up the deaths of countless worlds. But really, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
The Chieftess gave her a plaintive stare.
Toras shook his head. “I guess there’s just no putting you off, is there. Alright, it goes like this.” He began to absentmindedly trace meaningless figures in the sand. “Ten years ago, in the Academy days just near the time the Irebek began invading, I was a training cadet. Cocky, reckless, and looking for whatever recognition I could. Quite a change from what I am now….” Tisera’s harrumph stopped his reminiscing. “Sorry, I’ll stay on track. All was going well- I was at the top of my class- when some of my friends-Pellas included- were paid a visit by a local bureaucrat named Oren. He was visiting under the guise of some fund or another. But really, he was asking us to investigate an Intelligence lead a fellow student, Korben . It was well-known that he and I were good friends, and the others had nothing against him. But what Oren promised was powerful: commendations when we all graduated.
“As expected, we eventually caved into desire and engineered a raid on his quarters. What we found there was substantial evidence that he was giving information on the Academy’s defenses to the Irebek.
“It was clear what to do: we had to bring this all to Oren. But still, we had some controversy. Pellas vouched for Korben’s innocence, and said that we should withhold it from Oren. But the majority agreed with me, Pellas was never the favorite with everyone, and so, Korben was arrested and sentenced to death.” Both of Salm’s hands gripped the Tryathlene pipe, the knuckles white with pressure. “My word killed that man, and ever since, I’ve regretted it.”
Tisnera stood to face him. “Why do you feel remorse?”
Salm frowned. “I never really took time to plumb that emotion. But I suppose it stems from something that I have always known. Hints of the Hegemony’s corruption everywhere.” He lowered his head. “Nothing can atone for my actions.”
Tisnera turned away from him…and then she came back around and gave Salm an open-handed slap. Rage twisting his face. But before he could open his mouth, Tisnera explained her actions.
“You stay here, when you should be taking action elsewhere. What kind of an officer are you? The only way you can counter your actions is with actions. If you want to truly achieve redemption, then do so. If you do not, then you are being duped again.”
With these words, Salm set his jaw and left the tent. Calling up the shuttle as he did so.
***
“Tell me what you’re going to do with that gas, and don’t lie this time.”
Pellas rose from his chair, indignant. “What are you suggesting, Captain?”
Salm slammed his hand on the table, pure anger painting his visage. “Don’t try to play coy. I know what you’re going to do, and I know how you’re going to do it.” Before he set back out to return to the Flame, he looked up the statistics of how to release toxic gas into a planet. The only sane way was to inject the gas into a large warhead and fire it at the planet.
“The only thing I want to know is what happened?! What brought about the change, Ben?” said Salm.
Pellas sagged, all the fight seeping out of him. “Enough of this charade. Toras, I had no choice. I’ve seen the fates of all those who have defied the Hegemony, and, let me tell you, none of them came to a good end. I have my own wife and children, Toras. I can’t just leave them to gallivant on some blasted fool crusade! My orders, you already know.”
The General’s features grew hard. “And I will carry out those orders, no matter what. You were, and still are, my dearest friend, but I won’t let that stand in the way.”
“Hoff it. You have any idea how many people are down there?” Salm said.
“That does not concern me.”
“Is this really necessary? Can’t we contain them?”
“Not a chance.”
“I’ll inform High Command of this!”
“You forget that I am sanctioned by them. You have your orders.”
“And if I don’t comply?”
“Then I shall remove you from command.”
“Very well. Good day, sir.”
As he strode back to the shuttle port, he speculated on the sudden change of General Ben Pellas.
<i>When I first met you, I found you profound, you not only being a very literate and competent human being, but an avid reader of Gibbon, Zeruchovitz, and Mallinachi. I saw you as a genius. But now, you are only a pawn; a mere piece among countless others. In the end, you are being used just as much as I am.</i>
***
The ex-Captain was hard at work: cementing and making air tight a half-spherical wooden barricade. It wasn’t as if the barricade would ever make any difference-the metal of the capsule was tempered titanium-but it helped him (and others) suppress panic about their impending doom. He had burned his old uniform, had broken his pipe, and made the resolution to never again serve the Hegemony. But considering that they were in charge of the only craft that could transport personnel to and from Xarxes….
<i>I’m going to die down here.</i>
He kept his concentration on his hands, but somehow, he felt that he didn’t need to. Salm felt no fear for his life.
<i>I made this choice. My death is of my own device.</i>
Not for the first time, he contemplated the plight of his soon-to-be widowed wife and fatherless family, but that pain was silenced by a simple fact. L<i>If this threat isn’t dealt with, then the result is the same.</i>
Suddenly, the wood beneath his hands was blotted out by a dark cloud. Salm looked up to see the Flame. Then, a small red light emitted from the craft in the direction of the settlement, and Toras was sure he could see a small pod detaching itself from the bulk of the vessel.
In these last moments, former Captain Toras Latorenne Salm reminisced one last time about his wife, his children, Chieftess Tisnera, and the unhappy soul that was General Ben Pellas.