The Fire of Futures Past
Chapter 28
Certainty in His Being
The events of the preceding few hours were misted as Gantu stirred from fitful slumber. A throbbing headache had manifested near his temple as he opened his eyes to the soft light of the room's dawn setting. Massaging the afflicted region provided no relief. He breathed deeply, and the air burned his throat.
"Admiral?" his communicator painfully chirped.
"Ye—"he coughed. Smacking parched lips, he ventured another go. "Yes?"
"We've arrived in the Khaestym System, sir. Awaiting your orders."
"Very good. I will be on the bridge shortly," he managed. Blunt throbs had given way to sharp jabs in his head. The very act of rising from his desk compounded their attacks. He lazily slid back into his savory plush chair.
"Mhm," he grumbled. As consciousness was restored, he reflected on the source of his current ailment. Having tasked himself with a mission of identifying Te'sudu's evening companion, he had landed at the bar in the shipboard club, The Galley. Gantu had heard fellow crew members excitedly discuss their evening plans for The Galley, and he had until that very moment been utterly confused as to why the ship's kitchen would bring such joy. The bartender recognized his newest guest and planted a bottle of Turan brandy at his spot, "Compliments of the crew" his genial voice had offered. Not one to eschew such a fine gift, Gantu had enjoyed it, more cheerfully so the emptier the bottle became. His resting place, he concluded, must have been the desk, for he had awoken, still in uniform, splayed out over the rich table. Intricately carved geometric patterns had greeted his eyes.
The ancient Turan crown molding that adorned the corridors of the capitol building had also possessed some intricate geometric patterns. Ancient Turans had most notably obsessed over circles. The pursuit of the perfect circle, in fact, had been the root of many old fables — episodic storytelling, plots coming full circle, roundabout ways for protagonists to reach their goals. At this moment, Admiral Gantu's goal had been his room, and he followed those circles on the wall in as straight a path as he could manage.
The evening with Toobihya and company had indeed improved as more drink trays had arrived to their table. Food had been a distant memory, a distraction from the real business to be conducted under the smoky light. The date Toobihya had brought never asked again about the Experiments, but Gantu would catch a twinkle glistening in her eye whenever she looked his way, a reminder that unanswered questions would linger for the entirety of their time together.
That twinkle also reminded Gantu of his solitude at the small party. The seat next to him had remained bare, even as Toobihya and the woman had delivered their parting pleasantries and tottered off, most likely back to his spacious quarters courtesy of his Admiralty posting. Gantu would eventually join his compatriot in that particular wing of the capitol, but for now, his humble suite would do.
As he neared the door, though, an outline of someone began to materialize. He blinked furiously in an effort to ensure the image was true. When the figure stayed, his blood started pumping vigorously. He had not expected any visitors at this hour. Plus, though his appointment to the Admiralty had yet to be made official, many had already taken it upon themselves to voice their particular displeasures at such an honor for Gantu, and he wondered how many would be ready to act on their issues. His hand instinctively reached down and patted his pistol's grip. As cautiously as he could, Gantu ambled up to the door.
"Ah, Captain, good. I was beginning to worry you would not return this evening."
Her unmistakable contralto had him shifting his hand off his pistol. But his blood still pumped. "Grand Councilwoman. I…did not expect you to be…around."
The contralto was suddenly apologetic. "I am so sorry, I did not mean to leave you at that dinner alone. I was…called away for…."
"It's fine. You do not need an excuse."
"No, no, I…" she fell into a silence that clung for far too long in the corridor. She cleared her throat. "I hope Admiral Toobihya did not wear you out too much."
Gantu extended a hand to steady himself against the wall. The smooth metal chilled his heated palm. "He could only dream."
She laughed. Genuine. Warm. He shuddered just a bit. He hoped she hadn't noticed. "Very well then. That means you're fine for one more?" From behind her back, she produced two pristinely clear crystal tumblers, which clattered as they touched, and a decanter in which a tan liquid sloshed.
"Of course."
"Excellent. I settled on the perfect location, if you are comfortable with a short walk?"
Gantu had given the clearest acceptance he could muster. The last tray from dinner had finally settled, unleashing its full potency in his gut. His faculties had not entirely fled him, but he needed more assistance from the wall than he cared to admit. She did not seem to mind as she walked alongside, softly humming a tune Gantu did not recognize. Or maybe he did, and the name simply escaped him at present.
Their walk was indeed short. Soon, they stood outside on their floor's balcony. The wind carried the mélange of scents and sounds of the city that fanned out beneath them, all cloaked under a blanket of Turan stars. Only a few twinkled in the sky, many more hidden away by the lights radiating from a bustling metropolis.
She set down the wares on a wrought iron table and drew together two rough-looking but surprisingly accommodating chairs. When she beckoned, he sat down in one chair with a rather obvious plop. Her laugh softened the blow.
He stared out over the city as she poured out two measures into the tumblers. Skycars whizzed by, their collective turbulence generating a slightly stronger gust than Gantu anticipated. He squinted in the cool yet inviting urban air.
"Here," she offered. He took the drink. The powerful concoction wafted up to his nose. He grumbled as thoughts of more imbibing hit him all at once.
She raised her glass. He followed suit. "A toast," she said. "To the warriors of the Federation. The admirals who keep her safe, and look good while doing it."
He downed the drink in a single gulp. "Not an admiral yet, ma'am."
She chose to sip and savor the incredibly rare blend contained within that decanter — so unlike the typical swill most Turans choked down. She swirled the tumbler in her elegant hand as she spoke. "Oh, soon enough you will be, Gantu. That process is already in motion." A breathy pause, then, "I really do wish I had been there. I have only heard of Toobihya's…gatherings from secondhand sources."
Gantu inhaled deeply as the drink added its effect to the larger group battling his stomach's fortitude. "I don't know. Perhaps it was for the best. I was not in the greatest of moods."
"Oh?"
He twisted in his chair, and found her eyes. Obsidian pools reflected the few stars strong enough to cut through the city's myriad lights. "One of Toobihya's companions was…curious about the…."
Automatically, cognizance registered in her eyes. "Ah, yes, naturally. You are the most familiar with them of anyone around here, I would imagine."
"But every time! Every time I go anywhere, it's always the same! Questions about those Abominations and their ilk, it just—"
"Perhaps, Gantu," she interceded, "we shouldn't delve into that topic again tonight?"
His cheeks flushed. "Yes, I…I don't want to, ehm, spoil, anything."
She laughed again. Still as warm as ever, even in the cooling city breeze. So unlike the austere figure who presided over the Federation and all of its business. "It's quite alright. You're a passionate individual, Gantu. I like that about you." She then buried her face in the tumbler.
Gantu thumbed the edge of his glass. It emitted a dull ring that rose into the city air and disappeared in the cacophony. This city, this planet, all reminded him of everything he had missed on his long journey. Kaua'i nights were equally noisy, but that island's air had been filled with insect chirps and the brushing of palms' fronds against their roughhewn trunks. And the noxious laughs of little beasts that did not belong.
"Is…" he ventured as she slowly and luxuriously raised her head from the exquisite Turan brandy, "…is that why I'm going to be an admiral? Because you like me?"
He knew he had committed a grievous error in judgment the moment he had opened his mouth. Maybe Toobihya's insistence on more drink trays was now coming back to haunt the captain. Though, he had never quite grasped the nuances of these types of interactions. They eluded him, utterly and completely. He could not shoot at it, nor sic attack vessels upon it. A life consumed by battle, and he was losing this eminently important one through his own ineptitude.
What remained of the brandy nearly bounced over the rim as she slammed down her tumbler. The austerity of the Federation's leader flickered again in obsidian eyes. Suddenly, Gantu found himself wishing he had simply turned in for the night.
"Captain, I—"
A knock at the door brought his head out of the chair and the memory. The raps were akin to gunfire cracking within his skull. He growled as he acclimated to reality. "Come in!" he crabbily commanded.
Te'sudu jovially strode into the space, also still dressed in the previous night's garb. A spryness conspicuously absent during most of Gantu's interactions with Te'sudu had invaded the pilot's demeanor. "Admiral, how are you this fine morning?"
His excited tone was torture for the afflicted admiral. Gantu held up a hand as a tacit plea for quieter conversation. "Just great, Te'sudu. What can I do for you?"
Te'sudu's face twisted in confusion. "You asked me to come by to discuss our mission to Seefyus? I would've come last night, but you were rather firmly planted in The Galley when my date and I decided to leave. In fact, you came over to our table and demanded we wait until morning. Several times, if memory serves."
"Um, ah yes, that's— ahem— that's right." Te'sudu stood quietly, allowing Gantu to graciously save face. Gantu collected his scattered thoughts. "I, uh, hope your date didn't mind."
"Oh no, not at all! She thought you to be—how'd she put it? Oh yes—perfectly pleasant."
Gantu fought against the haze in his mind to extract the image of Te'sudu's date. His main objective had been to discover her identity, and from Te'sudu's report, it appeared likely that he had completed it. Now, he could barely restrain the urge to slap himself on the head as punishment for thwarting his own mission. Judging from Te'sudu's stance, however, Gantu also confidently posited he would get another chance.
The throbbing started up again. He cradled his aching head in one hand as he addressed the pilot. "Good to hear. Now, to the matter at hand. I intend to look into what actually happened with the city of Pthlonia on Seefyus, but with Coalition patrols above the planet, bringing the Federation's greatest warship to bear on Seefyus would be…unwise."
"I agree, sir."
"Right, good. So the Seefyus System's next-door neighbor, Khaestym, will be our staging point. Far enough to stay off their scanners, but close enough to launch hyperdrive-capable dropships in short order. We'll paint 'em a different color and alter the hull markings as well as the IFF transponders to denote the vessels as property of a charitable aid organization. That'll give us freer reign to scout about the area for information."
"Okay, gotcha, I… wait, the ships will be masquerading as charitable aid?"
"Correct."
Te'sudu skeptically pursed his lips. "Well, what happens if they discover we're not there to help out? Unless you're plannin' on stocking them with a bunch of Federation food and water, it could be a hard bluff to sell. And what about actual aid organizations? If the Seefyan guards figure this out, won't their government initiate a crackdown on aid? Those people in the city need that help—"
"Whoa, slow down…" Gantu commanded as his headache dug its claws into his forehead. "You're thinking too far ahead."
"No…no, I'm thinking just the right amount about this. If we screw this up, no actual aid organization will be able to land. People who need aid aren't gonna get it. Isn't there another way we can get on the planet? Can't we just go in stealthily or somethin'?"
"No can do. We'll need access to ground zero and the surrounding area. The Coalition will most likely have locked down the region. Other than posing as their own military — and besides me, I don't think anyone else aboard this ship would fit the height requirement for a Skallyraath — an aid organization is really going to be the only option."
Gantu did not enjoy having to deliver this particular argument, made worse by his involving the warrant officer. Te'sudu was right in many regards, Gantu thought. Yet, the thought of that crater on Seefyus…the admiral needed to know. And so it came to Gantu's great relief when Te'sudu's scrunched face eased a tad as his reticence thawed and dripped down his forehead in the form of several monstrous beads of sweat. "Alright. I'm not entirely sold on it…but you're right. It's the best we got. So when do we fly?"
"Hold on, Te'sudu. Now, I want to go and investigate it myself, but I don't want to leave the Adesa unattended while I dig around there. I need you to manage the affairs here while I figure out just what the hell happened."
Te'sudu brought a contemplative finger to his chin. "Right, okay. I can do that…but one little problem."
Adrenaline pumped through Gantu's body. His head leapt from his hand. The suggestion of a missing component alarmed him. "What's that?"
Te'sudu walked up to Gantu's desk. His eyes barely rose above its lip. "Size, sir."
"Size?" Gantu inquired.
"Don't take this the wrong way, sir. But people listen to you because you're…well, you're you." He motioned at Gantu's frame while he talked. "I am not you. And we still aren't sure who's working for whom, so there's a good chance something could go awry. If it did, and you were gone…I don't think I could stop it in time."
That contingency had slipped Gantu's contemplation. He growled for several seconds. "I hate it when you're right…"
"Well, then, you're gonna hate me more, because I have a solution."
"Let's hear it then." Gantu's head rolled back into his cradling hand. I wonder if he would notice if I fell asleep like this. The fog of the evening clung to him more stringently as Te'sudu continued.
"Send me to Seefyus. Give me a team if you want, make it look official…hell, they may even buy that charitable aid bit. I'll look for what you need, and report my findings back to you and only you. You can stay up here and keep control of the Adesa. Should keep any conspirators at bay for a while longer."
Relief and paranoia mixed into an odd slush in Gantu's brain. Someone who is eager to help out, who I can trust. That's perfect. Gantu also sensed his locus of control shifting, and that terrified him. What if he misses something? What if the team I send with him harm him? What if he isn't as trustworthy as he appears? Nagging nuisances fed the cloud expanding in his head.
"Are you sure you can—"
"Absolutely, sir. I won't let you down."
His conviction accomplished the difficult feat of impressing Gantu. The zephyr of zeal briefly blew away his fog, and through cleared sight, he saw the intelligence in trusting Te'sudu. No, he won't let me down.
"Alright then, Te'sudu. Suit up — but nothing with Federation markings — and be ready for drop in one hour. I'll scramble a team together."
"Aye, Admiral." He saluted and turned to exit. A slight hesitation in his step announced an additional comment. "Oh, Admiral? One request. Please don't put my date on the team."
Gantu's tongue stumbled in much the same way his body had done the night before. "Oh, uh, sure, I-I can do that, Te'sudu."
"You have no idea who she is, do you, Admiral?" Te'sudu said with a mischievous smirk.
Gantu froze. The fog descended with a vengeance. "Um…."
Te'sudu erupted into hearty laughter. "It's fine, Admiral. And that was a joke. Put whoever you want on the team. I'll reintroduce you to her sometime soon. Don't worry—I'll come up with a good cover story for ya." With that assurance made, he exited the office.
Embarrassment flooded Gantu's cheeks. Te'sudu's joke at his expense infuriated him, but he knew he had invited it upon himself. I'll need to lay off the brandy for a while, he admonished. He buried his burning face in the computer console to piece together a suitable team for Te'sudu.
Spurred on by his earlier thought of a restorative nap, he rapidly scanned the active duty roster and assembled an eight-person team to escort the pilot. They were all names that were familiar from reports on meritorious service or recommendations from superiors. A quick probe into their financial records and backgrounds — information readily available to the highest ranking officers on board Federation ships, though the data were occasionally obtained through questionable means — offered no evidence to contradict their loyalty. He messaged them all, informing them of their upcoming mission for which they had been involuntarily selected. All accepted.
"There, that wasn't so hard," Gantu congratulated himself as his head slowly sank back onto the desk. "Time to take a break."
The door chimed again. A loud groan, then, "Yes, enter."
Te'sudu had returned, with more concern in his eyes. "I...almost forgot, sir…how have you been holding up?"
Gantu was perplexed. A check on my well-being? With a tentative voice, he replied, "Fine, Te'sudu."
"Oh okay, sir. I just…I know you had a special relationship with her, and the news seemed to hit you pretty hard when it broke late last night—"
"What news?" Gantu interrupted, alarm rising. The fog had dissipated on its own, a fearful instinct activating in his mind. Adrenaline flooded his veins — he could barely keep from hopping over the desk. "What news, Te'sudu?"
Te'sudu's concern congealed into shock. "You…you really don't remember? Geez, Admiral, you should lay off the juice for a bit—"
"Te'sudu!"
The Warrant Officer sighed and slouched his shoulders, the weight of the information apparent. A few steps forward, then he settled into a spot two arms' length from Gantu's quivering form. "It was all over the media. They're still trying to figure it out, the pieces aren't all there. But…it's looking like suicide…they don't know why, no note…" Te'sudu couldn't bring himself to finish.
The deep chasm of fear in Gantu's gut widened. Everything sunk into the abyss. He almost knew what to expect next. "Who, Te'sudu?"
In three quick strides, Te'sudu closed the gap. He tapped at Gantu's computer, wiping away windows of technical data and mission strategies, all while wiping his eyes with a crumpled handkerchief. Eventually, after an agonizing journey, he arrived at a galactic news site's front page. He slammed a finger almost through the screen, against Gantu's weak protest. The admiral leaned in and read the headline. And every letter thereafter.
"…I'm sorry, sir, I thought you remembered this…I'm going to leave now. If you need anything, just…."
On many occasions, Admiral Gantu could be easily flustered. Questioned about losing an experiment, explaining his feelings toward them, anything like that usually would have him stuttering. Fumbling around to construct a cogent argument. But no matter what — even if it was a simple, guttural, stupid sound —Admiral Gantu always spoke. There was invariably something he could offer.
But in the captain's quarters, a place he didn't really want to be, in a ship sailing toward a place that he didn't really want to go to, he said nothing. A blank stare as he finished the article, only remembering fragments. A seasoned politician. A bringer of peace. The galaxy will sorely miss her. Apparent suicide by plasma pistol. No explanation. Will be sorely missed. Missed.
"Captain, I—I…I think it's…a little more complex than that." The flash of anger extinguished, she tilted her head back and drained the tumbler. Her other hand teasingly tapped the glass stopper plugged into the decanter.
"But it's a part of it, right?" Gantu grumbled, his empty glass ringing with the vibrations of his deep voice.
She kept her head back and hummed as a gust of urban wind enwrapped them in the sensations of the city. Her obsidian eyes shuttered to the world, she inhaled, and brought forth a wistfully curled smile that wrinkled her azure cheeks. "It really is complex, Gantu. I've…so many responsibilities, all calling for my attention. Running this galaxy is a feat of incredible balance. My profession…my duty, it obligates me to…." Silence rose in the falling wind.
Gantu was unsure how to pivot on her response. A range of possibilities opened up in his strategically-focused mind. Options and tactics laid themselves out. And they all felt wrong. Having nothing to say was not Gantu's way, but as he sat under the Turan stars and studied every crease and dimple on her face, words — sounds, even — completely eluded him.
"Gantu," his name buoyant in her contralto, "you are unique. Someone who is wholeheartedly, unswervingly, truly dedicated to the preservation of this galaxy. Just like me. That's…something I admire, that I…." Flustered, she uncorked the decanter. Exquisite hints of chalkwood smoke and spices gathered from the farthest reaches of the galaxy drifted from the ludicrously costly brandy as she poured herself another measure. "I think that the nature of our positions make it difficult to act fully on our thoughts, our…desires." A careful sip. "So many things to think about. Wouldn't you agree?"
Flummoxed gurgling was all Gantu could manage. His mind raced. Where's Toobihya when I need him? He'd know what to say. She waited, much more patiently than he would have. The brandy no doubt helped. Another controlled sip. Considered, planned, executed by the book. So very much like her.
"Well…" sounds summoned from nowhere finally stumbled their way out of Gantu's mouth. "Maybe, if we were not so…preoccupied, with these political affairs, the matters of this galaxy, then it would be…."
"Better?"
Her eyes glittered in the neon and halide and fluorescent and starlight. Enrapturing, as Gantu leaned closer. The sound of her breath, controlled, measured, but elevated. Excited. "Yes. Better." More confident. Stronger.
"And how would we do that, Gantu? You and I…we both need the politics. The battles."
"Do we?"
The great chasm between two simple chairs was narrowing. A few of the myriad stars of a galaxy scintillated overhead.
"Without all of that…who would we be?"
The city, the galaxy, the brandy, the worries, the fears, all fell away. Washed out by the rising wind. Her eyes glittered. A point of light became thousands as the gap closed. A galaxy reflected in obsidian pools. A little gasp, soft and warm, filled the air.
Certainty in his voice. In his being. "We…we would be better."
The stars disappeared with his doubt as his world irrevocably changed.
And now, far away from the balcony bathed in city and celestial lights, his world irrevocably changed again. The pale glow of the computer screen, an ugly substitute for that beauty, cast deepening shadows over the admiral. Te'sudu still stood by, wordlessly watching.
Gantu read it. The headline again. For certainty.
Grand Councilwoman of United Galactic Federation found dead, apparent suicide.
Te'sudu had nearly crossed the threshold into the hallway when Gantu opened his mouth. A sad sound fell out. Confusion in his voice. In his being. "Te'sudu…don't leave just yet…." Nothing sure about it.
"I'll be right outside, sir. Take your time."
The door closed. Alone in the soft light of the room's dawn setting. Certainty of solitude in his being. Admiral Gantu shattered.
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