3: Calshae Prime
+1050 Post-Unification, Standard Calsharan Solar Calendar
It was a warm summer on Calshae Prime, otherwise known as 'Calshara'. Upon one of the larger continents was located the capital of the Union, the city of Impira, a bustling and vast city full of towering, monolithic structures and sleek, shining spires. Freighters and shuttles moved about the city heights in well-ordered lines, and the streets were full of ground traffic and Calsharan citizens moving about on their daily business. The sky above was a deep blue, with nary a cloud in sight and the young yellow sun blazed from up high, the heat relentless. To the Calsharan species, the heat and humidity was preferable to the stark cold of winter. And here in the heart of their empire, the effects of the war were not readily apparent.
The city thinned out after some miles, morphing into picturesque suburbs filled with lavish estates and large tracts of greenery. It was in one of these homes, a large two-floored dwelling surrounded by lush gardens, that Lieutenant Toron Kavellan had found himself spending much of his time. That was unusual for an officer of the Calsharan space fleet, as until this year he had been away on deployment for months at a time. One would have expected a young and able officer such as him to be off fighting in the war, but circumstances had given rise that had seen him stay behind. His childhood home was quiet and mostly empty, even more so with his brother, Valkas, having gone. And their father, a victim of the new High Protector's political purges, imprisoned and then executed shortly after Valkas' last visit. The new High Protector, Tarva Garall, was young and ambitious, and he had risen to the position in dubious circumstances.
Toron was dressed in black civilian clothes, comprised short-sleeves and thin fabrics to better cope with the heat. He was a broad-shouldered and muscular individual, with deep black, slightly green-hued skin and a handful of short, stubby spikes that went down the back of his head and followed the trail of his spine. His younger brother had had a similar appearance, if a slightly lighter shade of skin. Toron sometimes found his mind wandering to his underachieving brother, and he often wondered if he was still alive or if his exploits with the humans of Earth had seen him get killed.
For the last few months he had been at home. Toron was seated in his mother's bedroom, just next to her bed wherein the thin, increasingly ill Calsharan female was resting. She was awake, her pale blue eyes fluttering open as Toron watched on. It was mid-morning, some sunlight creeping in through the closed shutters at his back. Beyond the window was the dense garden that his mother, Vikira, had tended to and grown over the many years she had lived here. It was getting overgrown now, as she had been in no state to tend to it regularly.
The bedroom was somewhat sparse, as Toron's father had not been big on decoration. Being away from home so often and for so long, given the position he had held as a prominent military official, had also factored into the lack of decoration. In a way, this house was more Vikira's home than a family one.
Toron had been granted leave to tend for his ailing mother. Family was most important, and even the people running the war knew this. They could not have an officer like Toron on the frontline with his concentration impeded by thoughts of his ill mother. Until her condition improved, Toron would be here at her side. Watching her waste away ever so slowly was distressing, although he kept his emotions well within check.
"What time is it?" She asked, as she sat up in the bed. She wore a loose-fitting blue coverall, thin and comfortable. Toron reached over for the nightstand, taking up a glass of water there. He handed it to her and his mother took it in her shaking hands, slowly raising it to her lips.
"It's late morning," Toron said.
"Feels earlier," Vikira replied. She turned to him, swallowing a hearty gulp of water before she placed the glass aside. "And here you are, already trying to dote on me. I'm not completely incapable."
That was not entirely untrue. Her strength came and went, although as time went on it tended to go more often than it stayed. Her illness was a rare one, treatable in the sense that its progress could be slowed but no outright cure existed. Her muscles slowly atrophied and her organs would, over time, eventually cease functioning. Death was an inevitability and she had, at most, a few months. It was not a contagious disease, rather one of those illnesses that cropped up in a few unlucky people every so often and ran their course without any hint as to their origin. Genetics certainly played a part, and Toron had to contend with the fact that, according to tests, he had inherited the gene responsible for his mother's ailment. That did not necessarily mean he would develop the condition, but the possibility remained.
"You should go out and enjoy your life more," Vikira continued, offering her son a smile. "I can look after myself."
"Enjoy my life?" Toron leaned closer to his mother, clasping one of her hands in his own. "I'm all you have left. The only other place I would be right now is fighting in the war. You could lose your son. It's better I'm here, especially as father is gone."
"He'll be home soon, won't he?" His mother was serious about this, despite the fact that her husband had been executed months ago. Sometimes the disease affected her cognitive abilities, and this was one of those instances.
"He's…" Toron frowned, as he considered her best to answer the question. "Maybe, mother. I do not know." She would remember he was dead at some point, and she would likely weep again. Toron knew she did so regularly, although she only did it when she thought he was not present to see it. He saw the signs, but he kept quiet about it.
"You should find yourself a loving wife," Vikira added quickly, changing the subject. This was a frequent topic of conversation with her. "I want grandchildren. A whole lot of them."
Toron sighed. It was true, he was single. His work and now looking after his mother ate up much of his time. Some of the female officers he knew had caught his eye and theirs in turn, but none of those relationships had been lasting. Physical, certainly, but never truly serious. He did not have the heart to inform his mother of the woman he routinely visited every couple of weeks during his jaunts into the city; that woman was, after all, a courtesan and his officer's salary paid for those visits comfortably.
"Maybe one day, mother," Toron said.
"Any word from your brother?"
"No, mother." As far as he was concerned, Valkas was dead. He had come here months ago, accompanied by a bunch of humans and a pair of Nomads. They had been on some kind of special mission, one his mother had assisted them with despite the risk to herself. After that, they had heard nothing of Valkas.
"I miss him, Toron." Vikira spoke solemnly then. It seemed she remembered Valkas' absence, yet her increasingly confused mind could not contend with the death of her husband. Seeing his mother, a woman he had always seen as strong and vibrant and so full of life, gradually wither away left Toron feeling cold and helpless. He could do nothing to stop this degradation, save for ensuring that she took her medication.
"You should go out," Vikira said suddenly, her mind darting from one subject to another. "Enjoy the day. I don't want you hanging on me any more than you need to. No need to place your life on hold on my account."
Toron did not reply. Vikira shot him a frown and she motioned at him to stand up.
"On your feet, Lieutenant." She put a hardness to her voice that was close to triggering the military discipline that had been ingrained into her son. Even so, Toron stopped himself from getting up. Vikira knew how to deal with soldiers, she had been married to one for a long time and both her sons had followed in their father's footsteps. She herself was a teacher; rather, she had been until her illness had got the better of her. "Come on, Toron, I'll be fine by myself. Besides, I need you to go and get a few things."
A shopping run. Toron could do that, he supposed. He rose to his feet then, letting go of his mother's hand. He had not been out of the house for a few days, save for the gardens outside. He had more or less become the gardener here, now that his mother was unable to continue tending to it properly. He was nowhere near as good at it as she was, and so some of the more difficult plants were beginning to get unruly. Some even withered in a way not dissimilar to what was happening to his mother.
"If you need anything, do not hesitate to call me," he told his mother.
"I'll be fine," she said. "Now go on. I don't want my son becoming a shut-in."
The streets of the capital had changed since High Protector Tarva Garall had come to power. The vast 'Annex' building at the heart of the city, a great grey and silver palace adorned with multiple spires that towered over the surrounding structures, had seen a slight remodelling after the devastating fire that had gutted much of the building on the night the previous High Protector had died. The streets, especially closer to the city centre, were adorned with flags and banners bearing the circular symbol of the Union, wherein was a thin star-like emblem with six points. The centre represented the home-world and each of the points represented one of the main colonies, the core systems of the Union. Before Visala's time, they had been a fractured civilisation. Because of her, they had united into a vast empire that now encompassed many more star systems.
The Union Political Directorate had numerous patrols within the city, including checkpoints wherein political officers interviewed any passing citizens that had been flagged by their surveillance systems. Such systems had been in place for a long time, it was simply the new High Protector who had expanded upon them, ensuring that no unauthorised person would be able to enter the capital without being found out.
Toron had little to fear, given his position as an officer and the fact he tended to stay away from the central government districts. He instead paid a visit to a fairly ordinary grey building amongst a whole row of them, some ways from any critical government structure. There, he paid for an hour with the woman who had most recently caught his attention, before he emerged into the midday heat, coming out onto a quiet street lined with green garden beds and tall trees that swayed in the light breeze. At least now he felt a little better about himself, and adjusting the collar of his top, he made to move for his right. However, a voice called from his left, which was both awkward and worrying all at once.
"Lieutenant Toron Kavellan," the gruff, male voice declared. Toron spun around, suddenly embarrassed to be singled out in this location. A grey-skinned male in the uniform of an infantry General stood by one of the garden beds, his blue eyes narrowed, his scaly features carrying a distinct scar at one cheek. He had to be middle-aged or even older, judging from his appearance, wherein the sheen of his scales had dulled over time.
"You enjoy yourself in there?" The male asked. Toron walked over to him, some anger taking hold. He noticed that a few other passers-by were looking his way now. Thankfully none lingered, moving along on their own business instead.
"Do we know each other, General?" He paused before the older male, noticing the extra lines at the shoulders of his uniform. "My apologies, I meant to say Grand General." Someone of a rank like that was not someone whom Toron had expected to see, certainly not in this part of the city and certainly not searching for him. The Grand General offered the Lieutenant a warm smile, although it was a look somewhat countered by the mean scar at his cheek.
"Not exactly," the General replied. "I did know your father, however. He was a close friend. Unlike him, however, I kept my true feelings about the state of affairs in the capital to myself. That is actually part of the reason I've approached you. I did think of finding you at your home, but I do not wish to implicate your mother, the widow, in what I intend to tell you. It is important, and for it we must find somewhere quiet and secluded to discuss it. Come with me." He motioned for Toron to follow.
"You knew I would be here?" Toron frowned. He fell into step alongside the General, despite his misgivings. Still, if a Grand General wanted to speak to him, then he would listen. It had to have been for something critical.
"I have kept an eye on you for some time, Lieutenant. I wanted to be sure I could trust you. A fanatical devotee and close associate to our High Protector would not visit a brothel without taking significant precautions. You, on the other hand, strolled on through the front entrance without a care in the world." He smirked then, finding the younger male's exploits worthy of amusement. "I would have thought that a young officer such as yourself would have no trouble finding a suitable wife."
"I've been a bit of a shut-in recently," Toron said. He followed the General around a corner, leading down a long lane that ran between two sturdy grey buildings. Offices and apartments, both at least twenty floors in height. There was no one else in this lane, which seemed to suit the General as he stopped them in an alcove at the base of one of the neighbouring buildings. He looked about carefully, practically reeking of suspicion, his eyes surveying the nearby walls for any cameras and the like.
"I am aware that your mother's health is failing," the General said. "I am sorry, for what it's worth. Your father spoke highly of his wife. Although, I suspect if he were still alive, he would disapprove of your current pursuits."
"My father disapproved of a lot of things, especially where my brother is concerned. It's no wonder my brother deserted the way he did." The Kavellan family had come apart at the seams. If he ever saw Valkas again, he would probably beat him. The pain their mother had felt when she had lost her husband had only been compounded by Valkas' disappearance. He had come by, stayed for one night with his human friends, and then taken off again. And now it seemed he would never return.
"Your father was a man I could trust." The General eyed Toron carefully, nodding his head slowly as if satisfied. "I am Grand General Voross Masrak. I, and a number of others in positions of varying influence, have been looking for supporters."
"Supporters for what?"
The General paused, his expression turning grave.
"What I am about to tell you, Lieutenant, could be construed as treasonous. By all accounts it is treasonous, but things are getting desperate. Your father was a staunch believer in the old ways, and the ways of the Vigilants of Varondaar. He was also on good terms with the Governor of Vargania, someone whom he had carried out a number of favours for."
Vargania was one of the six major colonies and one of the furthest from the home system. It was sometimes seen as a backwater, with an economy heavily based upon agriculture. The Kavellan family had hailed from there a few generations prior, so it was not surprising for Toron to hear that his father had gone out of his way to assist the planet's Governor.
"Treasonous?" Toron narrowed his eyes. He was curious, if cautious. Still, he was speaking to a Grand General, so there was certainly legitimacy to be found in whatever he had to say.
"We're fighting a war of expansion," the General said. "A war that does not need to be fought. The Vigilants of Varondaar would never have agreed to this conflict, and I have it on good authority that they had us preparing for a greater conflict with an outside threat. As to what exactly, I am not certain. The new High Protector came to power through a conspiracy, not an accident as they would have you believe. Myself, along with my associates, have been acquiring evidence that points to this conspiracy, but it's not enough. Nothing conclusive. However, the Governor of Vargania shares some of our beliefs. If we are able to convince him, find the evidence we need, then we may be able to increase the pressure on the central government to end the war."
Toron did not entirely agree with the war either, but he was also not against spreading their influence far and wide. He did have his suspicions about the new High Protector, yet they were not to the extent of those the Grand General apparently held. The idea that some kind of conspiracy had been in play was an intriguing one, if troubling.
"The Governor trusted your father," General Masrak continued. "If we convince him, we have a good chance of putting an end to this war. If Vargania pulls out its involvement, other colonies will follow."
"You think I can help?" Toron shook his head. "I don't know the Governor. I don't even know you. What could I do?"
"You knew Supreme Commander Cassalis," the General countered, and his voice adopted a sterner tone as he spoke the name. "You served under her, you were on her staff. She trusts you. I and my associates have good reason to believe that she was behind the rise of High Protector Garall."
Rila Cassalis had indeed been Toron's commanding officer, captain of the Sword of Calshara, the first in a line of new, powerful dreadnoughts. She had been relieved of that command by the previous High Protector, although it seemed the new High Protector had reversed that misfortune by promoting her from Fleet Commander to Supreme Commander. Now she was in charge of the entire Calsharan space navy, instead of just one of the several fleets within it. Toron had not spoken to her for months, as her new role no doubt ate up much of her time. She was notoriously ambitious and even ruthless when it came to fighting their enemies. If she happened to be behind the rise of High Protector Garall, then Toron would not be surprised at all.
"You want me to spy for you?" Toron asked the General.
"Not exactly. All I ask is for you to come with me to Vargania. Speak to the Governor, get a feel for what he and I are trying to accomplish. High Protector Garall will lead us to ruin in this war. If we get the Governor on our side, we could push back against the central government and put an end to the needless slaughter."
Toron thought on this briefly, for the idea seemed good in its intentions but dubious in its execution. The Grand General must have been an idealist, either that or he was simply desperate. Toron did not particularly want to go to Vargania, especially as it would mean leaving his mother alone. However, he could not turn his back on the Grand General, a man whose rank deserved respect. There was something else that worried him, and it was this thought that he voiced then:
"For a colony to push back against the central government could make things worse," he said. The Grand General's mouth was a grim line as he nodded in agreement.
"Yes, but that is a risk we must take. I do not want us to expend ourselves on a needless war when there are greater threats out there. The stories of the ancient 'Demons' that Visala fought do have truth behind them, even if that truth has been lost and altered over the centuries. Some of those I knew within the Vigilants of Varondaar knew more on the matter. They all believed that soon enough, that old enemy would come back."
"Do you believe that?" His brother had mentioned something to that effect during his last visit, as had the Nomads he had travelled with. Toron had not believed it then, not entirely. Even so, he kept an open mind, allowing the possibility to remain on memory just in case it ever came up in conversation. And here he was, hearing similar talk from a Grand General. All the more reason to take it seriously.
"I have a shuttle leaving for Vargania later today," the General said. He reached into a pocket on his uniform, retrieving from within a small card. He handed it to Toron, who glanced at the writing upon it: an address, specifically that for a private spaceport within the city. "Be there on time, if you intend on coming. We need more young officers involved, as right now it's mostly just us old veterans. And with the way things are going, there won't be too many of us left. Not because of this war, but because of the High Protector's continued attempts to 'purge' our military of anyone who might threaten him."
It occurred to Toron that if the Grand General was ever arrested, he could very well be implicated in treasonous activities. The thought of committing such acts had been unthinkable to Toron, and yet here he was, with a Grand General outright encouraging him to engage in a backroom conspiracy. Knowing what he did now, he could not turn away. His father had been killed for his place in the old regime. If this was a way to avenge it in some form, then he was on board. It was his mother he worried about the most, and he did not wish to see her dragged into it.
"I will have to get a nurse for my mother," Toron said. He pocketed the card before he met the General's gaze. "But I will join you on your trip. Any more than that, I cannot promise."
"It's all I ask," the General replied. He put out a hand and patted the young Lieutenant on the shoulder. "Be careful, Lieutenant Kavellan. Agents of the UPD are everywhere." With that said, he turned about and started on his way out of the lane. Toron remained standing where he was, watching the General walk away, suddenly unsure of himself. He felt as if he had just committed to something he might regret, something that could easily blow up into a far worse situation. Even so, he knew it warranted investigation. He would do it for his father, not the most likable man, but blood nonetheless. And family was the most important thing of all.
The halls within the 'Annex' were lavish and adorned with arches and sculptures and paintings within those areas closest to the central chambers, wherein the High Protector and his chief officials enacted matters of state. These were corridors that Supreme Commander Rila Cassalis had strolled down many times before, although she had done so much more frequently in the past several months.
Her form was lithe and athletic, her skin a light grey in colour, her eyes a blazing orange. However, in recent months her stomach had come to bulge with the noticeable bump brought on by pregnancy, and at this stage she was likely only weeks away from giving birth. As such, she did not wear her uniform, instead she wore a simple loose-fitting blue top that carried her rank insignia at the shoulders but little else. The added weight of her unborn child had slowed her down somewhat, not to mention brought on all manner of cravings that had seen her food intake almost double. She had always wanted to have a family, although she would have preferred to have done so in better circumstances. For one, she would have preferred if the father was around. Instead, Captain Jarvok Hosva was dead, killed months before in the fighting over the Nomad world of Sanctuary. It was a death she had witnessed but had been powerless to stop, and it haunted her at every turn.
The memory was part of the reason she had insisted on remaining on duty despite her condition. A woman like her should be at home relaxing and preparing herself for the birth. Instead, she was marching down the corridors of the Annex, tending to matters relating to her role as Supreme Commander, meeting with officials and the like in order to plan ahead the next stages of the war. This afternoon was not much different. This time around, it was the High Protector himself she sought, and she came upon the familiar double doors that opened into the central chambers.
No evidence of the fire that had torn through here several months before remained. Everything had been cleaned up and refurbished. She eyed the statue of Visala near the door, the one that portrayed their founder in regal battledress, the surface of the statue gleaming in the sunlight that shone through the arch-shaped windows across the hallway. Their founder and unifier, Visala had implemented sweeping changes that had created the foundation for the government of the Union as it was now. Revered by many, her secrets previously protected by the order of the Vigilants of Varondaar, Cassalis had come to know the real truth about their founder.
The Vigilants had been wiped out, blamed for the death of the previous High Protector in a vast conspiracy. Their close associates had been arrested and imprisoned, with many being executed quietly. Sweeping changes had once again occurred for the Calsharan people, and the start of a new order had been established. Cassalis had elevated herself to Supreme Commander, becoming the chief of the entire Calsharan space navy. All the while, she was one of the few who knew the truth about Visala. That is, that Visala had somehow been the human Joanne Bowers, albeit having undergone a metamorphosis into a Calsharan. She had somehow travelled back in time, bringing with her the human battle-station Broadsword, and in turn giving the Calsharan people a one-thousand year period in which they had built and refined upon the technology on board that ship. A small percentage of the Calsharan population had descended from Visala, and Cassalis knew herself to be one of them.
The thought that some small trace of human genetics tainted her was one she had struggled to come to terms with. It was also something she had made sure to bury deep, as she did not wish for her rivals to discover such a fact. Even more importantly, if the general population learned the truth about Visala there would be chaos. It was for the best that the truth remained buried, with any evidence of it being destroyed. Not even the High Protector knew of it, and Cassalis wanted it to stay that way.
She nodded to the pair of chrome armoured elite guards standing by the doors. They did not stop her, for they knew who she was. The doors swung open automatically as she approached, and beyond them was a large conference room of sorts, with a long, glazed timber table in the centre taking up much of it. Previously, the very table Visala had used one-thousand years ago had been here, but it had been damaged in the fire. As a result, there was a much newer one in its place, whilst the damaged original had been stored away in a secure vault. The walls were of a beige colour, with the odd potted plant about the room and several painted portraits taking up the wall-space itself. Again, there was one of Visala behind the head of the table. This one displayed her as a female with a light green skin tone, outfitted in a shining chrome vest and jewel-studded violet shawl. Cassalis one day intended to put her portrait in that place, but for now she would have to satisfy herself with the title of 'Supreme Commander' rather than 'High Protector'.
The current High Protector was standing by the head of the table, a holographic map projected across the surface of it. He was a slim grey-skinned young male in a smart black uniform, and his blue eyes were directed to the three-dimensional map before him. He spoke with one of his Generals, a newer official he had appointed to the war effort. The previous General had fallen victim to the High Protector's purge. In fact, it seemed many of those veteran war leaders had been 'disappeared', which Cassalis might have normally agreed with had it happened over a longer period. Ridding yourself of your most experienced Generals during a war seemed a foolish move, especially if their ranks were filled by inexperienced younger ones who were too afraid to criticise any of the tactical decisions the High Protector made.
"Aunty Rila!" Tarva looked up to her as she entered, smiling broadly. He spoke to her so informally as to annoy her, something he had been making a habit of recently. Cassalis stopped by the table, giving her young nephew a frown in response to his greeting. The smile he wore was partly forced, from what she could tell.
"What brings you here?" Tarva asked her. The General standing next to him, dressed in the grey uniform of one of the ground infantry, regarded Cassalis with a careful eye but otherwise said nothing. "I would have thought you would be at home, resting. In your condition, a woman needs all the rest she can get."
"My condition?" Cassalis let out a frustrated huff. "You make it sound as if I'm diseased. I am more than capable of fulfilling my duties, and I intend on doing so until my child is born. Especially as we are at war across multiple fronts, something I warned you about when you were first appointed to your position."
"Our enemies run before us," Tarva declared, and now his smile became truly genuine. "The makalvari fleet is on the run. We should be in their home system within months, if not sooner. And just last week, we annexed a human-populated world rich in trinium. More fuel for the war effort." He paused then, turning to his General. "Could you wait outside? I wish to speak with the Supreme Commander in private. We shan't be long."
The General nodded his head, before he walked briskly out of the room. The doors closed after him, leaving Cassalis and her young nephew alone. Tarva's mother, her sister, was a nurse and had been married to the head of the Calsharan Elite Guard. It was no wonder that their son had fallen into the ruling echelon, and this had been helped immeasurably by the previous High Protector's liking for the young male. A 'liking' that had not been shared, as Cassalis had been there when Tarva had happily slashed the old man's throat.
"Rila, my dear aunt," Tarva said, and he paced around the table towards her. He clasped his hands behind his back, stepping past her and stopping a short distance to her right. The holographic map before them displayed a large tract of space, wherein the positions of their fleets were marked. Cassalis recognized the layout, for she had sent the orders to the fleets in question just the other day. At least Tarva had been sticking to her tactical advice where their ships were concerned.
"What is it you called me here for, Tarva?" Cassalis asked him. Her patience was wearing thin.
"I just want to see my aunt," Tarva answered, his smile turning coy. "Well, that and the fact that there was a security breach. Not anywhere you were responsible for, but seeing as how we're sort of in this together, I thought you deserved to know."
"A breach?" Cassalis frowned.
"An officer, Major Lorvul Ravus, attempted to defect to the humans of Earth. He carried with him a number of recent files that he had pulled from the central database. Nothing too sensitive, but certainly enough to cause concern. How he did so, I'm not entirely sure, but I suspect he had help from within. In fact, my people have reason to believe that there is a growing underground network of those who would see me deposed and my associates, such as yourself, removed." Tarva delivered this information in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it were nothing at all to be worried about. His blasé attitude at times could be grating, and Cassalis found herself reacting with significantly more alarm than her nephew did.
"What did he take?" Cassalis asked him, her face now a hardened scowl. Her mind worked quickly as she attempted to sift through the various possibilities. Major Ravus was not someone she knew personally. Still, how did a lowly Major commit this kind of breach?
"Some files pertaining to a few of our secret installations," Tarva said. "Places even I did not know about. It's all encrypted, and Ravus died before he could offer the means to decipher it all. The humans are likely stuck with a useless computer drive. I would not worry too much about it, as there is nothing he took that seems like it could damage the two of us."
"Are you sure about this?" Cassalis was unconvinced. Tarva gave a shrug of his shoulders.
"My intelligence specialists assure me that the breach was minor. Nothing to do with anything here on the home-world or on the colonies." He paused, meeting eyes with his aunt. "I thought you would like to know, as this Major somehow contacted the humans of Earth without us finding out. And I know your feelings on those people."
Cassalis felt a growing rage within her then, as she recalled what the 'humans of Earth' had done to her. It had not been enough that one of their teams had captured her and humiliated her in doing so, leaving Lieutenant Kavellan to arrange an exchange; and it had not been enough for them to thwart her attempt to take their battle-station, Broadsword, and launch a strike against Earth; no, they had gone ahead and killed the man she loved. It had only been one human who had done it, but it was the final straw in this growing list of humiliations committed by the humans of Earth, the so-called 'first world'. The one from which the human plague had originated, which made it all the more an attractive target. It was practically swarming with them. Recalling her distant relation to that species only filled her with revulsion.
"I am more concerned about this resistance against us," Tarva continued. "These people may be few in number, but they have connections. And the more support they gain, the greater their threat. I want to see this problem taken care of quickly, which is why I have put my best intelligence officers on the case."
"Your own people?" Cassalis wondered who they were. Certainly not her, as espionage was not her field.
"A few very good operatives from the Special Security Bureau, now Union Political Directorate." Another of the changes Tarva had made since coming to power: the previous Calsharan intelligence organization, the Special Security Bureau, had been rearranged and changed into something more to Tarva's taste: the Union Political Directorate. Even though the organization was still in its infancy, it was already growing in size and influence. Cassalis had no say in its operation, no control over those who ran it. The UPD answered directly to the High Protector, no one else. She suspected that they would become trouble later down the line.
"The Directorate will play an integral role in things to come, aunty," Tarva added. "When this war is over and our enemies are vanquished, every soldier will be judged politically, regardless of their military record. Soldiers returning home from a prolonged war do tend to be trouble, would you not agree?"
Cassalis felt a little uncomfortable at the implication, more so from the way in which her nephew was eyeing her now. Almost as if he was expecting trouble from her. The gall of it irritated her on a deep level, for she had helped elevate him to this position. She was supposed to be the power behind the throne, and yet she could not help but feel as if that role was slipping away from her with each passing day.
Cassalis had been spending a great deal more time at her home, the same home her parents had left her when they had died. Previously, Cassalis had spent months at a time away from home, living on military bases and on board her flagships. It was comforting, then, to come home to a place that was both pleasant and on solid ground. The house had two floors, lush gardens at the front and back and a quaint rustic quality in the old-fashioned stone masonry it was mostly constructed from. Her office looked out upon the rear garden, brimming with shrubs and trees and various ferns. Her gardener, an elderly Calsharan male, was tending to one corner of the space in the waning afternoon light. He had offered her a friendly wave when she had arrived home, before returning his focus to his work.
Cassalis had not expected to find her sister in her office. She was almost the spitting image of Rila, albeit without the carefully honed muscle that the Supreme Commander carried on her upper body and legs. Vela Garall was eight years older than Rila, a significant gap to be sure, which had sometimes lead the younger Cassalis to think that perhaps she had been an 'accident'. Vela was currently dressed in her light blue nurse's uniform, and she had been looking at the volumes upon the bookshelf within the office when Cassalis had walked in.
"What are you doing here?" Cassalis went to switch on the light, only to change her mind. Enough of the afternoon sun was filtering in through the windows, offering a comfortable level of natural light. Vela had no doubt let herself in with the key Cassalis had given her a few years before, although her visits were generally infrequent.
"Well, good afternoon to you to, Rila." Her sister frowned, unimpressed by the shortness of the younger woman's greeting. "I came here to see you, if you can believe it. You see, sometimes I worry about my very important sister. Supreme Commander is it, now?"
"A well-deserved and overdue promotion."
"Of course it was." Vela gave a dismissive shake of her head, before she paced about the desk. She glanced at the computer terminal there, currently inert, before her eyes flitted back to her sister. "I suppose this is where you do all your scheming?"
"Scheming? Is that what you think I do?" Cassalis had known her older sister's attitude for some time in regards to the work she did. Vela did not agree with the war, and she also did not agree with the younger Cassalis' rapid rise up the hierarchy of power. "I fight for our people, Vela. I do everything I must in order to keep our society safe."
"Yes, yes, I've heard it before." Vela nodded, although the look on her face suggested that she was unconvinced. "I'm not concerned about the work you do. You can go ahead and bomb as many makalvari or human settlements as you want. I'm concerned about you, Rila. The person, not the rank, not the soldier. You live alone here, you throw yourself headlong into your work and you insist on continuing in your duties when you are only weeks away from giving birth."
"I will not sit idly by while we fight a war. I can get by just fine."
"What about your unborn child?" Vela countered. "You have another life to look out for, Rila. It's not just about you anymore. Have you even prepared yourself for raising a child? I have been around your house and I see nothing that would suggest a baby is on the way, not even a room has been set aside for the child. You've kept everything here almost identical to how it was when our father died. You should be excited, Rila. You should be readying yourself for the challenges of motherhood. Instead, you do nothing but go about your working life as if nothing has changed. I'm a nurse, allow me to help you."
"I have the best physicians at my disposal," Cassalis said, feeling some raising irritation at her sister's presumptuousness. She had let herself in the house just to lecture Cassalis on how she should be living her life, it seemed.
"I'm your sister, Rila. I can help you in ways they can't. We're family, we should be sticking together. I mean, someone has to help you raise the child. The father…" She trailed off then, upon seeing the way in which Cassalis' face shifted into something much more sullen. Vela was aware of what had become of the father, to an extent. She knew full well that he was dead, for one. The exact circumstances of his death had not been revealed to her, and she figured that if Cassalis did not wish to tell her, then she would not ask.
"The father is no longer with us," Vela finished, with a far gentler tone. "But that's no reason for you to continue as you are. Put aside your duties for a while, focus on your son."
Cassalis quirked one hairless brow. Vela nodded her head in affirmation.
"I've seen the medical report. Sometimes you seem to forget that I'm a nurse."
"I want my child to have a father, Vela," Cassalis said, after a pause. Her voice wavered, her thoughts of the dead father weighing on her, dragging down her mood into the depressing mire it had fallen into so frequently the past several months. "The humans snatched him away from me, killed him right before my eyes. I will never forgive their kind for that, and I will never stop until the ones responsible are dead. That is why I continue to push on with my work, Vela. Because every time I serve the role of Supreme Commander, every time I send our fleets out to some far away star system, I know that I am bringing us one step closer to finding the people responsible. I have pursued so many different avenues, even hired independent contractors to hunt down the humans who killed Jarvok. I can't stop, for his sake and for the sake of my son, who is going to grow up knowing that his father was slain by an inferior species."
"Let it go, Rila," Vela said, her voice edged with a firm tone, yet her eyes suggested some measure of sympathy. "An obsession like that isn't going to end well. Do you want your son to lose his mother too?"
The question was not one Cassalis had an immediate answer to. It seemed to hang in the air, floating above them, the implications clear. Cassalis knew what her sister spoke of, knew that consuming herself with vengeance was not going to bring Jarvok back. It would be an empty pursuit, yet at the same time it was the most fulfilling pursuit she had before her. She knew that every time she set eyes upon her son, she would only be reminded of the boy's father and in turn, her failure to prevent his death. She would not be able to live with herself. She needed to put the matter to rest, sooner or later.
"Please leave, Vela," Cassalis said suddenly, her eyes narrowed and her voice stern. Vela did not object, she was already ready to leave at that point. She started out of the office, with Cassalis following her down the corridor and to the front door.
"Is this how you want things to be?" Vela asked her, as she put a hand to the door. It slowly slid open, the afternoon sunlight streaming on in. "I still remember the naïve girl I saw grow up. I can only wonder what became of her."
"I changed. People change." Cassalis did not appreciate having her sister come here to judge her. Some deeper part of her knew that she was driving her sister away for no good reason, and it was something that was likely to haunt her later on. Even so, the more emotional part of her wanted to see this woman out of her home. All she wanted was to be left alone, left to her work and to what she knew to be little more than wallowing in her own misery.
"I care about you, Rila," Vela said. "Don't forget that." She stepped through the doorway then, starting down the short, paved path that went to the front gate at the other side of the yard. The elderly gardener was on his hands and knees in one corner, digging away at one of the garden beds with a small spade. He glanced at the pair absently, paying them little attention before he returned to his digging, throwing uprooted weeds aside into a small pile.
Cassalis allowed the front door to slide shut, leaving her alone once again. Things would be much easier if Jarvok was still alive. She would not feel the way she does, for one. And he would be here for her, the only man who truly understood her. Thinking about him now, Cassalis spun about on her heels and walked over to the table in the middle of the living area. It was a squat, mostly glass table, light enough for her to lift it on her own. With an emotionally charged yell, she put her hands underneath the glass tabletop and upended the entire thing, causing the glass to shatter across the floor. Hundreds of shards scattered, glinting in the sunlight that filtered in through the blinds nearby.
Cassalis took a moment to catch her breath then, hunched over the broken table. She felt her unborn son kick inside her, as if he sensed the anguish of his mother. Perhaps he did, who could know for sure? Feeling him move relieved her anger immediately, and she settled back upon the chair behind her, hand to the bulge at her stomach and smile slowing creeping upon her lips. Where she had failed to save Jarvok, she would not with her son.
