48: A Farewell and Many Regrets

There was one stop to make on Cassalis' farewell tour. Her sister's home was in one of the more affluent neighbourhoods, not far from Cassalis' own house. Vela Garall was, much to Cassalis' relief, currently home and not out somewhere, be it work or elsewhere. Cassalis rang the chime at the front door, and she could almost sense Vela checking her surveillance feeds to see who it was waiting there. When she saw it was her younger sister, she hurried to the front door, swinging it open and ushering Rila inside.

"My son wants you arrested." That was the first thing Vela told her, once the door was closed after her. Cassalis stopped in the living room, looking about with an almost frantic edge as she attempted to determine where her son was. Dorvan, only days old, was not present. Not in here, and Vela noticed her sister's anxious demeanour and offered her a reassuring smile.

"He's asleep upstairs," she told her. Vela hit a button on one wall, causing the shutters on the windows to slide shut. A means for further privacy, with the light of the afternoon being shut out and overall darkening the interior somewhat. "Have you come to take him with you?" Vela had expected nothing less. The child deserved to be with his mother, even if she was in trouble.

"I don't know if that's wise." It almost pained Cassalis for her to say this, but deep down she knew it was true. "I can't offer him any stability, not now."

"What are you saying?" Vela, still dressed in her grey and white nurse's uniform, scowled in a manner that did not suit her at all. Here was a normally gentle and loving woman, a necessity when working in the medical field, now looking upon her own sister with a mounting contempt. They had had their disagreements over the years, but at the end of the day they had looked out for one another. Vela more so, as she had seen her younger sister as her responsibility once their father had died. Even if Cassalis did not necessarily need the help, Vela had kept an eye on her nonetheless, even as she had risen through the ranks and gathered influence and power. All of which was being swept away from her, all in one fell swoop because the High Protector did not trust her. Sure, the feeling was mutual, yet it still pained Rila Cassalis to know that he had double-crossed her before she had been able to do much the same to him.

"I need to leave for a while." Cassalis had thought it over carefully, since her escape from the Annex building in the heart of the capital. "I want to take him with me, but…" She trailed off. Emotions were roiling beneath the surface, and she choked them back in an effort to keep up her usually strong façade. "But in your care, he may be safer."

"If my son—"

"Tarva would never turn against his own mother," Cassalis interrupted. "And his problem is with me, not Dorvan. I'm going to be gone for a while, and I will likely be in danger every step of the way. I can't afford to have my son caught up in that. If he remains in your care, then he will be safer. I have no doubt about it."

"But if Tarva wants to get to you, he'll use your boy."

"Not even Tarva would hurt a baby," Cassalis countered. She paused, offering her sister a wry smile. "You really should have beaten some sense into that boy, Vela. He's out of control."

"Discipline is one thing, Rila, but violence is another." Vela eased her frown, although her eyes remained narrowed. "You want to risk leaving him with me?"

"I don't see any other choice. In your care, he's safe. In mine, he won't be. And if worse comes to worse, Vela, you have my permission to give him up for adoption. Put him under a new name, submit him anonymously, anything you need to do if your son tries to use him against me."

"You cannot be serious."

Cassalis really wished she was not. However, the situation had slipped out of her control so suddenly. She saw no other option that guaranteed the safety of her boy.

"If I do that, you may never be able to find him again." Vela's frown slipped away completely. Sadness took hold in her gaze, and she turned to the stairs just outside the living area. Dorvan was on the upper floor, likely dozing peacefully.

"Is he up there?" Cassalis asked her.

"Yes. In the bedroom." Vela led the way upstairs and down a short hallway. Cassalis followed closely, her heart pounding in her chest at the thought of seeing her son again. She should be with him, every step of the way. And yet, she could not bear the thought of being responsible for any harm that came to him. Taking him with her as she fled the planet, hunted by her own people, presented with it a multitude of dangers she did not wish for her son. And yet, leaving him behind, even if it was in the care of her sister, also brought with it no guarantee for safety. However, she needed to be free of emotional burdens if she was to survive her time as a fugitive. That meant leaving him behind; him and anything else that reminded her of her family.

Dorvan was lying in a small cot in the corner of Vela's bedroom. It was an old cot at that, constructed out of carefully honed timber, the kind of item built by hand with exquisite care instead of the cold accuracy of an automated assembly line. Tarva's name was etched on the front, which made it clear that it had been the cot used for when Tarva had been an infant. A strange sort of irony, having her son now sleeping in the very same bed used by the High Protector who now wanted her dead. She was able to ignore this little irritating fact and stand by the cot, looking down at her son and his small, innocent and peaceful face. Eyes closed, his breathing slow and relaxed, he appeared the very opposite to Cassalis' somewhat anxious state: here was a creature with not a care in the world, nor the sense to really have a 'care' about anything.

"He was ravenous," Vela commented, coming to a stop by Cassalis' side. "I gave him a careful mix of food. All the nutrition for a growing boy."

Cassalis reached into the cot and gently plucked up her son, keeping him wrapped in his blanket. The infant stirred somewhat, but otherwise remained asleep. Cassalis felt the stirrings in her gut of that instinct to provide food for her young; females in times of old would regurgitate their food to feed their young. Nowadays it was all done in less messier ways, although the reflex inside her seemed to twitch at the sight of her son.

His eyes opened then, and they drifted about, not focusing on anything in particular. After a moment, they did fix to his mother's eyes. Was that recognition Cassalis saw cross his face? It seemed unlikely, as the boy was only a few days old. He was not developed enough to properly recognize anyone, even his mother, although he may have recognized her scent. It was simple as to why, for it would have been one of the very first things he would have smelled upon entering the world.

"I know I can trust you to look after him," Cassalis said, and she turned to Vela. Her voice wavered, and part of her thought that picking up her son had been a mistake. Now, it would be that much more difficult to put him down, even more so to leave him behind.

"I hope he is not a burden," Cassalis added. Vela shook her head.

"Not at all, Rila. I just feel he should have his mother with him."

"And he will, eventually." Cassalis would not hold her breath on this. She could be on the run for some time to come, unless something happened to put the current High Protector out of business. The brewing civil war may do that, although Cassalis knew full well the odds were stacked against the rebel forces. It was strange to harbour any hope for their victory, as they were the same people who had defeated her and resulted in her most recent humiliation. Things had a funny way of playing out, it seemed.

Slowly, and with some reluctance, she handed her son to Vela. He made a gurgling noise, as if he sensed that he was losing someone important in his life. The crying started in earnest. To her credit, Vela was an expert at handling infants. She had spent years working with new mothers and newborns, and so she cradled the baby boy in such a way it had him calming within moments. She hummed something quietly to him, some old tune, a riff on an ancient song about putting infants to sleep for the night.

"I've lingered long enough," Cassalis said. She swallowed, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from her. Now was not the time, there would be plenty of it once she got off of this planet and went on her own way. She would return, there was no doubt in her mind about that. As for how far in the future that might be, she had no idea.

She turned and left the room in a hurry then, unwilling to look back, knowing that if she did she would find it even harder to leave. Vela started after her, saying something she did not catch, but Cassalis picked up her pace and hurried back downstairs. She was out of the door in seconds, practically running onto the street whilst her emotions threatened to finally boil over. She stopped at the curb, looking about the quiet neighbourhood and the well-to-do homes within it. No one else was on the street, which at least gave her an inkling of privacy. And with that in mind, she let out a long, anguished yell, before she punched the nearest streetlamp and sent pain lancing through her left hand. She had probably broken a finger or two as well, but she did not care.

With that done, she turned and ran. She did not want Vela, or Dorvan or anyone else to see her like this. She would have herself under control by the time she reached her private spaceport.


Lieutenant Narsa Norrask adored Supreme Commander Cassalis a great deal. Idolised her, even, and perhaps even loved her in a way. This latter feeling he had for her was more brought on by the fact that they had shared a bed more than once over the past few months. Narsa was young, his experiences with the opposite sex had been limited prior to working for Cassalis. An aide was all he had intended to be, there to assist her in whatever way she wanted from him. He had not expected that to extend to more intimate pursuits. He would do anything for her now, even if that meant sticking by her side through this latest outrage against her. To become a fugitive with her, which meant severing any connections he had here on the home-world. That meant his parents, and he had sent them one last message prior to coming to the spaceport. A goodbye, uncertain of whether he would ever return, and a thank you for all they had done for him. Now he must leave and fight for what he believed in, and he believed in Cassalis. That woman should be High Protector, not Tarva Garall.

The High Protector was corrupt and illegitimate, Narsa had learned as much through his involvement with Cassalis. He would help her take him down, no matter what it took. And maybe, when all was said and done, Cassalis would take the role and keep him by her side. It was a fantasy, really, and he doubted it would ever truly come to fruition. Nonetheless, it was a comfortable fantasy to have, and it only spurred him along through this latest and precarious situation.

The private spaceport was a decently sized affair, neither small nor large and lavish. It was one of about a dozen landing pads, each owned by different companies or individuals. In the case of Cassalis, it was owned under a company name, specifically a company she herself had the majority of ownership within. The port itself was little more than an open circular yard with room enough for a corvette-sized vessel to land or take-off. Repair and maintenance facilities were present, although for Cassalis' spaceport the mechanics were off duty, called away in preparation for what she intended to be a covert departure.

Narsa had found the small personal yacht present on the landing pad to be suitably luxurious, as expected for someone of Cassalis' status. It was a long, hammer-shaped craft, currently suspended upon several sturdy landing legs. The living spaces within were adequate, with luxury quarters for Cassalis and any of her close associates and a somewhat more pared-down set for the crew. Overall, the ship could support about thirty people, and Cassalis had taken care to stuff the ship full of supplies. Food and weapons and spare parts, mainly.

Narsa had picked through most of the cargo down in the ship's underbelly, taking stock of it all as he awaited Cassalis' arrival. About ten others were either on board or preparing the ship for take-off outside, all of them loyalists to Cassalis' leadership and all trusted by her. Narsa made sure that whatever was listed on the manifest he had found in the ship's computers was present. Nonetheless, he did find one or two things that were apparent last minute additions.

One item had been sent here from a warehouse in Varondaar, of all places. It was stowed away in a corner, covered in a simple cloth tarpaulin. Narsa pulled it aside, finding a somewhat large, cylindrical pod of sorts comprised of black metal. It had a partially transparent canopy across its topmost surface. From what he could discern through it, the inside space was empty. The whole thing was certainly large enough for him to lie down within, and he thought it might have had some use as a sleeping pod or some such. However, it was not of any design he knew of, and the metal exterior was scuffed and scraped and weathered to an extent that suggested the pod overall was very old. He could not even tell if it had been of Calsharan make. Perhaps it was an antique, something Cassalis had acquired and sought to keep because of some intrinsic value? He would have to ask her about it once he saw her, and with that in mind he slid the cover back over the device and placed his thoughts about it well aside.

Emerging from the cargo hold, he crossed the passenger lounge and made his way for the exit. A short ramp extended from the open door and to the ground outside. The landing pad about the ship was fairly quiet, save for the odd distant voices floating over on the breeze from the other crew members scattered about. Narsa paused at the foot of the ramp, looking to the landing pad's entrance. The doors had slid open seconds after he had emerged, and he immediately recognized Cassalis, such was the tall and confident way in which she moved. That was something else he admired about her; that is, the way in which she carried herself, always one to command attention no matter where she was and who she was with. Some might have considered it 'haughty', but not Narsa. He liked a confident woman, and Cassalis was certainly that.

He approached her, meeting her halfway across to the entrance. She looked at him, narrowed her eyes, and for a few seconds there, Narsa thought that maybe she did look a little down. Only a little, and it was a look that was gone very quickly. If she had any doubts, any concerns over what she was leaving behind, she did not show them. Narsa knew of her newborn son, and he knew that she did not wish to endanger the child by taking him with her. It was a sensible option, Narsa felt, even if part of him was disappointed that he would not be there to serve as the boy's father figure. Dorvan may not have been his son, but he would have given looking out for that child his all. Maybe one day he would get a chance to have children of his own, and part of him hoped that they would be with Cassalis. Again, a bit of a fantasy on his part, but a man could dream.

"Lieutenant, is the ship ready to leave?" Cassalis asked him. She started for the ship's entrance ramp, with Narsa falling into step beside her.

"Just about, Commander." He would respect her rank, even though she was no longer a 'Supreme Commander' of the Union fleet. That would have gone with everything else, swept aside once she had been designated a fugitive. It was unfair, especially for someone who had served the Union for as long and as loyally as she had done so. And one day, Narsa was sure, they would reinstate her to that role as she deserved. For now, they simply had to retreat and gather their forces, a tactical withdrawal, in a way.

"The codes we have should get us past the orbital defence grid," Cassalis said, stopping at the base of the entrance ramp. "But we should be prepared for trouble. See to it that the hyperspace drive is powered up and ready to go once we take off."

"I've already seen to that, Commander," he replied. She cocked one brow-ridge, somewhat impressed by his initiative. "We're ready to leave when you are."

"The others know what we're doing?" She referred to the handful of other loyalists both loitering about the landing pad or preparing the ship for departure. Most were officers from the space fleet or various branches of the ground forces. All of them knew Cassalis to some extent and all of them were people she had known for years.

"They do, Commander. And they know that they may never return here if things do not go well for us."

"But things will work out, Lieutenant." She put a hand to his shoulder, offering him a warm smile. Narsa returned the look with a similar one of his own. "We'll make sure of that."

Before he could reply, there sounded a commotion from the entrance. One of the security guards came running in from the corridor beyond, shouting something about UPD officers having arrived. However, his cries of warning were cut short by a volley of plasma fire that swept out of the doorway behind him, cutting him down as the plasma bolts tore through his back. Right away, the other officers scattered about the landing pad and began to ready themselves for a fight, drawing weapons and running for cover. Narsa did much the same, pulling out his plasma pistol and stepping in front of Cassalis, as to put himself between her and the enemy. A move he made automatically, with no real thought behind it. She was the one he had to protect, above all else. To give his life for her would be a fine way to die.

Not that he planned on doing so today. UPD troopers, clad in the standard-issue black combat armour that was adorned with silver trim-lines and shoulders, came charging in with their plasma rifles firing relentlessly. Streams of searing blue bolts crossed the landing pad, burning holes into metal or blasting pieces out of the masonry-work at the walls. Some of the blasts glanced off of the hull of Cassalis' luxury yacht, doing little damage save for leaving the odd blackened mark. The armour plating was capable of absorbing plasma torpedoes from capital ships to a degree, so small arms fire was barely an issue for it.

"Get on board, Commander," Narsa barked, and he glanced back at Cassalis, the look he wore an urgent one that he hoped was enough to coax her onwards. He did not wish to be too commanding; she was his superior after all. However, some situations required a more forceful touch.

Cassalis started up the short set of steps to the open door on the side of the ship, plasma bolts flashing by. Narsa gunned down one of the UPD troopers, quietly cursing that one and the rest of them. There had to be nearly fifteen of them, all scattering across the width of the landing pad, advancing forwards and seemingly unfazed by the return fire. Another of them went down, but so did one of Cassalis' loyal officers further to his left.

"Everyone on board, now!" Narsa shouted. They were leaving. If the UPD was here, then they could very quickly move some ships in to block their escape. There was no time to lose, and Narsa started backing up the stairs after Cassalis.

He heard her cry out then, as she neared the top. A plasma bolt had struck her in the upper back, and as she stumbled from the pain brought on by that hit, another struck her lower down the back. She fell through the doorway, landing in a heap upon the floor. Narsa, eyes widening at the sight of her going down, jumped the last few steps and joined her in the corridor within the ship. The other officers were coming up the steps now, with another being gunned down partway up. He stumbled back down, almost knocking over another of the loyalists.

Narsa saw the pilot appear in the cockpit doorway.

"Get us up! Now!" Narsa left the pilot to his work, whilst he hefted up the shaking Cassalis in his arms. Behind him, the last loyalist on board sealed the side door. The engines started, their quiet hum filling the ship's interior, the floor vibrating as their power was gradually raised.

Narsa carried Cassalis through the passenger lounge, ignoring the worried glances from the other officers he passed. She was alive, although that was not likely to last. There was a small medical bay past the passenger section and close to the living quarters, and it was to here that Narsa carried her. They had no doctor on board, however, with the on-board medical computer having to prescribe the treatment.

The ship ascended quickly, its landing struts retracting back into its form. Inside the sterile grey and white confines of the medical bay, Narsa lay Cassalis upon one of the two vacant beds within. Her blood was all over his hands and forearms, and he was shocked by how much of it was gushing out of her, soaking her uniform through at the back. Scanners engaged as he stepped back to allow the medical computer to do its work, starting first with a full scan to gauge the extent of her injuries.

There were no windows in this room, although Narsa felt that they were accelerating rapidly out of atmosphere. The inertial dampeners had kicked in, an indication that they were reaching more dangerous speeds. The UPD would have the entire orbital network on alert now, so any security codes that might have been on the ship's computers were unlikely to do them any good. They would need to go into hyperspace as soon as they were clear of atmosphere.

"Lieutenant…" Cassalis' voice was barely more than a croak. She was looking to him, the scaly skin of her face having turned a dreadfully paler tone than what Narsa was used to seeing on her. He stepped towards her, ignoring the irritated beeps the medical computer made at his intrusion. She reached out one hand, and he clasped it in his own, startled by the force behind the grasp she had on him.

"You will be fine, Commander," Narsa stated, even though he did not fully believe it. He wanted it to be true, but even he could see from the initial medical scan that the damage was extensive.

"Don't lie, Lieutenant. I'm better at it than you are." She smiled, only to start coughing, flecks of blood spraying out of her mouth. Narsa found the sight of it a startling one, and he pulled a sterile cloth from a cabinet to his right, using it to clean up some of the blood that had escaped her mouth. Seeing her in this state was disheartening, for she was usually such a vibrant, confident woman. Now, she could barely speak, her often commanding voice reduced to something so much more feeble.

"There is something we can do," she said, between coughs and pained groans. "Something I need your help to do."

The ship was entering hyperspace now, doing so on the cusp of the planet's atmosphere. And it did so whilst every patrol ship in the sector had started to train its weapons on them, moving in swiftly in an effort to stop the escape of a fugitive. In a flash, the luxury yacht was gone, and Narsa felt the familiar lurch of that 'jump' into that unusual subspace realm. It was over in an instant, propelling them well out of reach of their enemies (for the time being).

"What is it you wish, Commander?" Narsa asked her. He put a hand to her cheek, caressing the line of her cheekbone and jaw. "Anything you want, Commander, simply ask it."

The look he saw in her eyes suggested that what she wanted was not something she truly 'wanted' to do, but that it was a necessity. Anything that could save her life was a necessity, as far as Narsa was concerned. Yet even he took pause when he saw that look on her, something fearful, terrified even. He would do whatever necessary to save her life, even if she herself was not too eager on it.


Toron had slept alone, having taken a room in a repurposed mansion within the Varganian capital. The mansion's original owners had cleared off of the planet completely, taking with them their most valuable possessions and leaving behind plenty of other, still valuable, items. Some of those items were being snatched up by the greedy soldiers who had been billeted in the estate, something that would normally have been prevented by the various 'Enforcers' in their red-shouldered uniforms who ensured that deployed soldiers obeyed. However, there were no official Union Enforcers in the ranks of the Varganian rebel army, and it was now down to the officers like Toron to keep order amongst the rank and file. Unfortunately, some of those officers had joined in on the pilfering, and Toron himself had since given up trying to persuade those stationed here to keep things as they had been left.

Toron lay in what had been a guest bedroom, still fairly lavish even for a spare room, and he had slept uneasily for a few hours. He had made his broadcast across the Calsharan Systems Union using the entirety of Varganian's communications network to do it. That had enabled him and those who now followed him to hijack just about every main channel across the Union, and they had done so long enough for him to get his message out. There would be plenty of their people out there who sympathised with the cause. There would be many who were outraged over the attack that had been carried out against one of the main colonies. Toron had simply wanted to reach out to those people and rally support, as they needed all the help they could get. Battle lines were already being drawn, with the colonies of Vargania, Tornya and Arkava having already formed an unofficial alliance. Once the Tornyan Governor, Corron, was out of hospital, she would be the first to officially sign a pact with the Varganian leadership to form a 'coalition' of sorts. That would be a coalition directed against the rule of the illegitimate High Protector, Tarva Garall. Arkava's Governor would likely do the same, soon enough. He was simply a more cautious sort, especially when compared with Governor Corron.

Morning light was filtering through the thin curtains over the nearby window. Toron yawned, rolling over in the bed, looking about the room and feeling as if someone was missing. Indeed, he had dreamed of Lahea, of having her here with him and of the way her eyes had appeared so vacant after he had shot her dead. He had even dreamed of waking up in this very room and finding her lifeless body beside him, those empty eyes staring right at him.

Sleep had come in varied bursts over the past several hours, and his restless movements had thoroughly ruffled the sheets. Now, he sat up, aware that for the de facto leader of a rebel movement, the work did not every truly end. Not until the war was over, and it was widely agreed that this was very much the start of a civil war.

Toron climbed out of the bed, stretched, did some brief exercises and then showered. He dressed in his Captain's uniform, the blue and grey of a Varganian Defence Force officer. For the time being, it would work as a uniform until something more fitting for a new 'coalition' could be designed. He was adjusting the collar before the mirror in the guest room when there sounded a knock on the door. Toron, figuring it to be someone here to inform him of a new crisis, crossed the room and unlocked the door. Behind it stood a young Varganian Corporal, who held out a data crystal.

"Sir?" The Corporal stood to attention. "Message for you, Captain." He snapped off a salute. Toron frowned, eyeing the crystal with some curiosity.

"Who from?" Toron asked the young soldier.

"Someone named 'Jorran Casker'." The Corporal relaxed a little, before he glanced at the small note he had in his other hand. "Instructions say that it was to be delivered to you in the event of his death. He left it to you, sir."

Toron frowned, curious, but otherwise accepted the delivery before he sent the Corporal back on his way. The data crystal was a standard model, capable of being slipped into any ordinary home terminal. There was one in the guest room, and it was to here that Toron took the late Vigilant's crystal, inserting the small, transparent object into the appropriate slot on the computer. It started sifting through the information immediately, before a prompt appeared asking Toron for his Union navy serial number. He tapped it in, figuring that this was one measure Jorran had placed upon the crystal to ensure that no one else who got hold of it was able to access it.

Toron settled into the chair before the terminal. The information he saw was a whole host of formerly classified records from the Vigilants of Varondaar, many of which concerned the ancient enemy that the Union had been formed to fight against. An enemy Jorran had warned him of, although he had done so without getting into too much detail. It seemed that Jorran wanted him fully appraised of the threat they faced, a threat that was supposedly working to make itself known in the near future. The civil war would have to end before then, for they could not fight an outside threat divided as they were. Not unless they had allies, and it was among the notes left on the data crystal by Jorran that Toron found the man's own personal opinions on the matter.

If you are reading this, began the first entry, then I am most likely dead and our Union is being torn apart by internal conflict. If this is the case, then it comes down to you, whoever you may be, to at least have the common decency to pass this information onto those who can be trusted and hold the positions necessary to do something about it all. If you are reading this, Toron Kavellan, then all the better. Because you will need to do everything in your power to prepare a force capable of fighting the ancient enemy. That may require allies, and there are few I can think of with the power necessary to have a chance of success than the humans of Earth. And even they face their own problems, partly from the many conflicts that are often seen on their world between rival nation-states, but also from agents of the great enemy that seek to undermine and even subjugate the people of Earth. Just as we are faced with a corrupt ruler intent on eliminating any threat to his position, then so are the humans of Earth threatened with secretive forces out of sight of the common citizen.

Is this too much to ask of you? Perhaps. You may not even be Toron Kavellan reading this right now, for all I know you could have found this in a garbage disposal unit and made a lucky guess when prompted for an access code. Nonetheless, with the information contained on this crystal, it is your responsibility to make as best use of it as you can. I am no longer present to do so, as is likely the case.

Toron already had enough responsibility, as the rebel war effort had somehow become focussed around the decisions he made. And now it appeared that Jorran wanted him to lead the fight against the ancient enemy, a foe that few knew any real information about save for the Vigilants themselves. Of course, the Vigilants were mostly dead and their records destroyed, save for the smattering of records Jorran had evidently saved from the purge. And now they were Toron's responsibility, which did irk the young Captain, to a degree. Why must he be the one? Surely there were others better qualified than him to carry out these duties?

He knew better than to indulge such thinking. His father had raised him to be dutiful and to never back down from a challenge. To be tasked to lead not only a rebellion, but also to fight an insidious alien foe, was definitely a challenge. Probably the biggest one ever laid upon one man. Toron would do it all to the best of his ability, and in a way diving headlong into this work would be a blessing. It would get his mind off of recent events, for one, and allow him to put behind him what had happened with Lahea. Just when he had thought he had found the woman for him…

He put that line of thought aside. There was no use dwelling upon it. And despite his willingness to try and put it behind him, he found he could not. Easier said than done, and once again he saw her death play out before him, a death he had caused. He had pulled the trigger driven by a tremendous sense of betrayal, not to mention a desire for vengeance against all of those her actions had harmed. She had deserved it, or so he tried to convince himself. And once again, he failed to actually convince himself of that view. He had shot and killed a woman whom he had made love to only the night before that killing, a thought that only plunged him further into regret. Doubt and regret, both powerful forces that could drive him well off course at a time when he needed to be thinking straight, for any mistake he made could cost many lives. Less so his own, which only added to that overwhelming sense of superiority.

He took a deep breath then, trying to steady himself. There were people out there looking to him for leadership. As his father had told him, shortly after he had received his commission, a leader had to be strong for those he led, not necessarily for himself. Behind closed doors, you were welcome to be as guilt-ridden, traumatised and unhinged as you wanted. Once you were out before your subordinates and leading them into battle, then any problems you yourself had needed to be firmly tucked away. Control them, master them, but never let them derail you. And his father, a commander of one of the more elite branches of the Calsharan ground forces, had been a leader of soldiers for most of his life. He would know, and it was those words that Toron sought his solace in. Somewhere to set this foundation upon for a new Toron, one who now had the fates of multiple colonies at his fingertips.

What he did need right now was something to eat, something to drink as well. A good foundation for a new start was a solid meal, another thing his father had told him. Perhaps jokingly, Toron could not be sure in this instance, but it seemed appropriate enough for his current situation.