Episode 6: This Broken Reed

Invidia sat on her couch and poured a drink from the crystal decanter. She sipped the liquor, some of the strongest on Gatlantis. She remembered the first time she sampled it, two years after her mother's death. At nine years old, she hadn't liked the taste, but she developed a strong tolerance—even affection for the alcohol's burning bite. Now, at nineteen, the sharp sting did what little else could—relive some of her fear. Every time she drank it, she remembered better times—before they went barreling toward certain death at the hands of the Diviner.

Silence filled the dark room. A tiny light burned opposite the decanter. It lit a five-foot circle which included one end of the couch. A thin curtain trailed from floor to ceiling between Invidia and her nearby bed, but the light did little to illuminate the room beyond the sheer fabric. Hard shadows fell over the floor, and she scuffed at them with one red boot.

She raised her glass.

"Imbibing a bit early, aren't we?"

Invidia cursed as her drink sloshed. "Sabera, you're ruining my upholstery!"

The silver-haired Prime Minister slid from the shadows and into the dim light, a smirk on her lovely face. "I doubt that's the worst thing to grace your couch, little Princess." Sabera folded her arms and looked down at Invidia.

She returned Sabera's gaze with a glare and then took another sip. "I have better things to do than listen to you prattle."

Sabera swept her hair over her shoulder. "You know why I'm here. Your father respects my opinion more than he does yours. I'm sure you're aware of that."

"That's because I don't stoop to sway him with favors," Invidia bit back.

"Now, now. No need for such a tone. The Diviner must fall. Prophets foretold it years ago—before my ascension to office."

"Yes, but the rest of the prophecy–"

"–has no bearing on this effort," Sabera countered. "Gatlantis will prevail." She took a second glass and poured a drink. With two steps, she glided just outside the circle of light and sipped her glass. "You really believe that nonsense Gairen touts, don't you? He's only an old, blind man, little Princess. I appointed him out of pity."

Invidia scoffed. "I know why you appointed him, and it wasn't out of pity." She took a long drink. "You think him weak."

"Because he is." Sabera's decorated nails clinked against her glass as she took another sip.

"And his visions?"

"Hallucinations of a starved mind. That old fool couldn't tell us anything useful if he tried."

"How did he know about the one we rescued two years ago? Were his visions useless then?" Invidia poured another glass.

Sabera took a conservative sip. "An educated guess—or perhaps luck. We already knew of the conflict. He only surmised the presence of survivors and won against slim odds."

"But these visions of destruction come more often as of late," Invidia protested. "This was the fourteenth in the past month."

"He is senile."

"Or, he is right! Sabera, I never said we shouldn't take Origin—only that we should take another road to reach her shore. I fear this highway we travel leads to our destruction, not our victory."

Sabera waved her off and licked red lips after another swallow of liquor. "Don't be so dramatic. Torbuk's forces have her contained. Only the killing strike remains."

"Then why haven't they already dealt it?"

Sabera fell silent and touched one finger just behind her ear, activating her implanted comm device. "Duty calls," she said and set down her half-empty glass.

As the Prime Minister left, Invidia poured a third drink and downed it in one swallow.


"We will all die! The end comes! I see it! I see it all!" Gairen dropped his staff and reached out frantic hands, his long nails scraping the air in frantic swipes.

"How long this time?" Sabera asked the guards clustered around the old priest.

"He just started—maybe ten minutes ago," said one.

"Confine him," Sabera said as she surveyed the hall outside the temple. "Take him back inside and don't let him out unless I tell you."

"Yes, Prime Minister," the guards said then bowed and hauled Gairen off the polished floor.

Gairen grasped the nearest guard's arm. His blind eyes searched the young man's face, "Please! Let me go! I cannot stay here:

For the glory of the great will fall,

And the might of the mighty tumble.

In the shadow of light will we all

Be made low and Gatlantis will crumble." The priest wailed and fought the guards' grasp.

"He spouts more nonsense," Sabera dismissed. "His mind will decay faster than the last priest's. He's a danger to himself."

The guard Gairen held on to stared into the old man's face. Sabera worried at the spark of fear in the young man's eyes as he helped the priest toward the temple door.

Gairen's sightless gaze turned to Sabera, and he continued with one clawed finger pointed at her:

"Empress of darkness, mistress of death,

Comfort will flee and from you they'll wrest

All life and all power—your bones and your breath.

Your last word will die, ripped from your chest."

Sabera growled. "Bold words for a lunatic." To the guards she said, "Post two sentries at this door, and three inside. I want to know if he has another fit. If this continues, he will either spend the rest of our journey in his room or sedated in the infirmary. I'll not have seditious words splinter our unity at a time like this." She gritted her teeth and drew her knife from its shoulder-mounted scabbard. "You." She pointed the razored blade at the young guard supporting Gairen. "Hand him off."

He obeyed.

"Come here."

The guard approached, head bowed.

"An intelligent boy like you knows better than to believe the ravings of a madman, don't you?" With the point of her knife she tilted his chin, so he looked into her face.

"Y-yes, Prime Minister. Of course."

"Good." Her blade flashed to his throat. "Because if I catch even one whiff of a rumor that you've given his words merit, I'll slit your throat." She stared into his fear-filled eyes. "And that of anyone else I catch breathing a word of those foolish spewings."

"Y-yes, Prime Minister," the guard choked.

"Now, you will stand outside his door, and you will not enter upon pain of death—unless I tell you otherwise. Is that understood?" She sheathed her knife.

He nodded.

Sabera watched him follow the other guards. With a wary glance back at her he stopped outside the door and didn't move to help carry the writhing old man back into the temple.

Sabera hastened from the Warbringer's place of worship to the throne room where Prince Zordar sat, talking with six of his seven generals about troop placements for the coming push to Origin.

"Ah, Sabera," Zordar said upon seeing her. "What brings you here?"

"High Priest Gairen fell ill again, Sire," she said as she knelt before the Prince.

Zordar dismissed his generals as Sabera rose.

After all six men left she continued, "His predecessor's disease festers in his weak mind."

"Ignore him," said Zordar. "Origin's taking demands our full attention. When we've accomplished that, we will deal with other, less important matters."

Sabera bowed. "But, my Prince, if we suffer his delirium any longer, we risk dissent."

"Trust Gatlantis, Sabera. Our people followed me from the home world all the way here. They will follow a little longer. Let Gairen be. He is no threat. Assemble our fleets. The Diviner's border draws near, and from there, we move to take Origin."

"Yes… Prince Zordar. For the glory of the Empire."

"For the glory of the Empire."


Darkness swallowed the garden as Invidia waited near the tree line. Shadows danced in the simulated wind. No one else was out this late, and the fountain in the center of the clearing bubbled cheerily despite the suspicion-drowned air.

She hid in silence, her hood up to ward off the eyes of chance visitors.

Finally, he arrived.

"General Dyre," she whispered upon his approach.

He held back his own hood just long enough for her to see his face, then with a wary glance around the clearing, he replaced it. "The Prime Minister is… worrisome," said Dyre.

"Father trusts her too much," Invidia said. "If we go to Telezart, she will use the opportunity to wrest power from him—perhaps even arrange his death."

"She once loved him…" Dyre whispered.

"Perhaps," Invidia sneered. "Or was that merely a way to collar him? Her youth blinds Father to her ruthlessness."

"I'm sure he knows her capabilities."

"You've seen him, Dyre. He does whatever she says—even if it's foolish."

"Princess, we must not question Prince Zordar too loudly on this."

"I will not lose my head because a hedonic vixen holds my father's leash," Invidia hissed. "Let us enlist the help of someone else—someone who can serve as a buffer between that witch and our lives."

"And how do you intend to recruit such a party?" said Dyre.

A slow smile spread over Invidia's face. "By using the right bait."


On Gamilon, refugees helped direct new arrivals to shelters, distribute food, and administer healing to the injured. The advisory council, led by Prime Minister Masterson Talan, met inside an intact bunker.

"We've finished construction on twelve fully stocked bunkers," Admiral Raymond Talan said to his son, Masterson. "The quakes are more frequent, but the bunkers hold. For now. We must begin the evacuation soon."

Masterson nodded. "Reconstruction is impossible under these conditions. I've spoken with Queen Starsha at length, and she's willing to open Iscandar to us and house as many of our people as we can send her."

Elisa Lysis cradled her sleeping one-year-old daughter. "We need a permanent solution. Evacuation is but one step. We can't overrun Starsha's world forever even though she is too gracious to deny us."

"I know," Masterson said. "Frakken, what have you found?"

"We can send more refugees to Galera, but they're still vetting survivors from the first catastrophe almost two years ago. We need more time to find a solution." Frakken's wild brown hair and grown even more unruly lately, and his mustache now bled into a short beard.

"What of the other colonies?" Masterson said.

"None of them are in any shape to take in this many people," replied Frakken.

"Admiral Dietz, what's the state of our remaining military?" Talan turned to the oldest member of the council.

"Tenuous at best," replied Dietz. "All will follow you, Prime Minister, but the sudden, violent loss of Leader Desslok shook them."

Masterson looked away. "I understand. If I could ease the transition, I would. We will mourn when our people are safe. For now, keep them together as best as you can, and I will continue to visit each installation regularly."

Dietz nodded. "We will hold together, Sir. It is the only thing we can do. At least in the wake of such tragedy we've been able to use the knowledge we've gained to enhance our fleets. Journeys that once took months will now take weeks, or days."

A knock at the door interrupted them.

"Enter," said Masterson.

In stepped a young man, head bowed. "Prime Minister," he said. "There is a message for you."

Masterson picked up his communicator. "Send it through."

"It is a private communique, Sir. They will only speak to you—alone."

Masterson nodded to the gathered four. "Go get something to eat. We'll resume later."

The group dispersed.

The messenger tapped his relay unit and stepped outside.

As the door clanked shut Masterson studied the message notification. The origin code was foreign, but the instant he connected to the call anxiety curdled his gut. A woman garbed in the attire of Cometine royalty stared at him. Her raven hair was long and straight, and the blood-red gem affixed to her headdress shone. Instead of olive green, her skin shone porcelain white, and sharp, dark eyes pierced him.

"I am Princess Invidia, of Gatlantis, heir to Prince Zordar of the Comet Empire," she said. "And you must be Prime Minister Masterson Talan." She gave him a cold smile.

"I am," he said.

"I have information of interest to you, Prime Minister—information that could unite your people again."

"Do we look factious to you?"

The Princess scoffed. "Everyone knows of the once-great Gamilon's collapse. You tell me you've brought every splinter group under your control in less than two years? I doubt that very much."

"What do you have to offer me?" Masterson asked, expression neutral.

"This," Princess Invidia said.

A video feed appeared; it displayed the interior of a Cometine construction facility, and in dry dock sat a nearly finished ship's skeleton. Its hull was deep blue, much like several old Gamilon cruisers. The feed shifted to show the finished ship as it took off from the hangar.

"Pardon my ignorance, Princess, but I'm not sure I understand."

"No? Perhaps this will help." A recording of a war meeting played. Everything was in Cometine and there was no video.

Masterson was about to dismiss the recording when a voice he knew too well interjected. It spoke in Cometines but with a heavy Gamilon accent. This can't be... Desslok is dead. He gripped the nearest chair, careful to keep his movement out of frame, lest Invidia realize she'd shaken him. "You'll have to do better than that," he said. "Cheap sound tricks won't earn you my belief. I'm not making a journey to Gatlantis based on this meager showing."

"Skeptical to the last, I see." She smirked. "Very well. I'd hoped to save it, but if this doesn't convince you, nothing will."

Princess Invidia played another video feed. Masterson checked its time-index. The date was nearly a month after the battle at Gehenna's Bridge, where they'd lost Leader Desslok.

The longer Masterson watched, the harder it was to hide his shock. "I will come to Gatlantis," he said after only half a minute.

"Good. But I have conditions," Princess Invidia said. "You must not tell your people where you are going, or why you've left, only that your absence will be an extended one. If you tell them, I will send a fleet to Gamilon and wipe out your precious remnant."

Masterson nodded slowly. "I'll leave immediately."

Invidia smiled again. "We will expect you. Here are the coordinates for our rendezvous point. And there is one more condition. You have three days. Don't be late."

"But that's a three-month journey without–"

"I'm sure you'll find a way."

The call ended.

Masterson knelt, his face in his hands as he whispered, "Adonai, grant us speed as we brave the Gates once more." He stood and headed for the door, his stomach in his throat. They hadn't used the Aquarius Gate Network since the battle at Gehenna's Bridge. Untold horrors still lurked in the depths of each gate, and anyone who went in unprepared risked their emotional and spiritual well-being.

On his way to the hangar he drafted and sent instructions to all four council members on what to do in his absence. He apologized for his sudden departure but did not explain.

All four responses were immediate and filled with questions, especially his father's, but he dared not answer. He sent a generic reply saying he received urgent news requiring his immediate and indefinite attention.

I will return as soon as possible, was the last thing he sent to them before he boarded a hastily crewed ship an hour later and departed.

Once outside Gamilon's atmosphere, Masterson sat in the captain's quarters and hailed Iscandar, Gamilon's twin-planet.

Queen Starsha answered. "Are you ready to send the first group?"

"No, Starsha," Masterson said. "Something… has happened." He sent Princess Invidia's footage to Starsha. "I received this two hours ago."

Ten seconds into the clip tears streamed from the woman's eyes and she whispered, "Yahweh is merciful; slow to anger and of great mercy. Blessed be the name of Yahweh Adonai, for His hand is mighty, and His victory sure. May the name of Shaddai be ever-praised!"

"I'm going to Gatlantis, to find Desslok," said Masterson.

"What? No. You mustn't!"

"I have to." A flash of memory came, and he muttered words uttered to him nearly two years ago, "Though you walk through Sedom's gate…"

"Sedom's gate?"

"Adonai gave me a promise," Masterson said. "I go to the heart of the Cometine Empire, but I won't be alone."

"Do you have Theron with you?" Starsha said.

"I do." He glanced at the little plant Starsha gifted him three years ago. "And the new communications link we just finished is up and running."

"Relay to me all that happens," Starsha insisted.

"I'll do my best," he said. "Until we meet again, my friend."


An hour past midnight, Sabera dispersed the day's last war council and took her usual place at the practice range, one lane from the end at the darker side of the range.

Sabera flung her silver blade. It thunked hilt-deep into the man-shaped target, just above its heart. She threw another less than a second later. It split the target's nose in two. She aimed and hit hands and feet, then gut, groin, and neck.

She raised one more knife and flicked it. The blade flew true, but the instant before it hit, the knife spun away. Sabera looked in time to see Invidia tuck her weapon into a thigh holster and let her dress fall over it.

"Ambition is a two-edged sword, Sabera," said Invidia.

"One can wield power from any position they choose, little Princess. You should know that by now." Sabera flung her last knife and impaled the target's eye.

Invidia gave Sabera a narrow-eyed glare and left the target range.

When she couldn't hear the girl's footsteps anymore Sabera tapped behind her ear and whispered into the open comm channel, "Is it done?"

"Talan is on his way to Gatlantis as we speak," came the reply.

"Good. Zordar was a fool to enlist a has-been, even one so infamous as the Gamilon. With Talan here, the Gamilon will be too busy fighting his conscience to be a danger to us. Does Invidia suspect you?"

"No, Prime Minister."

"Keep it that way. Do whatever you must to maintain her confidence."

"As you command. For the glory of the Empire."

"For the glory of the Empire."


Episode 6 Note:

Editing pass complete as of 8/15/2022

The name for Episode 6 was taken from Isaiah 36:5-6:

"I say, sayest thou, (but they are but vain words) I have counsel and strength for war: now on whom dost thou trust, that thou rebellest against me?

Lo, thou trustiest in the staff of this broken reed, on Egypt; whereon if a man lean, it will go into his hand, and pierce it: so is Pharaoh king of Egypt to all that trust in him.

Author's Note:

This chapter came together much faster than anticipated, and was great to write, so enjoy the early post.

Next time, we head to another short story, "Home" featuring Dr. Sane and Mimi.

See you all next time,

*dtill359