Episode 18: To Stain the Pride of Glory

Three hours after the war meeting, Sabera, wearing a holomask and dressed as a noble, stopped outside Invidia's suite. The two guards usually stationed at the door were gone, paid handsomely to ignore their posts for a few minutes while she slipped into the princess' rooms to retrieve something she had long intended to get back.

She bypassed the lock on the door using Zordar's credentials.

In the front room, Sabera gave Invidia's collection of self-featuring art a look of disgust.

Yet another example of the princess' indiscretion. There was a time and place for such indulgence, but this wasn't it.

Holomask and finery in place, she searched for the princess.

Invidia's voice came from the closed bedchamber.

Sabera should have enough time to get what she came for and leave before Invidia even knew she'd been there.


Dyre didn't dare move as Invidia fumed in the wake of being hung up on by Desslok.

"Who does he think he is?" she growled at the comm. "He can't hang up on the heir to Gatlantis' throne!" Each world built on the last until her voice thundered like her father's when he was especially incensed. "He could have ruled by my side long before now, but he continues to refuse my every oh-so-generous offer. Does he still hold out hope that Iscandari queen of his will take him?" Her eyes flashed with rage. "He's a fool. She's far too self-righteous to care about him after what he's done. Even if she knew he was alive, she'd never take him. I am his best chance at regaining power."

Dyre knew better than to interrupt, so he waited for a lull. "My queen, if we do not get Desslok back to Gatlantis… we are doomed. His personal choices won't matter."

"I know, Dyre," Invidia snapped as he called Desslok's flagship again, only to have her second call rejected without being answered. She cursed at the comm, anger rising with each obscenity. She seemed to be taking this personally.

The princess' attempts to seduce the former Gamilon Leader during his time aboard Gatlantis were no secret, and everyone knew the man never accepted her advances. Each attempt had grown Desslok's resentment until he frequently refused to be in the room with her.

Though Zordar noted the animosity, he found it entertaining and only addressed it to joke about the mutual frustration and annoyance both on his daughter's part and Desslok's.

"He will answer me, or he will come back to Gatlantis the same way he arrived the first time—dead." She reached for the comm again, but this time, she entered a different code, and the receiver answered within a few seconds. "Morta, it is time for you to serve your prince."

Morta's hologram seemed tired but alert. "I will do whatever my prince wills." He laid a hand over his shoulder-mounted dagger and bowed.

"It is Zordar's wish that Desslok return to Gatlantis immediately. If he will not obey," she didn't hide her grin, "kill him."

"In Prince Zordar's name, it shall be done." Morta's hologram flickered out.


Aboard the Argo, Derek directed another search effort from the bridge. The Space Marines' sweep hadn't yielded anything and letting Feldmann—Deun—remain undetained wasn't an option. After the starfly incident, Mazer's murder, and Bahn's tale, Derek was confident Deun was capable of anything. Why had he let starflies onboard to begin with? Was he trying to commit mass murder? Or was it a distraction so he could slip off the ship?

The story related by the Jeshurunians still felt alien, and he didn't know what to do with most of the information. His head rang with possibilities, rushing so fast he couldn't keep them all straight.

Nova approached the captain's station. "You okay?" she whispered as other bridge officers tended their posts, but not without the occasional glance over their shoulders—in case Feldmann—Deun—made an appearance. No one was sure how he'd disappeared or where he could be hiding. Even Sandor didn't have any ideas.

"Just… a lot to think about," Derek said. "The past few days since… Feldmann… disappeared have been a whirlwind."

"Yeah." The hint of a smile piqued Nova's lips. "Yeah, they have. But at least not all of it's been bad."

Her joy caught him. "True. But we'll have to get past this mess before I can think about what any of it means."

Her face turned sober. "I should have realized who Feldmann was."

"Peter already tried to take the blame for not vetting him well enough, and I told him exactly what I'm going to tell you. You had no way of knowing, so don't be so hard on yourself."

"But I knew something about him was wrong. I should have been more insistent."

"This is not your fault. He had us all fooled."

"Not Tim."

"Okay, not Alori, but he came into the situation with a different perspective."

"Maybe that's why God led us to him when He did," Nova said.

"I can't pretend to know what God thinks, or much of anything else about Him," Derek said. "But I guess He can do what He wants. I'm just glad we found out about Feldmann—Deun—before he really hurt anyone. Sandor came out of everything worse off than the ship. Good thing he had a spare set of limbs in his quarters. And it's a good thing you figured out the bridge crew had been dosed, otherwise, some of them might not have made it. Dr. Sane's still treating Dubois from third shift engineering. Watts is having a rough time of it too."

"I hope Erin's okay." Nova checked her comm. "Doc says she reacted to the opioids pretty bad. Dubois's not doing much better. Penny says we've still got half a dozen crew in the med bay recovering from the starflies piggybacking on their CNSs. It's a miracle we didn't lose anybody."

"It is. And I'm glad for it."

"We've got to find Deun."

"Search teams are sweeping again. He's got to be moving, staying ahead of the teams."

"But how? He'd have to be tracking everyone at the same time."

"He was onboard ship for weeks. He could have put a system in place we know nothing about," said Derek. "Science team's checking into that possibility."

"What makes us think we can outmaneuver him? He survived a war, rebellion, exile, and now he's on our ship, hiding who knows where."

Though they'd kept their voices down, Dash glanced at them from his post when Nova said this. Derek hadn't told anyone else everything the Jeshurunians had related to him, Nova, and Alori about Deun. At least, not yet. All the crew knew was that Feldmann had lied to them, and he was a very dangerous man.

"Problem Dash?" Derek said.

"Nope. I'm good." Dash faced his station, but his posture said he was still listening.

"We'd better talk later," Derek said. "I'll let you know if I hear anything else."

Nova returned to radar, and though their mission had grown exponentially more dangerous over the past week, she was happy. Somehow, he was too, but now wasn't the time for introspection.

As he concentrated on directing another wave of search teams, the distractions that had nagged him since take off melted away.


Sabera waited until the clink of glasses and a wine decanter said the princess likely wouldn't be leaving her room for a while.

She stole into the princess' sitting room.

Invidia was prone to keeping valuables in secret compartments scattered throughout her suite, and according to her research, the one she sought was in this room, just behind a table beside the couch.

She eased the table away from the wall and tapped a series of nine contact points in the same configuration she'd memorized from a security feed. Unbeknownst to Invidia, a slave boy had broken into this same compartment the previous year and removed a ring. Sabera chuckled to herself. For all her paranoia, the princess could be blind to what went on in her own suite.

A panel in the wall clicked open.

Inside lay a selection of jewelry: earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, body piercings, ceremonial daggers—none of them Invidia's. Most belonged to nobles, some to Zordar's generals, but one piece, buried in the back, was what she'd come to retrieve. From beneath a pile of meaningless trophies, Sabera pulled a little wolfram earring. She'd known for years Invidia had this—had dredged it from the ashes of the temple's sacrificial altar the day Sabera had given up Mil to the Warbringer. Desecrating Mil's remains had rooted Invidia on Sabera's list of insufferables.

The earring lay in her palm, a tiny kiss of cool metal that felt a little like her baby boy was with her again. But best to get out of here while her departure window remained open.

She left Invidia's suite, found a dark recess to slip off her holomask and disguise, and headed for her own suite before anyone noticed her.


Three days passed aboard Desslok's flagship, and each day the calls from Invidia came more frequently, raising Desslok's ire with every call.

The only people Desslok despised more than Invidia were the Guardiana zealots, and the princess was fast rivaling them. He even found the Eratites more tolerable.

When they dropped out of warp one last time, radar announced they would meet the Eratite ship in half a day.

Half a day.

After all this time, he was so close to having his revenge for the murder of so many of his people.

Desslok sat on the bridge, ankle propped atop his opposite knee.

Officers and other crew chattered to each other about ship operations.

Another call from Invidia.

He rejected it.

Masterson and David stood to either side of him, and Morta, the Cometine, was strangely absent. After his insistence on being with Desslok every second of every day, it was odd to not have the man hovering. Morta took his duties seriously, that much he could admire, but the young man was otherwise extremely annoying. Having him gone should be a relief. Instead, his absence left a sense of foreboding.

Hours passed, and as they closed in on the Eratite ship, anticipation grew. Desslok wanted to reach into the void ahead, grab the ship, and crush it in his fist.

"We have contact, sir," said radar. "They're in sensor range."

"Have they spotted us?"

"No. They're cruising at half sublight and aren't arming weapons, preparing evasive maneuvers, or calculating a warp. Their sensors don't extend as far as ours."

"Remain out of sight until I give the order."

"Sir, they've sustained damage within the past week. Repaired hull sections cover the ship's exterior."

"A battle?"

"No. Sensors show traces of starfly dust sprinkling the ship."

"They came through a nest," Desslok said, more to himself than the crewman. "What possessed them to wander into one of those?"

"Sir, there's something odd… a Gamilon bio signature onboard the Eratite ship."

"Where?"

"Looks like crew quarters."

Desslok's eyes narrowed. "Prepare to send the Eratites a message."

The entire bridge crew, Masterson and David included, stared at him.

"Fighting an ignorant opponent is no challenge. Let them know they're being hunted. And this way, we'll find out who's onboard their ship. If he's one of theirs, I'll have no qualms about killing him." Desslok wrote a brief message and entrusted it to the communications tech.


Derek was on his third cup of coffee for the shift when Homer yelled, "Wildstar, get over here!"

Everyone crowded around Homer's station as he stuttered and pointed to an on-screen message. "Th-this this isn't p-possible!"

Derek leaned over Homer's shoulder to read. "When did this come in?"

"J-just a minute ago."

"Sandor, Nova, Eager, is there anything on radar, sensors, anything that indicates a ship out there?"

The three scrambled back to their stations.

"Nothing on radar," said Nova.

"Sensors aren't picking up anything," said Sandor.

"Whole lotta nothing out there," Eager said.

"Derek, what's going on?" Nova said.

"Homer, you want me to read it?" Derek offered.

"No—no, I can handle it." Homer cleared his throat and read the contents of his screen. "I congratulate you on your recruitment of one of my countrymen, however, your days and his are numbered. Count them well. And it's signed… Desslok of Gamilon."

The entire bridge went silent.

Nova was first to recover. "How can that be from Desslok? He's—he's dead."

"Not according to this." Derek nodded to the message.

"Are we sure that's even real?" said Mark, standing next to Derek. "This could be a ruse, designed to confuse us. After everything we've all seen this past week, what makes us think this is actually from him? Feldmann—or whoever he is—could be sending this message from somewhere onboard ship, and we might not even realize it. We can't even find him. What makes us think he can't fool us again by making us think Desslok is still alive?"

Mark had a point, but something about the message rang true. "But if it was Feldmann, why would he say we have a Gamilon on board?"

"Yeah, we don't, right Wildstar?" said Dash.

Derek hesitated.

"We don't. Right?" Dash repeated.

Now was as good a time as any to reveal what Bahn and Silesia had said. He trusted this bridge crew with his life. He could tell them this too. "What I'm about to say doesn't leave this room."

Everyone gave solemn nods.

"Feldmann's real name is Deun II, of Gamilon. He's… Desslok's brother."

The bridge exploded with conversation between officers. Eager looked horrified, Mark betrayed, Dash angry, Homer ready to run for the nearest airlock. Sandor, Orion, and Nova stood in a sober line, quietly exchanging serious glances, but saying nothing.

"I'm gonna find him and wring his neck with my bare hands," Dash stomped toward the elevator, but Derek caught him before he'd made it five steps.

"That won't help anything. No one's been able to find any trace of him. If you go out there alone, you could wind up dead. If this message really is from Desslok, he's got a way to find Feldmann—Deun. I think we should reply to this message—see if we can find out anything about where Deun's hiding. It's a good sign we haven't been attacked yet, but that might not last if we don't speak up now, so we need to act fast." Derek faced Homer. "Send a message back."

Homer gave a stilted nod and fumbled through the process of setting up a return message. "What—what do you wanna say?"

Derek took a long, deep breath. He had no idea what to tell this person. What if this really was Desslok? Would this push him to attack? He likely had a hefty grudge, and that wouldn't play in their favor. If it wasn't Desslok, communicating with them might reveal too much. But he had to try his best to find and contain the threat to his crew. They were out here at his behest, and it was his responsibility to keep them safe. "Tell him the truth," Derek said.


The comm tech seemed shocked when the Eratites replied.

Desslok opened the message—text only—signed by one Derek Wildstar, acting captain of the Argo. So, that was the ship's name. He snorted. Argo didn't seem a fitting name for the ship. It deserved something more… noble than that.

He read the return message.

The Gamilon aboard isn't part of our crew. Surrender now, and we'll release him into your custody.

An admirable response. It showed no weakness and was vague enough not to give anything away, still, something in the reply said there was much more to this than the Eratite captain was letting on. He wrote a quick reply and sent it off. "Ready all weapons, but wait for my order."

Homer's startled jolt at the comm station said they'd received a reply, and Derek hurried to Homer to read it.

Do what you want with him. Soon, it won't matter.

Whoever this was, they wouldn't wait forever to attack. "Nova, anything on radar?"

"Nothing."

"What about with the Iscandarian module?"

"It's been off since the starfly incident. Those things damaged it."

"Is it fixed now?"

Nova nodded as she turned the radar enhancement on. "There's a ship just outside normal radar range. Registry information coming in… It's labeled Gatlantean, but there are similarities to Gamilon design. Whatever it is, it's closing, and it has a small fleet with it."

"Mark, evasive maneuvers. Dash, all guns, get ready to fire as soon as that fleet's in range. Sandor, anything on that ship?"

"Still too far away." Sandor's bionic hands flew over the keyboard, executing commands faster than Derek could track. "Before the starflies attacked, I was almost done linking the sensors to the Iscandarian tech Starsha gave us to boost the radar, but since the module's been down for repairs until now, I didn't have the chance to finish it."

"Doesn't matter right now," Derek said. "Just give me whatever you can."

"It'll be a few minutes before I can get anything."

Derek sounded a ship-wide alarm. "All hands, get to battle stations. Lockdown measures are lifted for three minutes. I repeat, get to your stations within three minutes."

On his comm, the locations of all crew members—except Feldmann—changed to reflect people heading for emergency posts.

Feldmann's name remained grayed out. How was he hiding from the ship's internal sensors? And how had Desslok—or whoever was really out there—been able to tell he was aboard?

"There's a prime weapon at the bow of the flagship, something similar to the Wave Motion Gun," Sandor said, "but using technology I've never seen. The smaller ships don't have that capability, but their weapons are every bit as deadly as what we encountered in the dark matter sea. Sending you specs now."

Derek skimmed the information. Whoever outfitted this fleet had done it well. The ships were both fast and powerful, but they lacked the Argo's superior armaments. Of course, that didn't guarantee the Star Force would survive this fight.

Keep my crew safe, Derek prayed.


Masterson's gut turned when Desslok gave the order to attack the Eratite ship.

This was the first time he'd been at Desslok's side for an attack against the Eratites, and he thought he would be sick, but he held his ground, eyes on the deck. He concentrated on keeping his balance as the ship tipped starboard to avoid a hit.

David, still standing opposite Masterson, seemed completely bewildered. Horror filled his face, and he seemed about to speak.

Masterson shook his head, silently begging David to say nothing.

They couldn't stop the attack, but they could protect Desslok's life during the exchange.

Adonai, deliver us from this madness.

They'd already lost two ships to the Eratites, and more would fall.

Desslok would never call this off, and Masterson was powerless to stop it. Unless he separated the two forces.

Masterson pulled up a map on his comm. A tubelike satellite was nearby. If the Eratites took refuge inside, they might gain a moment's respite from attack. If he blinded the sensors long enough to let them get away…

It was worth a try, but he would have to pick his moment to signal the Eratites.

Adonai, help me.

He waited for his chance.


Episode 18 Notes:

The title for this episode was taken from Isaiah 23:8-11:

"Who hath taken this counsel against Tyre, the crowning city, whose merchants are princes, whose traffickers are the honourable of the earth?

The Lord of hosts hath purposed it, to stain the pride of all glory, and to bring into contempt all the honourable of the earth.

Pass through thy land as a river, O daughter of Tarshish: there is no more strength.

He stretched out his hand over the sea, he shook the kingdoms: the Lord hath given a commandment against the merchant city, to destroy the strong holds thereof."