Episode 25: Through the Wilderness
Two days had passed since Starsha received Masterson's message—and news of the Eratites—and as she walked the length of her living area with Sasha in her arms, she considered what to say. Masterson's communique was sent secretly, so replying to it might put him in undo danger, but she wanted to let the Eratites know she'd received their message and was glad to know they were all right despite recent harrowing events.
Sasha was content to watch the bright colors and shapes as they passed outside the window. She was far too young to see much detail past a few feet in front of her, and she frequently shifted her attention back to Starsha and flailed little arms toward her face while making happy baby sounds until she fell asleep.
Starsha passed Adrianna three times before she decided what to say. "Please tell the Eratites I'm thankful they were able to save both Bahn and Silesia and that they have Deun in their custody. In capturing him, they do both Gamilon and Iscandar a great service—one I'm afraid we will never be able to repay. I regret they had to encounter him at all, but I thank Yahweh Deun did not permanently harm any of their crew. My prayers travel with them as they sail the sea of stars."
Adrianna's leaves rustled softly for several minutes as she completed the message transfer. "It is done, Mistress. They will receive it shortly. By now, Bahn will be far more able to send and receive messages, though his connection to me is still unrefined and unpredictable at times. Silesia remains unreachable, though her presence still rings within the Jeshurunian network, and it grows stronger every hour."
"Thank you." Starsha touched Adrianna's leaves with delicate fingers. The smooth green leaves were cool to the touch and reminded her of grass after a summer sun shower. They even smelled the same—fresh, green, renewed.
Outside the palace, the Gamilon refugees continued their work clearing buildings. They were almost done with the structures closest to the palace grounds, and at last count, they only needed to house five more groups—four families, and a trio of unattached young women with no living family.
Starsha changed into work clothes and tied a sling for Sasha so she could carry the little girl with her while she helped with the day's work. She hummed softly as she situated little Sasha so the baby's cheek rested just over her heart. By the time Starsha was ready to leave the palace, Sasha was asleep.
Several hours into Derek's bridge shift, his communicator buzzed.
A notification from the team in Hydroponics. Bahn had received a reply from Starsha and was asking to see him and Nova.
"Sandor." Derek left the captain's chair. "The bridge is yours. I'll be back shortly." He sent a quick message to Miki Saijo, notifying her they needed someone to fill in at Radar for a half hour.
Nova met him down the hall from Hydroponics less than ten minutes later.
"Ready?" Derek said—more for himself than for Nova.
"Doesn't matter if I am." Her voice shook, but she covered it well. "This will tell us whether Bahn's being honest."
Derek started toward the wide door at the other end of the hallway, but Nova caught his hand after two steps.
"You think we could… pray before we go in there?"
Derek faced her. "You think God cares about things like this?"
Nova's smile chased away some of her nerves. "I know He does." She gripped his arms, thumbs resting just above the bends of both his elbows. Her touch prompted an involuntary muscle flex.
Derek didn't know what to do with his hands. He'd touched her three times since they'd met two years ago, and each instance had scrambled him a little more. This time, he was so focused on what he should do he didn't realize her face was so close to his. When he looked up to gauge her response, his forehead bumped hers. "S-sorry." He winced, not so much at the sting of impact but at the harsh pink spot now blossoming on her face.
Nova unseated one hand to rub the spot. "It's okay. My fault." Her quiet laugh was light, beautiful, and betrayed nothing of the task that lay ahead of them behind the Hydroponics door. Instead of reclaiming her hold on his arm, she took a step back and moved both hands into his before she shut her eyes and waited.
And waited.
With a jolt of terror, Derek realized she was waiting for him to pray. But he had no idea what he was doing. He'd witnessed public prayers from people claiming various faiths, but nothing that had prepared him for this. Tim had said prayer was just talking with God. But who was he to talk with the Creator of the universe? Just yesterday Sandor had said to treat prayer like a conversation. But every time he tried, the only thing he could think of was how ridiculous he must seem for even considering this a possibility.
Nova peeked at him through one cracked eyelid. "You look like you're about to get hit by a train." She opened both eyes.
He searched for the right words—something that would sound less ridiculous than he felt. "I just don't…"
"You'd prefer ladies first?" Her kind eyes calmed his nerves.
He nodded. "Sure."
"All right." She shut her eyes, and her chin dropped a few inches. "Father." She said it as if addressing someone she knew well and held in great regard. "We don't know what's about to happen, but we know You do. We're so grateful You kept us from getting seriously hurt during Deun's attack, and we're glad You helped us find and bring Silesia's seeds back to be replanted. Right now, we need Your help to know what to say in the next few minutes. Please… help us find the truth." She squeezed Derek's hands before looking up again.
He'd expected more ceremony—more formality. But it was strangely comforting to hear someone voice such a humble prayer. Over the past two years, he'd thrown desperate cries toward Heaven, but could those even be considered prayers? Until now, he hadn't thought so. He'd been so afraid they'd be disqualified because they failed to adhere to some rule he wasn't aware of. But what he'd just witnessed was far less rigid than he'd feared it would be, and some of his dread melted away.
Tim had his own way of praying that Derek couldn't hope to duplicate. Sandor too. Both of them treated prayer as an extension of themselves, and Nova had just done it too. Maybe the key to this was for him to do the same.
Nova's smile returned, and the slight tremble in her voice had vanished. "Ready?"
Derek was suddenly aware of Nova's hands still clasping his. He fastened his gaze on the deck. "Think so."
Nova seemed to realize that instant she still held his hands captive. She quickly pulled away and didn't mention the prolonged touch, but a light pink blush shaded both cheeks as she took the first steps toward Hydroponics. Her blush faded as she neared the door.
Her touch lingered with Derek. Her hands were slim, light, like finely carved ash. She kept her nails short, likely due to the demands of her job. He wondered what they'd look like if she let them grow a bit longer.
"Derek?" Nova glanced over one shoulder.
Slightly embarrassed at having lost focus, he set thoughts of Nova aside. "Right. Sorry." He couldn't afford distractions.
They walked into Hydroponics, and both on-duty science team members—a man and a woman—nodded to them, and the woman met them before they reached the partition separating Bahn's recovery area. Her shoulder patch read Lt. W. Hayden.
"I wanted to prepare you," Hayden said, voice not quite a whisper. The look on her face said something was wrong. "He's been… odd today. His wounds are healing, but the missing pieces of him are growing back differently than expected. He doesn't look the way he did last time you were here."
"Has he said anything unusual?" Derek said. He hoped Hayden was exaggerating Bahn's changes.
"Not especially. He seems unaware of his… differences. Either that, or he's intentionally ignoring them. You'll have to judge that yourselves." She opened the partition for them.
"Thanks." Derek stepped in, followed quickly by Nova. To his chagrin, Hayden's observations had been accurate. Bahn's leaves, though still green, had darkened to a hue much closer to seaweed than the brilliant grassy shade they'd used to be. His leaves, once smooth-edged and soft, were now rough, spiked, and an irritating layer of tiny needles prickled each surface. Wild roots had sprouted from his planter and now reached into the air at grotesque angles.
"We heard you had a message for us," Derek said, hiding his surprise at Bahn's metamorphosis. "How are you?"
"I am healing very well, Captain. Your quick action saved me." He waved a prickly leaf in thanks. It could have been Derek's imagination, but Bahn's voice seemed deeper than it had two days ago. "How is Silesia? I have been worried for her ever since she was taken from my care."
Nova stepped forward to stand even with Derek. "She's doing fine. I spend most of my free hours at her side, making sure she heals. We… brought her to my quarters so you wouldn't have as much to worry about."
Bahn's topmost branches—which now towered almost even with Derek's nose—bobbed. "I thank you for your thoughtfulness. I know you will look after her very well, Nova Forrester. Queen Starsha cherished her time with you, and Silesia and I would trust you with our lives."
Nova's expression clouded. "I'm sorry I couldn't save her from Deun."
"There is no blame laid on you, daughter of Erats, so, please, do not take such a burden on yourself. There is nothing you could have done to prevent what happened. Silesia and I are only grateful you found her and persisted in reclaiming her seeds." Bahn's voice was almost beautiful, but it still held tinges of roughness and a resonance that seemed to rise out of the soil with every word. "But I must give you Queen Starsha's reply. I am sorry I haven't been able to give you news sooner, but the reply came only moments before I notified Lt. Hayden. According to Adrianna, Queen Starsha has been dreadfully preoccupied these past two days helping Gamilon refugees."
Guilt couldn't have hit Derek harder. The Argo's battle on Gamilon had been brutal. So many were lost on both sides that day. Innocents had lost homes, families, even their lives.
Derek had felt the weight of their actions back then, but the remorse that flooded him now was far more potent. His throat narrowed and burned as memories of the devastation they'd caused on Gamilon leaked back into his awareness. He could almost smell the burning sulfur, the reek of seared flesh. "I—I hope they're recovering well." It sounded so trite, but he meant it. The entire population of Gamilon shouldn't have to suffer for the actions of their Leader and his supporters.
Earth had its own sordid histories, eras where people in power had singled out others and killed or oppressed them. That didn't mean everyone who looked or sounded like those people were at fault—even though many so-called lovers of justice had acted like it did.
Bahn swayed in place. "The groups evacuated to Iscandar are still adjusting, and Queen Starsha has facilities to accommodate all but the most serious of maladies. Don't worry. The queen will help all she can. That is her way." His reassuring words held more comfort than Derek anticipated in light of his disturbing change in appearance. "But I must relay Queen Starsha's message. She sends her happiness at your and our well-being. She also apologizes for your encounter with the Usurper." He paused. His posture slumped, tilted to one side, as if unsure of something. "The rest is a bit strange." He rustled in distress. "It seems there is no available information on the Gatlanteans. That is very odd in light of Iscandar's history with them." He righted then swayed. "I shall make further inquiries."
Derek hadn't expected that response. "Thank you. Please let me know the moment you discover more information."
"I shall, Captain." Bahn's topmost branches bowed, as if he were nodding to Derek. "Be well."
"We'll leave you to your rest." Derek signaled Nova that it was time to leave. Once she was out, he backed through the gap in the partition and shut it, never turning his back to Bahn. As they left Hydroponics, Derek thanked Lt. Hayden and her fellow science team member.
Derek and Nova didn't stop walking until they reached the captain's cabin.
"Something's not right," Derek said once the door shut.
Nova seemed just as troubled as he felt. "If he was telling the truth and Starsha didn't send any information about the Gatlanteans… It feels wrong. Even Bahn said it didn't make any sense. Could he be telling the truth? Could Starsha really have lied to us that blatantly?" She leaned against the empty bookshelves set into the starboard side wall. "I just don't think she would do that. There's got to be another explanation."
"Bahn could be lying, covering up his attempts to keep us from getting information. It isn't like we can verify what he's telling us. He's already lied outright about there being no other Jeshurunians living on Earth." Derek crossed his arms and paced the length of the small room.
"I don't know if he's telling the truth, but I get the sense there's more to this than we're going to be able to figure out in two short conversations with him. At least, not without letting him know we're suspicious. Without a trustworthy third party to verify, we're stuck exactly where we were with no way to know what's true." Her shoulders drooped an inch or two, and her light hair slipped over her gold-jacketed shoulders.
"What about his transformation?" Derek lowered his voice, even though there was no danger of anyone hearing him.
"The physical changes could have been brought on by the attack," Nova offered. "Some species change appearance in response to danger. This might just be the way Jeshurunians react to negative stimuli. The change in his voice is unsettling though."
With a heavy sigh, Derek sat on the nearby bed. It was bare of linens, and the mattress was no thicker than the ones in crew quarters. Derek wondered how Captain Avatar, gravely wounded, had gotten any rest at all during the Iscandar trip.
He thumped one fist into the mattress and let the cheap, synthetic lining compress and inflate at least six times before he spoke. "It's risky, but we're going to have to wait for Silesia to recover enough to answer some questions. I just don't see any other option."
Nova crossed her arms and faced the viewport. Outside, the sparkling cosmos seemed quiet, undisturbed by the uncertainty clouding the small cabin. "I'll keep watch over her every moment I can. As soon as she's well enough to answer questions, we'll get the truth."
"Uncovering Deun has made us all more likely to take an extra glance over our shoulder." He leaned forward, elbows propped on his legs. "I'm sorry you're stuck in the middle of this."
Nova sat beside him. "I'm not."
He looked up.
"I want to do everything I can to help you, whatever that needs to mean. So, if you need anything, just know I'm here." Her smile brightened. "Alien plants, lockdowns, traitors—it's all just another day's work right now, and God-willing, I'll be ready for whatever this trip throws at us." She got up to leave.
Before she made it to the door, Derek said, "Nova?"
She stopped, turned.
"Thanks for being here."
She gave him a casual, two-fingered salute and slipped out.
Well into the night, Invidia and Dyre met inside the sim-room.
Computer-generated characters populated the park's walkways and benches.
When Invidia passed a mother and two young children, she shook her head and didn't give them a second glance until one of the children—a boy with jet-black hair—dashed past her avatar, knocking her to the side. She sneered at the child but refrained from expressing her displeasure. It wouldn't do any good, after all. He wasn't real, and her chiding would only be a waste of effort on her part. Children were such a nuisance—and far too erratic. Cloning would be much more efficient—and less annoying. She would have to alter the sim-room's settings so only adult characters spawned.
She reached the meeting spot. Tonight, they'd decided to move their conversation to an overlook just outside the park where they could view the whole area. From her perch, the computer-generated cast below went about their programmed patterns. The only one not adhering to that was the boy who'd rushed by her minutes ago. He ran nonsensical circles around the park and even climbed partway up the hill she stood atop.
Dyre—wearing his Vardas avatar—walked up the hill to meet her. He passed the misbehaving boy on his way to the overlook but ignored the child.
Instead of standing beside Invidia, Dyre took a seat on a bench several feet away. "A pleasant night," he said.
Invidia leaned on the railing and pretended to study the view. "It's time, Vardas."
She didn't need to turn around to know he'd stiffened at her words.
The incident with Sabera in the Warbringer's temple had been the last straw for Invidia. "I'm tired of waiting to be pre-empted. Tired of watching as she ingratiates herself to those in power and sets up her puppet regime. Tired of wondering which faction of the military will turn against us first. I'm tired of her. I will take my rightful place, Vardas. I will have my birthright, and I will lead our coming assault."
"We near the Diviner's territory, my queen," Vardas said, voice low.
She whirled. "And we will not disturb it. Not when I am in command." She walked past his bench and stood beneath a young tree. Its shadow covered her and Vardas as the false moon above shone down. "But there is one thing I lack. My supporters are thinning. Thanks to her." Sabera's appointment of a traditionalist interim priest had won her favor among the orthodoxy and swayed at least one of her father's generals to Sabera's position. "To use normal means to convince the people of Gatlantis to reconsider their choice would take more time than we have, so I must improvise. Desslok of Gamilon will arrive in four days. I will persuade him to support my position and take him as a consort. When he submits, all Gatlantis will see that I am far more fit to command them than she is. They will see how I single-handedly brought the once-mighty Gamilon Empire into subjection." It was an exaggeration, but the masses would believe it.
Dyre stared hard at a small gap in the railing. His avatar's orange skin appeared reddish-brown in the darkness, but his black eyes were clear. "The Gamilon will not go with you willingly."
"He will if I offer him a greater opportunity for revenge against the Originals."
"Forgive me, my queen, but you underestimate him. He might sell himself for such an opportunity, but he will not sell his people."
The boy from earlier skipped past them and sang an annoying children's rhyme repeatedly.
Invidia hurled a stick at him. He laughed and threw the stick back. It thunked into her avatar's forehead and plunked into the grass.
Invidia growled at the boy, but he seemed none-the-wiser as he kept circling far too close to them. "He will agree, or he will suffer the consequences," she hissed. "I expect your support, Vardas, whether you agree with my assessment or not."
Dyre's gaze never wavered from the gap in the railing. "Yes, my queen."
For three days, Nova tended Silesia as the Jeshurunian's little green sprouts grew into spindly stems and sparse leaves. Bahn had said it would be two weeks before Silesia could speak audibly again, and it hadn't yet been a full week since her re-planting. Assuming Bahn had been truthful about this, they still had more than seven days before they'd know what was really going on. Despite that, Nova sat by Silesia's side constantly and listened for any faint word she might offer.
On the morning of the fourth day after they'd spoken with Bahn, Nova woke to whispering several hours before her bridge shift. The haunting rhythm of the words prickled the hair on her arms and made her pull her blanket tighter around her.
She kept the blanket draped around her shoulders, but in her haste to discover the source of the whispering, she neglected to put on her slippers, and the shock of cold deck plates against her bare soles jolted her fully awake.
Eyes were on her.
Someone was here.
Nova grabbed her astro-automatic and circled the room, blanket corners still wadded in one fist at her throat. The warm cloth would add no protection from an attack, but it lent her a little confidence, so she kept it on.
When she was sure no uninvited guests were present, she hurried to Silesia. The nearer she came to the plant, the louder the whispering grew, and muddy words became clear. "Death hunts you. Run, Eratites. Run to safety. Or be consumed."
"Silesia?" Nova kneeled beside the Jeshurunian and said her name several more times before the whispering stopped, and a bright silvery voice replaced the haunting strain with warm words.
"Nova." Silesia spoke so softly Nova had to lean close to the sprouts, and one green leaf brushed her ear. "I am here."
At hearing the little plant's voice after a week of silence, tears of relief welled in Nova's eyes. "Bahn said it would be two weeks before you could speak again."
"And normally, he would be correct," Silesia said. "But you have tended me exceptionally well, and I have directed all my energy into developing my speech. That is why I still appear as I do, else my frame would be stouter by now." Her leaves brushed Nova's cheek. "There is a traitor among us, and they have done the unthinkable."
"We know about Deun. He's in the brig," Nova said.
Silesia rustled in alarm. "He is not the traitor I mean."
Nova's stomach plummeted. "It's Bahn, isn't it? Derek and I thought something was—"
"No!" Silesia's voice seemed to gain strength. "Bahn is no traitor, Nova Forrester."
"But—but he changed the message we sent to Starsha last week. His body's morphing into something hideous. The science team won't even go near him now, he's so monstrous."
A little puff of air washed over Nova's face when Silesia sighed. "I am sorry. I forget you do not know the ways of our people. Bahn's change is a natural part of our maturation process. Had I not been cut down, I too would have changed soon. It is the Shift. When we reach our third century in the same body, we transform into a more mobile form. Should Bahn visit a planet, he may now walk its soil freely. So few of us ever reach this stage. It is hailed as an admirable accomplishment and should be celebrated, not feared. His outward appearance is forbidding to discourage predators."
Nova had misjudged him. Badly. "He's… growing into what he was always supposed to be. But what about the message he changed?"
"When I have revealed to you the traitor, you will understand. Please remain close, and I will tell you their name."
The moment they reached Gatlantis, the atmosphere inside the brig changed from bored indifference to trepidation, and Masterson overheard several conversations from brig personnel about how much they disliked being back aboard the Cometine worldship.
He hadn't heard back from Starsha, but yesterday the status of his sent message had changed to Read.
Once they docked aboard Gatlantis, Masterson looked for an opportunity to send David a message, but because of the air of tension infusing the ship, guards paced constantly, and Masterson couldn't sneak even one moment to ask David what was happening elsewhere onboard.
Five hours passed, and the longer he waited, the more he thought he might choke on his dread.
Across the hall, Morta performed a colorful array of racial slurs, innuendo-laced jabs, rage-filled screaming, and anything else that would provoke the guards until he ended up sedated for the third time in four days. The young Cometine had never behaved this way on the bridge, but sometimes prison brought out aspects of men's character they would prefer left hidden.
Once Morta was asleep, everyone seemed less irritated, but the overarching feeling of dread remained. After another hour, most conversation stopped, and Masterson sat in silence on his bunk. The stolen comm rested under the arch of his left foot, but the guards still milled too unpredictably to risk contacting anyone.
If only he could get out of this cage.
Desslok stood alone in the poorly lit audience chamber. He despised Gatlantis' abundant dark corners. Too many opportunities for observers to watch unseen.
At one end of the room, an ornate chair sat facing him. He and Zordar had met in this room twice before. Both instances were occasions where they had violently disagreed on military actions, and though they'd come to compromises both times, once the agreement was struck, Desslok had acted outside Zordar's knowledge to further his own causes. He'd made sure the prince never learned of his less-than-approved actions.
Deep purple and crimson curtains hung from the ceiling and hid multiple secret entrances. The mix of velvet and sheer materials diffused the room's scant light into eerie patterns that shaded the walls. Every time an irregular whoosh of air made the shadows move, Desslok's hand poised over his weapon.
Several times he almost turned to comment to Masterson about how long this was taking. He had more important things to do than stand here and wait. But with Masterson in the brig, this week had seemed… empty. On the bridge, every time he looked, expecting Masterson, he'd instead seen a stranger standing at his side.
At least Morta wasn't there to annoy him anymore. He'd half expected the young Cometine to pull a gun or knife on him far sooner than he had.
Morta's confiscated weapon still hung at Desslok's side, opposite his Iscandari-made weapon.
When Masterson had walked into his room aboard Gatlantis some weeks ago, it had been like going back in time ten years to when they'd fought side by side to end the civil war on Gamilon—before the Eratite problem had shoved a wedge between them.
Despite their differences, he was glad to see his old friend alive and well. He only wished they agreed more often so he could have someone he trusted at his side.
Masterson's recent betrayal still stung. His friend had gone directly against him—almost gotten their entire fleet killed. They'd lost several ships in the encounter with the Eratites, and Masterson was partially to blame for it.
The creak of an ill-used door and light footsteps heralded Invidia's arrival. She slipped out from behind a curtain that hung to one side of the small throne.
He'd never harbored illusions that Zordar was the one who'd summoned him back to Gatlantis, but Invidia had forced his hand when she'd demonstrated the ability, and willingness, to blast his ship and crew to dust. Whatever her new game was, he would outplay her. Already, all available personnel were searching each ship in his fleet and dismantling every one of Invidia's planted self-destruct mechanisms. Soon, she would have no further hold on him, but until he received word of their success, he would have to stall or otherwise dissuade her.
Invidia approached. Her red and black dress flowed almost to the floor, and heeled boots accentuated each step. A tart smile and narrowed eyes complemented her sickly sweet tone. "Why, Desslok. So nice to see you."
He wanted to crush each word before it escaped her throat.
"I do hope your trip back to Gatlantis was pleasant." She tapped ruby lips with one pristine finger before stepping far too close to him. "I have a proposition that will interest you." She pressed herself to him in a way that should have been enticing but only fed his hatred of her as she walked manicured fingernails up his chest to his face. When her breath was hot against his neck, she whispered, "My father's throne will soon be mine. Cooperate with me, and I'll allow you to share it." She pulled back just enough to look into his face. "Think of it, Desslok. You could reclaim your empire—establish your place in this galaxy and countless others. Gatlantis and her sister ships would all be at your command, and with them, you could rain fire and destruction on Origin itself." She ran eager hands down his sides. "All you have to do is accept my offer."
Desslok stepped out of her reach. "I won't be a pawn in your little war with Sabera. If you want to eliminate threats to your ascension, don't come groveling to me for help. Dispatch her yourself."
"Why, Desslok, a queen-to-be never grovels." She closed the distance between them, but he sidestepped when she reached for him.
"Does your father know you're plotting to overthrow him?" His words seemed to hit their mark because Invidia momentarily stopped advancing.
She feigned disbelief at the accusation. "I never said any such thing. What a heinous insinuation."
"If you had time, you'd have enacted a far better plan than begging my assistance. What are you afraid of? Certainly, it isn't Sabera." He circled her now, staying several feet out of her reach.
"You presume too much." Invidia lunged and caught him by the front of his cape. "I only wish to offer you everything you've ever wanted." She let go of his cape and kissed him hard, one hand on either side of his face, momentarily trapping him. Invidia tasted of evanescence wine and ellurian fruit. He despised both.
Hopefully, his crew and all the others had located and disabled the self-destruct mechanisms by now.
Desslok ripped Invidia's hands free of his face and shoved her off. Blood ran down his chin from the forced separation. He didn't give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it. "I told you not to touch me." With strength born of rage, he twisted both her wrists backward and received two satisfying snaps.
Invidia screamed and collapsed into a whimpering pile. In between wails for her guards, she cradled both broken wrists.
"You interrupt me, harass me, and bring me here to demand I accept an ill-conceived proposition that would make me no more than a political party favor, all so you can wrest power from your father and ensure his consort never sits on his throne, and you're foolish enough to believe I'll agree? You're more foolish than I thought." Running wouldn't help him now. Invidia's entourage was too close, so he took a confident stance and watched Invidia's pitiful display of helplessness as a half-dozen men streamed into the audience chamber and surrounded him.
"He attacked me." She wailed, unable to point at Desslok. "Take him to the cells." She yelped as a medical attendant treated her wrists. The fractures would heal within hours, but giving them to her had been worth it. His only regret was not having done it sooner.
One of the six men surrounding Desslok tried to cuff him, but Desslok landed a solid hit to the man's jaw and sent him to the floor. Instantly, four of the remaining five men forced him to his knees and wrenched his hands behind his back before cinching energy cuffs much tighter than necessary. His shoulders would burn from the strain soon.
Two of Invidia's personal guard hauled him to his feet and dug rifle barrels into his back. "Move," one demanded.
Just to spite them, Desslok obeyed but moved so slowly it forced the guards to prod him most of the way.
Invidia, now composed enough to stand and walk with only the aid of one attendant, followed Desslok to Gatlantis' prison.
One of Invidia's guards summoned a hanging cell to the boarding platform which overlooked an expansive chasm filled with thousands of suspended, white cubes, each one housing a prisoner.
When the guards took Desslok's weapons, uncuffed him, and shoved him inside his assigned cell, Invidia gave him a clandestine smirk that likely evolved into smug victory the instant the door shut.
The cell was no more than eight-by-eight. No windows. The single, harsh light on the ceiling appeared perpetually on. To one side of the cell was a narrow cot with a thin blanket, no sheet, and less than a foot of space between it and the sanitation facilities—which still stank from the previous tenant.
This place was vile. Even living in the wilderness hadn't been so disgusting.
The cell swayed as it moved back into place with the hundreds of other anonymous white boxes hanging in this cursed, forgotten place. At least they hadn't taken the data storage device he always kept with him. They'd left him his comm too.
He slipped it out. Using the faint reflection on the screen, he noted his bloodied lip had crusted.
Comm signals were jammed in here. Even if he sent something, no one would receive it. He shoved it back into a pocket.
What irony. Both he and Masterson confined to prison cells.
At least he'd kept Invidia from destroying his fleet. If they were still alive, he had hope of escape.
The stink emanating from the corner made him think twice about taking deep breaths, and sleeping next to that reek would be impossible. He covered mouth and nose with one hand and dragged the loose cot to the opposite side of the cell, right in front of the door. If Invidia or her attendants ever returned, he would be ready for them.
Derek sat at the captain's station. Above him, a jade-green planet hung on the main viewscreen. It had only shown up on long range sensors an hour ago, and Sandor had called him to the bridge shortly thereafter. This had to be their destination. The mystery heading they'd received from the astro-compass had led them past a few planetoids and other celestial landmarks, but this was the only planet they'd found.
Sandor was busy capturing as much data as the sensors would record, and they'd called most of the officers to the bridge. Only Dash and Homer had made it so far.
Derek was about to call Nova again when she stepped off the elevator.
She looked sick. "Can I… see you upstairs a minute?" she whispered.
He nodded. "Steady on course. Sandor, you have the bridge."
It took less than half a minute for Nova to arrive. The door had barely shut before she said, "Bahn isn't the traitor. Adrianna is."
"Adrianna? Starsha's Adrianna—on Iscandar? How'd you find out?" He left his chair and stood in front of her.
"Silesia. She regained enough strength to speak. Bahn's innocent. His appearance, his apparent half-truths. She explained it all to me. He never tried to deceive us. Just before Deun ripped her apart, Silesia overheard Adrianna projecting her intentions a bit too loudly over their network. Adrianna and Deun are working with the Gatlanteans. Derek, we have to get back to Earth. We've got to tell Starsha—"
Derek took her hands and held them over his heart. "Nova." Him saying her name caught her attention, and she stilled. "Tell me exactly what Silesia said."
Nova explained Bahn's transformation.
"That makes sense. Now, what about his keeping information from us?"
"He wasn't. At least, he didn't think he was. Bahn and Silesia sprouted almost two centuries apart. Silesia is older. She was born on Earth, before humans left for the stars. Bahn was born onboard a ship during the journey. Starting with Bahn's group of rootling children, the older Jeshurunians told them there were no more of their kind on Earth."
"So, Adrianna probably never even asked Starsha about the Gatlanteans," Derek said. "And we can't tell Starsha what's going on without revealing what we know to Adrianna. We can't contact her again until we have another method of communication."
"I guess that means… we're alone on this one," Nova said.
"Not alone. Just fewer in number."
Nova's tension eased. "You're right. Not alone." She suddenly seemed to realize he still had hold of her hands.
The moment he let her go, orange and red flashes of light streaked toward the Argo. Derek barely had time to grab Nova's arm and anchor them to the captain's chair before the ship bucked. "We're under attack. But I can't shake the feeling we need to get to that planet that just showed up on sensors. The message, that heading, the vision—it's all related. It has to be. We'll get back to Earth as fast as we can, but we've got to stop here first. The timing of this attack can't be coincidence."
Nova's lips set in a determined line. "One more fight. Hopefully afterward, we'll have some answers."
Episode 25 Notes:
The title for this episode was taken from Is. 16:7-9:
Therefore shall Moab howl for Moab, every one shall howl: for the foundations of Kirhareseth shall ye mourn; surely they are stricken.
For the fields of Heshbon languish, and the vine of Sibmah: the lords of the heathen have broken down the principal plants thereof, they are come even unto Jazer, they wandered through the wilderness: her branches are stretched out, they are gone over the sea.
Therefore I will bewail with the weeping of Jazer the vine of Sibmah: I will water thee with my tears, O Heshbon, and Elealeh: for the shouting for thy summer fruits and for thy harvest is fallen.
