"Nothing dies like hope. I cherish it."
-Dredgen Yor
Meren woke with a start to find the morning sunlight already filling her small apartment. She rolled over frantically in a tangle of blankets to check the time on the chron. The display read 07:00. She wasn't late - yet. And she couldn't be, not today. The hubbub in the streets of The City had already begun, and Meren was, quite frankly, surprised the sounds of the bustling outside hadn't woken her sooner.
Stretching out from her cocoon, her eyes fell on the pages of an open book beside her in bed. Once again she had fallen asleep reading. When has it started getting light out so early, anyway? Extracting a hand from the sheets, she reached for the small scrap of cloth that served as a book mark and tucked it safely away between the pages. The remainder of The Siege of Twilight Gap: An Anthology would have to wait until later that night, and it would have been a shame to lose her place in the text.
Books are too precious to be stored in bed, Meren reminded herself, getting up to set the leather-bound volume on her table next to the likes of Cryptarchy in the Golden Age, Eliksni Grammar Essentials, and The Fallen. The table, like the rest of the shelves in her apartment, were filled with a multitude of self-bound tomes. Paper and book binding supplies were pricey and hard to come by, but engram de-encryption wasn't cheap either. The Cryptarchs offered their services free of charge to the Vanguard, but members of the Academy didn't have that luxury. So she bound the books herself, as a casual past time. Besides, the smell of the supplies and freshly-bound volumes were enjoyable. It's probably the glue, she acknowledged to herself with a laugh.
It struck her that she was dawdling as she slipped into her best clothes, but she wasn't exactly looking forward to what lay ahead. Several days ago, the Tower - or more correctly, the Vanguard - had unexpectedly summoned her to serve as a subject matter expert and translator for a hearing of some kind. It had come as a surprise, honestly. Her specialization wasn't usually welcomed at these sort of things, seeing how the Vanguard was notorious for preferring guns and firefights over diplomacy, or Traveler forbid, legal proceedings and their due process.
Still, as she bound her hair up into a tight bun, she wondered if it was a sign of things to come - a turn in the tide. The City's Consensus had begun to push for a more judicial approach in recent months. Maybe this hearing would be a reflection of that. Or maybe it all was just a spectacle to make the residents of the Last City feel like progress was being made. Onward and upward - within the City confines, at least. That was the agenda the Consensus touted. Outside the walls it was a different story, she knew.
Picking up her datapad, Meren quickly checked for any new messages. A few queries from academic colleagues had come in during the overnight hours, but none were urgent. There was no time to peruse the holo feed either; the daily news would just have to wait.
A few light taps to the screen put the device on standby and she slipped it into her bag. The satchel's leather was embossed with alien heraldry, and always drew looks when she was out and about. It had been a gift from a mentor at the Academy, and she used it whenever she had the chance.
She took a quick look around the small apartment for anything she might be forgetting, glancing over the books and engrams spilling from the shelves around the solitary window. Her apartment didn't contain much else in the way of material possessions, and she was content with that. A quick look at her reflection confirmed that she was presentable enough to be seen by the denizens of the Tower. Meren Hale touched the door's access pad and stepped outside.
Cool, morning air filled her lungs as she walked out into the breezeway and down the stairs. They creaked and groaned all the way down, and she was careful to step over the worst offender, the third step from the bottom. Crumbling infrastructure plagued the City - her current apartment complex included - and constant threats of attack ensured that City commissioners kept the focus on defense instead of upkeep.
The street was already bustling with activity by the time her feet hit the pavement. In the alleys and on walkways, vendors were setting up their wares. Storefronts were opening their doors, while other City residents were scurrying off to work. Turning west to walk through the bazaar, Meren glanced at the ramshackle buildings that lined the streets. Her district was a bit worse for the wear compared to the ones nearer the Core, but the bright colors of merchant tents brightened the atmosphere considerably. Her thoughts were interrupted momentarily as her favorite fruit vendor called out to her.
"Professor," the merchant's voice called out, "we have fresh figs today!"
Meren acknowledged her title and smiled at the man. "I'm in a hurry today, Giardo," she replied in haste. "Tomorrow. I promise."
Meren quickened her pace past the market stalls. There was no time to browse. In the communication she'd received, it had stated the Vanguard would have a transport waiting for her a block or two away. As she walked her thoughts on the day came surging back, drowning out the merchants' calls. What would the Magistrate expect her to say? she wondered. Would she serve as a translator, like they'd said? Maybe they wouldn't call on her expertise at all and she would simply get to sit there and watch the proverbial wheels of justice turn. That would be something to see.
Turning the next corner, Meren spotted the promised transport. It was an open-topped Golden Age speeder, a decommissioned military model, passenger capacity four. Meren appraised it with a skeptical eye.
"This thing must be held together by space magic to still be running." The dry comment was directed at the Exo chauffeur who waited in the pilot's seat.
"Something like that," he replied.
With her joke falling flat, Meren sighed, taking her seat in the back. Then, once she was secure, they were off.
As the speeder turned north, the Tower came into view, cresting over the tops of shops and homes, standing in stark contrast to the lifestyle that most City residents were accustomed to. The proverbial ivory tower of the Vanguard. Her eyes remained fixed on the structure, watching as it filled her field of vision as they neared until the Tower was all there was.
She thanked her Exo chauffeur as he dropped her off on the marble steps at the Tower's base. No sooner had she exited the speeder than she was flanked by two armored Vanguard personnel. They were immediately recognizable as Guardians. A Titan and a Hunter, from the looks of it.
"Meren Hale?" the Titan asked.
Meren nodded in affirmation.
"Come with us, please," the Hunter, this time.
Within moments, she was escorted up the sweeping steps and into a lift. It was a swift and silent ride, the Guardians saying nothing as they were conveyed all the way to the 78th floor. When the lift doors opened, a long hallway was all that greeted them.
"Fourth door on your left," the Titan stated. "Should you require assistance, please direct any and all inquiries to the hospitality bot in suite 778."
With that the Guardians retreated back into the lift and Meren had the hallway all to herself.
Since when has the Vanguard ever shown hospitality, she mused to herself. Following instructions, she found the fourth door on her left. It was unmarked and appeared to require a key code for access, but as she raised her hand to knock, the door snapped open with a hiss. Peering inside, Meren was greeted by the strangest sight she had ever seen within the confines of the City.
A Magistrate sat at the bench in the center of the room, a commanding presence. That command seemed to be enhanced by the fact that the man easily weighed over 300 pounds. Enormous by typical City standards. Based on the last-minute briefing she'd received, his job was to oversee any and all proceedings within his chamber. He, too, had the privilege of issuing the final decree, regarding the outcome of the hearing. Seated next to him were two Faction representatives. Meren immediately recognized one of them as Arach Jalaal, the other she didn't know. The esteemed Faction leaders got a vote toward the final verdict, with the Magistrate holding the power of an additional vote in the unlikely event of a tie.
To either side of the bench, flanking them all, were four Guardians, armed to the teeth with rifles and explosives and the like. Unnecessary, but not unexpected. Several other civilians sat about the room, prosecutors or moderators, and a stenographer with a datapad. So this is the Vanguard's attempt at due process, Meren thought.
True, legitimate courtroom proceedings hadn't been seen since the Golden Age, and even then, little in the way of written records had survived. That meant all she had to go on was spotty archival knowledge about how those had been conducted. Not that those records mattered anyway. The Vanguard probably hadn't even bothered to consult them prior.
While the excess of personnel was a staggering sight, it wasn't necessarily out of place for standard Tower operations. What was out of place, though, was the two hulking Eliksni in the room, all four arms bound behind their back in two pair of stun cuffs, setting the scene apart.
Hunched and pressed in too-small a space near the far corner, they were dressed as if they had just been ripped from the field of battle. Spackles of blood and grime covered the tatters of their clothes. Beneath that, both were clearly armored, one the size of a Captain, from the look of it, and one slightly smaller. It was all Meren could do but meet their unblinking alien gazes, her heart silently shattering, until the Magistrate broke the silence.
"Professor...did I read that right?" the big man muttered to himself. "Professor Meren Hale?"
Meren's head snapped the bench's direction, and she did her best to sound confident. "Yes, that's me."
"You're late," he stated flatly.
"My apologies." She was certain she was right on time, but arguing the point was moot.
The Magistrate lazily waved his hand in her direction, gesturing to a row of empty chairs perpendicular to the bench. "Have a seat."
As Meren sat, she opened her satchel to retrieve the datapad. She was vaguely aware that the Magistrate had begun speaking at length about something, but she was focused again on her own thoughts.
What were their names again? she thought to herself, Revys and Brelor? From the insignia on their armor, she could tell they both belonged to one of the earthbound Eliksni Houses. The tattered yellow trappings they wore, however, were a dead giveaway for House Kings.
When her datapad finally powered up, the hearing's briefing automatically populated on the screen, and she tapped the it a few times to scroll through the text. They are accused of an attempted nighttime breach of the City wall near Gate number five. Regular Guardian patrols discovered three Fallen attempting ingress and placed two under arrest, one did not survive, she read to herself. It was a funny thing how the City's wall had been built to keep threats out of the City, and yet even when working as intended, the Vanguard unfortunately seemed to resort to violence every time. The thought made her stomach immediately sink.
The sound of growling interrupted her pensive thoughts and Meren looked up. The two Eliksni had obviously been agitated by something that had been said. The Captain's eyes were slitted, and the other's posture screamed his defiance.
The Magistrate rubbed his temple in annoyance, raising his voice over the rumbling. "Professor Hale," he sighed. "What is your specialty at the Academy?"
"Eliksni Culture, Language, and History, your Honor."
"Perfect," the Magistrate grunted. "Then you can tell those bugs to shut the hell up in my chamber. I won't have their racket hampering my proceedings."
"Your honor, that term is...offensive-," Meren began to counter.
"Do you desire to be held in contempt of this court, Ms. Hale?" It was Arach Jalaal who cut in this time.
Meren opened her mouth to argue, but her better sense told her to focus on Revys and Brelor.
"No, sir," she murmured, standing slowly from her chair, facing the two Eliksni, turning her palms down. A gesture meant to placate them.
"Velask…" she began in a traditional greeting before continuing to address them in their own language. The translation of the Magistrate's words, mixed in with her own pleas for quiet, rolled off her tongue in broken, but passable Eliksni.
Though every eye in the room was on her as she grated out the string of words in that harsh, alien tongue, Meren persisted. In her gut, something suddenly felt off, and her goal now shifted to keeping the Eliksni quiet in hopes the Vanguard would cut the spectacle short and turn them loose. All it would take was a word from the Magistrate - the judge and jury - and the Faction leaders would fall in line, if only to maintain the facade of an orderly proceeding. If she could succeed in keeping the Eliksni calm, the Magistrate might do just that. If she failed, on the other hand...Revys and Brelor might not make it out of the room breathing.
Thankfully, upon hearing a few words in their language, they began to quiet down.
As silence fell over the chamber the petit, waspish woman serving as prosecutor took over.
"Before you stand two Fallen that were seen trying to enter the City by night," she began. "They were halfway to breaking through our defenses when they were intercepted by Vanguard scouts and apprehended. Weapons were confiscated, all of them deadly. You all should have an itemized manifest of what was seized attached to the court briefing." She paused, shooting a condescending look at Meren before moving to pace the room before the bench. "I don't think it's a stretch to say all of us in this room are aware that Fallen eat human children. Six Fronts? Twilight Gap? A five minute peek into any of our history books will confirm that fact a dozen times over. And now they're back at our walls. Why? I'll let you deduce that for yourselves. I, for one, am of the opinion that this incident simply proves they're a continual threat, and for the sake of our children, should be put down. Immediately." She dared to turn to the Kings Captain, Brelor, "What do you have to say in your defense, insect? Anything at all?"
Meren squeezed her eyes shut so the chamber couldn't see them roll. She'd never heard a more blatant lie. Maybe historically, the fact of Eliksni butchering human children was true in one or two extreme cases, but there hadn't been any further incidents in recent decades. In fact, there hadn't been a major clash between the two species, not like Twilight Gap, in a hundred years.
Realistically, Brelor and Revys were probably just motivated by the simple interest of stealing City tech, rather than the malicious notion of trying to break into the City to harm any human - child or adult. Even then, it could have been that they were just curious. They were both young, by the look of them, and a nighttime foray to the City wall was a deft and daring way to prove themselves to their peers.
The prosecutor, though, wouldn't have heard that logic, even from a decorated academic like Meren Hale. Instead, the prosecutor was dead set on spinning the situation as a midnight raid on the City, and her added insults were only serving to inflame the situation.
Across the room, a translation bot quickly began spouting off the prosecutor's words in Revys and Brelor's direction as Meren formulated her next words. Even if the prosecutor wouldn't listen, she had to intervene. She would tell the Magistrate that the Eliksni could be reasoned with. She would tell him Brelor and Revys' actions had been an anomaly, a one-time occurrence. She would tell him to let them free in good faith, they would tell the others. It wouldn't happen again.
But it was too late.
The bot reached the end of the prosecutor's statement and proceeded to regurgitate the rest of the words - the question she'd posed to the two Eliksni. That word - that insulting word. Insect.
No sooner had the word been chirped out by the bot than Brelor exploded.
The cuffs shattered off the Captain's wrists in an impressive display of strength, the shrapnel spattering across the room. He surged to his full height, roaring in his own tongue, gesturing wildly at the Magistrate, his words a slur, anger-fueled and unintelligible.
It was all Meren could do but jump to her feet to intercede. "No!" she cried, throwing an arm the Captain's direction.
It wasn't enough.
In a flash, Brelor swiveled toward the fat man and took a step, snarling. He cursed the man twice over, raised two hands in protest, claws bared. Everything happened too fast, then, and all Meren could do was watch.
The nearest Guardian had their rifle leveled in a second, trained on the big Eliksni, lining up the shot. They exhaled, a steady finger closing around the trigger. For an instant, time seemed to freeze. Then without a second thought, the Guardian pulled the trigger.
Across the room, Brelor's head exploded, splattering the far wall with dark Eliksni blood. The blast echoed through the room, resonating off the walls, as what remained of the Captain's body reeled as if in slow motion, his shattered mask and containment suit hissing Ether as it crumpled to the floor, lifeless. For a second there was silence.
The room erupted.
In the blink of an eye, everything became a blur. Vaguely, Meren was aware of Revys being subdued, tackled to the ground and pinned, by at least three Guardians. At the bench, the Magistrate was laughing, a cold, cruel sound. Arach Jalaal was shouting, orders or expletives - she couldn't tell. Someone was yelling on the comms, ordering backup.
In the chaos, the only thing Meren could do was lurch for the sidelines, stooping over to grip the arm of a chair, stomach clenching. So, she grimly thought, the idea of due process had been a charade all along. All of it had been no more than political posturing, acted out like a play for the inhabitants of the City. It didn't matter if the two Eliksni were innocent or guilty. It had never mattered. What mattered was conveying the illusion of a benevolent and progressive regime to the masses. Like a bright, blazing neon sign screaming we tried! We tried, and look what came of it!
In their eyes, it would be a triumph. One that washed centuries of alien blood from their hands, bestowing on them the absolution they craved. It was no more than a means to assuage their collective guilt. A figurative cleansing of their sins so they could all sleep soundly at night. A metaphorical liberation from the old status quo - for all the nothing it would change.
Sinking sideways into the chair to keep herself from collapsing, Meren clamped a hand over her mouth, the other still clinging to the chair's arm. Despite everything, for a moment she'd dared hope. It had burned so bright, and now...
When she'd woken that morning, attending an execution had been the last of her plans. And yet, here she was.
The moment the acrid smell of Ether reached her nostrils, her head began to spin.
She wanted to be sick.