Angie hit the stone floor face-first, a sharp impact that sent blood spurting from her nose. Her hands were tied behind her back, leaving her unable to catch herself. She wheezed and coughed as blood filled her throat, a pain piercing in her side, where she had cracked her ribs on the balcony edge. Even with the exo-suit, the drop was still brutal. She may have been holding that fucking Kryptea in a headlock, but she had managed to move Angie in the air and use her as a landing pad. The Kryptea had then dragged her up the temple steps into the Traes' apartments.

  “Well done, Archon,” Moran’s voice held a level of pomp, smug satisfaction unmistakable. Meno was right, Angie thought, breathing heavily against the floor. It was him. He had betrayed the Traes. All Angie hoped was that the idiots were already off the planet, she knew that Paba could find a way off this rock by a ship and that Lady Olivia would hopefully have a way to get one. There was still a chance that they could get Lady Olivia free of all this.

  She used her head as leverage, as she pushed herself up to her haunches and looked up at the Commander of the Traes Guard. His black moustache curled in a smile, glancing down at her, he looked terrible, like a man torn. Her gaze drifted around the patio of the Traes apartments, the room was a wreck. Tables once set for honoured guests lay overturned, glass shards and scattered food littering the floor. Through the balcony window, she caught sight of the Pillar looming above the city, framed by the hands of Det’em.

  Behind Moran, she saw the Traes holding each other, both looking desperate and broken. Just beyond them, Shilu Slafor knelt, her eyes red, blazing with hate. Beyond her lay a small, crumpled body. She recognized the white robes and the wrinkled hands that once used to join in a small clap. Harold’s face was covered with a small white cloth, Shilu must have done what she could to honour her beloved charge.

  The two male Kryptea stood watching them, ensuring they couldn't do anything. Her eyes searched for 6, the one she had interacted with the most. But he refused to meet her gaze, his head turned deliberately away.

  There was someone else she saw, someone she hadn’t expected. Someone she thought had escaped with the rest. Efreet stood in the corner of the room, flanked by two guards in full exo-suits, while he wore plain clothes. He looked confused. So it wasn’t him, she realised. The swapping ability she had seen on the platforms, that wasn't his. That explained how he’d been acting the past few days. Stoic. Calm. Angie had thought it was focus, the kind she’d seen in soldiers, a putting to the side of personality, a shifting to duty, becoming almost an autonomous being with only the objective ahead. If it wasn’t Efreet, then who in the hell was with Meno and Paba?

  “Where are they?” Moran grumbled. Angie looked up at him, searching his face for any sign. She kept her own expression neutral, not wanting to give anything away herself. Chances were that Moran was being played too, that he would only have a basic understanding of what was happening, all that a grunt would need. He would merely be a pawn, a soldier sent to capture the Traes. It would have been a risk to have him know too much about what the Dorlec were planning.

  “Sorry…took a knock to the head. Who are you referring to, Commander?” she asked, her voice laced with mock confusion, feigning the effects of her injuries. The Kryptea behind her responded with a swift swat to her temple, sending a jolt of pain through her skull. She steadied herself, “That should fix it”, she said spitting on the floor.

  “We know your team took her. We know you infiltrated the guard,” he said, indicating toward Efreet. Infiltrated? Angie’s mind reeled. Whoever had been Efreet wasn’t with them, they were from another party. Worrec’s, perhaps? That could be good. Maybe. Her head really was spinning now. She looked over to Efreet.

  Who replaced him?

  Moran stepped closer and grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Where are they?” he demanded.

  Angie smiled at him, defiant even through his grip. Moran let go of her face but gripped the straps of her exo-suit, dragging her across the floor of Traes' patio toward the balcony. Her feet dragging along the ground, every few steps, sliding across the blood that dripped from her face as he hauled her forward. Her ribs ached with every little movement.

  “You see that, Captain?” he spat, “That is the Dorlec, you know about them correct? Who would you prefer to find them?” Angie looked up, her gaze drawn to the Pillar looming over the city. Its matte black surface glowed faintly with the fires of the city below, the slightly blue light of its gravity engines, suspended it above the ground shimmering, warping the light around its edges. The massive ship hung in stillness above the mountain-sized statue of Det’em, its presence casting an oppressive weight over the scene. A shiver ran down her spine. Once, the sight of a Pillar brought her comfort, a symbol of reinforcements, troops, and military superiority. She supposed it still represented that, just not for her, not anymore.

  She could hear the city better now, the cries of people, the shots from rifles. It was still going on. Even with the Pillar, people were still fighting, perhaps not realising they had already lost. The Dorlec would most probably let them whittle themselves down before going in to contain them.

  “Trust me, Captain, you will save them significant pain by handing them over to me”

  “Am I meant to pretend that the Traes being tied up there and you being in charge means that you aren’t just going to hand them straight over to the Dorlec, Commander?” she said, her voice sharp. Moran grunted at this, but before he could retort, the Pillar let out another deep bellow that hit like waves, vibrating the air itself, shaking the bones as it struck the atmosphere. The sound that once inspired so much passion in her, stirred her muscles into action and vibrated her blood with purpose. Now, it only left her veins cold. The frozen realisation that this Pillar was not here to defend her, or back her up. Now she was the victim of a military order, a speck in the deep cry of the merciless monolith. It drowned out the chaos from below for a moment, and stilled the world, all attention being pulled to it.

  The shell-like surface of the Pillar cracked with a beam of light, splitting at its centre, light emitting from its core, releasing a slow procession of military personnel carriers, flanked by twelve sleek fighters. Angie recognised their resemblance to the Dagger-class ships from the war, though these were far more advanced. They flew like blades through the air, black like the Pillar itself, but with a sleek shimmering finish which Angie knew would be coming from not just their gravity engines, but the generated shields too. There were no visible windows, yet Angie knew the pilots inside would have near-complete 360-degree vision and those things would be packed with an array of weapons. These fighters weren’t just lethal; they were designed with brutal efficiency in mind. A squad of those things could take down a city with ease. Their design, while sleek, was not merely for aesthetics, which she knew the Dorlec would appreciate, but because they were made of hardened materials, and in their attacks, they could drive their pointed fronts into the hulls of larger ships. Fighters like that were meant to cut fleets apart and destroy any options that may have been available for a counterattack. They were brutal efficiency, wrapped up in hardened shells of premium materials, with active shielding that could be adapted into a weapon when needed. These were not the craft you released when expecting survivors.

  Between the twelve dagger class fighters were three larger, more leisurely designed military crafts, Triumvirate class vessels. Ships with the sole purpose of transporting the high-ranking officials that would usually command from the Pillar. Their wings, completely unnecessary and merely a symbol of supreme command, spanned twenty meters each, moving as if slicing through the air with grace. Ornate and luxurious inside, these ships were designed to parade victory, not enter the battlefield.

  These carriers weren’t just transports, they had weapons too. Angie had never seen one deployed in battle. They existed for commanders, for the leaders who sat safely aboard the Pillars, to be brought down to a devastated battlefield so that they could declare their victory over some city, town, or planet on which their own soldiers would have lost lives, minds, and perspectives.

  During the war, they were saluted by soldiers with whatever limbs they had left, with what ideals of duty remained, by those who could still stand in the glory of the great commander's good games. This carrier would carry the Pillar Commander. Angie had no doubt about that.

  “Looks like you are out of time anyway,” said Moran, moving away from her, leaving her on the balcony with guards standing behind her. She watched the parade move slowly from the Pillar, drifting ceremonially over the city toward the open hands of Det’em. Perhaps this was it, she thought, she couldn't see a way out of this one. Not this time.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  She dropped her head out of habit, as she had in countless situations like this before, but the expected emptiness or dread didn’t swell inside her. There was no fear, not the usual spiral into her mind, the inevitable review of past decisions that she had made before in shame. This time was different. The emptiness wasn’t there. Instead, she felt a surprising calmness, a quiet sense of pride.

  She had done this for someone else. That was the decision she now relived and reviewed, the act of getting them out. She smiled, she didn't regret it. This was right.

  She felt at peace watching her death march toward her in the Dorlec ships, the hums of the ships becoming somewhat cathartic. She nearly chuckled, thinking back to long ago during the war when discussions would turn to who would die in the most heroic or spectacular way. It had been a morbid game they played, wagering on who would fall to the highest-ranking soldier or the most over-the-top weaponry. When everything seemed against you and death inevitable, that absurd competition brought a strange kind of comfort.

  ‘They will need a fleet for me’, had been Gab’s promise.

  ‘I’ll look them dead in the eye and laugh, while I stick them one more time’, had been Leif’s desire.

  ‘Bring Bel himself!’ was Lor’s challenge.

  Angie had never thought about what her death would be like, she just knew that it would come. She knew that it wouldn't be in her control. It had never come though.

  Gab had fallen to stray shots on a battlefield. A small cut, left untreated on some gods-forsaken swamp planet, had taken Leif. Lor had died fighting, she knew that even if she hadn’t seen it, but it hadn’t been Bel who got him.

  Their deaths were inglorious, as death always was. Not many had a death that counted, one that meant something. Not people like them, like Angie. Some of them were pulled into a Primer's ability and killed as collateral damage. No choice in that.

  But here she sat, in the Temple of Det’em. An army in front of her, a House Pillar overhead, and a Dorlec Commander descending to face her and all after she’d sacrificed herself to save her team.

  “Not too shabby,” she said softly to herself, a teardrop daring to release from its duct. She chuckled to herself as she watched the Triumvirate class vessels glide steadily to the level of the apartment balcony. It seemed to extend further and further ahead of her, the curves of the ship looking as though they cut through the air. She watched in peace as it glided over the balcony, coming to a slow prolonged stop at the balcony's level.

  The front of the ship opened, the ramp extending over the balustrade touching the ground. The Daggers orbited the Triumvirate, ready to plunge their weapons into the temple if needed. From the gangway stepped a Dorlec commander, with his full exo-suit on, all the medals on display hidden behind the white cloak, laced with gold and navy blue with its matching gold epaulettes extending the shoulders out. He was trailed by ten Dorlec guards in their own suits.

  “Former Captain Lawrence,” said the Commander's distorted voice through the mask before dropping his helmet’s visor, to which Angie actually laughed, she felt the drying blood on her face crack,

  “Of course it’s you,” she said chuckling, “You prick,”

  “Something amusing, former Captain Angela Lawrence?” he asked, looking down his straight nose and finely combed hair. Angie looked up at him and smiled, genuinely feeling like there was meaning in this. In it being him, some cosmic game that was being played.

  “I just remembered that I won a game I started playing a long time ago,” she said, bursting into laughter again, before she caught sight of Sheppard nodding to someone. Then, suddenly without warning, the world went black.

  “I’m sorry sir, she did say that she may have taken a knock to the head” said Moran, standing over the now unconscious Angie.

  “Or just Hulfean. They are all insane,” said Smik, his visor dropping as he stood next to Moran.

  “Interrogate her, find out where the boy is”, said Sheppard, stepping over her towards the heart of the patio. Sheppard could see that Moran looked confused. Of course, Moran wouldn't have understood the Dorlec’s interest in the boy.

  His soldiers already surrounded the room, and he took pride in the Traes guard becoming submissive at their arrival. The blue exo-suited guards looked around at one another, at their commander, then to him. His eyes moved over to the Traes, Eher and Pac, who were holding each other in the corner of the room, their eyes boring into him. A hatred that he thought should be reflected, something that they should contemplate. They had allowed all of this to happen. All the Dorlec did was move a few pieces, the fact that they did not recognise the game was their fault, their mistake. The Kryptea stood dutifully over them, like the good dogs they were.

  Then there was the young Traes soldier that had burst into the room after Grasci’s death. He was the personal guard to Olivia Traes. Sheppard had been thinking about this since it had been reported. It meant that he was right, there were other powers at play here, potentially the Eshara or the Artelis, but Lord Louis Matise had received explicit orders from the Autarch, orders that could not be defied. Whatever web this Meno was in, it was cast far wider than he had initially suspected. Infiltration of a Planetary Head’s guard, let alone being invited in as a guest in the first place. Whoever his friends were, they were clearly connected, regardless of him being nothing of note. A simple test subject.

  Added to that, he still had the Lotus, holding the Eshara in the system. Victoria Sequeria’s actions were still strange to him. She was a formidable woman, with an army backing her, and Sheppard did not allow himself to forget that the Lotus was once a Home Ship designed for war. He remembered as a child hearing reports of the devastation that the Imhullu warship tearing through Hulfean space. Stories of the Eshara rampaging across systems in the name of the Masma, and the old god emperor Bel. If it came down to a fight, they had only had three Pillars on the planet. A battle with the Eshara and the Lotus would be futile to say the very least. It would also be suicide for her, the Dorlec would wipe the Eshara from the galaxy as a consequence of standing against them.

  It was strange for her to still be in the system, stranger still that he had reports that she was still on the ship herself. Though, he needed to remain sceptical of that intel. The Eshara were not known for leaking information, and even with the countless guests that the ship was now attending to, none of them would have access to her, or her people. She wouldn't be seen if she didn't want to. The only thing that made sense to Sheppard when considering the Lotus and the Queen of Midnight, was that she was somehow connected to the boy, to Meno. Why else would she risk the suspicion? They had to be connected in some way, did she send him here? But for what purpose, was it merely for protection? He knew that the attack on Yeley had been kept ‘need to know’ so perhaps even her networks never got word of it, but it felt off. Sheppard still felt as though he was missing something. A feeling that he despised.

  Before all of that, however, he needed to wrap up Yeley. He pulled one of the chairs out from the large table that had glass, food and ornaments thrown across it. He dusted off the chair, and took a seat, ensuring everyone in the room was aware of every movement. He sat for a moment, looking at the Traes, savouring their uneasiness and their questioning looks. Smik came to stand behind him. Neither Traes dared to say anything. What could they say, they had already lost. He beckoned them forward with two fingers, and to his pleasure it was the two of the Traes Guard that were standing near them that herded them over. Their looks of incredulity at their own people handing them over was something to behold.

  They stood before him, but he didn't say anything, he lazily looked up at them, watching the terror and anger on their faces. Still, they had no words, there was nothing left for them. His victory was absolute. However, it needed to become legal. He threw out a data pad across the table, they looked at it without touching it,

  “What is this?” muttered Pac. His usual commanding voice, faltering

  “This document says you will formally hand over control of all political and sovereign powers of Yeley over to the Dorlec Empire. You could make things much easier for yourselves now” he said calmly, “Sign it. We would appreciate if this were a peaceful transition of power”

  “Peaceful?” sobbed Eher, jerking forward and placing her hands on the table, “You call this peaceful?!” she bellowed pointing to the city beyond the balcony, finding her voice. Sheppard did not react. Pac looked at him with utter hate, a rage that would only sit and fester within him. A deserved self-hatred for his inability to change what was happening, or what had happened. Again Sheppard did not react.

  “With the signing of this document, your people will be placed under the protection of the Dorlec Empire, and therefore the Autarch himself. Without it, your planet will smoulder into ash from the revolution that you have allowed to burn,” he said, his eyes passing between the two, “You also have your daughter to consider, from what I understand, she is still on Yeley. No ships have entered orbit, and no shifter activity has been picked up. We wouldn't want her to be left out there all alone, would we?” he saw the panic and visceral realisation strike them. Even if they had thought her safe, they would have no way to know, no way to confirm. If Sheppard said that she was vulnerable, those words would eat away at them. They would corrupt and consume any previous thought of her safety.

  “What are the terms?” said Pac, his memory of being a planetary head clearly still present. Was the fool going to try and negotiate? Sheppard allowed his right hand to drift upwards, he felt the tech in his chest warm beneath his skin. He held two fingers out, pointing at Ehers' midriff, and pulled his hand quickly to the side. It was immediate, she didn't even react to it at first, it took time for her to realise the giant gaping wound had been inflicted on her abdomen. Blood sprayed from her side. She screamed and Pac stumbled trying to hold her up as she began to fall. He grabbed her, softly guiding her to the floor, blood leaching out of her onto the stone. She had immediately gone pale with shock. Pac Traes whimpered over her, unsure of what to do, his hands floundering over the wound, gathering her blood.

  “We will help her once the document is signed, former Planetary Head, Pac Traes”