The following day found Reya plucking the strings of her bass half-heartedly, alone in the music room. Her intention had been to advance the song she’d been working on, but her mind was elsewhere. She continued in vain her attempts to come up with something catchy for several more minutes before sighing in frustration and giving up.
Her eyes turned to the data slate on the desk. Gently, she put the instrument back on its stand and trudged over towards the empty seat. With great reluctance, she opened the newest document the General had sent her earlier that same day. It was a rough outline of the interview that she would be doing.
It contained the questions she needed to be ready for as well as their answers. While she’d been given some leeway to deviate from the script to word her replies in a way that didn’t sound so stiff, it didn’t change the fact that she had to memorize everything written in the document.
I didn’t ask for this, she thought in frustration. Resting her head on her propped-up hand, the sleeve to her blouse fell slightly. Her eyes flicked towards the exposed skin. What if they see my scars? Worry filled her and her heart skipped a beat at the thought. They’re going to know I’m just a sham, she thought, filled with shame.
Though she continued to stare at her maimed arm, she didn’t make a move to pull up her sleeve. With no one around to bother her, she didn’t mind having her scars out in the open. Tears filled her eyes. All I did was fuck up my mission. I don’t deserve this much attention. I don’t deserve their praise. What happens when they find out?
Envisioning her future as a social pariah did nothing to calm her frayed nerves. Unable to distract herself with her music, all she could do was think about what was to come. She reread the interview script, trying her best to commit it to memory.
After half an hour, she had to admit to herself that she was failing miserably at her task. She read the words on the page, but they didn’t stick, her mind too focused on what might happen to her now that she would become a celebrity. I’m going to be famous — wait, I’m already famous, she thought. Why can’t this all just go away?
A knock on the door interrupted her morose thoughts. Adrian’s voice rang out, asking if he could enter. She gave him permission and he did just that. Closing the door behind him with a soft click, he took one look at her before his eyes turned soft. “How are you holding up?” he asked.
“I’m not,” Reya sniffed. “I knew something like this would happen when they awarded me the medal, but it didn’t really sink in at the time. Being here for so long away from society made me forget about it since it wasn’t important. Now I have to deal with all of this. What do I do?”
Adrian closed the distance between them and place a hand on her back, giving her a gentle rub. “You do the interview and then come back here. I don’t like that you weren’t asked beforehand, but this is something you’d have to do sooner or later from what I’ve gathered. You can’t stay here forever.”
“Can’t I though?” Reya said wistfully. “Then I wouldn’t need to do this stupid interview.”
“Exactly how important is this medal you were given?” Adrian asked.
Reya paused for a moment as she collected her thoughts on the cultural significance of the award. “Beyond important. The Silver Star is a tradition that predates Verilia’s independence and the formation of the factions. To give you an idea, right now, there are only three Silver Star holders alive, and they were awarded it during the Great Wars for incredible feats. Before our independence, only four other people had been awarded it since its inception over a thousand years ago. I don’t know if the other factions still have it, though.”
“It’s a pretty big deal then,” Adrian nodded to himself. The others had simply told him that the medal Reya had received had great cultural significance for them but hadn’t explained how much it had.
“It’s not only that,” Reya added. “I’m the youngest person to receive it. Ever. Whoever gets one gets put in our history books for future generations to learn about. Everybody’s going to know how badly I fucked up my mission and wonder why I was awarded it in the first place.”
The anxiety slipping through Reya’s attempts to control her emotions concerned Adrian, but he knew there wasn’t much he could do to help. He hated how powerless he felt in the face of her tribulation. “I maintain that you deserve it for having survived what the gru’ul did to you.” He sighed. “I wish there was more I could do.”
Reya flashed a wan smile. “You could play the role of the interviewer and we could practice together,” she proposed. “I’m getting nowhere with this on my own. Thank the gods I don’t have to do the interview right away.”
“Thank your gods for that.” Adrian read over the script and fetched another chair. He placed it next to Reya, positioned so they could both read the data slate. For the next hour, they went over her lines, repeating them often so she could commit them to memory. They were making good progress, but Adrian could tell Reya was fast approaching her limit. “Would you like to take a break here?” he proposed.
Reya nodded tiredly. “I could really use one, but I don’t know what to do with myself right now.” She eyed the instruments, her thoughts drifting towards the song she was working on. After being exposed to genres of music she’d never thought possible, she wanted to create her own piece.
“How about we play some music?” Adrian proposed, following her gaze towards the bass she normally used. “Should we work on a song together or the one you’ve been making?” As far as he was concerned, any time he could play his instruments was time well spent. Time that was both nostalgic and wistful, for he would never again hear the wonders of his people as they were intended. The best he could do was recreate them as faithful to their original as possible. His songs would forever be a reminder of what he’d lost, the only semblance of his culture on the alien planet he’d found himself on.
“I’ve been having trouble sounding out the melody,” Reya sighed. “I have an idea of what I want but finding the right notes has been difficult.”
“We could sound it out on the piano together if you’d like. I’ve written down a list of scales that might help.”
“Works for me,” Reya said, standing up. Taking a seat at the keyboard, she waited patiently for Adrian to find her the proper sheet music. She could read it well by now — it would be an embarrassment if she couldn’t given how much time Adrian spent teaching her — and leafed through the stack that was positioned on the music desk on the piano until she found what she was looking for.
In her hands was a series of different scales, written on several different sheets. While she could read them, she couldn’t imagine their sound at a glance like Adrian. He brought his chair over and joined her, sitting on her left.
“Let’s go through the scales one by one and you tell me which one you like best,” he said, motioning for her to start playing.
“Just like that?” she replied, her brow raising. “Isn’t there some special method to choosing which one to use?”
“Why should there be one? It’s your song. No method will be able to choose for you.”
One by one, Adrian showed her what the different ones sounded like, until she chose a key in which to compose her music. Once selected, Reya was quick to begin working on something she could call her own. Time flew by as both of them did their best to bury the memories of what had happened to them.
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It was almost, but not quite enough.
Mia suppressed a yawn as she sat down in her chair at her workstation on the bridge. While she would have like a cup of tea, dropping out of hyperspace demanded her full attention. It had been a long three weeks of transit but they were finally almost at their destination.
“Rough morning?” Iral asked, already sitting in the Captain’s chair, overlooking the rest of the bridge.
“Far too early,” Mia grumbled in return. Two large holoscreens appeared before her as she verified their coordinates one final time. “At least now we get to take a break on the flagship.”
Iral sighed. “For you, maybe. I still have to give the Commander a proper debrief on how the mission transpired. How much time until we drop out of hyperspace?” A new screen appeared in front of her as she was transferred the data, tearing her attention away from her final systems check.
“Half an hour,” Mia said.
Iral spent a few more seconds before dismissing the newly appeared screen. “I’m going to call the others to have them strap in. I don’t like taking chances.” Using the ship’s systems, she ordered the rest of the team to return to the bridge. They filed in over the next couple of minutes, each member strapping in. Once all six members of the team were present and accounted for, she ordered Mia to display the remaining time before dropping for everyone to see.
“It’s time,” Mia eventually announced. “Is everybody strapped in?” A chorus of affirmatives confirmed the fact, and she initiated the proper procedures to drop safely. Once ready, she eyed the timer and waited for the inevitable.
The disconcerting experience of feeling compressed and expanding at the same time overcame her. The ship lurched as they appeared several hundred kilometers away from the flagship at their designated arrival location.
Iral was immediately hailed by the flagship on an encrypted channel. Accepting the call prompted General Nessah’s face to appear in front of her on a holoscreen, surprising her as well as the rest of the crew. “Vice-Captain,” she greeted in a hard voice that sent alarm bells ringing in Iral’s head. “I see you’re right on schedule.”
“General,” Iral saluted briefly. “Where is Commander Cyrix? It was understood that he was the one we were to report to.”
“The Commander is currently preparing for your new mission. In carrying out this mission, you and your team will officially become persons of interest of the faction. That includes after your military career has ended,” Nessah explained.
Iral gulped and tried to calm down. “Must we take this mission if it is so important?”
“The Tribunal has decreed it to be your team.”
Iral’s brows rose. The Tribunal? she thought. What in the gods’ names did we get ourselves into?
Nessah continued her explanation. “And if you have not arrived when you are supposed to, where you are supposed to, you will all immediately be declared enemies of the faction.” Nessah’s tone was firm and held no joy. “The task you’re being given is important enough to warrant such measures. You are not permitted to discuss the details of this mission with anyone except myself or before the entirety of the Tribunal. This mission is classified to the highest level.”
“What are we to do?” Iral asked.
“Your job is to transport something back to Verilia,” Nessah said.
“Is what we’re transporting dangerous?” Iral said, taken aback. It was the only explanation she could think of for such draconian measures to be implemented should they make a mistake. She worried that somebody would get injured if they weren’t careful enough.
“Yes,” Nessah said gravely.
“Do we get to know what it is or what it does?” Iral said.
“You do not,” Nessah said bluntly. “Your clearance level isn’t high enough for that and it is to remain that way.”
Not high enough? Iral thought in disbelief. Who on Verilia has enough clearance, then? She thought of the soldiers they’d made the exchange with several weeks ago, tasked with removing the secret they were transporting and wondered if they did. “I cannot put my team at such risk if we do not know how to take proper precautions.”
“Commander Cyrix will place it on your ship personally and reset the lock to a higher encryption level upon leaving. So long as the lock is not breached and your payload undisturbed, all will be fine,” Nessah replied.
“And what will be the new encryption password?” Iral asked.
“You’re not permitted to know,” Nessah said.
“This sounds like a highly unreasonable mission, General.”
“It is,” Nessah acknowledged. “But it must be done, and your team is the one that was chosen to do so.”
Though the others kept silent, Iral could see their unease when she flicked her eyes away from the screen for but a moment. “Why us?” she asked.
“There was no other team available with the level of clearance required to be assigned this mission,” Nessah explained. “Given your involvement in the mission already and previous track record, you are to be assigned the mission.”
“Apart from our most recent transport mission, we haven’t done anything that stands out from the other teams carrying out their orders planet-side. Does this have to do with our most recent cargo?”
“No,” Nessah shook her head. “These are two entirely different matters.”
Iral bit her lip. “Will Captain Nadi be accompanying us on this mission?”
“She is otherwise indisposed with overseeing the facility,” Nessah replied carefully. Given Nadi’s involvement in the attack on Irric and the suspicious circumstances surrounding it, it was deemed by the Tribunal that Nadi should not be permitted near the chemicals again. Especially not with her curiosity into the true nature of their mission at the facility.
“I understand,” Iral said with a frown. “You might as well give us our new orders now so we can prepare for the mission.” Though she tried to remain neutral, she couldn’t prevent her irritation from slipping into her voice. Nessah pretended not to notice, not wanting to upset the only team eligible to transport the chemicals.
Nessah went over the mission in as much detail she could provide — which was none whatsoever. The team was to dock at a very specific station where their supplies would already be waiting for them. They were to load them onto their ship and seal themselves in the bridge until further notice from Commander Cyrix.
After receiving instructions to disable any cameras in the room that would house their cargo, the same threats were reiterated. There was to be absolutely no attempt to access the room nor to use the ship’s systems to view what they were transporting, a fact that didn’t sit well with the crew.
With little they could do, they gritted their teeth and followed out their orders. While stealthed, they docked and loaded their supplies. Once they were gathered back on the bridge, Mohr spoke up. “This entire mission is ridiculous,” he said. “They can’t force us to do this. What on Verilia are we transporting that warrants this much secrecy?”
Iral looked around and saw several others nodding their heads as Mohr spoke. “I know as much as you do about this mission,” she said. “I’m assuming it’s something they found at the facility while we were in transit. High Command would have a rather hard time sneaking something this important past the rest of the soldiers stationed on the planet.”
“Unless they threatened everybody else involved as well,” Mohr said darkly. “Do any of these measures make any sense? Last time it was a person, and this time it’s gods know what. I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” Iral replied with a sigh. “If this was decreed by the Tribunal, there’s no chance we’re getting out of it.”
“That’s what I mean! We can’t even verify our orders. If the Tribunal issued them, why didn’t any of the Elders order us directly? It’s suspicious,” Mohr said.
Iral narrowed her eyes. “Don’t even think about tampering with our payload, Mohr,” she said in a low voice. “The punishment doesn’t concern just you. Any fuckups that happen affect us all equally. You’ll turn us all into enemies of the faction if you do anything. We won’t ever have another night’s rest, assuming we aren’t caught and executed for our crimes.”
“Military law requires there to be a trial,” Mohr huffed in indignation. “They can’t enforce these absurd measures and they know it. They’re just trying to scare us to keep us in line.”
“There won’t be a trial for this if we disobey,” Iral intoned. “The military might threaten punishment for failure, but that’s rare. For them to threaten us so severely twice in a row during a mission that mobilized half of our fleet, whatever happens to us will be buried so deep nobody will know they should even be looking at all.”
Four sets of hard eyes settled on Mohr. He looked around and saw once again that he had no support. “I can’t believe all of you are alright with this!” he exclaimed.
“We have no choice but to be if the General’s words are to be believed,” Mia said. “You’d better not do anything.”
Mohr grumbled unintelligibly beneath his breath, cut off by an incoming call. Iral shot him a glare as she went back to her station and accepted the call. Cyrix’s face appeared before her on a holoscreen. “Soldiers,” he said gravely, “your payload is secure. You already know the consequences for disobeying orders, so I won’t repeat them. You’re cleared to undock. You have five minutes to leave. The clock starts now.”
Iral saluted her superior. “Understood,” she said. The call ended and she ordered everybody back to their stations. Mohr reluctantly went to his and sat down. Once everyone was strapped in, Mia sealed the ship and requested that the hangar doors be opened.
They left the flagship behind, stealthed and unnoticed as ordered. Mia lined the ship and input the coordinates that would bring them back to Verilia and their intended meeting spot. She counted down before activating the ship’s engines and they jumped back into hyperspace to begin their voyage, each member of the crew praying to the gods that everything would be fine.
