Tara opened her eyes. Her ears were ringing as she slowly got to her feet. Her body hurt everywhere. What had been a room minutes ago was gone. Instead, she stood in the desolate, ruined offices of the 3rd fleet's tactical divisions meeting room. In front of her, the floor was littered with rubble and the occasional body. Ruined cubicles where she had gotten her first job under her new name. Where she had started a new life. Directly in front of her was what was left of the main projector table. The orderly chaos that once flooded the room was gone, though the ghost of memories remained. Running simulations for hours at a time, skipping meals just to finish the workload. The entire office was silent in contrast to the usual cacophony, all waiting for the results of the battles. Here, they had raised the 3rd fleet to the main fleet of the consulate. It all had happened here, in these very rooms. And now it was all gone. Nothing but a shadow of what it once was. Tears started flooding her vision, and smoke flowed into her lungs as she slowly fell to the floor. Against her will, she drifted into the darkness of sleep.
//12 years ago//
The emperor’s voice boomed through the room.
“Garen Corvatz.” He said the name as if it were poison. “You have been charged with high treason.”
The charges all held very little meaning to Tara.
“You will be stripped of your title,” the emperor continued, “Your holdings, including your children, title of Duke, and High Commander of the General People's Army, will be transferred to your brother, Dax Corvatz. Do you wish to contest this?”
The castaway duke was shouting, his face contorted in rage and betrayal. Oblivious, Tara stared at a crack in the marble floor beneath the witness stand. She waited for something to break inside her, some flood of emotion for the man. Yet nothing did. She felt no pity, no anger, nothing. She was just numb. The man on trial, her father, did not deserve any response. He was just a man who had used her for his own good, and nothing else. Her gaze left the floor and slowly wandered around the courtroom past her father, and eventually landed on her uncle. She had seen him a few times before this trial. He was usually stoic and calculating. He stood 2 meters tall, with a muscular build from his years in the consular drop force. His burnt orange hair was neatly trimmed and framed his cold face.
An annoyed [sound] to Tara’s left pulled her from her thoughts. It came from her half-sister, Myna, the eldest of the 4 legitimate children.
“Why does it have to be Uncle who takes us in?” she muttered. “He's so strict.”
“Shut up, unless you wanna go with dad to the dumps. Uncle won't pay us mind, that's how it's always been,” snapped Ben, the second oldest.
Myna opened her mouth to let out a retort, but not finding one, she shut it. She glanced around the room for something else to take out her anger on, until her eyes landed on Tara. “Well, why don't you go with him? You have experience with being a peasant, don't you?” she sneered. Tara’s 3 other half-siblings chuckled at this. Tara let out no reaction and kept staring straight. Not getting a reaction myna frowned and continued, “Or maybe you're happy, maybe you think uncle is going to ‘protect’ you.” She smiled, “He's by the book; it won't matter to him what we do to an child.” The bang of a gavel stopped her sister's onslaught. Guards stepped forward and lifted her father by his arms and escorted him out of the room, ignoring his protests. Tara glanced at him one last time. She no longer hated him. Hatred required attention, but no longer deserved it.
Tara didn't want to be included in this stupid “family.” She wanted out—not of the room, but of this twisted family, and now might be a better chance than ever.
//Present//
The persistent beep of machinery pierced her mind. The rhythmic pulse was an unwelcome sensation to her still-waking mind. Slowly, feeling returned to her. She could feel her chest rise and fall with her breath. Then she convulsed as a sharp pain flooded her body. It came from everywhere, piercing her mind and scattering her thoughts.
“She’s waking up.”
Her eye cracked open, and light flooded her vision. It was too bright, slicing behind her eyes. Tara let them close again. She didn't want to wake up-- at least not yet. Tara gave up on wallowing in her self-pity. She needed to wake up to do something. Something important, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was yet. She slowly started to push herself up. Her arms collapsed under her.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Lie still. You’ve been unconscious for—”
“What happened?” Her voice scraped out of her throat, hoarse and thin.
The voice took a pause before responding. In a way, that was a response as well.
“The city was hit,” someone said. It was Serys, a longtime friend of Tara’s, and an impeccable doctor. “Multiple detonations. Command is asking—”
Tara opened her eyes. The ceiling swam, white and fractured. She was in a clean hospital room. To Tara's left was a large floor-to-ceiling window. The city was quiet, which was unnerving. At least there still was a city. On her other side was Serys with a databoard and a concerned look on her face. Tara could tell she was tired and had been working nonstop.
“Get me sitting up,” Tara demanded.
“Commodore, you’re injured—”
“Just do it,” she bit out
She tested her fingers. They shook, but they moved. Good enough. Serys sighed. The bed whirred as Tara was gradually raised to a seated position. Serys surveyed Tara, analyzing her state. Being satisfied, she said ‘The security council called on you not long ago, but you were still asleep,p so…”
Tara took a deep breath. “Then why are we waiting?” Tara murmured, smiling at Serys.
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Serys scoffed and gave a short, sarcastic bow before leaving.
The lights dimmed and the window tinted, and Tara straightened the hospital gown she was wearing. Three holographic images whirred into existence. Her commanding officer, Grand Duke Kaelen Vortan, sat there with a scowl on his face, glaring at the floating map of the city in front of him. Next to him sat Auren Morozov, head of the CCEB, though his face was impossible to read as always. Finally, Duke Dax Corvatz sat inspecting the map with a cold, calculating glare. They all looked up in unison when Tara coughed.
“Commodore,” Auren said as he stiffly nodded.
Tara nodded back, “Grand chief.” his attention returned to the map.
Tara’s eyes followed, shifting to the map. colored dots spanned the holographic city. Text hovered over each. She racked her brain. Her head hurt. She knew that she should know what all this meant, but she couldn't understand it.
Auren looked at her again, and seeing her puzzled look, he cleared his throat.
“There were five detonations across the city. One at Cyprann ring, one at the Imperial Palace Station, one at the Krysh Hall, one at Theryll palace, and one at the Grand Bank. We still don't know how many are injured or dead.”
“And,” Kaelen interrupted, “and Aria is missing.”
Aria. She knew that name. Slowly, it came back to her. Aria was the Grand Duke’s daughter and the Grand Admiral of the imperial fleet. And most importantly, Aria was her girlfriend. Tara’s throat went dry. This couldn't be happening. Aria had always been there, and she was vital to the command structure of the consulate.
A chime sounded, breaking her away from her thoughts. Prince Ren had entered the Control room. Tara and the others saluted. He waved, and they all broke their salute. His face was grim. He didn't sit. His black hair, which was usually neatly swept to the side, was messy. His clothes were wrinkled and [opposite of neat]. He was clearly tired and stressed.
“What are we doing? Do we know who the perpetrator is?” he asked.
“We are trying our best,” Auren said. “I have a team scanning the cameras now, but most of the memory was damaged. We're scrambling the memory and have started cross-comparison–”
“That's not an answer,” Ren interjected.
“The GPA is working with the CCEB on securing the sites now. We have limited air traffic, and are conducting checks on all the ground transit leaving the city that passes through the area. We’ll figure it out soon enough,” Dax responded, now looking up from the map.
“The palace needs a timeline,” Ren said.
Dax paused for a second and glanced at the board while doing mental calculations. “We will secure all sites in under 10 minutes– after that, the GPAs’ priority is search and rescue.”
Ren nodded and looked at Auren expectantly.
“We are on track to have the memory restored and search it for suspects in 3 hours at least, but it could take up to 6 hours. Other than that, all patrol units are on high alert, and a strike team is ready to leave at a moment's notice,” Auren said, regaining his composure.
Ren thought for a moment and asked, “Could we shut down the city? Restrict stratosphere travel and go into lockdown. Is that an option?”
Auren was shaken at the suggestion, and Dax was calculating again. The duke sat looking into the distance, his attention clearly elsewhere.
Tara interjected, “With all due respect, your highness, a lockdown needs senate approval. Even if it were approved, it would give enough time to the perpetrators to escape. All it would do is cause panic and unrest among the citizens. And I believe that was the point of the attack: to show flaws within the consulate's security. The bombings themselves are doing enough; total lockdown would make it worse.”
Everyone, save the Grand Duke, was looking at her. Dax looked taken aback, almost a little surprised, but only for a second. Of course he did. The discarded child of the Corvatz family was proving herself yet again.
Ren cleared his throat. His face was neutral and emotionless.
“You raise good points, Commodore. I’ll go and prepare an address for the Senate. It will be at the palace. I’ll send you a chime to summon you.” he turned to leave.
Taking a deep breath, Tara continued, “One last thing, your highness!”
He turned, an eyebrow raised inquiringly, “Yes, Commodore?”
She knew that what she was about to say was careless. She wouldn't be able to take it back. It wouldn’t be easy for her. Sacrifice for the emperor's glory. That was what she lived by.
“While you're at the Senate, I recommend you lobby for a temporary replacement for Aria to command the Fleet, and possibly one for the Grand Duke, as so far he seems ineffective with Aria gone. I recommend you check on the rest of the Vortan family to ensure they are not compromised either.”
The Grand Duke looked up at Tara. His rage and shock stood evident on his face. The prince's face, however, was much the opposite, nearly impossible to read. Both Dax and Auren looked shocked, but much less pronounced than the duke. Finally, after a long moment of tense silence, the duke spoke.
“That also implies that you should be removed from your post, Commodore, after all, you were Aria’s partner. Is that not what you suggested, Commodore?” The words came out smoothly, but the anger behind them was clear. Each word cut Tara like a blade. But this was politics, an eye for an eye. She took a breath before carefully responding.
“If the prince deems it so, then yes, I suppose that would be best.”
She looked back at the duke. She could see all the cogs spinning in that brilliant mind of his, piecing together a comeback. She knew him. She had worked with him over the years and had come to respect him, both as her commander and as the closest thing to a father she had known.
The prince nodded before the duke could respond. “I will think on that, Commodore.”
With that, he turned and left, leaving the room silent in his wake. The Grand Duke glowered at her. Auren respectfully bowed and logged off, leaving Tara with her uncle and the Grand Duke. The duke's displeasure shifted from her to her uncle.
“Leave us,” he snarled.
“I don't see why,” her uncle said slowly, gauging the duke's reaction.
“Leave. This is between and me,” the duke growled
“That gives me more reason to be here, if it concerns Tara,” her uncle returned, the calculated coolness still present in his voice. A small part of Tara asked, The voice was quickly silenced. No. He was just there to enrage the grand duke. This was just another way to check the grand duke's power.
“Get out,” said the duke, enraged and now standing in front of his holographic chair.
“Stop, ,” the voice came out of nowhere, “My patient is sick and injured, and your petty arguing is waking the other patients.” The Grand Duke shrank back as Serys stepped into view. “Grand Duke Vortan, Duke Corvatz,” she said as she bowed.
“Lady Serys,” they both responded in union while sheepishly returning the gesture. Serys looked back at Tara and quietly said, “You don't need to do this now. I know you're going through a lot.”
Tara shook her head.
“Grand Duke, I’d like the verdict now, and Duke Corvatz may stay if he still wishes,” she breathed out. “Just get it done with.”
Duke Corvatz sank into his seat, his intention to stay made clear. Duke Vortan shot one last glare at him before similarly returning to his seat. Serys settled on the edge of Tara’s bed. The Grand Duke cleared his throat and looked in her general direction, careful not to meet her eyes. “Commodore Tara Cryss Corvatz.” he paused and took a breath. “I, Grand Duke Kaelen Vortan, Chief of the Imperial Shield and Chief Advisor of the Xypranian Star Fleet, use my authority to henceforth dismiss you from the fleet. Thank you for your service. Long live the Emperor.”
Tara was expecting it, but that didn't help. Tears stung her eyes. “Long live the Emperor,” she choked out.
The room brightened, and the shades automatically retracted as she logged off. Serys slowly stood up and turned to Tara as if to console her, but paused, then, changing her mind, bowed. “I will take my leave,” she said, her voice wavering if only in the slightest. As the door closed behind Serys, Tara cradled her head in her hands and started to cry.
