CHAPTER 3
All the way to the Caldeor Exchange, I argued with myself.
I should have shared everything I knew with Delora, for I owed her that much. If anything good came from the attack yesterday, it dispelled any doubts that the First Legate was clean. That she was the same woman I remembered, and I was honoured to call my friend in the past. In a distant past, from her perspective. In a blink of an eye, from mine.
I should have told her who I am. I should have told her the entire truth …
But I didn’t say anything yesterday, and this morning it was too late. Our duty came first, and both of us had a crisis to focus on, leaving the sentimental reunion for later.
We were close, the two of us, forty-odd cycles ago. At the time the Legate was a fresh academy graduate, starting her career with a prize assignment, as Diplomatic Corps attaché on Tao Bellona. At that time, I looked different. I had the same age as now, but my hair was fiery red. I had discrete carmine facial patterns and light blue eyes. I had a different name.
I was Xendara Ashar, newly ascended Queen of the Sen’Dorien House. The Chaos Queen.
Delora Hardun, Del in her youth, was the appointed liaison between the Diplomatic Corps and my House. A bit of an assistant, a bit of a spy, for the Corps weren’t above keeping tabs on the Haillar Queens. After all, forewarned means prepared, and the diplomats wanted to be a step ahead in any crisis.
I worked with Del a lot, and we became friends. I shared with her bits of my past, she shared with me her plans for the future. She wanted to be a career diplomat, to build bridges between the Haillar and other species. She dreamed of discovering a new race someday, the first new race the Dominion had come across in the last two thousand cycles. She wanted to bring them into our confederation and help them every step of the way. We used to joke about this improbable dream, and I made her promise that when the time comes, and she’ll negotiate the Accords with this fabled new species, she won’t forget to involve the Dorien House. That we’ll do it together, her as a Dominion Ambassador, me as a Queen.
Dreams of the past …
Time had gone by, and she was now towards the end of her career, Dominion’s First Legate on Caldeor. Xendara had died, and the eternal Ashar raised again, as she had done a thousand times before. This time as Ellandra, the purple-eyed avatar. Queen once again, as of three days ago.
I lied yesterday in the cafeteria. A white lie but a lie, nevertheless. I didn’t come by portal from the Capital. I came directly from our home system. I came from the Ka Loren Forge, the place where I suffered the same ordeal as I did a thousand times in the past. The place that shattered yet another Adept, remaking her into a Queen.
***
We arrived at the Exchange late in the morning, a rather large group of aliens by this planet’s standard. An odd group, too …
Del had brought five Diplomatic Corps officers, including herself and me. Not to be outdone, five adepts led by Ortens Sen’Galahad were marching by our side. I wondered if the two of them did it on purpose, if they negotiated between themselves equal sizes for their respective groups. Rivalry can be so ugly, so silly sometimes.
Or maybe the size of our group was the consequence of yesterday’s attack. Maybe Ortens wanted to play it safe by bringing in five adepts. Six, including myself.
Despite their general dislike of strangers and professed self-sufficiency, the driang had an eka gate opening on her orbital station. I guess even the most stubborn supporters of weaponizing Huynar recognized that a defence station impossible to supply in a time of need wasn’t such a good idea. Hence the Haillar gate.
We were waved through the portal and emerged in a dim-lit chamber, high into Caldeor’s orbit. An equally impressive group was waiting for us:
“The Archon had informed us of your request, Ambassador,” said the forefront avian in a strident voice, reminiscent of an eagle’s cry. “I’m Krestellar, the master of this station, and I welcome you to our nest in the skies.”
Krestellar was as different of the esteemed Erdolminer as two birds of the same species can be. While the Argon was plump and soft, Krestellar looked fit and hard as a rock. While Erdolminer was a pompous turkey, the station master was a genuine bird of prey. His words were welcoming enough. His stance was anything but.
“We thank you for your hospitality, my Lord” answered Del. “We are most grateful for your quick response and, rest assured, we’ll do our best to disrupt your station as little as possible. As I understand, you already have test weapons on the station, and a demonstration would be in order.”
“A brief demonstration can be arranged,” responded the avian stressing the word ‘brief’. “Our partners were most pleased with the prospect of expanding their business, and your visit here might be exactly what they needed to achieve this desirable outcome.”
“The esteemed Archon mentioned that the test would be scheduled midday.”
“True,” confirmed Krestellar. “You will have the opportunity to witness first-hand the efficiency of the weapons we intend to acquire. While I move to the bridge to direct the test, the esteemed Halstemar, representing King’s Funds Oversight Committee, will lead you to the viewing gallery. This test is it’s a first time for him, too.”
Del inclined her head in acknowledgement, while I stood by her side still as a statue, the very image of an eager assistant waiting for the Legate’s instructions. This time around the instructions were not for me.
“Second Legate Halora will join you on the bridge, my Lord. Unless, of course, you see an issue with this.”
It made sense to send Ajden Halora to meet the fabled jalmaar supplier, and at the same time keep an eye on the station’s control room. He was a senior diplomate, but also an ex-soldier and this made him the best person to keep an eye on our hosts for any evidence of deception.
The rest of us followed Halstemar, the Caldeor’s king representative, through a succession of corridors empty of life. Our destination proved to be an elongated lounge with a wall-sized mash of screens offering a stunning panorama of the planet below, complemented by the blue orb of a nearby moon. An artificial window created by the overlapping images of hundreds of station sensors.
I wondered briefly if behind Krestellar’s easy acceptance of our visit was the intention to fool us by tampering the image on these screens. If so, such a ridiculous scam was doomed to fail. Any of the six adepts present in the room, not to mention Legate Halora on the bridge, would be able to realise that something is wrong, that the scene being played was only an illusion.
“Is this the viewing gallery?” asked Del.
“This is the waiting lounge,” responded our guide. “The gallery is up there” he followed, pointing to a suspended catwalk, positioned at an angle that likely doubled an observer’s field of view compared to our current location.
Oh no! Trust the birds to set up the viewing gallery on a perch.
In wasn’t the only one to sigh and the bureaucrat continued in a slightly amused tone.
“Don’t worry, my friends. I was told that the Station Master provided an alternative viewing station for this occasion, one accessible to someone of your race.”
We made ourselves comfortable waiting for the start of the test. Del didn’t lose the opportunity to engage the king’s representative, fishing for some information while the rest of us spread across the lounge. I ended up next to the screen, watching the planet below. The world I had the duty to protect as its Suzerain Queen, according to the Accords, but also according to our sacred Sen’Haillar creed. Against the Scourge, against the kreussa, against the traitors in their own midst. Against my own race if the case may be, for the Dominion law was above the interests of any given species.
A strident signal interrupted my reverie.
“It’s time,” signalled Halstemar, heading toward a side entrance with my colleagues in tow. I followed through in a circular stairwell extending both above and below our level.
Time for the show!
I felt so secure in this group of officials that I didn’t even notice the incoming fire until one of Ortens’ people folded in front of me. Luckily the Sen’Galahad Resident and the rest of her adepts were on guard and promptly overlapped their shields, protecting themselves and the rest of the diplomatic team.
Naturally, none of them included me on the list of people needing protection. After yesterday’s events, they must have rightly assumed that I could be trusted to take care of myself. Yet, I was wool-gathering, and as a result, I was caught entirely off guard.
The shock of a penetrator throwing me against the rail worked marvels to bring me back to the grim reality. I raised a spherical shield and took stock of the situation.
We were effectively caught into a killing zone taking fire from both above and below. Heavy penetrator slugs alternated with energy beams and the hiss of several disruptors. Whoever planned this trap did it specifically with Sen’Haillar’s weaknesses in mind. Specifically, our inability to shield ourselves against combined attacks, at least not for an extended period of time. At least not under normal circumstances.
Fighting on a semi-deserted station gave me an unexpected advantage. I didn’t need to worry about collateral damage. Having taken my time to follow Halstemar’s call, I was the last in our group, with no one else but enemies below me.
I gathered my power and sent a blast of Chaos towards the lower floors. Eka attacks are not visible unless the caster wants so. I didn’t, so nothing spectacular happened, at least not at first.
Further down, atoms started to derail from their established patterns and randomly scattered all over the place. Positively and negatively charged particles swiftly changed polarity, then changed it once again, and again and again in a haphazard way. Matter disintegrated without warning and flew away in invisible clouds. In a matter of moments stairwell, people, two entire floors and a sizable chunk of the station wall simply ceased to exist.
The entire process released an incredible amount of energy, the unpleasant by-product of an eka blast. The reason it was a sledgehammer to be used in space and rarely employed at close quarters. I altered my defence field and channelled the exhaust into a controlled beam that drilled its way out of the station, leaving behind an atmospheric leak, but not a serious one. At least not compared to the havoc I made through the lower part of this structure.
Caldeor’s King would be most unhappy with me partly destroying his orbital station and will likely threaten to complain to the Suzerain Queen. He would be even less happy with Krestellar, I imagined, noticing for the first time Halstemar’s body, shredded by bullets. The poor bureaucrat was as much a victim of this ambush as the rest of us.
“Ellandra Sen’Aesir, or whatever your real name is,” thundered a voice above me. “Are you entirely out of your mind?”
Oops! The Sen’Galahad witch was not at all happy with my heavy-handed actions below, despite their proven effectiveness. I must admit that she had done a pretty good job herself, as the fire from above had trickled to infrequent energy blasts. The top side of the station was still in one piece, so maybe she had a point. Maybe I overreacted.
We stumbled back into the lounge, the lowest intact floor above the chaos ridden mess below. We lost an adept and a second one was badly burned by an energy blast he had failed to stop. However, two dead and a single walking wounded was a bit of a miracle given the amount of fire we took in the stairwell.
“My Lady, you are bleeding heavily!” said one of remaining adepts, a grizzled veteran sporting the symbol of Life on his tunic. “Take a seat and let me have a look.”
Two walking wounded, I guess. I completely forgot about the penetrator round I got early on, a clean shot through my upper arm. I poured some eka to limit the bleeding and took the medic’s advice. He was better suited to deal with this than I was, queen or no queen.
“Ellandra, what was that?” asked Quars Mendina, Sandrial’s friend.
The Second Legate’s question took me a bit by surprise.
“Huh? What was what?”
“What happened in there? What happened to the rest of the station?”
“What happened is an uncontrolled Chaos blast,” responded Ortens angrily. “Only a rogue like you could have considered using such a weapon on a space station.”
‘My blast was controlled’, I thought indignantly, or else none of us would have been around to discuss it. But there was no point in arguing with the Frost adept, and in any case, she was right. I should have reacted differently. I should have used a different aspect, a less destructive one. One that wouldn’t have transformed Caldeor’s only orbital station into a wreck.
I guess I had some reparations to make. I owed a brand-new station to the King.
***
We advanced carefully towards the bridge, luckily positioned topside, relative to the planet. I just realised that in my destructive spree I could have killed Legate Halora, should the bridge had been at the other end of the station. This, more than Ortens’ bickering, filled me with shame. I was indeed a loose cannon, especially when riled.
I wondered if the ex-soldier was still alive. I hoped to be the case, though I doubted it. Whoever had the gall to try murdering the ambassador and her entire party, not to mention King’s own representative, wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of a mid-level diplomat. Whatever his game was, Krestellar had a lot to pay for.
We made it to the bridge hatch and stopped on either side of the door.
“Cover me,” said Del to the Sen’Galahad adept, the strongest one of us, at least in name.
I wanted to step forward and come by her side, but the Resident didn’t argue for a change, taking her place next to the First Legate. She threw a Frost shield in front of them both, and blasted the door without any comment.
Del and Ortens moved forward and stepped on the bridge. Right into the path of a monomolecular net.