Siegeguard,
Vorzyd 4

And then it was over. As Theren Gevel put his head in his hands, the great blasts of green fell from space, crushing all resistance, tearing through every fiber of the enemy force, carefully avoiding all but the most minimal Imperial casualties. The remaining Vorzydiaks surrendered.

In minutes, the global surrender was handed to Lieutenant Dayvid Tornel onboard the Zenith. “You made the right choice, if I may say so, sir,” Dilem commented evenly.

“I know. That doesn’t make it any easier to betray Cilliun.”

“He will recover.”

“Will he?”



The Zenith,
Vorzyd 4 System

Cilliun Velus willingly relinquished his blaster at the door, this time, and marched in. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, as he stared unblinkingly at Theren. Sometimes, that stare could be maddening. Before Theren could even begin speaking, Cilliun was off. “Let me get this part out of the way for you: you had to do it. I led them into a massacre. It wasn’t worth it. Standard Imperial procedure. About right?”

Theren sighed. “I don’t want to tell you that.”

“Then why am I here? Certainly not a debriefing. God knows there’s not much left to say about it. You pretty much took care of the Vorzydiaks, didn’t you? Yes, I’m quite sure that the surrender was very unconditional, as they informed you that due to the indiscriminate slaughter of not only a defenseless division of troops but the women and children of an entire city, they would not be able to continue.”

“Cilliun,” Theren said, rubbing his head. “There was nothing else I could have done. I won’t sit by and watch my men be slaughtered.”

“But you’ll slaughter Vorzydiaks just fine, won’t you?”

“Sacrifices must be made.”

“Why?”

“Because the end of a unified galaxy justifies the means of momentary brutality,” Theren replied, reciting a thousand training manuals and Imperial holograms. “Good and evil are religious terms that the Empire doesn’t sanction.”

“Oh?” Cilliun said, almost laughing. “So you keep telling me. But I’ve been to the bowels of hell, Theren. I’ve seen the heart of darkness within every man, watched the devil have his day again and again. And I can’t help but wonder, what is worth this? If so many atrocities are committed in the name of justice, then what is this justice? The bastard god of death?”

Theren blinked slowly. The circles around Cilliun’s eyes had intensified. He seemed almost insane. “What we fight for is the hope for a better tomorrow. For a day when this will not be necessary ever again.”

“And when is that day going to come?”

Theren didn’t reply.

“When?” Cilliun shouted, sitting forward. “Never! It’ll never come. There’s only tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, darker and darker still, each day filled with rivers of blood spilled in the name of some forgotten ‘hope’ by ignorant killers too stupid or too enraptured by their own fucking power to realize it.”

“Can’t you see past that?” Theren asked. “Are you so bitter that all you can see of the world is hate?”

Cilliun didn’t hesitate. “Yes. We haven’t all been spending our time on our high horses.”

“Maybe if you had you’d be able to see over this wall. A soldier doesn’t think of the goals, of the why, he simply follows orders. It’s my job to fight for a better tomorrow, and to know that it will come.”

“So you say,” Cilliun spat. “And what if you’re wrong? What if you simply can’t see past your own blind faith? The small men are manipulated by the big men, the big men by the bigger ones, the bigger ones by the bigger ones, and on and on forever, until you get to the one who knows that there is no fucking future!”

“Cilliun, this was not an easy choice to make. I thought long and hard, and you know that. I’ve been losing sleep over this, just like you.”

Cilliun scoffed. “Are you more concerned about the lives you just took, or about letting me down?”

Theren sighed. “We’re at an impasse, Cilliun.”

“Send me back to the cesspit you pulled me from, then. That’s where men like me are put in the Empire. Along with the other crazies that this glorious system of ours has spat out for not buying into the bullshit they sell you in the recruitment holos.”

“No,” Theren replied. “You’re still my friend. I understand that you’ve taken a fondness to Alpha Squad, 13th Century, 3rd Legion. They’re being stationed here in the Vorzyd Cluster, and you’ll be placed with them for the time being.”

“Friend,” Cilliun said. “Friend, he says, before the blood on my hands has even dried.”

He got up, and left.

Tornel, who had been watching from a corner, came forward. “He doesn’t seem very pleased with the way things turned out.”

“You’re a master of the understatement.” Theren looked at his desk, running his hands through his dark hair. “You know what the worst part is? I’ve had that same argument, almost verbatim, with my own superiors. It sickens me. I’m becoming Kroth.”

Tornel shook his head. “No, Theren. You still fight for your ideals – for a better future. Kroth fought for himself. Regardless of what Velus has to say, you still have scruples.”

“I hope you’re right,” Theren said, handing Tornel a datapad. “Read that.”

“An intelligence report. From the capture Vorzydiaks…” Tornel’s voice trailed off. “A pulsar system?”

“In a nutshell, the ConfedVor have abandoned the cluster and retreated to the systems surrounding this one. They’ve been making hit and run attacks on Tezac and the like. But here’s the interesting part,” Theren continued. “According to one of the intelligence operatives from Vorzyd 5 we interrogated, the leadership is in another system – they call it Blackspire.

“They’ve abandoned the cluster?” Tornel asked incredulously. “What sort of government abandons its capitol worlds to foreign rule to play guerilla warfare with a massively superior force?”

“Exactly. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark, and it has to be in Blackspire. The Vorzydiaks aren’t normally aggressive to the point of suicide. Something is manipulating them. They’re just pawns in a larger game.”

“What will they have stationed in this Blackspire?”

“One large command ship, it seems.”

“So we go for the head.”

“So you’d think,” Theren said slowly. “But the pulsar star it revolves around emits a huge amount of radiation, blocking out all starlight except its own. Flying through it is flying blind. Sensors shut off, you can barely see. The four planets in the system are all superheated molten worlds. Cilliun hasn’t seen hell – this is hell. At the most we’ll be able to outfit one ship with radiation shields, given the available resources and the timeline. I don’t know if I can lead my men into this. This is damn near a suicide mission. We’re fighting on their territory in conditions only they’ve fought in – after what just happened, I don’t know if I trust myself to do this.”

“Because of what? Because Velus doesn’t like how you run the show?”

“Because Velus struck a chord.”

Tornel shook his head. “Your men will give their lives for you. They will follow you straight into the jaws of hell, marching steadily all the way into damnation.”

The Zenith,
Blackspire

After jumping into the aptly named Blackspire, the first several days were totally uneventful. With the vague system scan provided by Vorzydiak intelligence it was impossible to set off on any course with total confidence, so the Bastion Conclave flagship began scanning the outer reaches of the bleak system. No stars were visible in the distance; no nebulae, planets, or stellar objects. Only the lightning-like slash of the Blackspire pulsar in the distance, flashing slowly.

A pulsar star was the densest object in the universe; roughly the size of a mountain, a thimbleful weighed as much as a thousand Imperial walkers. The waves of pulsating radiation blocked out all but extremely short-range sensors and commlinks; in essence, the Zenith was flying blind, deaf, and in the dark, only the distant star visible, with no contact for days.

The trouble onboard began within a day and a half. With no instruments operational and onboard systems going haywire even with the radiation shielding slapped onto the flagship, morale slumped quickly. The eerie visage of a black sky out every viewport was no comfort; with no outside contact for days on end, the crew began to grow frightened, discontent and unsure. Of course, all were honored to serve under Theren Gevel, the mighty Theren Gevel, but in the edge of every mind, a nameless, whispered fear crept into view that eroded morale like a virus.

It began as a fight in one of the mess halls. The men involved were disciplined and sent on their way. But then the corner of a ship was spotted off the starboard side and the men began talking. Like the system was full of ghosts, liable to strike from the shadows at any moment. Then men began complaining of paranoid and delusional fits. Massive fights broke out between groups of men. When a general order to remain calm and trust the captain was distributed throughout the ship, little to nothing improved.

One of the planets was found, devoid of life. Then another, the same. As the ship slowly moved through its orbit around the world, the same ship blipped onto the scanners and then left. Word traveled fast, and soon most of the ship was in a panic. The bridge bustled. “Order rear shields reinforced,” Theren said. “Detract from forward shields, increase ion engine power. Move us out of orbit.”

“The men are frightened, sir,” Tornel commented quietly.

“I thought you said they would follow me into the jaws of hell?”

Tornel didn’t reply.

“Forward.”



“What happens now?” Grez Miff asked.

“Now, we strike from the shadows,” Lord Admiral Lothar replied. “We eliminate Gevel and take control of our worlds while the Bastion Conclave falls into disorder.”

“How can you be so sure it will?”

“Men do not mobilize themselves, Prime Minister Miff,” Lothar said placating. “Behind every force there is a leader, guiding the blind masses.” He smiled irritatingly, reminding Miff of his own position.

“Fire.”



And from nowhere came the superlaser blast. Like a line of green death it cut through the space to the left of the Zenith, tearing into its side, winging the huge vessel, venting oxygen and fire. “Fucking Christ!” Theren shouted, bracing himself on the handrails. “Rear shields? Damage report?”

“Collapsed on the starboard quarter,” Tornel said. “Holding elsewhere. We would be dead if they hadn’t been reinforced. Severe damage on the starboard side.”

“Throw up a containment field. Forward shields, full power. Bring us about!”

The ship made a slow turn through space, as the culprit of her damage emerged into their short-range sensors; a massive ship of foreign design, triangular, equipped with a superlaser on the bow. Like a poor imitation of the Eclipse-Class Star Destroyer. “Target the forward sections of that vessel! Fire!”

Green turbolaser blasts leapt forward, tearing at the enemy shields.

“Sir, there is a transmission coming through.”

“Put it on my holoprojector.”

An unexpected visage appeared; that of a human. “Greetings,” the voice boomed. “Theren Gevel, I presume, and his imbecilic lackeys. Come, seeking their demise in Blackspire.”

Theren stared at the man, cloaked as he was. A human being, commanding the ConfedVor. The man continued to speak in his Imperial drawl. “As I am sure you are fully aware, my vessel possesses one superlaser, which we have now trained on your Star Destroyer. We will not miss out next shot. I am ordering to you stand down and prepare for boarding.”

“Never.”

The cloaked man chuckled and an alien voice behind him spoke briefly. “Very well, Theren Gevel. Then you have chosen destruction, and chosen it for your men.”

But before the transmission was cut, something clicked in Theren’s mind. The voice that he had heard was familiar – it was a voice he’d spent hours conversing with over a negotiation table. That of Grez Miff. A thousand meetings flashed back into his mind, and he recalled the man’s character.

He shouted at the hologram quickly before it could fade. “Miff! I don’t know what he’s paid you or the others, but you stop this now! You can fucking end it – the Empire will compensate them. Just kill –”

And then the transmission was cut. Theren turned around, unabashedly. “All power to bow shields. Full thrust, forty-five degrees downward.”

He glanced back. And for the briefest of seconds, he saw them hesitate. He looked down into the command pit to see one of the engineers hesitate; he watched even his closest advisors glance unsurely about. “Have I ever fucking led you astray? Do it, now!”

The ship blazed forward and down, and, just barely, the superlaser blast missed high. The Zenith’s turbolasers blazed away at the massive ship, breaking through shield. Some of the men were still wary; they, like Theren, were waiting for the next turbolaser blast. And here it was; the final summation of all the things Theren had endured. At the end of the day, the soldier thinks only about himself; a brave soldier has been placated by his commander, an intelligent soldier has been well commanded. But ultimately, the life of a soldier is a simple world of binary choices.

That second blast never came. Grez Miff came onto the holoprojector a short while later, announcing the untimely demise of Lord Admiral Lothar and the unconditional surrender of the ConfedVor League. The men clapped and cheered Theren’s cunning and valor.



Inferno Installation,
Blackspire

Theren looked out the viewport of the small installation. Outside, the superheated surface of the dark, bleak world was molten lava; the specialized durasteel station stood on super-dense metal struts that went down at least a kilometer. “They’ll be compensated, I hope,” Grez Miff said wearily. “I can’t begin tell you how angry the ConfedVor council is.”

“There is no ConfedVor council, Grez,” Theren replied. “They’re nothing but a group of rich men in a room anymore. I expect we’ll nationalize several of their businesses, as well. You don’t have anything to worry about from them.”

Grez nodded.

“I want to thank you, though,” Theren said. “You did the right thing and saved your people a lot of grief.”

“I could have saved them more grief. It never should have gone this far. I don’t know why I let it go this far.”

“You were just following orders.



Veerac Mith was asleep even before his head hit the pillow. And this time, there were no dreams; not of family or friends long left behind, not of a magnificent tomorrow. Only of the gloriousness of battle and a true, wise commander named Theren Gevel that would never lead his men awry.

Bliss.