“Medical was right to have her removed from active duty,” Orryn said with a heavy sigh. They’d received Rann’s recording of Reya’s breakdown and everybody present was just as disturbed as the first time they’d heard her report to Nessah and Cyrix when she was in the hospital. “This would have been catastrophic had it happened during a mission.”

  Cirrus rubbed her temples. “By the gods, that was awful to listen to. Given that we’ve already seen the videos of those chemicals do, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that trying to voice the pain would be that unsettling. But hells, I never thought to try to describe pain that way before.”

  The mood in the room was somber. “We can’t have her appear in public,” Orryn said. “Not with the state she’s in now.” There was no way Reya would be able to handle leaving the safe house to project a strong image for the military to distract the people from their preparations. With Miarre’s unsanctioned report to rile up the public to get another interview, they needed to find a solution to their newest problem.

  “We have a war for the survival of our species and here we are fussing over public relations,” Darros grumbled. “We have bigger things to worry about than some measly little reporter.” Once again, their actions were being dictated people who had no right making decisions for their faction’s top level of government. “I say we shove her in front of a camera, pre-record something and pacify the public with that. Then we deal with the reporter.”

  “She’s also expressing physical signs of her transformation. Her eyes are noticeably paler than when she had her first interview,” Maraz pointed out.

  “Then we get her coloured contacts!” Darros said. “Right now we need a suitable distraction from what we’re doing behind the scenes,” he said gravely. “It’s time we put Miss Ayala to use. She may no longer be in the military, but that’s not important anymore. The world needs a shiny trinket to focus on and she’s it.”

  “You would put her through a stressful situation given her current state?” Orryn said, appalled. “Her doctor has expressed concerns over her changing brain structure. We have no idea how she’ll react to this.”

  “It’s do or die,” Darros said coldly. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s a necessity. We need time to improve our military. We’re working as fast as we can to mass produce the engines and weapons to integrate in our fleet, but that’s going to take at least another month. We’re dedicating almost all of our resources to this right now. And even then, we’ll only be able to do half the fleet. We’ll need to recall the fleet guarding the facility carefully so that they can be upgraded as well, but only once our ships stationed here get retrofitted.”

  “People are noticing,” Maraz grimaced. “I have a surveillance team in place, and the public is growing increasingly worried. The whole is more important than the individual, especially in this instance.” He now had a special team dedicated to improving shields and implementing a planetary defense system using their most recent discoveries, but he didn’t know how long that would take.

  For now, they would have to content themselves with better weapons and engines. It wasn’t much in the face of the wonders of gru’ul technology, but it was a start. At the very least, they would be well protected from the other factions. They couldn’t afford to start skirmishes while their fleet was being retrofitted. As long as they survived the next several months without war breaking out, they would be able to resist anything that could be thrown their way.

  The other factions had been relegated as nothing more than a mere nuisance, and they didn’t even know it yet.

  “Which is why we need to have Miss Ayala make an appearance,” Darros said. “Have her meet her mother and let the world rejoice over a sob story of parent and child reuniting. That will hopefully distract them long enough so we can improve our defenses.”

  “We’re clearly playing right into the palm of the reporter’s hand if we give in,” Cirrus said, frustrated. “What if she does something underhanded before we notice?”

  “The reporter is nothing more than a pawn for us to use,” Darros spat. “It’s time we remember what we are. If the reporter thinks she’ll win against us, she’s sorely mistaken. Once we no longer have use for her, we get rid of her and replace her.”

  “Don’t you think people will notice her disappearance?” Orryn asked. They were playing a dangerous game if they started making prominent figures disappear. The populace was already wary and like it or not, they couldn’t afford a civil war.

  “Accidents happen,” Darros said. “Some are just more likely than others.”

  Thus far, Kaius had been watching the exchange silently. “Elder Darros is right,” he said. Instantly, the whole room focused on him. “What we need right now is time, by any means possible. In this case, the mean is Miss Ayala. Since the topic seems to be up for debate, we shall put it to a vote. Those in favour of having her interview with her mother, vote now.”

  Five lights lit up the room. Only Orryn disagreed with putting more strain on Reya. Kaius had no need to vote since the result was clear. “I think this is a mistake,” Orryn said, voicing her opinion. “We’re playing with fire if we give the reporter what she wants.” She knew there was no way to overturn the vote but couldn’t help but speak up. “We can’t control this the way we intend to.”

  “Just remember,” Darros said, levelling her a hard, cold look, “accidents happen.”

  Jyn grimaced from his command chair on the bridge. Some time alone was all he was looking for. It was a rare instance where Tassie wasn’t actively doing any research at her workstation that rendered the bridge off-limits and it was shattered by a call directly from Nessah.

  He had new orders that he didn’t like.

  “Do you really think this is the best course of action?” he probed delicately. The recording of Reya’s mutterings had shocked him to his core. He hadn’t realized his words would trigger such an extreme reaction from her. It was difficult fathoming what could have possibly happened that led to a meltdown that bad, but for once he didn’t need to.

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  All that mattered was that his actions had hurt Reya.

  Deeply.

  The reason why was irrelevant to him. His anger in the heat of the moment felt so justified he hadn’t thought about the damage it could cause. The guilt eating him alive only confirmed one thing.

  It was all his fault.

  He’d hurt one of the people dearest to him, and he couldn’t take it back.

  “This order comes directly from the Tribunal and not me,” Nessah said through gritted teeth, bringing Jyn back to the present. “I was hoping to be able to shield Reya from their games by having her stay at the safehouse. Cleary not.”

  “She’s no longer military, how can the Tribunal make her do another interview?” Jyn asked, frowning. “Wasn’t that the reason she was able to defy them for so long with regards to Adrian?”

  Nessah’s expression darkened. “For reason’s I cannot disclose, the Tribunal can, in fact, force her to do whatever they want.”

  “What?” Jyn asked, stunned. He’d never thought of defying the Tribunal the way Reya and Adrian had, but knowing they had such a tight grip on her regardless of her status as a civilian protecting her incensed him. “I demand to know why they would hurt her further.”

  “You don’t have the clearance for that,” Nessah responded immediately, shutting him down before he could even start.

  “I find it strange that as the mission’s leader I’m the one that knows the least,” Jyn retorted. “I can’t prepare for any threats without any kind of intel. It’s putting the mission in jeopardy. What do I have the clearance for that I haven’t been told of yet?” He couldn’t let anything else happen to Reya so soon.

  “Very little,” Nessah said. “It’s for your own good.”

  “I’m sorry, General, but that’s an unacceptable answer,” Jyn said. Rebuking High Command was enough to put his career in danger. One wrong move and he would be removed from the mission, unable to keep his team safe from the dangers he knew were being kept from them. “You know exactly what caused Reya’s outburst,” he said bluntly. “Why can’t we learn as well to understand?”

  “That information is classified to the highest level,” Nessah said, her expression turning ugly. “You dare defy orders directly from High Command? You are in no position to tell us what is acceptable or not.”

  Jyn’s heartbeat sped up. Having a good response was imperative if he still wanted to see the light of day. “Others already know,” he said carefully. “You’ve restricted them from saying anything, but now the situation has changed. What’s being hidden from the rest of the team is spilling into our mission and making a mess of things. I can’t even keep track of who knows what, since Reya and Adrian are free to disclose this classified information at their discretion. Right now people are walking on eggshells without knowing why. We can’t adequately protect them while remaining in the dark.”

  Nessah thought furiously. She understood Jyn’s point of view and frustration perfectly, but this was bigger than all of them. The resolute look on his face told her he was at his limit. He would find out the information one way or another, and she knew there was no way of hiding it anymore. The team was going to start asking questions about their friend and she needed to stop that.

  The full truth couldn’t get out yet.

  With the war against the gru’ul on the horizon, their team encountering the chemicals that caused Reya such pain was a distinct possibility. The gru’ul would want their test subjects back and one day they’d come knocking. Nessah couldn’t afford for them to be unprepared.

  Nessah sighed and gave in. “I’m not at the liberty to disclose this information to you without clearance from the Tribunal either. I will contact them and see what they have to say. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about your little display. You are to wait until I contact you again. Remain away from the others until then.”

  Jyn gulped and the connection cut. Left alone, the reality of the situation sank in. The information was so classified that not even the General herself was at liberty to disclose it? He shuddered, wondering what it could be.

  It took another two hours until he was contacted again. Nessah’s face reappeared in front of him at his station. “Captain,” she said formally, “you are permitted to learn about what caused Reya’s reaction. Do not ask for more, you will not get it. At your discretion, you may choose to witness the effects of the chemicals responsible. Be warned, should you choose so, you will watch the whole thing. It will not stop playing.”

  Jyn blinked. He’d succeeded but dreaded the answer to his questions. “What is it that I’m allowed to learn?”

  “During our research we discovered two chemical weapons so heinous that the Tribunal unanimously decreed them the worst crime against the living that could ever be committed.” Nessah waited for Jyn to digest what she’d just said before continuing, noting his pallid complexion. “We’ve obtained physical samples of each one and right now they are our most heavily guarded assets. Ever.”

  “What do these chemicals do that warrant a unanimous Tribunal vote?” Jyn asked, fearing for the answer. A crime against the living of the highest degree. How could the Tribunal be so certain?

  “They cause pain on the levels of which we never thought possible,” Nessah said grimly. There was no joy in her eyes. “Even from the videos we have of their usage, that much was clear. These chemicals will never be tolerated. The fact that they exist utterly sickens High Command, myself included. The gru’ul are monsters for conceiving such a thing.” Her voice was like steel, hard and unforgiving as she passed her judgement on those responsible.

  Jyn pieced together what he’d been told, and when it clicked, he grew sick. “Did they use this on Reya?” he forced out. He dearly hoped not, but it would explain her incredibly disturbing depictions of pain. He remembered Reya’s state when they’d found her. She’d been unconscious for weeks on the return trip. It fit too well.

  “One of these chemicals was used on Reya,” Nessah confirmed in a heavy voice. “The other on Adrian. Nothing will ever be the same for either of them after that experience. It comes as no surprise that Reya had a breakdown from it.”

  “When you said you found video evidence, that means you saw what happened to Reya?”

  “We have video logs of the entirety of her time as a captive, including every torture session they ever did to her. You and your team are not permitted to view these videos, and that’s final.” Nessah’s voice brooked no disobedience and Jyn obeyed.

  “Is the effect of each chemical similar?” Jyn asked.

  “We presume so,” Nessah replied.

  “Show me Adrian’s video,” Jyn said resolutely. He needed to know. He wouldn’t leave without understanding why. If his team needed to prepare against a threat so terrible, it was imperative he find out what it was. “I need to understand what these chemicals do.”

  “I highly advise against that course of action,” Nessah warned. “It’s not pleasant. But if you insist, you will bear witness to its entirety. Lock the bridge doors and ensure no one disturbs you for the time being.” She waited for him to do just that and then sent him the video. “Ensure Tassie thoroughly destroys this when you’re done. And Captain?” she added. “I’m sincerely sorry for what you’re about to see.”

  The call ended and Jyn spent a long while simply staring at the file he received directly from the General. Her words weighed heavily on his mind as he debated whether he should heed her warnings. Deciding he was too far in to back down, he started the video.

  The horrendous screams made even the ship shudder as he bore witness to the worst depiction of pain he never thought possible.

  And he would never unhear it.