Nessah stared at the holoscreen in front of her, dead serious. “You ask for more information, even after what happened the last time?” She knew that Jyn was right in his grievance. Leaking Adrian’s knowledge to the public and using Reya’s music as a distraction impeded their ability to protect the pair.

  “We should have been informed of something so important,” Jyn pushed. “We wouldn’t have even known had Reya not caught the announcement right before it went live.” Inwardly, he was fuming, although he didn’t let it show in front of the General. He couldn’t afford to be too pushy, as he knew he walked a fine line.

  “How would you knowing have changed anything?” Nessah asked calmly. “Are you implying that you should have a say in High Command’s decisions?” She didn’t need to raise her tone to threaten her soldier. A mere Captain had no say in the on goings of High Command’s decisions.

  Jyn’s eyes widened. “No,” he said hurriedly. “I’m simply saying that if we are to properly perform our duties, we need to at least be aware of major developments pertaining to our charges. Disseminating Adrian’s knowledge puts him at risk of being discovered and soon we’ll have an entire planet’s attention on us. We still don’t know the Tribunal’s stance on Adrian’s claims, but that doesn’t matter. People are going to start asking questions and the only reason they’re going to is because of the leak.”

  Nessah considered Jyn’s words. After Jyn’s previous request for highly classified information, she’d been given discretion on what to share. The Tribunal had decided that it was time for the team to learn the consequences of their discovery, should she deem them ready. “You’re right. High Command is preparing the world for Adrian. We’re using his music to soften the blow. There’s going to be a lot of scrutiny for not announcing first contact when we should have.”

  “High Command accepts Adrian’s ridiculous claims?” Jyn asked, incredulous. “On what basis?” He’d never truly believed Adrian’s claims, but to learn that his superiors did surprised him immensely.

  “While you’ve been hard at work protecting our assets, we’ve continued our research on the nature of the facility. What we have discovered has confirmed Adrian’s claims, far-fetched though they may be. We have no choice but to announce to the world that we’ve indirectly achieved first contact with a new species.”

  Jyn remained silent as he processed the news.

  “We can no longer afford to keep his existence a secret,” Nessah continued. “Right now, the music is serving its purpose of distracting the populace and so too will revealing Adrian.”

  “Adrian is also a distraction?” Jyn asked.

  “For the moment, yes,” Nessah replied. “You’ve been isolated for many months from the main base, so you haven’t been made aware of what we’ve been up to. Our entire army has been upgraded thanks to technological advancements from our research of gru’ul technology.”

  “Wait, the entire fleet has been upgraded?” Jyn could hardly believe what he was hearing. Their fleet was beyond massive in scope. A staggering amount of resources would be necessary to retrofit all of it. That it had been done without rousing suspicion was equally baffling.

  “Yes,” Nessah confirmed. “New weapons, new engines, new shields, and the implementation of a global planetary defense system are among our initiatives to improve our military might and our safety as much as we can, as quickly as possible. We’ve been expanding our fleet at never-before-seen speeds. No resource is to be spared.”

  Jyn gulped, fear gripping him as he took in the enormity of the upgrades and expansion. “Why do we need such improvements so desperately that they must be kept secret?” He didn’t want to ask his next question but forced himself to anyway. “Are we preparing for a war?”

  Nessah straightened in her chair. She stared Jyn straight in the eyes and spoke. “We’re already at war and have been for some time. One beyond any scope our faction has ever seen before. We are at total war with the gru’ul. Our very species faces annihilation should we fail.”

  “Why would the gru’ul attack us?” Jyn asked, utterly stunned. “We’re so far beneath them that we can’t pose a threat.”

  “What we’ve uncovered is so drastic and sinister that we’ve no choice but to go to war. Once the gru’ul know that we’ve learned their biggest secret, they’ll attack us without mercy. Of this, we’re certain.”

  “Is it related to the purple chemical?” Jyn asked.

  “In part, but not entirely,” Nessah said. She took a deep breath. It was time. The team closest to the heart of mystery needed to be prepared for what was to come. For that, they needed to learn of the Mandate. Adrian would surely become a point of interest to the gru’ul, and Jyn’s team was to be the most directly impacted. The Tribunal had given their permission to disclose it, and she judged that that was the moment for the truth to be revealed.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “It’s Adrian’s fault, isn’t it?” Jyn said, certain. Otherwise, why would they have found him at the facility? “He’s the reason any of this began. Things haven’t been the same since we brought him back.”

  Nessah let out a low, sad laugh. “Adrian is perhaps one of the biggest victims in all of this. Events were set in motion long before he ever existed. You might not like the man, but rest assured, he is not the reason for this war.”

  “Then what changed? It has to be something drastic for High Command to respond this way.”

  “Everything you’ve ever known is a lie, Captain. Everything,” Nessah said. She proceeded to reveal to a poor, unsuspecting Jyn the darkest truth they’d learned. Her Captain’s face underwent a myriad of emotions the more she explained. By the time she was done, the man was very disturbed. She took a deep breath. “The War Tribunal has risen to power,” War General Nessah decreed. “Victory at all costs.”

  High Diplomat Annkor opened his eyes slowly, marking the end of his prayer session. Though on a mission, all members of society were to pray to the gods daily. As the highest authority in charge of the envoy sent to enter contact with the Sunalii Faction, he had to set an example. It wouldn’t do for the crew to become complacent. Reluctance to pray was the first step away from the path the gods had planned for them.

  Non-believers had no place in their faction.

  That Annkor even had to speak to the heathens in the Sunalii faction grated him. Too much of their populace didn’t pay proper respect to the gods, as was demanded in the scripture. Sinners, the lot of them.

  He hid his disgust well, donning the smooth mask that had landed him his position. For someone of his stature, it was a necessity. Dealing with other factions was difficult, especially the Sunalii. The reclusive faction was tolerated at best due to their military might. Their only saving grace was that their combat capabilities outstripped every other faction, to the extent that nobody else could touch them without risk of serious repercussions. Annkor snorted. Their neutrality and refusal to take part in inter-faction politics was a cursed blessing if he ever saw one.

  Alone in his opulent quarters, he had the peace he needed to determine how best to approach their dangerous foe. The Sunalii needed no allies, such was their might. The other factions all agreed they were a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode.

  Hopefully they’d wipe themselves out first from infighting.

  Annkor went to his desk on the other side of the lavish room and called up a holoscreen to review everything he knew about the faction. Getting news from their spies was a difficult affair, but a few useful nuggets of information managed to escape.

  Most notably was the recent leak that resulted in the mission in the first place. In a highly secured drawer on the bottom right of the desk hid a case that contained in it a single data chip. Annkor input the access code and retrieved it, placing it on the desk in front of him.

  He pushed the depression in the top of the smooth, black, metallic case and patiently waited for it to open on its own. He eyed the chip securely laying within, unable to suppress a violent shudder at the recollection of what exactly was stored on it.

  The purest form of savagery never thought possible still gave him nightmares, even after so many months. It was only through a monumental act of will that he wasn’t sick on the spot. Gingerly, he withdrew the chip and connected it to his data slate without opening its files.

  When the information first arrived, none had been ready for the small snippet of video of a strange man the wrong colour strapped to a chair, surrounded by gru’ul. It sparked a furious debate that left them with more questions than answers.

  An appropriate response was discussed on how to save the poor soul that endured such misery, presuming he was still alive. Loathe they were to admit it, only by contacting the Sunalii faction directly would they have their answers.

  They would probably lose their mole and instigate an internal purge of the Sunalii faction’s ranks, but High Priest Rankarr had decreed it worth it. To allow such suffering unto another was a sin of the highest degree, and so it had been decided that Annkor was to learn what the Sunalii were hiding, at all costs.

  They could not allow such a vile substance to be perpetuated and used on another.

  Should the Sunalii weaponize it, the results would be catastrophic. Their faction would have no choice but to wage war on such monsters to wipe them from existence, which was tantamount to suicide. Other factions would have to be involved in the war for there to be any chance of success.

  It was fortunate that half of the Sunalii faction’s fleet was missing. Annkor reasoned it had to do with whatever substance had been injected into that poor man. He could think of no other reason for there to be such a drastic response to that would result in the mobilization of half of their massive fleet, including one of their flagships. The sudden move presented a weakness that provided an opportunity his faction could exploit. Now was the time to be aggressive, while they couldn’t fight back at full power.

  Annkor checked the time. They were due to drop out of hyperspace in a few minutes on the far edge of Verilia’s solar system. Hopefully, being so far away would present his envoy in a non-threatening light. The Sunalii didn’t take kindly to unannounced guests, and he had no intention of being reduced to ashes and put in a military textbook as an example of what not to do.

  He grabbed his data slate and left the room, immediately flanked by four guards. The group went to the most secure room on the ship, specifically designed for Annkor to take highly classified calls that nobody else was permitted to listen to.

  After settling in, he dismissed his guards just in time to receive the announcement that they would exit hyperspace imminently. Annkor strapped in and braced for the unpleasant feeling that came with returning to regular space.

  Without fanfare, the envoy winked into existence on the furthest edges of Verilia’s solar system. Annkor unstrapped and readied himself for what was to come. The Captain of the ship was promptly ordered to ensure nobody bothered him during such a vital call. After receiving an affirmative response, Annkor initiated contact with the Sunalii faction’s military directly. There was no need to pass through the civil government for something so sensitive. He waited patiently for the recipient to accept the call.

  It was time to receive answers, and he would not leave without them.