Yara and Mihn sat side by side on a couch, staring at the holoscreen with rapt attention. The announcement continued with Orryn leading a conversation with Adrian, guiding the narrative in the way the Tribunal best saw fit. When she announced that recent cultural breakthroughs were due to Adrian’s influence, many around the planet rushed to review the recent academic releases regarding music. In every one, the research institutes authoring them declared that while they had studied the phenomenon, they couldn’t take credit for such an achievement. Such accolades were reserved for a nameless person to which the discoveries were owed.
Adrian hadn’t been expecting for the Elders to bring out physical copies of the instruments so that he could play them and demonstrate them for all to see. He took it in stride, finding comfort in the only thing he had left of the world he’d left behind. Across social networks, citizens recognized the familiar sounds of Reya’s music, sparking intense debate on whether the two knew each other.
Some weren’t convinced while others were. Theories spread like wildfire and old interviews of Reya surfaced, giving credence to the theory that she’d learned from Adrian.
Meanwhile, Adrian and the Elders continued talking, placing important emphasis on what Adrian’s home world was like. Both women watching the program tuned out the needless drivel.
Yara was glued to her data slate, reading in real-time what the populace thought of the situation. “Mihn,” she said, finally raising her eyes from her screen, “look at this.” She passed it over to her friend, who tore her gaze away from her holoscreen. “There are a lot of people online that believe that Reya and Adrian are in a relationship based on Reya’s slip ups during her interviews.”
Mihn grabbed the device out of Yara’s hands and went through the comments and articles that Yara had selected. By the time she was done, she was incensed. “You mean to tell me my failure of a daughter’s partner is not only a hideous colour, but she couldn’t even date her own species? How dare she do this to me!” she exploded. “What will people think of me now that they now my daughter loves such a thing?”
“The man’s all wrong!” Yara huffed. “Alien or not, your daughter should have some common sense.”
Embarrassment flushed Mihn a deep shade of purple. In spite of her shame, she was absolutely apoplectic. “That ungrateful bitch! Has she no respect?” she spat venomously. She grabbed her own data slate, only to be met with dozens of messages asking if the news was true. People she barely even knew had reached out to her in a frenzy, flooding her with more attention that she’d ever received. “I’m being bombarded already!”
Yara frowned. “So soon? I guess news travels fast when the whole world watches.”
Mihn blanched. “Everyone knows,” she stuttered. “There’s no escaping this. Everywhere I go I’ll be a laughing stock.” She opened the most recent messages, only to see accusations in every one of them. She hung her head low and sank back into the couch, handing Yara back her data slate. “I’m done for.”
“This is unacceptable,” Yara said, full of anger. She looked over and read some of the messages alongside Mihn. “People can’t treat you like this for something you have no control over. You all think the same thing of this awful situation.”
Mihn looked up, Yara’s comment giving her pause. “We do?” she asked.
“Of course!” Yara exclaimed, her eyes scanning the multitude of messages. “You all disapprove of Reya’s unnatural relationship.”
A plan started to form in Mihn’s mind as she processed her friend’s words. She was still angry at her daughter for her callous dismissal of her when they last met. It was rude and uncalled for. Reya should know by now that she was nothing without her mother. “You’re right,” Mihn realized. “Such a thing is unacceptable. Somebody should tell her.” Rereading the messages, Mihn saw an opportunity. Alone, she might not be able to put her daughter in her place.
But societal backlash might be enough to get back at Reya and make her regret the folly of her ways.
Alone in a small, dingy apartment, a man watched on a tired holoscreen the same announcement the rest of the world was seeing. Barely better than a cardboard shack, the thin walls did little to keep temperatures at bay and the roof leaked. It was damp, moldy, and uncomfortable.
Like many others, the man had put the pieces together and knew there was far more to the story than the Elders were letting on. The stale bread and expired jam that was to be his dinner were long forgotten as he deftly navigated various news sites and compared Reya’s old interviews.
He did not see Adrian for the stranger he was. He’d seen the video of the experiment Miarre had released against his better judgement and understood the he was but a victim. Now, he was being paraded around like a shiny new toy in an attempt to distract people from the fact that their Tribunal had just declared total war against the gru’ul. Not that he could blame them, after the immense suffering he’d witnessed.
Instead of dwelling on a potential draft, he too called up Reya’s past interviews. He noted critically in one of them that she mentioned she had a partner who had taught her music. Her excitement and happiness as she prattled about him warmed his heart.
“It’s been so long,” he whispered to himself. “I know not what you’ve been through, but he clearly makes you happy, my daughter. That’s all I could ever ask for. I only hope I’ll get to meet him one day.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Maraz sighed when he saw his assistant’s request to meet with him as soon as possible. It had been a hectic day and while he thought the announcement of Adrian’s existence had gone rather well, only time would tell. He begrudgingly accepted the request and summoned Lona to his office.
It only took a few minutes for her to come to his office, which was unsurprising to Maraz. He opened the doors remotely and watched impassively as she marched towards his desk.
“The plants,” Lona stammered. “The music. The war. You knew.” It was the best she could muster, shock still coursing through her system. She’d long questioned the experiments to have a plant grow green naturally. The knowledge that had been given to her team was too complete for it to be a mere theory. She should’ve known something was amiss right then and there.
“No, we did not,” Maraz replied calmly. “Which was why I assigned you your experiments.”
“You could’ve told me we were trying to prove life on a different planet!” Lona exclaimed. “How long have you known? How do you justify not adhering to first contact protocols?”
The accusation irked Maraz. After all the Tribunal had done to keep the populace safe in light of the circumstances, the thought of having to justify himself to a mere assistant rubbed him the wrong way. “The situation was complicated, and first contact protocols couldn’t be applied unless we had tangible proof that another species evolved to resemble us so closely. We needed to be certain of the truth before declaring it.”
“We grew green plants months ago!” Lona said. “You had a duty.”
“A War Elder is not required to explain themselves to their assistant.” Maraz rebuked sternly, his eyes smoldering with anger. Lona swallowed her words quickly at the reminder. “We did what we thought was in the faction’s best interest. We needed to be ready for this war, and we’ve done everything in our power to ensure we survive the onslaught of the gru’ul.”
Lona went silent for a long moment. “I just don’t understand how a mere video could justify total war.” It made no sense that something so easily manipulatable could be the deciding factor. She presumed that whatever happened in it was bad but nothing that could surely justify such drastic measures.
“Sit,” Maraz commanded. Lona took no time to seat herself on the chair next to her. “You clearly haven’t seen the video if that’s your opinion.”
“It’s just a video,” Lona replied.
“You are hereby ordered to watch the video in question to its completion,” Maraz said. It wouldn’t do for there to be dissent among his team at such a critical time. “In fact, your entire team will join you.”
“You would force us to watch something barbaric?” Lona asked incredulously.
“Seeing is believing,” Maraz said. “And so see you shall. Perhaps then you’ll understand. I suggest you give each member an empty bucket when you watch it. Normally, I wouldn’t condone the viewing of something so ghastly, but it’s been made public it’s available for all to see.”
“And whatever is in that video is enough to label something the highest crime against the living?” Lona asked curiously, a feeling of dread mounting slowly when she saw how serious Maraz was. “How do you know it’s not fake?”
Maraz sighed again, still frustrated. He’d known he would need to disclose certain things if he wanted some of Verilia’s brightest minds to use them to help save them all. For that, he had to extend some measure of trust. “We’ve questioned Adrian at large and have found sufficient proof as to its existence.”
“That’s it? Because some stranger said it existed you believed him?” Lona said.
“Like I said, we have sufficient proof,” Maraz said simply. He grabbed a data slate out of the top drawer of his desk and began working on something Lona couldn’t see. She didn’t dare interrupt while he did whatever it is he was doing. After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, he turned his attention back to his assistant. “Effective immediately,” he said, “your team has new orders. You are to assemble and watch the video at the location indicated. It is a soundproof private room. Ensure the doors are locked and that no one enters. You are to return to my office alone once you are done to report the results.”
Lona understood her dismissal and saluted her Elder before quickly making herself scarce, wondering just what it was she’d gotten her team into. As the doors shut behind her, she made a mental note to get everyone buckets as commanded, wondering what the logic was behind such a bizarre order.
Two hours was what it took for Lona to be able to report back to Maraz. He hadn’t expected her back straight away since she’d understandably needed some time to process its contents.
Maraz sat across from his assistant, noting her pallid, clammy complexion and held back a grimace. He hadn’t wanted others to know such evil, but the publicization of the video had forced the Tribunal’s hand. “Give me your report,” he ordered, hoping that she’d have something insightful to say about the experience.
“I’m glad you ensured we had buckets,” Lona replied. Her throat was bone dry, and she had trouble finding her voice, but she managed to squeak out a coherent reply. Tears filled her eyes unbidden. “That pain,” she choked out. “The gru’ul created that? On purpose?” Anybody with the slightest shred of empathy wouldn’t ever be able to comprehend how such a thing could have been made on purpose.
“Do you still believe such a thing should exist?” Maraz questioned.
“No,” Lona said, shaking her head.
“We will punish the gru’ul for making something to terrible and daring to use it on another person,” Maraz said. “But more than that, this war is to prevent such tragedy from happening to us. Could you imagine if such a thing was weaponized and used against us?”
Lona blanched, somehow managing to go paler. “By the gods,” her voice hitched.
Maraz gave her a moment to collect herself. “Tell me about how the rest of your team reacted,” he said.
“Most of them were sick, some several times,” Lona said, shuddering at the memory. “None of them were in any state to continue working today so I dismissed them all.”
“What you saw wasn’t fabricated,” Maraz said. “How it is that the man in the video is still sane is an absolute mystery. It’s impossible to look him in the eyes without thinking back to that video.”
“You’ve interacted with Adrian?” Lona asked.
“The Tribunal has, yes,” Maraz said. “While you were gone, I upgraded your security clearance with the blessing of the entire Tribunal. Your team will get a toned-down explanation of events after. It’s imperative that you understand what it is we are fighting for. What I’m about to tell you is not to leave this room.”
Lona’s brows shot up in surprise. “There was still room for it to be upgraded further?” she asked. “I thought I already had the highest level of clearance.” It was a job requirement as the personal research assistant of an Elder in charge of their most sensitive research. She was granted an immense amount of trust by the Tribunal already.
“Everything has exceptions,” Maraz replied smoothly. “It’s time for you to learn the truth, because everything you’ve ever known has been a lie.”
Lona nodded, unsure of herself. An ice-cold fear gripped her soul as she beheld the weight behind Maraz’s eyes as they bore into her with an intensity she’d never seen before. “Tell me,” she said. “What is it I’ve been deceived of for so long?”
“We don’t have gods,” Maraz started.
