Chapter 34

  Rhyus

  The Rhyus System, Karbay Nolan Sector

  Date: Zeran 29, Year 4731

  Garen and Terra stood in the doorway of Garen’s suite, neither speaking, their eyes locked on one another.

  Their last meeting had changed everything. Memories frayed like old fabric, but the wounds they left behind never fully healed. Now, standing face to face, they saw a reflection of the past—familiar, yet distant, like a stranger they once knew.

  Hearing each other’s name spoken grounded them in the moment.

  Time had been kind to Terra—its only mark was the silver streaks threading through her hair. Her presence unsettled Garen. His guard had been up since leaving Chiex, even more so upon arriving on Rhyus, and now her unexpected arrival threatened to breach it.

  Yes, she had aged. Time had touched her—it was noticeable to Garen—but instead of fading, her beauty had only grown.

  "It’s been quite some time, General Rivers," she said, her voice carrying the trace of an old joke between them, almost hypnotic as she dragged out the words, shifting her tone as she spoke.

  "Looks like only one of us is a General now," Garen replied.

  "I guess that’s true," she said.

  The slight accent from her homeworld, Fyamore, had lessened over the years, but it slipped through now, just a hint of it. The sound reminded Garen of when they first met, how thick her accent had been back then. Over the years, her accent had faded, shaped by time in the fleet, its traces now barely noticeable beneath the polished speech of Rhyus’s capital.

  His thoughts drifted between past and present. He had never liked when Terra called him ‘General’—but she always did when teasing him, a reminder of the day he was promoted, the first time she had used the title.

  He had asked her to keep the title for formal settings—never in private. She used it anyway.

  Garen exhaled, then offered her a warm smile. "Figured I’d run into you eventually—but not this soon."

  He had expected their paths to cross—but not here, not now. Conus had mentioned her on the Resilience, not directly to Garen, but he had learned she was with the RSIA. He had prepared for this moment, though a part of him had hoped to avoid it. Because he didn’t want to face the guilt he felt.

  At the same time, when Garen learned that Amar Lavont was at the helm of the RSIA, he should have known Terra wouldn’t be far behind. He had suspected it—known it was likely.

  They had both started under Lavont, but while Garen walked away, Terra stayed, continuing her work under him for years after he resigned from the RDF.

  Her smile deepened. "Really?" She had once known him better than anyone—perhaps she still did.

  "No," he admitted, a hint of warmth in his gravelly voice. He stepped aside, welcoming her in.

  Terra placed her bag carefully on the glass table, noting the changes in Garen. His eyes were the same, but the years had reshaped him. Older, yes—but still strong.

  "Can I offer you something to drink?" Garen asked, glancing around, unsure of what was available.

  "Sure. What are my options?"

  Garen entered the kitchen and opened a cupboard, finding it stocked with an assortment of alcoholic beverages.

  "I should have looked in here sooner," he muttered to himself.

  "What would you like? Brandy, whiskey, or… whatever this is?" he said, holding up an unfamiliar bottle, unable to recognize the language on the label.

  "A glass of Elberia Brandy would be lovely," she said.

  "Of course."

  His mouth twitched, memories surfacing of their visit to Amoreon, in the Province of Eldas. He had introduced her to that particular brandy on that trip.

  As he rummaged through the beverages, the Elberia Brandy stood out—too conveniently. Garen couldn’t shake the feeling that this was arranged.

  He called out, "So, you’re RSIA now? Didn’t take Amar long to pull you in, I take it. Seems we all moved on from the RDF. Though I guess it’s not much of a career change for an intelligence officer."

  "It’s quite a bit different actually."

  The RSIA’s purpose had changed and evolved significantly since Garen’s days in the RDF. It now did much more than gather intelligence—it protected, safeguarded, and stabilized the Seven Worlds of Rhyus in ways the RDF could not. Their reach extended far, their focus not just on security, but on stability—stability that stretched well beyond the Seven Worlds of Rhyus.

  "Well… congratulations. Different in a good way?" he asked.

  "I’m happy with the move."

  "That’s good, then." Finding two glasses on an open shelf, he set them down. "The admiral isn’t coming, I take it?"

  Terra let out a laugh and shook her head. "Oh, I see. I guess you really were surprised to see me. Amar didn’t mention I’d be stopping by, did he?" she called out from the adjacent room.

  Garen uncorked the bottle, grabbed two glasses, and poured the brandy. "No, he didn’t mention that. He only said he’d be stopping by." Knowing Amar, neither should be surprised. He didn’t do it for amusement—he needed them to get this reunion over with. He needed them ready and focused.

  Garen reentered the room and handed her a glass. "So, what happens tomorrow?"

  Terra’s tone sharpened. "We leave for Morelus."

  Garen sat down, taking a slow sip of his drink. Everything was happening faster than he could process. "I guess we’re not wasting any time. So much for a warm welcome."

  "We don’t have any time to waste. This mission should have started weeks ago."

  "Weeks ago?" Garen muttered. "Weeks ago, returning here wasn’t something I would’ve thought possible. Wasn’t in my plans. There was supposed to be another commander?" he asked, frowning slightly.

  "No," she said. "A lot of things got in the way. The mission was almost canceled."

  "Canceled?"

  Her eyes locked onto his. "The Council of Seven."

  "I should’ve known," he muttered, but the realization only left him with more questions.

  Terra swirled her drink. "Got any ice, Garen?"

  Garen blinked, pausing mid-sip. "Ice?"

  She lifted her glass, expectant.

  He let out an awkward laugh. "Right."

  "I guess you really were living out in the wilderness," she teased.

  "You get used to it."

  "Maybe you did, but I don’t think I could."

  Garen went to the kitchen, retrieved a pair of small crystalline ice chunks from the cooling unit, and returned. He dropped one into each glass. The moment the ice touched the liquid, a subtle reaction began, an instant cooling process designed to rapidly bring the drink to the perfect temperature. A faint mist curled above the surface as the thermal exchange completed within seconds. Satisfied, he took his seat again.

  He let out a slow breath. He didn’t think words could make anything right, but he had to say them.

  The moment he knew their reunion was a possibility, he had been going over what he would say to her. There was so much he wanted to say—so much he felt needed to be said. But no matter how many times he tried to piece it together, it felt impossible to fully express, to convey what he really felt.

  "I owe you an apology."

  The words landed awkwardly, heavier than he expected. At the same time, it felt good to say them, though they fell short of everything in his mind.

  But he didn’t want her to think he was trying to brush it over—didn’t want it to seem like just words meant to smooth things over and move on.

  It would have to be a start. He hoped it would be.

  Terra’s expression softened. "You don’t." She hesitated. "Garen, that's in the past. We've both moved on. There was a time when it hurt—but that was long ago. I'm sorry it came to that, that leaving felt like your only choice. "

  She had forgiven him long ago—what she could, at least. The rest, she accepted. But the sting of his departure still lingered, buried deep. She wasn’t about to let it surface. Some wounds weren’t worth reopening.

  Because if she thought about it, Garen had choices. He could have taken a leave, let things pass. There was much he could have done. The Council of Seven had publicly discredited his name, but not all had turned against him. Many still believed in him, respected him. He had options—if he had sought them.

  Regardless, she had accepted long ago that he had chosen to leave it all behind.

  "Still..." His voice trailed off.

  "I don’t blame you, okay? I get it. I came to understand your point of view a long time ago. I can only imagine how it all made you feel. I don’t need an apology, and I don’t want one. I know you, Garen—at least, I did."

  "You still do."

  "Then if I still do, I know you’ve felt bad about it for a long time. But I’m not here for an apology," she said.

  "All right . . . It has been a long time," he said, studying her. "How have you been?"

  "I've been well. Busy." She took a sip. "And it seems retirement has been kind to you. Though I'm not sure what to make of this look," she said

  Garen raised a brow. "What look?"

  "This beard—I don’t know. I never thought I’d see the day you let it grow out."

  "It helped me fit in with the Camerians," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  "I'm sure you blended right in," she laughed.

  A brief pause settled between them, neither entirely sure what to say.

  "Returning under these circumstances... do you feel a sense of vindication?" she asked.

  Garen mulled over her question. Vindication? That wasn’t the right word. He had never sought vindication—just the truth. what he thought was right. He thought for a moment. Not sure how to answer.

  "Here we are, about to travel into Vorcon territory," she added.

  "You know it doesn’t," he finally replied. There was no satisfaction in being right. Am I right? He still wasn’t sure what he was stepping into—not exactly.

  "When I left Chiex, I might have said yes. Maybe. It looked like war was starting again. But now that I'm here, I’m not so sure, Terra. Are we facing war? My instincts carried me through battle—I understand war. Unfortunately, that’s what I was good at. But now… I don’t know what’s happening. It doesn’t feel the same. Maybe my instincts have dulled."

  "Maybe not, Garen. If we’re being realistic, the evidence of the Vorcons preparing for war is still speculative. And the suspicion surrounding a biological weapon remains just that—a suspicion. Nothing is definitive."

  "I thought we had intel on this," he said.

  "We do. But this mission is as much about proving the existence of a bio-weapon as anything else. Our intel is clear, but not enough to declare it an act of war. If this is real, we need proof."

  Garen tensed, struck by a feeling he couldn’t explain. "Do you believe in this mission, Terra? Are we doing the right thing here?"

  "Yes. We need to act. We need to determine their intent." she said.

  Garen studied her closely. She believed in the mission—at least, she told herself she did. But he knew her too well. Something about it gave her pause.

  "What are the odds of the Vorcons launching a full-scale assault?" he asked.

  "Right now, I’d say minimal. Any indication we have suggests they’re building their fleets, maintaining their power and strength. But no intel suggests they’re gearing up for immediate war—only that they’re rebuilding. We estimate they’ve been at considerable strength for some time now."

  "Which is to be expected," he said. "They always rebuild."

  "The Vorcon Empire is approaching a critical time. A change in leadership is likely," she continued. "Things could shift quickly."

  "Help me understand their plans, or at least what the RSIA is concerned about," Garen said. "If they intend to use this bio-weapon anytime soon, they’d likely follow up with a full military assault immediately after. They would want to take advantage of the situation."

  "That would align with their way of thinking," she suggested.

  "Though… using such a weapon would be a major shift in their strategy. It would be a first in their history. They’ve decimated populations before—through force and enslavement, never biological weapons," said Garen.

  "That is true, it would be a first. Yet Caul Malocktus’ aggression on Chiex might suggest they’re gearing up to demonstrate their capabilities," she suggested

  "You know how Caul is—his motives are never clear. He could have been acting alone, not on behalf of the Vorcon Empire."

  "It is possible, Caul’s influence within the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force may have diminished recently. the next in line holds Caul Malocktus in far less regard than the current Emperor i have learned."

  Garen nodded, contemplating. "Caul’s actions could be a ruse—to provoke, mislead."

  "The situation within the Vorcon Empire is difficult to fully grasp. There’s much we don’t know—nothing is certain," Terra said. "This could be his attempt to escalate things before there’s a change in power."

  "Sounds like something Caul might do, but it feels like we’re making a lot of assumptions," Garen admitted. "Who knows what he’s up to? He came to Chiex to taunt me, for one, but to say that was all he wanted to accomplish... "

  "He spared you. Why do you think he did that? "

  "So we will meet again."

  "One last fight between the two of you? He went through all of that, to see you come back here?"

  "He’s all about his legacy," Garen said. "He wants to fight me again. It sounds better if we face each other directly on even footing. He wants to kill me—but he wants it to mean something. I’m a loose end to him, a foe that’s bested him more than once."

  Terra exhaled. "I think he’ll regret letting you go."

  "Maybe," Garen muttered. "He seeks a conclusive victory over me."

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  "Scalar Falcata versus Kelkor Blade," Terra said imagining the battle, one she had seen before.

  "That’s what he prefers," Garen said. "It’s what he wants."

  "What do you prefer?"

  "I’d prefer not to face him again. I have nothing to prove—especially not to him."

  "No, you don’t," she agreed.

  "Caul Malocktus chases immortality, consumed by his ambitions. My time in the galaxy is limited—like everyone else’s—it will come and go, as will his. But the power of his faith, his belief in his gods, makes him look beyond that. Perhaps, in the end, time will pass him by, leaving him forgotten, like so many before him. Many have accomplished great things, yet their names have faded. But Caul wants more. He wants to stand alongside the Vorcon Immortals. He wants his name to endure—carved into history, echoing long beyond his time."

  "There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to achieve that status," she said.

  "Could he be behind the weapon?" Garen asked.

  As he said it, he found it hard to believe—not that Caul was incapable of such a thing.

  "It’s not known. Though nothing indicates he is," Terra said.

  "The thing is, there are a lot of Caul Malocktuses in the Vorcon Empire—many who wish to live as legends well beyond their time. He’s just one of many."

  Garen leaned back, considering that Caul had managed to rise to the rank of Major Legate—a rare feat for someone of his status. From what Garen knew, that kind of ascent wasn’t common. If that rise in power was now threatened, Caul might be even more dangerous.

  In a shifting empire, figures like Caul could either climb higher—or be swept aside.

  "I might be a little behind on current events within the Vorcon Empire. The new Emperor’s intentions may differ. What’s known about him?" Garen asked, seeking at least some insight.

  "He’s been emperor since you left the Seven Worlds. He’s far from new," Terra said.

  Garen let out a dry laugh. "Right. Well, he’s new to me, I guess."

  "The Emperor has dedicated his reign to recovering from the losses of the last war. Gaining insight into his agenda has been challenging. He’s not young, and he’s in the twilight years of his life. And, as I’ve said, it appears he’s recently fallen ill," Terra shared.

  Garen reflected on this. "Perhaps he sees this as his opportunity to secure a lasting legacy. Though, if he’s managed to rebuild their Armada, he could just as well be remembered for that. Unleashing such a weapon on the Seven Worlds might not be their way, but it would ensure he’s remembered—if nothing else. Still, i'm not sure."

  "If it’s true, we have no choice but to neutralize the weapon," Terra said.

  "Does it stop a war? Or maybe we fail, and we start one? Maybe we start one either way."

  "Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that," she said, her voice lowering.

  They enjoyed their drinks in contemplative silence, each lost in thought for a moment.

  "How long have you been with the RSIA?" Garen asked, breaking the quiet.

  "For the last four years. Amar wanted me on board as soon as he assumed control, but I chose to wait—let the initial upheaval settle. I didn’t want the stress then, it wouldn’t have been good for me, though the job certainly comes with it," Terra explained.

  "Stress? You love stress," Garen teased, trying to lighten the mood. He could see the tension in her.

  "I do not," she replied with a mocking smile. But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t entirely true. She thrived on challenges.

  "Involved in strategic analysis, then?"

  Smiling, she affirmed, "Yes, among a few other areas. I'm a department head. My main focus now is keeping an eye on the Vorcons."

  "I could imagine getting useful intel on the Vorcons would be a challenge"

  "Their distrust of outsiders makes getting any informants in place nearly impossible."

  "Spying for the Vorcons would be instant death if they were discovered. I'd say the list of volunteers short."

  "You’d be surprised. There have been the odd Vorcon willing to pass along information—but never anything that would harm the Empire as a whole. It’s always about undermining rivals, never true betrayal. But each add their little pieces. It’s something—better than nothing. And they never pass intel to us directly—only through the Rulnali."

  Garen let out a bewildered sharp dry laugh. "You trust any Rulnali?"

  "Most just want to get paid, but we do have some that pass along information willingly," Terra said.

  "Then someone else is paying them, trying to misguide you." Garen replied.

  "Believe me, I’ve considered that—always consider that," Terra said. "But one particular Rulnali informant has proven to be reliable."

  "I’d be careful with that trust."

  "I always am."

  "Sounds stressful. I’ve got a lot to learn about what I’ve missed since I’ve been gone. I’m sure they’re the same as always—I just need to learn about the players involved," he said.

  "I’ll ensure you have detailed reports to go over for the journey. I’ll give you all I can—get you up to speed on the current events in the Vorcon Empire, at least what we know."

  "If I’m supposed to be this ‘effective commander’ you need, I could use all the intel I can get. And speaking of intel—what’s the deal with this Helix group?"

  Terra took a moment before responding. "They’re dangerous, Garen. Very dangerous," she replied, her tone serious. She could have said more, told him everything she knew about them—but it wasn’t relevant to their mission. Garen’s security clearance was limited.

  Getting the feeling she didn’t have much to say about them at the moment, he moved on.

  "And the Rhyus Internal Affairs Bureau?" Garen asked.

  "They’re not in the conversation," Terra said.

  "Two agents were waiting for me in my quarters on Eteren One."

  She laughed. "They’re in over their heads. They don’t have the resources. I actually feel for them." She waved a hand dismissively. "Don’t worry about them. I think you deserve a look at the ship you’ll be commanding."

  Terra pulled a tablet from her bag and brought up some files, projecting an image above the table.

  The ship, much smaller than anything Garen had previously commanded, was outfitted with advanced stealth technology, making it undetectable to enemy sensors, at least they hoped.

  It lacked the familiar comforts of larger RDF vessels, focusing solely on stealth and operational efficiency.

  The weaponry and defensive capabilities immediately caught Garen’s attention. It had the capacity to deploy substantial firepower, carried a finite number of warheads. The balance between its offensive capabilities and high-tech stealth features raised a question in his mind—what exactly was this ship built for?

  From what he could gather, it was an exceptional vessel, capable of both stealth and destruction—but not both at the same time. To excel in either, one had to be deactivated for the ship to function as efficiently as intended.

  He scrutinized the optagraphical blueprints hovering above the table. It dawned on him that commanding this vessel would require a departure from his accustomed strategies. The mission’s success would rely less on brute force and more on precision and adaptability.

  But if stealth failed, the ship could still give them a fighting chance.

  Everything would depend on assembling a team that was not just skilled, but exceptionally cohesive. He had no doubt Terra had selected the right people. But still, doubt lingered—about the mission, about himself, about everything.

  "Terra, you’re certain I’m the best option for this?"

  She wasn’t certain at all. She had tried to convince Amar Lavont that an active general would be better suited—that Garen had been retired too long, that he deserved the peace he had sought, that it was unfair to ask him to return.

  "The unique demands of this mission might call for rapid, decisive action against an adversary you understand better than anyone."

  "Maybe that’s true, but that wasn’t really an answer."

  She made a face, half a smile. "We don’t just need a commander for the ship. There’s a ground operation upon arrival. we need a well rounded leader."

  "We’re going on foot?"

  "Once you land on the moon, you’ll need to lead a team of marines to the lab site."

  "Understood," Garen replied, though his voice lost a bit of its usual confidence. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in over his head. Trekking through a foreign Vorcon landscape wouldn’t be the problem—if he could navigate Chiex the way he had, he could handle any terrain.

  But ground combat… it had been too long.

  Then, images of the Vorcon assault on his home flashed through his mind. He had nearly forgotten the incident.

  How could I forget that? It had only been days ago.

  He had acted then, fought as if no time had passed—then told himself that Caul Malocktus had sent his worst troops, trying to downplay his own success.

  Terra caught the look in his eyes. "Tomorrow’s briefing, with the entire crew present, will clarify everything."

  Garen’s apprehension began to give way to anticipation at the prospect of meeting the crew. Noticing their empty glasses, he stood to refill them, embracing the shift in mood. He needed something to distract him from the thoughts swirling in his head.

  From the adjacent room, Terra’s voice carried, "I’m eager to catch up on the last ten years of your life. I can hardly picture you living secluded in the woods."

  She was genuinely curious, but she also wanted to see if the man she had known was still in there somewhere. So far it felt like the Garen she knew was still there.

  Returning with the refreshed drinks, Garen smiled "I’ve actually taken up gardening."

  Terra let out an unexpected burst of laughter, recalling a past mishap. "Remember the plant I gave you for the Riftkin? I thought a piece of your homeworld might brighten your quarters—only to find it had died when I returned."

  Garen let out a quick dry laugh at the resurfaced memory. "Ah, yes. I do remember."

  He hadn’t thought about that in years.

  "Gardening? I can hardly believe it. "

  Their conversation meandered through Garen’s experiences on Chiex. Terra was captivated by the contrast between the man she once knew and the life he had built. It seemed he had found the challenge and solitude he needed to recover from his departure from the RDF.

  His stories of building a home, embracing the wilderness, and searching ruins painted a picture of a demanding yet fulfilling existence.

  Terra, while pursuing her own ambitions at the time, couldn’t help but admire his resilience—and the peace he had found on Chiex. He had not gone there to live out an exile and just dwell on his mistakes. He had gone there and pushed himself. How could that life had not changed him? It would take more then a conversation to fully know for sure.

  Garen found himself hesitating at the edge of inquiries that ventured too deeply into Terra’s personal life. It wasn’t that he lacked curiosity—whether she had found someone new, whether children had become a part of her life—but rather that he wasn’t sure he was ready to confront such realities.

  He wanted her happiness above all. But embracing the details of her life now? That was another matter. It was selfish he knew.

  "I must admit, Amar and I had a little bet on when you’d bring up the Riftkin," Terra said, her tone light. "Surprisingly, you’ve not mentioned her at all."

  "Maybe part of me dreads the answer," he confessed, humor masking the sincerity beneath. "Can’t bear the thought of her under a less... capable command now?"

  He knew it was irrational, but the idea of someone else at the helm of his beloved ship still stung.

  Terra’s laughter, warm and knowing, resonated in the space. "To you, the Riftkin was more than just a ship."

  "She was," Garen admitted, a faint smile crossing his face. A pause settled between them before curiosity overcame him. "What happened to her, in the end?"

  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know, but he had to ask.

  "The Riftkin went in for a full refit three years ago," Terra said.

  Garen leaned back, dragging a hand down his beard. "Refit?" He shook his head, rolling the word over in his mind before setting down his glass. "What did they do to her?"

  But even as he said it, he knew the truth. Everything aged, eventually. Still, the thought of seeing his old ship altered unsettled him. They never just repaired ships—they changed them until they weren’t the same anymore.

  If he was honest with himself, the Riftkin had taken a beating, and if not for the war, it might have been retired long before. The fact that she was still in service in any capacity was surprising.

  "You and the Riftkin were quite the match—you pushed her far beyond what Lavont ever managed. It’s a wonder she held together. I recall a few instances when you really tested her limits."

  "Yes, she was something" Garen admitted, a glint of nostalgia in his eyes.

  "What are their plans for her now? You said three years ago? I don’t understand."

  "I'm not sure of the Riftkin’s exact status—there are a lot of older ships there. many you would recognize. She was transferred to the Figma Shipyards, caught up in a broader initiative to repurpose aging vessels. The current proposal suggests retrofitting her for system patrol duties, though she’s stuck in a backlog of ships awaiting repairs. The RDF is trying to stretch its presence as much as possible."

  She could see the disappointment in Garen’s eyes.

  "Relegating her to patrol duties hardly seems a fitting encore for such a distinguished ship," he said, trying to mask his feelings. "Better than being scrapped, I suppose." But what would be a fitting end for such a ship he wondered

  Terra nodded. "I’d love for us to visit her if time allowed," she mused.

  "Perhaps it’s better to leave her in our memories for now." Still, intrigued by the possibility, Garen asked, "Could that be arranged?"

  "Yes. After the mission, I’ll take you there myself if you’d like."

  "I would. I’ll hold you to that."

  "I wouldn’t mind seeing her myself."

  The Riftkin having been a home to both of them for years.

  "So, you requested to add your Camerian friend to the crew."

  "Package deal i'm afraid."

  "How confident are you in Klamarez’s capabilities?" She trusted Garen’s judgment, but she needed to be sure that everyone on the team was up to the task.

  "Very confident."

  "That’s all you’ve got to convince me?"

  "Did you see his ship?"

  "Haven’t had the chance yet. Is it impressive?"

  "He built it himself. That’s impressive in itself."

  "I’ll have to take your word for it, then." Amar had mentioned Garen had arrived in some piece of junk, but she wasn’t about to tell Garen that.

  "He’ll be fine. I wouldn’t have asked him to come if he couldn’t help."

  "Nothing to do with his debt to the Vanicktus Syndicate?"

  "I wouldn’t say nothing, but I am confident he can be a help."

  "Very well, General Rivers," she said, her tone turning more serious. "Your decision to not accept your reinstatement..."

  Garen shrugged. "I can’t be bound to anything right now."

  "Hopefully, this mission will provide some clarity for you," Terra said, her voice carrying a note of optimism. She hoped he would find his way.

  "I’m sure it will one way or another." Garen said. "I've appointed Conus Taylen as my first officer." He leaned back slightly.

  "Really?" It was news to her. "Amar anticipated you would see Conus’s potential," she remarked.

  She found herself about to speak in depth about Conus but stopped herself—worried about saying the wrong thing, revealing too much.

  Garen realizing Amar’s subtle orchestration. Of course. "I understand now. Conus has been key in familiarizing me with the latest developments since my return."

  "In a different context, Conus could have already been an executive officer—if not for prevailing biases," Terra added. She knew how much Conus had struggled.

  Garen’s curiosity deepened. "His augments have caused him a lot of issues?"

  "There’s a reluctance within the RDF to fully embrace leaders with advanced augments at a level like Conus’s. Well Conus is more advanced then most. It hasn’t changed since you left—maybe it’s even gotten worse."

  "I see."

  "He’s an outstanding officer, with a high level of expertise. Amar has kept an eye on him since his days in the academy."

  "Kept an eye on him?" Garen asked, his curiosity sharpening.

  Terra hesitated briefly. "He’s just seen promise in him."

  "I’ll be joining the mission as well," she said, watching his reaction.

  "You are?" Garen asked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected her to be directly involved, but it made sense.

  "This mission is critical. My participation is necessary," Terra clarified. She wasn’t sure how he would react, but she knew she needed to be there. it had not been the initial plan but as she began putting the mission together she realized her place was on the ship.

  "Keeping tabs on me?" Garen jested, lightening the mood. He was relieved—but also a little nervous about working so closely with her again.

  "Garen," Terra said, her tone a mix of reprimand and familiarity.

  Garen met her gaze, sincerity cutting through his usual guardedness. "It’ll be good to work closely again, Terra."

  "This mission was on my radar, irrespective of your involvement," she asserted. "Knowing you're in command is reassuring."

  She was glad to have him by her side—but she also knew this mission could change everything.

  "But, as I just said, since we’ll be undertaking this mission together, there will be ample time to catch up. Tomorrow’s a big day."

  She finished her drink and stood.

  She wasn’t sure if she was ready for what tomorrow would bring, but there was no turning back now.

  "Seeing you again, Terra... it’s been nice," Garen said, his voice softening. Nice?

  "Well, it’s been nice seeing you too, Garen," Terra replied, a faint smile.

  As he escorted her to the door, they were about to bid each other goodnight when something in the hallway caught their attention.

  "Ah, you've brought my delivery!"

  Garen recognized the voice immediately, muttering, "Klamarez."

  Terra, now standing just outside the suite, glanced down the corridor. A young delivery person, flanked by two RDF security guards, stood at the doorway to Klamarez’s suite.

  Klamarez’s voice filled the hall. "Is the seafood fresh? And where exactly was it caught?"

  The delivery person, slightly bewildered by the interrogation, hesitated before responding. "Um, I’m just the courier, sir. I can’t really say for sure, but I believe it’s fresh... they wouldn’t send it otherwise."

  "Ah, that’s reassuring. On Calio, seafood was a delicacy, but we always had to be mindful of overfishing. Everything changed when the Vorcons arrived—led to desperation, overharvesting." A hint of melancholy crept into Klamarez’s voice. "You catch three, you’d better put two and a half back."

  The delivery person shifted uncomfortably. "Uh... right. Look, I really must be on my way. I have other deliveries, and I’m not exactly equipped to discuss fishing practices."

  "Understood, my apologies for detaining you." A brief pause. "Negative review it is."

  As the delivery person and the guards departed down the hallway, Terra turned to Garen. "Is that your Camerian friend?"

  "Yes, that’s Klamarez," Garen confirmed with a smile—one touched with slight embarrassment.

  "Get some rest, Garen." Returning the smile, Terra bid him farewell. "Good night, Garen."

  "Good night, Terra," he replied, closing the door behind her.