– – – – – – – – – –
Epos (Maltia)
13 December 2355
Ethan’s 53rd day on Tersain
– – – – – – – – – –
I am sleeping blissfully when, in the dead of night, someone knocks on my cabin door. Groggy, I get up to see who it is.
Why disturb me at this hour?
“Ethan!” I hear being called from outside. “Open up!”
“Coming…”
It’s Archeos. The moment I open the door, the old man overwhelms me with orders:
“Get properly dressed and arm yourself. The mission has been brought forward. You must leave as soon as possible.”
“Wha…?”
“Don’t ask, there’s no time.”
Confused, I hasten to put on the Resistance cloak and take my pistol. Once I have made sure I have the essentials for travelling, I follow the philosopher to the hangar.
“Can I at least know what’s going on?” I ask, as we walk briskly along the corridors.
“The Republic has beaten us to it.”
“Beaten us to it? Hey, I don’t even know the details of the mission yet!”
“Originally, the objective was to obtain information from one of our contacts,” Archeos explains. “However, it has now become a recovery operation for the contact himself. Our spies have revealed to us that the Republic is moving to capture them. You must prevent that from happening: it is of vital importance.”
“But at this point, what do I have to do with it?”
“They are a potential source for understanding how to interpret the map,” the rebel asserts. “If you fail to bring the contact away, you will have to ask them for every possible clue, and use your knowledge to make sense of that information.”
“It sounds like it’s going to be a… lively event.”
“The risk is high.”
I can hardly even be surprised anymore. I don’t think it’s normal, but given the previous missions, it seems the bare minimum that things don’t go smoothly.
We have reached the hangar. In the vast hall, three velivus are ready to depart, their engines already running. Near one of them, probably piloted by Samuel, Antony and Dawn are waiting. Archeos and I join them.
“Change of plans,” the junior sergeant announces. “The captain has decided it’s better not to send Ethan.”
“What?” the philosopher says. “But he could be useful if there’s information to gather!”
“If we can’t bring the contact back here, it’s likely there won’t even be the chance to speak to them properly,” Antony states. “Those are the captain’s orders. We’re about to leave.”
A nod of the head, and then he boards. Taken aback, I look at Dawn. She waves at me in farewell.
“Behave yourself,” the rebel says. “When I get back, we’ll see about catching you up with the exercises.”
And with a wink, she too disappears onto the velivus.
Archeos places a hand on my shoulder, guiding me away from the departing craft.
“Always doing things his own way,” the old man snaps, perhaps referring to the captain.
I watch the velivus lift off the floor and head for the exit of the Epos. A sense of apprehension has taken hold of me.
This mission has begun under the worst possible omens.
– – – – – – – – – –
Surroundings of Risingdeep (Maltia)
Same day
– – – – – – – – – –
After several hours of travel, at dawn, the velivus come into sight of the Risingdeep fragment. It is a roughly circular island, greatly elongated downwards, with a deep crater gouging out much of its ground. On the rim of the cavity, which occupies a vast area at the summit of the fragment, stands a modest hamlet where the contact to be recovered lives.
The first thing the rebels notice as they approach is a frigate near the island. The second is a group of at least ten fighters heading straight towards them.
“They’ve already spotted us!” Samuel exclaims.
“As was to be expected,” Antony comments. “It seems the information gathered by the spies was a trap.”
The three velivus veer off, as a rain of shots flies in their direction. From that moment on, a furious aerial battle begins.
One rebel craft is immediately shot down, and as it plummets towards a fragment below, the others try not to end up caught in the grip of the far more numerous enemy aircraft.
“Mission aborted… let’s get out of here…” Antony starts to say.
Then, a burst of fire hammers the velivus he is aboard.
“Bloody damnation!” Samuel snarls.
Despite the velivus beginning to be shaken by a worrying vibration, the pilot manages to carve out an opening using an ilectron charge, which disables a group of fighters blocking his path. While the other rebel craft explodes, the velivus carrying the Sanders presses on towards the frigate.
“Why are we heading straight for it?” Dawn cries out.
Antony watches Samuel. From an exchange of glances, he seems to grasp the situation.
“We resume the mission,” he then explains. “Highest priority. We must at all costs recover the contact… or make sure the Republic doesn’t get them.”
“But by now they’ll already be on board the airship!”
“That’s why we’re going there.”
“That’s madness!”
“We can’t flee anymore,” Samuel finally admits. “The velivus… with this damage, I’ll barely manage to get it as far as that ship.”
Anti-aircraft fire comes from the frigate. For a stretch the pilot manages to evade it, but no matter how skilled he is, the vessel’s firepower is too great, and the compromised velivus is losing agility. Thus several rounds strike a wing, which begins to emit a strange noise.
The pilot banks sharply, gaining altitude relative to the ship, so as to head towards the upper part of the hull. Even with reduced manoeuvrability, during the ascent he manages to give Antony the chance to fire an explosive charge into one of the frigate’s engines. Then, as the device detonates, the velivus reaches the top of the vessel. There, with a swift movement, it lands on the deck.
The chaos created by the explosion allows the group of six rebels to abandon the craft and reach one of the doors. Once inside the corridors of the airship, they run to hide in a recess. From there they seize the first officer they find, who, with several pistols aimed at him, is quite willing to say where to find the person captured that day by the Republic. Then, having silenced the man, the squad heads towards the indicated area.
Throughout the ship, the Republicans are searching for the intruders. Various detachments of soldiers run through the corridors, sweeping their recesses.
The firefights begin, during which a couple of rebels are left on the ground. The remaining four take refuge in a small storage room.
“We have to get past the checkpoint by the stairs and go down one level,” Antony says, taking stock of the situation.
“Are we sure it isn’t a trap?” asks the only one in the group who is not a Sanders.
“We’ve already fallen into the trap,” Samuel states. “Now we’re trying to get out of it with the contact.”
They leave the storeroom and move towards the stairs. Two soldiers are on guard. The rebels manage to catch them by surprise and neutralise them, then go down one level and reach the target room.
“At least this wasn’t a ruse,” Antony remarks, after breaking down the door.
Inside, sitting on a cot, there is a woman. She has grey hair gathered into a chignon, and a face lined with a few wrinkles. She is probably around sixty years old.
She looks very surprised to see them.
“Antony Sanders, of the Resistance,” the junior sergeant introduces himself. “We need to take you away.”
“So much interest in a poor woman,” she replies, standing up. “I wonder what your problem is this time.”
They are about to start running towards the ship’s hangar, intending to steal some craft, when an enemy detachment arrives on the scene. On seeing them, Dawn has just enough time to throw herself towards Agathe, stretching out a hand to brush her arm. There, a faint light glimmers.
Then several grapnels fly towards the rebels, latching onto them and discharging powerful ilectron currents. The group cannot react: in a few moments, they all collapse to the ground.
Shortly afterwards, they are captured.
◊◊◊
“One velivus has been destroyed,” an officer announces, reporting to General Admiral Pandromio. “Another has been shot down and boarded, with the arrest of five survivors on board. In addition, four rebels were captured while attempting to take Agathe Munro away. Their velivus is on the deck, in our hands. The dead among the dissidents are estimated at between three and eight. We are still assessing the extent of our losses.”
“Nine prisoners… a good haul,” Pandromio comments. “Let us prepare to return to Amathia. And… take Mrs Munro to the interrogation room. I am heading there.”
No sooner said than done, the admiral leaves the command deck of the frigate to his orders and strides along the corridors.
All well so far, he thinks. As expected, the rebels have shown themselves to be quite interested in Mrs Munro. This is very encouraging.
After descending a few decks, the man reaches a cramped room filled with implements to “help” those being interrogated to speak. Inside, seated on a chair at the centre of the room, a woman of advanced age awaits him. The same one whom, not long before, the rebels tried to take away.
“Agathe Munro,” Pandromio begins. “You are an expert on the Star Prophets, as I understand.”
“Could you tell me who you are, for a start?” she asks, fixing him with intense green eyes, from which she lets no trace of concern escape.
“General Admiral Pandromio, in command of this ship,” the officer replies. “And you are my guest. I require you to give me some guidance.”
– – – – – – – – – –
Epos (Maltia)
At the same moment
– – – – – – – – – –
I’m working with the philosophers when Jim, all out of breath, bursts into the laboratory.
“Ethan!”
In an instant, the young man drags me outside. Perplexed, I let myself be led into a deserted corridor. There…
“I overheard a report from a mission,” the rebel reveals, agitated. “It seems the expedition that left tonight was largely captured or killed.”
At first, I don’t understand. After all, I assume many missions depart from Epos. But then, from the depths of my mind, a latent unease that I have set aside until now resurfaces.
And my heart sinks.
“What?!” I exclaim, unable to control my voice. “The one with Dawn?”
“Yeah,” Jim nods.
“How did they find out?” I ask, hoping it’s just an unfounded corridor rumour. “Did anyone make it back?”
“They were being followed at a safe distance by a fighter, which turned back to give the warning.”
I remain paralysed. That is enough to say that the news is, in all likelihood, true.
I stand still… silent… completely thrown off balance. All at once, the discomfort I felt at Dawn’s departure has turned into fear.
An intense, growing emotion, which wells up from deep within and floods my mind, making me incapable of thinking about anything else.
And so it is, as if from very far away, that I hear the boy’s next words.
“So, what will you do?” he asks me.
I look at him, not understanding.
“What will I do?”
“Yes!” Jim insists, who, unlike me, is very reactive in this situation. “Your girl is in trouble!”
“Wait…” I try to gather my thoughts, glossing over the way the young man referred to Dawn. “What are you trying to tell me?”
But I already have a suspicion, produced by that part of my brain that is still trying to function, and which little by little is striving to regain control. And to confirm that hypothesis…
“That you’ve got to get off your arse and go help her!” the rebel blurts out.
At that point, I finally regain a bit of clarity. And fear begins to turn into anxiety… and into a need to react. An impulse so strong, and so devoid of clear objectives, that it pushes me to suppress it.
“Halt! Stop!” I cut Jim off, my voice rising sharply with the tension that is seizing me. “First, they’ll never let me leave. Second, what could I possibly do if three velivus full of trained people have been defeated?”
“You’re able to shut down an entire airship!” the boy exclaims. “You can do something, absolutely! And besides, do you really care about having permission to go? Take a velivus and leave!”
I can’t believe it… did he really suggest that? Absurd! My common sense tells me loud and clear that any such reckless action will only land me in trouble.
And yet…
I can’t just stand here doing nothing. I shouldn’t care this much… I shouldn’t… but the thought of what might have happened to Dawn is… unbearable.
Don’t lose your clarity, Ethan, I urge myself. Stay rational…
Then I shake my head and turn my back on Jim.
“You’re telling me to do something insane,” I say. “I’m just a boy with a strange, uncontrolled mayea.”
Having said that, I make to walk away. To ease this need to act, I can at least start by asking Archeos if he knows anything more about the expedition.
It is at that point that the boy rushes up to me and smacks me on the back of the head.
“Ow!” I protest, turning round angrily.
In response, I receive a barrage of heavy insults. It’s not even worth specifying them, or remembering them… what matters far more is the anger and frustration they convey. And once Jim has exhausted his abuse…
“Stop acting like a wimp!” he shouts. “Don’t you have any pride? Or are you really a coward?”
Ah, here we go again. These arguments don’t really get to me. But… they do irritate me. Especially now, when my nerves are on edge.
In any case, I don’t reply. So the rebel clenches his fists, grinding his teeth in irritation.
“Pathetic,” he says. “I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t even have the courage to protect what he cares about.”
Yet another remark that indirectly calls my masculinity into question. This time, though… it strikes far deeper than the previous ones.
Because it makes me think… about how this anxiety I feel, this urge to do something, is tied to my desire to help Dawn. Not just to know how she is… but to make sure personally, through my own actions, that she is all right.
I… I need this so badly. But I can’t do anything… or can I? If there’s a chance… will I regret more taking it, or behaving myself and doing nothing?
Now it’s the boy who turns his back on me. He’s about to leave, when I place a hand on his shoulder and force him to turn round. Jim almost seems to expect to be hit, and he stares me in the eyes: at that moment, even though I can’t know it, he notices that there is a new light in my gaze.
“Can you pilot?” I ask.
“… enough,” the rebel replies, with a grin that almost looks like a smile. “I’m a jack-of-all-trades.”
“And do you know where the expedition was headed?”
“Oh, yes!” the boy nods. “Among other things, I’m good at nicking information.”
At that point, with those two conditions alone met… whatever has sparked in my mind sets itself in motion. Impulsive, reckless, it is undoubtedly a decision that will bring me a great deal of trouble… and danger.
And yet, even though I can foresee all of this, I don’t care. Because I have realised that I have something more important to think about. Important enough to justify the risks.
If I want to do something… the best thing is simply to do it. Especially when I realise that a bit more reasoning won’t lead me anywhere.
I know that what is guiding me now is a mass of emotions, more than logic. But I feel I must give them priority… otherwise, I will regret it.
“Then you’ll have to take me there,” I state.
A grin spreads across Jim’s face.
“Count on it!”
◊◊◊
Half an hour later, the two of us are aboard a two-seater fighter, one of those swallow-like craft, travelling at full speed through the skies of Tersain. No one was expecting it, so we aren’t stopped. When, at last, a few aircraft make a move to pursue us, we are already far away.
I have never been on this kind of vehicle, but it is very fast, and more manoeuvrable than a velivus. After all, if the Maltian definition of a fighter aircraft corresponds to the terrestrial one, aeromobiles of this kind are meant precisely to face aerial battles based on agility.
“We’re doing something crazy,” I state.
“Oh, come on!” Jim retorts, utterly exhilarated as he pilots.
I’m not like him. For me, this kind of behaviour doesn’t come naturally. But I realise that, in moments like this, I need to give myself a good jolt so as not to remain paralysed by my anxieties and analyses.
I’m doing what I want… and just for that alone, I feel much better.
“Well, to hell with it!” I add, then. “For once, I’ll act impulsively.”
“Hooray! I’ve corrupted the philosopher!”
◊◊◊
“Are you joking?” Martin Young bursts out.
Opposite him, his fists resting on the desk, Aimond Lacelet stares at him with a serious expression.
“No,” the old man replies. “Those two madmen have thrown themselves headlong towards certain death.”
Those words are utterly unexpected, but the captain cannot afford to linger.
“We need to send that support immediately,” he snaps, getting to his feet.
“Will you send the Epos?” Archeos asks.
“No… I’ll use a fleet.”
