The Last Immortal: Book One of Seeds of a Fallen Empire

By Anne Spackman

The Last Immortal is set near the star Rigel in the Orion constellation. This is a military science fiction epic of two alien worlds at war near Rigel. An immortal alien tries to keep the peace between two brother worlds at war. The politics and tactics between two worlds at war set the background.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne Spackman
• Release date: Feb 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465986870

Anne Spackman

At the current time, I am a gymnastics coach and a writer of many types of fiction. I have a BA in English language and literature from the University of Chicago. I am half-American and half-Scottish. I spent many summers as a girl in Scotland, and moved to England at 16 where I finished high school at Bedford High School in Bedfordshire, England.My first novel, The Last Immortal, I wrote more than twenty years ago. It is the first of six novels in the "Seeds of a Fallen Empire" series that was finished in 2000 and finally published as an e-book in 2010-2014 after many years of trying the traditional publishing route. I have also written one fantasy novel, Curse of the Dragon Kings, which was written in 1997 and published as an e-book in 2010.As a writer, I started out writing mostly science fiction and also fantasy as I so much loved J.R.R. Tolkien as a girl. I also really enjoy historical fiction set in the days of ancient Rome, (and Egypt.) I am now writing more romantic and historical short stories.

Book preview

Prologue

Blood. Warm and salty. Leeching through the gaps between his teeth. The blood filling his mouth sent shivers of panic through him. Death lingered above him, clinging like a shadow ready to embrace him. The impending cold of her dark presence terrified him to his core. But he had no time for panic—he was suffocating. His eyes flicked around the shattered cockpit and found his crushed air-hose.

I’ve got to get out of this—now! he thought desperately as he struggled to unlatch his helmet. With a wild movement, he cast the dark blue, gold trimmed helmet aside, and gulped in air, giving no further thought to the helmet that clattered away, bouncing over the edge of the cliff into the white-crested sea.

He became aware that his plane was on fire, jammed on its side against some rocks. He began to smell smoke as the flames flickered towards the cockpit. With every ounce of strength that he could muster, Eiron pulled himself out of the wreck and crawled as far as he could before dropping onto his belly, gasping for every breath. As he lay there panting, he felt a wave of heat from the flames of the dying plane, and his nostrils flared with the acrid sting of smoke. As his mind cleared from a haze of confusion, he felt sweat run down along his neck disappear into his wilted collar, and at last he began to drag himself away towards some large rocks.

Exhausted and in pain, Eiron turned onto his back and rested his head on a boulder and saw for the first time the widening crimson stain on his white flightsuit just above his groin. He groaned and laid back, his eyes rolling wildly. Slowly, he realized that the crazy lines in the sky were the tell-tale trails of approaching planes. He knew that he was the last of his patrol to be shot down and that these could only be Orian fighters coming to investigate the smoking crash site.

Damn, I’ve got to get further away or they’ll find me, he thought as he felt adrenaline begin to rush through his veins.

What’s that? He could just barely see a sheltering crevice ahead in the cliff face, cloaked in shadow from the overhanging rock.

Digging at the ground with his elbows and dragging his body along, he scraped his way slowly over the sand and rocks towards the crevice. He felt his legs begin to go numb as he dragged himself along, and his strength slowly began to ebb away. A cold sweat broke over him as he collapsed. Before his eyes closed for the last time, he stared ahead at the sheltering crevice, the unmoving, unchanged, disinterested oasis before him, just a body’s length away.

He did not catch the movement in the dark crevice of a darker shadow lurking far back in the inner darkness of the crevice, watching him. Moments after he fell still, when there was no longer any possibility of him stirring to life again, the living shadow emerged cautiously. It glided with uncanny agility over the coarse, rock-strewn ground. The apparition caught hold of him firmly and then quickly carried him to the crevice behind the giant boulders, pausing only once, in nervous fear, to look back across the waters.

There was no one to see what had happened, no one to see the living shadow that haunted these lonely cliffs, no one to ever know that the pilot hadn’t died out here with his fallen craft.

There was no one there, no one except the five enemy space fighters flying high above the turbulent waves, their sharp-edged wings tinged silver by the setting sun. At last satisfied of the destruction of their last prey, the fighters shot into the violet sky, trailing contrails of dark smoke as they disappeared into the rose-tinted clouds.

And the thundering ripple of their engines echoed triumphantly over the sea.

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is when good men do nothing.

—Burke

Chapter One

8.17, TST (Tiasennian Standard Time), 2nd season

Tiasennian Command Central

What news? Senka Vaikyur, the Chief Commanding Officer of Tiasenne, demanded gruffly, tense as a wire.

A moment, sir, returned Ekasi Wryan Kesney without turning around. His officer’s insignia marked him as an Ekasi, a junior officer in the Tiasennian Air Corps.

He checked the monitor. The high frequency and high-speed transfer communications system linking the fighter squadron and the home base wasn’t showing a single blip. Nothing’s coming through now but static. I’ve got the last tracer beaming in the coordinates for analysis, he added, bringing up schematics of the last battle in order to single out the tactics, aerial positioning, and performance of Erlenkov’s fighter.

Kesney had been tracking the Squall’s signal throughout the last seconds of the battle over the Classified Zone in point aico-seven. His frown deepened as he sat at the watch, his body taut and alert, leaning over the stretch of brilliant silver hardware that was the main radar and communications console of Command Central. His expression somehow did little to mar the innocent youthfulness of his round-cheeked face. He was nervous, and not showing it. There was so much information to analyze, and no visuals to help him.

Kesney thought of himself as a good guy, which meant he was reliable and reserved with the ladies. His features were by no means remarkable—nothing about his appearance made him stand out in a crowd. His fellow officers described him in words of praise: self-composed, methodical, efficient, sometimes cocky, but occasionally also, easily misguided. Nevertheless he was an upstanding young man, of little imagination but great integrity, the kind of person who gathered friends to himself easily. Most things came easily to him.

Today he felt less sure of himself. He felt acutely self-conscious of himself in his new post, and certain that everyone noticed him, raw, conspicuously underexperienced. Could they tell how he braved it out? He was just going through the motions, sitting taut as a wire. Like a super-efficient actor reaching breaking point, he began to wish someone else would just take over. At the same time, he sat determined to tough it out with everything he had.

Contrary to his suspicions, every passing individual in the giant military center could not immediately tell that had just come onto the post as a new Academy graduate. Some might already know that he was. Fresh from the Academy of aeronautical physics and engineering in the capital city of Inen.

Ekasi Kesney, like many other graduates, had affectionately dubbed it the Academy, as if there were none other. This came as an insult to the officers from other renowned training centers such as the Ernestian Academy, whose officers took great exception to the general favoritism awarded the Inen Academy, Kesney sooned learned. A lot of scuttlebutt circulated every year about how Inen graduates took far too many accolades on reputation alone. The veteran officer to Kesney’s left had made a scathing comment about each man proving his mettle within five minutes of Kesney’s arrival, breaking up a verbal fight in which Kesney was involved. He then ascertained all he cared to know about Kesney in a quick disapproving glance and a few terse questions.

Kesney began to envision the Academy in his mind’s eye. The comparatively easy days he had spent in training had just ended. He had been in the Freya Squadron, named for a fearsome gold animal with talons that shredded prey out in the wilderness. He considered it something of a matter of pride for him to have earned his way into that squadron.

However, he had taken the officer’s commission examination and passed into the higher echelons of the command structure, achieving his command central posting with just two points above the rest of the field. He was not the best of his unit anymore, and felt the mettle of his superiors around him. However, there was one sacrifice: his new posting did not require him to air combat. Kesney knew he would miss the air patrol, but he stood a far better chance at being promoted if he could handle the rigors of the challenging command posting. He tried to shake himself so he wouldn’t yearn for the simple life of the Academy once more. He was here with a job to do, and he wanted to be a fighter, a leader, worthy of his own command one day.

Yesterday, excited and careful, Kesney had packed up his scant few belongings, preparing to transfer to his new post. He remembered thinking in excitement of the beginning of his illustrious career in the most prestigious command center on the planet, with a youth’s impatience.

He felt more of a man today, with a sense of hollow, disillusioned reserve, watching the empty radar screen with eyes stonily aware of the magnitude of the situation. He focused his attention again. It wasn’t easy. He pressed a button on the side of the console for a slight injection of attention-focusing solutions and winced as the needle filled with orange-yellow fluid pricked his arm.

The drug slowly permeated his system. Pisswater, he thought, it isn’t doing any damn good. He thought once more of his driving desire, not only to do an adequate job, but to do an extraordinary one. He had ambitions to make a good impression on the old man who dominated the vast command center from the Senka’s chair at the back of the room. Vaikyur was the military right arm of the Tiasennian Air Corps. And Kesney had a reputation to carve anew.

Kesney was used to being the best fighter and officer amongst his fellows, and knowing how to do things right. He knew how to make a good impression on his superiors, by showing competence in the line of fire, and making quick and logical actions, good decisions, and judgment calls. He had the kind of mind that made him a natural tactician, and the kind of application that did his aptitude even more credit. He was going to make it, and lived by his creed.

If he wasn’t the most fierce or gifted combatant, he made up for it with skill, discipline, practice, and love of the life. The promise of air time had once got him up in the morning, like an electric charge. He survived it, sheer exhilaration and hell. There were not enough painkillers in Inen to ease his aching limbs after a tough combat scenario. He used to spend his evenings iced up and on mind-endurance chemicals, available equally to all of the Inen Academy cadets. Every night at ten he would fall into his sleep panel, his body and mind pushed to its limits, and sleep like a rock. The sleep panel coolant saved him, massaging his weary limbs while the mind-drip anesthetic put him into a brief coma-sleep, ah, my kind of shut-eye, the cadets would quip jovially to crack each other up. A sense of humor got them through a lot of vigorous training days.

While others surpassed Kesney in commanding presence in the officer’s school, he quietly showed tact and clear, lucid thinking. In social situations, when opportunity presented itself, Kesney could be gregarious, even congenial. He had an innate good-nature and interest in enjoying times with friends, and that got him in trouble. He liked to be liked.

Kesney had a hard time executing harsh orders, but a good mind, which made him an excellent tactician but a reluctant leader. He maintained a willingness to learn what it took, but it took a great effort to suppress his natural personality. For short stints he excelled at command, and could force himself not to think of the men but the mission first. He found he still needed a lot more detail time at communications analysis, to balance his best character, to give him time to get used to a more aggressive or at least, hard line, viewpoint. He hoped he might earn the right to a command without changing his own fundamental philosophy: to protect and serve his people, with minimal loss of life and with a good, strong defense.

Planning stealthy attack strikes came as his forte, when he could detach himself from reality and hone his thoughts. He knew how to manage people, and how to use minimal force to get results. He considered this something of a mission, to curtail the raw abuse of power he had seen among squabbling mirani, the captains of the aeronavy at the Academy. He wanted to make sure that the people he had sworn to defend never had to fear for their survival, or fear the consequences of an unnecessarily combative leadership.

For his diligent efforts during training, Kesney had been awarded an Outstanding Conduct Medal for excellence among the Tiasennian officer graduates by Fer-innyera Ezáitur, the leader of Tiasenne, only three days ago at the Inen Academy cadet graduation ceremonies.

No one here is thinking about that anymore, Kesney reminded himself. It’s back to scratching out a new position in the pecking order from the bottom rung of the ladder. Back to showing what he was made of, and that he was a team player as well. He couldn’t afford to rest on his laurels. There were far too many good candidates for promotion among his fellow officers, some decorated officers newly transferred from the Ernestian Air Base, and its team of flying Skyhawks, named for the feral attack beasts of the northern mountains. People remembered the Skyhawks as a tough band of honed fighters and also as highly organized stealth operatives, swift, sure, and silent.

Kesney couldn’t afford to take any more medication to contain his anxiety. All officers on the command post had to keep their defenses sharp, but he had reached a saturation point where the performance-boosting drugs weren’t doing him any more good. He did his best to pace himself. He felt so green, and vastly under-qualified for this responsibility. At the same time, he set his jaw hard, fully determined to prove his merit.

Until the Orian Falcon space fighters appeared north of Inen and took out the entire squadron of his good friend Eiron Vaikyure-Erlenkov, the commander’s grandson. Erlenkov, one of Tiasenne’s best pilots, was one of the hotshot heroes with an unimpeachable reputation for bravery and panache. He could fly rings around everyone, and knew it. No one ever denied his superiority of ability and performance in the line of fire, and the guy wasn’t an ass about it.

Kesney could hardly believe what had happened. After months of peace and quiet, the Orian Falcon space fighters had appeared in Inen and taken out the entire squadron, while driving them into a radioactive area of one of the Classified Zones over the Northwestern Sea. Eiron was the last to be shot down.

The entire room remained deadly silent when the Squall disappeared from the radar screen.

The command center was still trying to ascertain whether or not anyone had survived. The odds had to be slim. They sent out routine reconnaissance plans over the area between Inen and the sea, just in case any of the pilots had ejected from their fighters. Everyone waited tensely for news. So far, none of the pilots had been recovered. The odds that Vaikyur-Erlenkov had made it to safety now dwindled as time ticked by. If he were still alive—he would have already activated his emergency distress signal.

No signal.

The radar showed five enemy Orian space fighters like bees swarming red rings round the main blue point of light, frozen where Erlenkov’s plane had gone down. Then the alien fighters shot away, heading outside the range of the nearest approaching Tiasennian patrol unit, going at a clip faster than they had ever been tracked. The bastards had made a break for it, and were going to get away. It was absolutely unbelievable.

Which spelled bad news for the entire Tiasennian defense, who had yet to learn that the Orians had come up with a new, superior kind of combined stealth and combat fighter, perhaps coated with a radar absorbent material that would help to camouflage it by masking its radar emissions. There was no way to know, apart from the flight data being relayed to the command center that gave them the first detail of the new prototype, and no first-hand knowledge would now be available to the Tiasennian Command Center in order to make a proper assessment of the Orians’ new aerospace development.

Kesney’s clear blue eyes stayed fixed on the radar screen as the recon rescue patrols began swarming over the area. They had yet to report any news, and had not witnessed anything of vital importance. The only hope for that information remained in finding the downed pilots of the recent air battle.

Kesney’s expression stayed forcefully blank—the senior officers around him started to joke about his manner. The more experienced officers knew how to keep themselves sane through the long wait on duty. Every day tested a man’s patience.

Kesney said nothing. He kept acting through it all, as bravely as he could. He considered Vaikyur-Erlenkov his best friend, and something like an older brother. The reason why Kesney had decided to try for a position at the command center. To follow in the footsteps of the hero who had been his mentor at the Academy. Kesney had no way to vent his grief at the moment that would be appropriate. It was unprofessional for a military officer to show emotion on duty. Only the atmosphere made it clear how highly Erlenkov was regarded and how much he would be missed. The older officers showed a great respect for him, and made just a few asides to lighten the atmosphere, part of knowing just how far to go to keep morale high. Their commanding officer Vaikyur didn’t respond to their jovial sense of humor, but he didn’t take offense to any of it. After a while, they fell into a detached silence, and all was calm.

Heroes aren’t supposed to die this way. Kesney thought, entirely demoralized. Granted, the shots of attention-boosters helped to even his mood. He was afraid to even think about how he might manage later without them. He was also able to grasp the full implications of what trouble brewed. It seemed likely that the Orians had been lying low while they developed a new arsenal of weapons and technology to give them the advantage in the continuing war. And that was bad news. No doubt everyone wondered what might happen in the next few days.

Keep the recon on rescue detail until you find something, came the carefully flat, stony order from Senka Ristalv Vaikyur behind Kesney some distance. No one had said a word to him that was not absolutely necessary. Tell them to take several passes over the area. Make it a thorough sweep.

Yes, sir. Kesney said, nodding compliantly.

Meanwhile, Vaikyur watched his subordinate for a moment, almost indifferently. Vaikyure held the position of the Operational Commander of the Tiasennian Military Command Center—called the Senkaya Sukura. This meant that he was in charge of the entire Tiasennian Army, Aeronavy, and Air Corps. Under any other circumstance, Vaikyur might have found amusement in the stilted, unpolished behavior of his new radar and communications specialist, as the senior officers on duty had.

Vaikyur judged the look on the Junior Ekasi’s face with a kind of cold criticism. Kesney’s eager, noble young mind swam with wistful visions of a hero’s memorial. Vaikyur, on the other hand, had no time for it all. No matter what, his grandson was dead.

Vaikyur remained rigid in his chair, now immune to the noise going on around him. He found himself unable to take in reality. The ongoing commotion all around him of technicians and military personnel all doing their jobs, moving from one work station to another if they needed to, did not disturb him in the slightest. Some of the officers had ideas about what the Orian attack indicated, about what the attack pattern gave away. They made efforts to investigate and tried to evaluate relevant data for the entire battle to see what important information the details might provide, in hopes the information might shed light on the next possible recourse and appropriate line of action. Headquarters had been put on a second degree alert.

Meanwhile, Vaikyur’s attention silently drifted far away. His mind took him back to the cold shores of the Kestrian Sea, back to when little Malina sat at play on the beach, her legs plastered with reflective silver-gold sand. And then in her place, young Eiron, gazing up at him bright-eyed, blinking in the sun, triumphantly dangling a purple sea shell...

Vaikyur compressed his eyelids shut, clenching his teeth.

I’ll never see him alive again. The thought refused to go away.

He looked up a moment later and glanced about the room; why should he be here? Where had all the days fled to since those bygone years?

Vaikyur did not like to think of himself as an old man, but it was true that three Fer-innyeras, the Tiasennian leaders, had taken office in his lifetime. Fine white hair had replaced his original golden and slightly coarse shock of hair. The bright white of it accented his sharp, wide-set blue eyes, creating a look of icy severity to match his temperament. But his eyes gave the suggestion of a cold air of distance from others that he did not always feel. This illusion helped to maintain his image and to convey a firm impression of his authority. The slight wrinkled creases in his face did little to soften the gaze of his eyes; if anything they forced the observer’s eye into that sharp gaze. Vaikyur was intimidating. Because of this, people tended to think of him as taller than he actually was.

Although of medium height and build, with long legs and a brisk lean stride, Vaikyur had loomed larger than life to the corps of officers in his command. After all his years of service, he remained tough and energetic and fully in control. To the young officers, and to the new Ekasi, it almost seemed as if Vaikyur’s powerful presence filled the command center.

Ekasi Kesney did not know what to make of the preternatural silence surrounding Vaikyur. He tried to be respectful of Vaikyur’s state of mind, but remained uncertain what to do or say to him. He did as he was told and kept his mouth shut, figuring it might be best to just do his duty and let Vaikyur handle his own reaction and emotions.

Status report. Vaikyur said at last, heavy-eyed but still forceful.

Kesney turned aside and shook his head. Nothing yet, sir, he informed Vaikyur immediately.

Vaikyur bristled with a rare but contained passion, fought to master his swirling emotions, then riveted his gaze to the radar screen across the room, his eyes darting, calculating. Without warning, he cursed abruptly. He wasn’t able to handle his outrage. All talk in the room ended. The air took on a tension like an electric charge. Vaikyur’s fists clenched around the arms of his chair, his air of serenity snapped. The padded, smooth, silver chair creaked tautly, adding its protest.

If those bastards have killed my grandson, I swear they are going to regret it! Vaikyur seethed in a low voice of pure outrage. He was self-consciously aware of his own outrage. For the first time ever, he couldn’t control it. There was a dangerous chill in his quiet, rich baritone that suggested he would do what he threatened, and would not spare any measure to make that happen.

Several people in the room swallowed hard at this outburst, trying not to stare at Vaikyur. They held their breath some of them, others waited uncomfortably in mute tension, without making any obvious movements. Vaikyur was not given to outbursts of emotion, and absolutely never lost his self-control. However, they could not afford to gape at this phenomenon. No one in the room had ever seen or wanted to know what Vaikyur’s temper might really be like. Silence reigned. Shock was in order.

Suddenly, a schematic alteration on his radar screen demanded Ekasi Kesney’s attention with insistent, onerous whistles. Kesney turned to examine the radar screen carefully, and Vaikyure calmed somewhat. People began again to draw breath and make small shuffling sounds and noises. Kesney chewed a hole in his lower lip concentrating. Again he was reconciled to hope.

Now they had a signal of some sort to analyze.

A moment passed.

The signal’s from the King Cobra patrol unit, sir, Kesney said. Don’t know what it is yet. As he watched the screen, his common sense told him what was going on. The screen showed five blips within range of the ionosphere, suddenly turning into static.

Sir, the Orians have vanished. Kesney declared. Must have switched off their transponders, or else I don’t know what. Surprise leaked through in Kesney’s tone of voice. Think it’s possible they’ve got anti-radar cloaking?

Sir, they don’t have radar silence. Ekasi Forren, one of the other, more experienced officers, opined. His dark, cobalt officer’s uniform with the double-coiled snake insignia marked him as one of the secret guard of the Fer-innyera. A man of Promethean skill, Forren remained ever-present in the Command Center to ferret information over to the top brass at the Political Headquarters.

Hmmm, Vaikyur remained quiet, lost in ponderous thought.

They just passed over point aico-seven in the Northwestern Sea. Kesney updated.

The Ghost’s Cliff... Vaikyur responded slowly, his eyes unblinking; there was a curious light in his eyes.

Vaikyur was working over something in his mind. His face shifted through assorted expressions of bemusement, calculation, and finally, a flicker of amusement. Vaikyur suddenly gave a knowing laugh.

Well, I’ll be damned. He said quietly.

Without warning, Vaikyur let go of the chair with a quick push and leaped to his feet, striding over to the radar screen with the quick, sharp clicks of booted heels. Vaikyur stopped and stared into the radar screen, shook his head, and laughed again.

You think he’s gotten himself lost in the Ghost Cliffs, Forren said quietly. He was a tall man, with classic lines and an iron-hard face, yet with an air of elegance and polish.

I do indeed. Vaikyur returned with a steady glare. They shared a private moment. Vaikyur gave Forren a slight warning glance, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Kesney squirmed in his chair with mute interest. The conversation was over his head, and he didn’t like that.

Excuse me, sir, Kesney interrupted, confused and intrigued. What the heck is a ‘Ghost’s Cliff’?

Kesney found his attention drifting to the gold buttons of Vaikyur’s uniform as Vaikyur stood over him, staring at the radar screen.

It’s a Classified Zone, Vaikyur said, his mouth tight, his eyes giving away nothing but a rare glimmer of something Kesney couldn’t interpret.

Oh, shit! Kesney thought for a moment, blustered, freezing up. Talking over top secret information made his heart race with excitement. A Classified Zone! Ordinarily, talking about this sort of thing off-duty could buy an officer a one-way trip to the Brig—or worse! Kesney’s palms pricked with sweat; he rubbed them once to dry them.

Kesney had learned about the Classified Zones at the Academy. How they were the provinces of terrorists and enemy spies and that to even discuss them could raise questions about a man’s motives—even about his loyalties. There were many Orian spies on Tiasenne, living among the population, even in the military. Would Vaikyur think that he might be a traitor spy?

Kesney protested inwardly at the imagined injustice, and fought to retain command of himself as he turned to the Senka still standing over him.

I hope he doesn’t. Kesney suddenly gave Forren the once-over. Forren smirked knowingly. Kesney reacted with a surprised loss of composure before Forren’s evident steel-sure self-command. He got the immediate impression that whatever Forren said, he was in sure safety. Forren was one of the more experienced younger mirani, what they called the level of officers just above ekasi and below senka, the highest rank.

You know the area is off limits. And we can’t send any fighters there to punish the Orians without the Fer-innyera’s direct consent. Forren said, watching Kesney with his sharp gaze. Vaikyur is the only man authorized to override that breach in proper conduct in an emergency situation, Forren added. So you do think they’ve developed anti-radar, don’t you, sir? And we’ve got to find out exactly what the threat is we’re facing as soon as we can, Forren said quietly, his head bowed, his hand contemplatively tucked below his chin.

I do. Vaikyur nodded, having remained silent through this interchange. He seemed all at once to be weakening physically, though his mental vigor remained fresh and feisty.

He’s just lost the last of the family he had. Kesney remembered, reflecting a moment. He felt young and inexperienced, and yet he felt also a strange sensation, wanting to be there for his commander to lean on in this time of conflict. He wanted to do his best; his ears pricked with exuberance; Forren watched, a slight, sidelong smile on his face.

After years of relative peace, the storm had hit at last. Forren knew it as well as Vaikyur. The Orians were poised to attack with full advantage—radar silence; invisiblity gave them the upper hand.

Kesney continued to wait, expecting anything—expecting Vaikyur to direct an immediate response against the Orians, regardless of the classified nature of the forbidden areas. But Vaikyur just remained standing over him in ponderous silence. Kesney became visibly nervous as he tried without success to understand the significance of Vaikyur’s posture, of his silence.

Blast it, thought Kesney. Why aren’t the mood stabilizers kicking in? He suspected the automatic psychological gauges had been switched off to give the officers a heightened sense of reality. This usually happened in the command center during minor attack situations. It got the officers to think with their best survival skills sharp.

I hope he has something planned. If he can’t handle this situation, we’re all dead. Forren thought privately. We haven’t got anyone who can replace him.

At the same time, Vaikyur remained curiously lost in thought.

Dammit, why do I care so much about the lies and protocol, even after all of these years? Vaikyur thought in brutal self-criticism. It would be so much easier just to accept things the way they are, not to continue with this pretense of acceptance, and silent resistance! Vaikyur felt the force of his resolve draining away.

Without Eiron, what had been the purpose of his life? Why should he outlive his only daughter and then his only grandson? He had secretly striven for so long to help the peoples of Tiasenne and Orian reach a lasting peace, but how could he care about so many nameless and unwitting people anymore when his own grandson was dead? How could he continue his secret struggle for a peace that Eiron would never now see?

And Kesney, he thought as he ended his reverie, this impertinent young boy, who’s been a palpable bundle of nerves all morning, why should I care about people like him?

Looking now at Kesney’s earnest face, he answered his own question. Because he cares. Because he wants to get it right and to do right. Considering Kesney profoundly now, he thought, this boy can be something, if I can just reach past his brainwashing and prejudice, I can win him over. And it will be worth the effort. If I am right, Kesney may be capable of great things someday. Will I deny him that chance?

Where would I be myself if Alessia, that elusive witch, had not taken such a chance on me so many long years ago? Had she not given me such a tremendous gift, the gift that made me a god among other men.

Vaikyur gave a sidelong look at Forren. That man isn’t getting a scrap of information out of me. Damn that Forren devil and his psychological voodoo. I have my mind well shielded against his psychological mind-attacks.

A nano-implant had been inserted into the minds of every man and woman on Tiasenne, a nano-implant that allowed them to be tracked all over the world. Failing that particular method of keeping people well under control, Tiasenne also possessed the technology of reading each person’s natural biochemical electromagnetic frequency, which could be traced like a fingerprint, and could be used to track and identify anyone across the planet at any precise moment. Only a few people had learned how to vary the frequency waves they emitted in order to thwart the system, including some of the enemy’s spies who had been found wearing tags that changed the frequencies they gave off.

Tiasenne also had the capacity to transfer information directly to officers utilizing a complex electromagnetic wave system. The electromagnetic wave system traveled through the computer information systems with what were known as thought images and thought recordings, literally, a person’s thoughts and memories recorded and transmitted to another. Unlike regular video footage, a man’s thoughts and memories could only primitively be recorded as what was known as shadow images. The system of thought transfer was highly useful in relaying experience-memories of one soldier to another halfway across the planet.

Vaikyure was one of the few men on the planet to have received a complicated nano-implant that allowed him to see more of these shadow images and which allowed him access to the entire record of thought recordings. Vaikyure also had a mind shield implant that prevented his interrogation, or any valuable information being obtained out of his mind through torture or other brainwashing. The physical removal of Vaikyure’s mind shield, if someone ever captured him, would erase all of his memories, thus making any process to extract information from his brain useless. Few people had a mind shield. Without them, emotions could be used as powerful tools and weapons to influence their thinking. Emotions could even be artificially generated upon those who felt none to create all kinds of reactions and to easily control them. Forren was a highly skilled interrogator in psychological warfare. Vaikyur thanked his own mentor Alton for the nano-implant that kept him forever safe against the mind-attacks.

Vaikyur, his old vigor restored to him after the brief reverie, made his decision.

What else did they teach you about the Classified Zones in the Academy, young man? Vaikyur demanded gruffly, in an effort to tactfully cover his own familiar territory.

Kesney stared at his commanding officer, uncertain how to respond, his eyes flickering briefly over to Forren. He held his tongue and said, Sir? He was still thinking on what the Orians’ radar silence might mean in altering their defense tactics. Vaikyur had caught him completely off guard. They taught us to be careful how and what we asked about them, Kesney replied, cautiously.

That’s good. Anything else? You have my permission to speak. Forren here already has this information.

Kesney mentally relaxed. Well, sir, we were told what everyone on Tiasenne already knows, that they are areas where terrorist dissenters have exploded low-yield nuclear bombs and released biological weapons in an attempt to topple the government by creating widespread dissatisfaction and panic.

Yes, yes. Now can you tell me something I don’t know? asked Vaikyur sagely, patiently.

I can try, sir. Kesney said tentatively, trying to think.

No, you can’t, Vaikyur interrupted him. But you can give me your view and some fresh look at this situation.

Very well, sir, I’ll do my best, Kesney replied gravely. I heard that some areas in the Northwestern Sea and across Umberia were sort of cordoned into areas, rendered off-limits as it were—because of the radiation hazard to military forces, as well as to civilians. And of course owing to the possible presence of biological toxins that were irradiated by our Orian friends. Kesney paused. "But some believe the biological threat is only a hoax, for what reasons God only knows. Orian doesn’t want to contaminate us, only invade us, I’ve heard, and they can’t risk toxifying a planet they mean to conquer for their own. Fer-innyera Alton had a special survey conducted to test the terrorists’ bombs sites, to keep people out and to reduce any danger to our civilians. There was little evidence to suggest permanent damage to the ecosystem from radiation contamination, so