Colonies of Kobol: Volume Three: Revolution

By Edward T. Yeatts III

From the author of the acclaimed "Lords of Kobol" series ...

Thousands of years of history have come to this. Larsa, Kobol, Earth, the Colonies ... will the Messengers of The One True God finally help free mankind of the cycle?

In "Colonies of Kobol - Volume Three," you'll see the conclusion. In "Tauron," the people kick the empires off their world and create the Ha'la'tha to fight an unjust government. In "Caprica," revisit the characters and events of that short-lived television series and witness the beginning of the Cylon War while the colonies, thanks to their long histories, struggle to come together. In "The Colony," watch the arrival of the Final Five, their changing of the Cylons forever, and the machinations of John Cavil. In "New Caprica," gain new perspectives on humanity's brief but consequential stay on that world. Finally, in "Earth," go on one last journey with Bill Adama and Saul Tigh and see the shape of things to come in our own future.

Fans of "Battlestar Galactica," "Caprica," and "Lords of Kobol" can't miss the final volume in a trilogy detailing the history of all the Colonies of Kobol.

There is a Plan and questions will be answered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edward T. Yeatts III
• Release date: Jun 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005866440

Edward T. Yeatts III

Edward T. Yeatts III (call him "Trey") is a resident of Richmond, VA. He has been married since 1999 and a father since 2002. A lifelong fan of science fiction, various franchises of interest include "Star Trek," Star Wars," "Battlestar Galactica," "Lord of the Rings," "Dune," "Firefly" and quite a few more.

Book preview

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Naturally, I highly recommend viewing the entirety of the 2003-2009 series Battlestar Galactica before reading this. Its prequel series, Caprica, and other associated films (Razor, The Plan, and Blood & Chrome) are also highly recommended.

If you have not yet read Lords of Kobol – Book One, Two, Three, and Prelude, I strongly urge you to stop now and go download them. Like this novel, they are free. (I recommend the Lords of Kobol – Collection: Special Edition.)

You may do so HERE.

Colonies of Kobol is a sequel series to Lords of Kobol, and largely a prequel series to Battlestar Galactica and Caprica.

Finally, I highly recommend that you download and read the Special Edition collection of Colonies of Kobol instead of the one you're about to begin:

DOWNLOAD IT HERE!

All chapters are presented in chronological order, complete with pics, language translations, show connections, author's commentary, and more. It is the definitive version of these books.

Thank you.

PREFACE: REGARDING THE TIMELINE …

To alleviate confusion, let us look through time to pinpoint the major events in Colonial and Kobollian history.

About five thousand, six hundred years before the Final Exodus, the Lords of Kobol descended Mount Olympus to assume godhood over humanity.

About two thousand years before the Final Exodus, the Thirteenth Tribe – later revealed to be organic Cylons – departed Kobol for Earth.

About one thousand, six hundred years before the Final Exodus, the oracle Pythia wrote her famed contributions to the Sacred Scrolls.

The Final Exodus occurs when a portion of mankind flees the revolution of Cylons and the Blaze on Kobol, leaving behind the gods who guided them for more than five millennia.

At about the same time as the Final Exodus, a Cylon revolution on Earth eliminates all but five members of the Thirteenth Tribe.

About two thousand years after the Final Exodus, mankind's one-time servants return decades after the Cylon War and the Twelve Colonies of Kobol are destroyed. A ragtag fleet led by the Battlestar Galactica flees in search of Earth.

About four years after the destruction of the Colonies of Kobol, a planet inhabited by prehistoric humans is named Earth and settled by survivors of the Galactica, the rebel Cylon Basestar, and the ragtag fleet.

I

MAURBAN

Unknown Years Before Activation

I wasn't from Abdera, but I was sent there. I was there for … five months? The young man nodded his head. We hadn't heard anything from Minos in weeks by the end. We all believed it fell.

A safe assumption.

A woman asked, What had you heard from other cities by that point? Tello chuckled. What's funny?

Nothing. It's just that, when I was a boy, I remembered hearing my parents talk about these other cities like they were evil. There was fighting all the time between them. Maurban went quiet and his face softened.

Then they came.

He nodded. We heard of the Virgo first. 'People in boats from the clouds.' We didn't believe them until we saw for ourselves, he shook his head. They said they ruled us now. That our farms were their farms. That we served their king. They tried to make us worship their gods. They said Apollo was the same as Endovelicus and Jupiter the same as Reue. No. Our gods are our gods. We prayed to Bandua when we took up our swords against them. Not Mars.

And your swords, the male began, how did that fare?

Not well. Camas, Teruel, Kelin. Those cities fell first and we heard the horror from those who got away. They spoke about Virgan rifles like they were … bolts of Holy Reue's own lightning held in a man's hands. We finally got some and armed ourselves. We had rifles now. We thought Abdera would defeat them.

Did you ever fight the Leo?

No. We heard they landed along the coast. Paterna. Alesia. That was far away enough for us to put them out of our minds.

So, the female asked, you were safe in the city walls of Abdera.

"Yes, until the Virgans came and I saw their ships at last. They were like boats from the sky. Giant, silver, metal things. Dozens of men and women came from them. All of them armored in metal. All of them carrying rifles and swords. They fired … cannonballs? I do not know. Our storage buildings were destroyed and the city's food was gone within the first week. Still, the Virgans remained beyond the walls. Supply trains were captured and raided. Then they waited."

For what?

He was not hungry, but a pang of the memory gripped him and he placed his hand over his stomach. For us to die.

What did you do?

He shrugged and pulled his knees to his chest. I remained at my post by the wall. Near the main gate. I was brought water and scraps for a few days. Food I was sure had been taken from the animal troughs or trash. When you're so hungry, you do not care. I ate it. So did everyone else. After a few weeks, even the scraps were gone. I left my post a few times every day to find anything to eat. On a good hunt, I would find a rat and I would be satisfied for another three or four days. But when a city has no food, no scraps, the rats themselves go away. Me and the other soldiers, we tried boiling different clothes to see how they might taste. Wool was alright but I was hungry again shortly after. Paper. Sawdust. We had some herbs so we could at least make what we ate have a hint of flavor. He licked his lips and looked toward the black floor. More often than not, I wept after eating anything. I wept because I knew the cruel trick I played on my tongue. A spoon of wet sawdust might have a sprinkle of basil and salt atop it. My tongue would taste it and expect greatness. Rice or beef or liver. Then it would touch the sawdust. The bitter blandness of sawdust.

That was not the worst of it, the female said.

Maurban shook his head. No. The thing about eating is, you know you're going to have to shit, eventually. When you're eating wood, clothes, paper. A chill raced over his body and he again pulled his knees close to his chest. It was almost always diarrhea. There was blood. Then we got dehydrated, so we had to drink more water. And then the wells became an issue.

Tell us about the end.

I saw my friends die next to me at the wall. They were … bleeding from their nose and ass. They had these spots all over their skin. When they vomited, they vomited blood and bile. They did not live long after they vomited, usually. A tear formed in the corner of one of his eyes. We were barely conscious. The city's commander, Ciprian, refused to surrender, but I heard that he died. That he had slit his own throat. He paused and then continued, One morning, a woman stumbled into the road by the gate. She was holding a baby to her chest and I thought she was looking for food or water. She wasn't. The baby was dead. She walked to the gate, pushed aside the guard by it with her foot, because he was already dead, and opened it. She just opened the gate to the city and collapsed. He released a long breath and said, The Virgans walked in a few minutes later. They just looked around at everyone, laughing.

They didn't bring you water or food?

No. He repositioned himself, I was lying against the wall for the whole morning as their soldiers came past. The first time anyone came to me, they took away my rifle and knife. That was all. I couldn't move. I couldn't go look for a rat or paper, but my stomach. He winced. "Hunger is bad enough on its own, but there is a pain that comes when it is empty. When it has stayed empty for too long. I saw that my hands had the spots and I knew the end was coming for me soon, but I just wanted the pain in my belly to end. I reached down beside me and picked up a cracked piece of dry soil. I knew it would be gritty, so I didn't look forward to its feeling on my tongue or on my teeth. When I hesitated, my stomach spoke again and I put the soil in my mouth. My tongue was too dry to even wet it. I chewed, I think, and I swallowed. Then I remembered hearing laughing again. They stood there, looking at me, laughing. They kept saying, 'drós-etere,' but I don't know what that means."

The female voice sighed and said, It means, 'dirteater.'

Oh.

The male voice spoke softly, You weren't the first Tauran to eat dirt. As the Empires laid siege to your world, settlers all across the Plain turned to eating anything to fill their stomachs as food ran out, including the soil. You were simply the first one seen doing so by the Virgans.

And thus were your people called ever after.

Maurban closed his eyes. Why must some pile further pain atop suffering?

Why indeed.

The Tauran disappeared and the female asked, Are we certain humanity is worth saving?

Finally, after ages of religious claptrap, there is the pessimistic being with whom I've been tasked to tend this tree. She did not appear amused. His smile faded and he said, You know we must save them.

But how much better would this be, and the lives which make up this tree, if none took pleasure in such suffering?

Much better, but through strife, the people are tempered and made stronger.

The female grunted, A mild consolation.

II

DOMOS

1,151 Years After Colonization

The major spun the oblong gold ring around his finger as everyone waited. Soon, Lord Lodema Hyland entered the chamber and the council of officers stood. The ruler of Virgo's holdings on Taurus, she often wore a colored leather jerkin over a shirt of fine mail. Her hair was pulled back tightly and bound against the back of her neck. Domos looked at her and wondered about all he had heard regarding her past, but she immediately locked eyes with him and he lost his train of thought.

Major Randel Domos, she said with a booming voice. All the heads around the table swiveled toward his. Welcome to Taurus City.

Thank you, my lord.

You all certainly recall the major's father. The others nodded. His son comes to us fresh from the east, and after past victories against the Lions at both Zama and Perga. With the fighting on that front at a temporary end, major, I hope you may help us on more domestic issues.

I shall do my best.

She looked at the papers before her. General Woodrowe, she faced the gray-haired man to her left, would you please inform us on the current disposition of the native rebels?

My lord, he nodded toward her and then faced the table. Balding, his gray hair was swept back and his waxed gray moustache curved out from under his nose and back toward it again. We have captured a further twenty rebels in the city of Marathon and seized a sizeable number of weapons. We believe this has ended the insurrection capabilities for their sort in the north.

Indeed? Lodema asked. Why? Were these twenty rebels … important in some manner?

No, my lord. They are simply the last of the rebels in Marathon. And there have been no further reports of rebels in that region.

Randel narrowed his eyes and looked from the general to Hyland. She saw his gaze and wrote something on her paper. And what of Tseri?

From the captain I have dispatched to Tseri, I have likewise heard no further reports on rebel activity.

So you believe their insurrection is at an end?

Yes, lord.

Lodema was quiet and looked around the table. Virgo and Leo have been on this world for over three centuries. In that time, the dirteaters have scarcely gone a day without some act of rebellion against one or both empires. Do you truly believe that the arrest of twenty natives in Marathon has put an end to very nature of these savages to fight?

Woodrowe stuttered and blew air through his lips for a few moments before he regained his composure. I merely intend to say, my lord, that the insurrection is, for now, at its end. Certainly, the savages will rebel again at some point.

Certainly. Hyland watched the old man as he nodded. She wrote something else on her page and pushed it aside. Domos watched the faces of the others around the table and they seemed satisfied. I fear that I have ill news regarding our efforts here. I have received notice from Buskirk that they will be unable to send additional funding, soldiers, and materiel to Taurus to aid in our efforts.

What?

Her majesty promised ….

They said they would send multiple horsefyrds!

And new ships.

I know, I know. She raised her hands to quiet the officers and continued, It seems that the crown is more intent on shoring up their position on Sagittarius because there is the possibility of gold. Likewise, their attentions are drawn to Pisces as fighting against the Leo has dragged on. We, however, in our success, have led her majesty to believe that we are well enough on our own for the time being. The officers shook their heads. We here know the truth, but we must have a means of supporting ourselves.

A greater means, a man in a suit said.

Yes, cofferer. Have you a notion?

I have a few, but they would involve something to draw the ire of the people. More taxes.

Lodema nodded. I am certain. Will you please begin calculations on what we may reap from your notions, compared to our present state and minus future aid from Virgo?

I will, my lord.

Thank you, all. She gathered her pages. I shall see you in the morrow. The officers stood and began to file from the room. Major Domos, if you please.

Randel walked back to his chair and sat. Once the last of the officers departed and closed the door, he said, My lord?

I saw your confusion as General Woodrowe spoke. Would you please explain yourself?

He felt a flash of nervousness until he recalled Hyland's own lambasting of the old man. My lord, I have fought the rebels, in the towns, on the Trail, elsewhere in between. The fact that a few of their number were captured says nothing of their capabilities or their desire to continue to fight against us.

She nodded. Go on.

We may regard them as savages and dirteaters, my lord, but the natives are not unintelligent. If some of their number have been captured, then they will remain hidden for a time. They will alter their tactics. They will store their weapons in new places. I do not believe for a moment that the rebels are truly defeated in Marathon or anywhere else, for that matter.

Now she smiled. I was right to bring you to the city, major.

Thank you, lord.

She pulled a page from her stack and began writing furiously. I am naming you commander of the watch for Taurus City.

His eyes widened. I … thank you, my lord.

It is a temporary thing. She stopped writing and looked up. When I was given Taurus, I inherited the general and have sought to diminish his responsibilities once I gauged him unequal to the task. I am nearly ready to ask for his resignation, but that will require either a tragedy to illuminate his failings or a great deal of political favors, the latter of which I do not have.

Is he currently the commander of the watch?

He is. I will speak to him myself and you will have all the information you require for your duties in short order. In the meantime, I want you to rout rebels from our city. Woodrowe says there are none but we both believe that to be folly.

Indeed, my lord. She stood and he followed. As she approached him with an outstretched hand, he asked, You said, 'temporary,' lord.

Yes. As she shook his hand, she said, If you excel as I think you might, I will name you general of our forces.

Stunned, his mouth fell open and he asked, And what of the other officers?

You saw them. Sycophants to the old general and the old ways of dealing with natives. As you say, these dirteaters are different. They are not so easily cowed as the Sagittarians or amused by technology as the Gemini. I will need your experience and thinking.

I am glad to give it, lord.

She held her hands behind her back. Have you any questions for me?

He almost chuckled, remembering his thoughts on her history from earlier. A few, perhaps, but I will ask only this today. Why were you not named Duchess of Taurus?

Lodema smiled. You heard?

I heard … a tale.

A tale that is mostly true. Yes, I argued with Queen Martha when she named me 'lady.' Yes, the queen acquiesced and named me 'lord,' as I requested.

Why, may I ask?

Because 'lord' conveys more power than 'lady,' does it not?

It does, my lord.

She would not, however, name me 'Duke of Taurus.' She insisted upon 'duchess' and I balked. Thus, she shrugged, I simply rule as a lord.

Not so simply, I think. Domos put his arm over his chest. Good day, my duke.

She laughed and said, Good day, major.

The palace at the center of Taurus City was larger than the boy expected. His eyes struggled to take in the stone and metal-capped towers. Bright green ivy rose from the red soil and crawled up the blocks of its façade. Flowers, imported from Virgon, were planted all around the perimeter.

This is our home now? Linton asked as he held his father's hand.

It is, Randel said. Now, he knelt to face his son, I have a great deal of work and I will not be able to see you as much as I might like, the eleven-year-old pouted, but this place is safe and there is a great deal to occupy you.

I understand, father.

They walked into the large entrance and there the major spoke with the manager of the household. Linton walked up stairs and around corners and found large rooms.

This will be your chamber, young master, the manager said. And yours is through here, major.

Thank you.

The boy walked into the room and looked at the blank walls and large bed. He went to the window and looked out at the city far below. Streets circled the palace and were filled with stone temples and places of business. Beyond them, there were long avenues and streets of wooden and metal homes, dingier and dirtier than anything nearby. When Linton climbed onto the small sill so he could look straight down, he heard someone gasp behind him.

"Deus mias! Before he could look back and see who it was, he felt an arm wrap under his torso and pull him from the window. Please be careful, young master!"

Linton glared at the dark-haired woman and said, I was. I wasn't going to fall.

As you say, young master.

Major Domos entered the room and looked from the woman to his son. Is all well?

Yes, Linton said.

Hello, major, the woman bowed. I am Elo, the housemaiden assigned to you and your son.

Oh, greetings. He walked toward her and shook her hand. The act surprised her and she smiled. You have other duties, I am certain, throughout the day, however the one task I would set you to is in preparing Linton for the morning and ensuring he's attending his studies.

The boy shook his head, Father.

I will do so, major.

I can do it myself.

Randel tilted his head toward the boy and said, You will have to prove it to me. The past few years did not provide evidence in your favor.

Linton softened his attitude. I will do better.

Let us hope. At the start, Elo will aid you.

Very well.

A soldier came to the major and handed him a page. I am sorry. Linton, will you remain in the palace until our baggage arrives?

I will. Saying nothing else, Randel went down the corridor with the soldier, leaving only the son and the housemaiden. Is there a school nearby?

No, master. The members of lord's household school their children downstairs.

May I see?

Elo looked around and said, I suppose you should meet the priest before your first day. Come with me. They walked down the corridor to a staircase. If you do not mind, I have a shortcut. It will take us through the kitchen.

I do not mind. I like the smells of cooking.

Elo laughed. Good.

They went down two flights of stone stairs and emerged in the bustling kitchen. Ovens lined one wall and cooks stood by pots, stirring them. Others cut vegetables and meat on the tables at the center of the room. The boy watched them work and took in a deep breath.

Ma!

A girl with long black hair ran to Elo's side and hugged her. She leaned down and kissed her head. The whole time, Linton stared.

This is Eva, my daughter.

The girl smiled. Hello.

Linton nodded once. Hello.

This is a new young master under my care, Linton Domos. You will see each other sometimes. She bowed toward him a little, hugged Elo again, and went back to the table where she gathered cut vegetables. Are you ready to see the school?

Still staring at the girl, he said, Yes.

This way. They walked through a short passage and came to a larger corridor where ten children were leaving a room. This is the teacher, Priest Ewart.

An older man emerged from the classroom. I have a new student?

Linton Domos, the boy said. He shook the priest's hand and then looked at the children as they walked away. Is class finished for today?

Yes. But I will see you tomorrow?

He didn't answer. Linton looked back toward the kitchen and asked, Will Eva be in school with me?

No, Elo said. She is a servant.

Saddened, the boy looked down and said, Oh. The mother smiled and followed him into the classroom behind the priest.

III

GARSEA

1,151 Years After Colonization

Doda was on her hands and knees. Her robes were bunched up beneath herself to provide some cushion for her straining joints, but it didn't seem to matter. She scrubbed the wooden floor with the brush as hard as she could. The grains of red soil came up from the boards and swirled with the soap and water. After she scrubbed, she wiped. Once that section was dry, she pushed the bucket along and she shuffled to the next part of the sanctuary. Later, of course, she would oil the entire floor.

Templo dels Deus was the last native temple in Camas. As such, it was the one frequented most often by the Tauran people, and just as often by Virgan authorities looking for suspected rebels. It was no surprise to Garsea when the door flung open and Virgan officials were standing there, silhouetted against the harsh light of the day.

Come in, come in, she groaned as she stood. Don't let the wind bring the dust with you. Doda wiped her hands on her robes and she walked toward the pair. One was a short man wearing a blue fabric vest with the Virgan seal embossed in gold and silver upon it. The other was a soldier, a tall woman in silver armor over a red uniform who carried a rifle. The soldier closed the doors and the man blinked to adjust his eyes to the candlelit dimness. She sighed and asked, How might I help you today?

You are the priestess of this temple?

I am. Doda Garsea. Priestess in full for thirty years.

And this is a native temple, is it not? The man squinted and looked around the sanctuary.

It is.

I have a decree for you. He handed the paper to Garsea and began to wander around the room, studying the paintings on the wall.

Doda watched him for a moment and then opened the sealed envelope. 'Taxation of native temples?'

Yes.

She read each line twice, three times, scarcely believing what she saw. Ever since the Virgans came, they gave tolerance to the temples.

What gods do you worship?

Garsea looked at the soldier who hadn't moved from the door. The same as yours. We have different names for them, though. You know this.

But your means of worship are, the man looked inside an empty censer and offering plate, quite different.

Some say.

More violent.

She looked away from the soldier and glared at the man, who now poked around at the statuary and flicked the edge of a sacrificial pan with his finger. As were the offerings given the gods on Kobol.

Perhaps. He picked up a heavy wooden object with three faces staring out from it. What is this?

"Deus talla. A gods carving. Each home has one to honor the gods most important to their families."

Not all? Just a few?

We have found that if each home honors three or four fully, then all are satisfied.

The man chuckled and set the carving back on the table. As you wish.

She raised the letter again. Taxes. Taxes on temples.

Just on native temples. He wiped his hands and returned to the other side of the sanctuary. If you would care to convert yours to a discipline or sect recognized by the Holy Church of Virgo, then you will not have to worry about these taxes.

No. I think not.

As you wish. He moved toward the door and said, The collections will occur on the first day of each month. Good day.

He opened the door and stepped out into the windy day. The soldier kept eyeing Garsea and the priestess finally said, Where is Urraca Sans?

The woman answered, Who?

Urraca Sans. A mother. A storeowner. Last month, you and your soldiers came to my temple and defiled it to arrest her and three others. I recognize you.

The soldier nodded. If we arrested her, she was a rebel. If she was a rebel, she's been sent to prison.

No trial? The soldier turned toward the open door. No means of appeal?

The soldier said nothing. The man simply said, First of the month. The soldier closed the door.

Garsea stood there, fuming. Her worn, wet hands balled into fists and relaxed. She turned back toward the floors and remembered the many faces of her congregation pulled from the temple over the years. How many of them had she ever seen again? Very few. Their homes looted by soldiers. The businesses. She knew the people were nearing their breaking point and the resulting violence would not be pleasant.

Doda knelt again on the floor, bunching her robes under her knees. She soaked her brush and brought it to the wood planks in front of her, and as she did, she saw dust and soil, blown inside when the Virgans entered. She looked back at the portions she had already cleaned and there, too, was a fresh layer of dirt.

She sighed and collapsed onto her haunches. Frak.

IV

BONFILS

1,151 Years After Colonization

Isabeau remained in her tent, looking out onto the construction. Stones were being placed and walls were being raised. Alesia had nearly fallen to the Virgans more than a century ago and the small city was virtually destroyed. Finally, in a time of relative peace for the Leo on Taurus, it was being rebuilt and renamed Olympia in honor of the gods.

The Marchis de Tor wore a simple dress to allow for an occasional draft on this hot day. In her fifties, she found herself more susceptible to the heat and weakened by it. A servant was always nearby with water. Another with a fan. Some of the machinery outside kicked up a great cloud of red dust and she held her breath before she saw the wind take it in a different direction.

"Marchis," someone called from the flap of the tent behind her.

She turned and saw the tall form of young Stace Chappuis. Grand colonel. Please, come in.

Thank you. He stepped forward and noticed the breeze from the servant's fan. Not wanting to block it from the marchis, he backed away a little. Forgive the intrusion, but I have disturbing news from some of our cities.

'Some?' She turned to face him.

These reports all just arrived. From Teruel, Arcadia, and Perga. The commanders there report many hundreds of natives seeking entry.

How many hundreds?

Some thousands, in total. As she nodded, Chappuis added, And these are simply the cities whose messengers reached us first. I would expect Ariadne, Zama, and our other cities to be experiencing the same.

Why? Explain.

The Virgans. These reports include statements from many migrants and they are all the same. The Virgans, it seems, have again increased the taxes collected from native businesses. They are even taxing native churches now.

Her eyebrows raised. So, Virgo's pursestrings have drawn taut?

It would seem so.

Bonfils turned away from the colonel and looked out toward the construction again. While this bodes well for us, I would not welcome so many new poor. Our cities are strained sufficiently at present without thousands more mouths. And it goes without saying that there may be rebellious elements among these folk.

I concur.

They are to be forced away. Push them back toward Virgo's holdings or the open Plain. I care not. Dispatch whatever force you deem necessary to accomplish this.

"Yes, marchis." He saluted behind her and departed.

She watched the workers raise the frame of a building and tried to see around it toward the borders of the old city. She wondered if there might be natives there, waiting to get in.

V

DIDACUS

1,152 Years After Colonization

An imposing man, Arias was bound and slumped against the post. A soldier whipped at him again and the lash tore across his arm and chest, giving him a new laceration and welt.

Enough. Major Domos walked into the open space before him with his hands behind his back. Would you care to speak now?

Didacus lifted his head, with effort. His short salt-and-pepper hair was soaked with his own blood and caked with the red soil of his world. One eye was swollen shut, but the other he focused onto the major. He looked around briefly and spied the Virgan lord of Taurus, Hyland, off to the side, watching with a smile.

I will say nothing to you.

Domos nodded. As you wish. He gestured to the right and the soldiers brought forth more prisoners. The Redshirts threw them roughly into the dirt and Arias saw that they, too, had been beaten. I am certain you will recognize your lieutenants. Your compatriots.

Didacus said nothing. He only stared at his trusted men and women. The soldiers pushed and kicked them until they were leaning against a wall. He sighed at that point, believing that rifles were about to be fired and their misery ended.

You raised a force of two hundred, all from within Taurus City, to attack that depot, the major said. That is impressive. And you displayed tactical thinking in your strike. More impressive. You see, he knelt and looked into his face, many of my fellow Virgans regard you all as savages. Arias' good eye swiveled to look at Randel. I do not. I know you are just as capable as we Virgans. I do not take that for granted. We are clearly your cultural betters, however I know that our superiority is based largely on technology and knowledge. He stood and finished, But it is a superiority we intend to maintain.

One of the bloodied men fell to his knees and was promptly kicked by a Redshirt. The rebel retched in response and looked up from his sick. "Guatrau?"

Yes. The major walked toward the prisoners. "That is your guarra patrau. Your 'war father.' Some of them were surprised to hear a Virgan speak the native tongue. He has been captured. Would you like to see him spared? Would you like to spare yourselves? Speak now."

A man and a woman raised their heads and heaved great bloody gobs of phlegm at the major. Both hit his legs and he backed away. The Redshirts set upon them again, beating and kicking them. Domos ignored the spit and watched the soldiers for nearly a minute.

Enough. The Redshirts backed away and Didacus again sighed, hoping that the end was near for them all. "Any words for your soldiers, guatrau? Arias raised his chin and held his head still. Very well. Let us begin."

Begin?

One Redshirt stood behind each of the eleven prisoners and lifted them up, holding them in place. They were all too weak to struggle. Another soldier went to each of them with a long knife and sliced across the prisoners' midsections. They howled and screamed in pain as blood poured into the dirt and Didacus gasped for air. The Redshirts sliced again, this time tearing the abdominal walls and spilling intestine from their torsos. A couple of the prisoners fell unconscious, but the soldiers continued their work. They wound the entrails around the long blades and pulled. After nearly ten minutes, all their screams had ended and the Redshirts finally dropped the dead into the piles of their own gore.

The entire time, Arias' eye remained wide open. His body heaved with each breath and he felt energy in all his muscles. He struggled against the ropes that kept him tied to the post and he put his feet beneath himself. He tried to stand, but the binds wouldn't allow him. The major walked toward him and smirked as he watched the attempt. Finally, Didacus grunted, Free me.

Why? Because you wish to fight me? To kill me? No. I fear the bout would not be a fair one for you, due to your injuries.

Arias struggled a bit more and when that proved futile, he screamed and then slumped again against the post. Out of breath, he muttered, Kill me.

Domos glanced toward Lord Hyland and then looked at Didacus. No. I believe a greater punishment for you would be to live. Horror crept across the prisoner's face and Randel saw it. The Virgan smiled and said, Take him away.

He was pushed into a dark room and he stumbled until someone caught him. Before Didacus could straighten and glower at the Redshirts who tossed him so unceremoniously, they were already gone and the door was shut.

He braced himself on the wall and looked around the room. There was a low ceiling, so low he would have to stoop as he walked. Dim lanterns ringed the place and there were cots all along the walls with a few tables and chairs near the center. There were no windows that he could see.

What have we upon us now? a voice said as an older man, only a little over a meter tall, stepped from the crowd of staring men. Muscles. A worker. Arias stood as tall as the ceiling would allow and he glared down at the dwarf. A fighter. It is no wonder that you are in this prison camp then.

What is this place?

The man stepped closer and smiled. Didacus could see that he was wiry, muscular, and very tan. Despite his stature, he had suffered years of labor in the hot sun. This is where the dead are judged, for we are all already dead, are we not?

Still Minos?

Still Minos. I am Blas. Many consider me the father of this place, for we look after one another as a family. As much as the Redshirts might allow.

Arias' shoulders slackened and he nodded. Arias Didacus.

Now that you speak, I know.

How?

We hear rumors. He tilted his head with sympathy. I am sorry you were not more successful. Blas stepped forward and offered his hand. Come. Let us find you a bed.

Didacus hobbled forward. I would not want to put someone out. I will earn my way.

We have a few empty beds. He offered a hand again but the captain did not take it. And that foot? You should be consigned to light duty for a time.

I have heard nothing of the kind.

No surprise. A punishment for the warrior who would upend them, hmm? Blas smiled and gestured toward an empty cot. No one has used this one in nearly a month.

Didacus sat upon it hard and he saw a few faces in the crowd turn away. What became of the one who slept here before I?

Now Blas saddened. Huc. He was a kind fellow. The Redshirts made sport with him. Often. We could not protect him.

He pushed himself until his back was against the wall. Has he been mourned?

His brother is here. He has taken the mark of remembrance.

'The mark?' Arias straightened. "You practice entintar here?"

Blas nodded, I am the artist and there is another apprenticed to me. Do you have a need for markings?

Yes. He slid to the edge of the cot and untied the string at the collar of his shirt.

Now?

Are you able?

Blas looked around and nodded to a young man who darted away. We will have the light only for a short while.

I have much to remember. I do not fear more than one night of it.

I am certain. Another man pushed a stool toward him and Blas climbed atop it. The apprentice brought a pouch of needles and ink, and as he unrolled it across his thighs, Arias removed his shirt. The old man glanced up and saw that his entire chest was covered with tattoos, and upon them were fresh red scars from the Virgan whip.

Above his heart, there was the sword of Bandua, the god of war, piercing the seal of Virgo. Beneath his collarbone on his right, there was the mountain of Reue, the supreme deity, and the figures of a family beside an image of a candle, which was partially enveloped by four semicircles. Across his chest, from pectoral to pectoral, the sun of the dawn goddess, Atégina, was ornately tattooed. The lady of the underworld, goddess of rebirth, and, most importantly for Didacus, the goddess of justice for the dead. The sun was reddened by a particularly deep gash and beneath it there were many dozens of small black strokes. They stretched toward his navel and some of them, Blas saw, were actually names finely written into the flesh. The old man's mouth hung open and the other prisoners crowded behind him to see the captain's story writ across his skin.

One hundred and eighteen.

Blas looked up. Hm?

That's how many names I have given to Atégina so far. He touched the candle on his skin and said, For four generations, my people lived in Tseri. His finger moved to the right, to the mountain and the family icons. My wife, my mother, and my three children. Slain there by the Virgo. He touched the sword, Thus have I declared war upon them, his hand went to the sun, and I have prayed the underworld curse them for they have taken from me so many as I waged it. His hand drifted to his navel and he appeared to be holding the many black strokes.

And how many more would I add?

Two hundred forty-four. Some of the men gasped. Those are who I lost in my assault on Minos.

Blas shook his head. I fear my hand is too unsteady and my eyes fail me. I cannot write so many names as finely as those already upon you.

I do not ask that. I am shamed because I cannot remember so many. He swallowed hard and said, Simple marks will do.

And when your chest and stomach are covered, Blas pointed, your back?

No. My arms. I must be able to see them.

The apprentice brought forth a small candle from the wall and Blas held the needle in the flame. Very well. He looked behind himself at the prisoners and then faced Arias with a bow. We thank you for honoring us with your story.

The honor is in the telling.

With the needle heated and the ink stirred, the old man began. Arias only winced at the first touch of the needle, but thereafter, he was as stone.

Since the invaders came and the people of Taurus resisted, their lives were changed. Their homes were destroyed. The people were herded from place to place, much like the cattle they tended. Some were sent offworld as servants or soldiers. Throughout all this, they lost their means of remembering their own pasts. They could not carry family portraits, diaries, or any possessions. They decided to record their lineage and stories on the only thing they were sure to have with them: their flesh.

As Blas warmed the needle in the flame again, a voice beyond the door called out, Douse the lanterns!

Blas nodded and several prisoners went to the walls to blow out the flames. The old man said, I have made thirty-four marks. Remember this for when we begin again.

I will. Didacus picked up his shirt and blinked to adjust his eyes to the darkness. He saw the man roll up the pouch and slide from the stool in a faint blue light. Arias turned and looked up the wall and saw a slit near the ceiling. A window?

Yes. A small one. Enjoy it as best you may. Blas and the other men retreated toward their cots and faded into the shadows.

Didacus stood and tilted his neck as much as he could to press his head against the ceiling and see out of the thin opening. It was barely five centimeters wide and it was nearly half a meter long. He squinted and turned from side to side, and he saw a building to his left and the open sky to the right. A few stars were visible, but so was the lower curve of the rings of Taurus' moon. He smiled a little at that and remembered his daughter, Astruga, who loved to look at up at it and talk of going there some day.

VI

DOMOS

1,154 Years After Colonization

General.

Randel looked toward the window where a soldier had cloaked herself in the curtain. What?

Lord Hyland is coming.

Damn. Stand down, everyone. Unlock it. Domos gently replaced the hammer on his pistol and holstered it as the ten other soldiers lowered their rifles. In the darkened room, they were all at the wall opposite the door. For two hours they had waited and now their leader may have rendered their patience moot. When the simple wooden door opened and he saw the silhouette of Lodema in the frame, he stood and bowed. My lord.

General. She stepped inside and squinted, trying to see everyone concealed in the shadows. May I ask what is happening here?

You may, my lord, but if I might first. He stepped around her and tapped the shoulders of her guards, who were now standing outside. He waved them in and closed the door behind them. I will explain.

Please.

Since the last assault on Taurus City, the rebels have been more judicious and finely targeted in their attacks. No great armies of would-be soldiers. No attempts to take our munitions.

As we have discussed.

Indeed. While you were away, a vehicle was bombed on the airfield. Two aeroplanes and a transport wagon were destroyed. We traced the suspect to this part of the city and then here, he pointed at the floor.

And who lives here?

No one. He walked to the cupboard and opened two of the doors. Inside, there were old Virgan rifles and pistols, along with bullets, powder, and sacks for carrying them into battle. Serjeant. A man stood and opened the lid of the chest on which he had been sitting. Inside, there were dozens of grenades. We have also found a host of maps, a list of senior officers and city officials, and much more.

This is their command tent, so to speak.

And resupply depot it seems, my lord. Randel resumed his seat and faced the door. There is a key secreted outside and beneath a stone across the way. For the last few hours, we have kept watch on that stone in hopes that someone may fetch the key and fall into our clutches.

Hyland smiled and sat on the edge of a table by Domos. Well done, general.

Thank you, my lord.

I apologize if my arrival has disrupted things.

Not to worry, my lord. If they come, they come. If they do not, we have at least removed all of this from their grasp. Randel lowered his voice and asked, And what of your trip to Virgo and this talk of forming satellite nations under the crown?

Lodema looked behind her toward the serjeant nearest them. After he left to give them space, she said, I fear I was unsuccessful in swaying the queen.

I am sorry. The case you made to me was compelling.

And thus was I told by several in attendance, yet … her eyes rolled and scanned the dark room, I understand her reasoning.

And that was?

Sagittarius and Capricorn are currently in a moment of peace. Withdrawing direct control of the crown in favor of creating nations on those worlds to act more autonomously is suitable.

But on Pisces, Randel nodded, war persists against the Leo and they have their own rebels, I have heard. Thus, no nation for now.

And the dirteaters have conspired to bind Taurus with Pisces in that regard, yes. The crown and her commanders wish to retain a more direct hand.

I fear that I understand, too, my lord. Shall there be no nation upon Gemini?

No need. The petrol and lumber Virgo requires is dispatched by Dacia without conflict. And the crown is loath to become more involved in their many religious spats.

After Domos sighed, he asked, almost wistfully, The queen does not desire to force the Leo from Scorpia? Or to conquer Cancer?

Martha may be many things, but foolish is not among them. The Lions and the natives, I fear, on many worlds give the crown sufficient sport. There is no need to risk such folly. Hyland lowered her head and clasped her hands between her knees.

I have a question, my duke.

She raised her head and he saw that she was smirking. He was successful in lifting her mood, if only a little. Yes, general?

The rebels now, they are a different breed. Desperation has bred in them more devious calculation, and with it a kind of madness. I … find it difficult to counter this.

She nodded. The dirteaters need something new to reel them.

And what might that be?

Lodema tilted her head in thought. We hang them. We fire upon them in lines. We disembowel them, torture them. And these are not enough? Randel shook his head. I must think on it.

They sat in silence for a long while. Domos toyed with the large ring on his finger while the lord sat perfectly still. Outside, the moon, Minos, began to rise and the sun began to set. Finally, the soldier at the window said, My lords. A young man. He is at the stone. He has the key and is coming this way

Ready yourselves. Domos withdrew his pistol and pulled back the hammer. Hyland removed a dagger from her waist. Do not fire if he does not. I want him alive.

They heard the sound of the metal key in the lock. Its jostling. The pressing of the handle and the squeak of the door. When it opened, the man quickly darted in and closed the door behind him.

Before he could turn, Randel said, Surrender, or you will die.

The soldier at the window removed the curtain, letting more of the waning light inside. Slowly, the short man turned and his wide eyes beheld a line of Virgan rifles pointed at him. He dropped the key to the floor and raised his hands. I am sorry! I have come to the wrong house!

Very wrong. The general stood, Yet, it is the house you sought for you took the key from its hiding place. The Tauran was breathing heavily. You are under arrest for rebellion and conspiracy to commit violence against the crown. The man whimpered and his head turned from side to side, as though he might find some means of escape.

Lodema stood and sheathed her blade. Is there a means to remove him without the eyes of the street seeing? I would like to maintain the ruse and capture as many of his like as possible.

I share your desire, my lord, but I fear not. This one, though, he gripped the Tauran's hair and lifted his head, he is a match for the one who attacked our airfield.

It is well enough, then. Hyland gestured toward the door. Outside with you.

Soldiers opened the door and they emerged. Two carried the arms of the suspect and dragged his feet across the red dirt. People peered from their windows in the surrounding houses and watched as the soldiers took him.

Wait. Lodema walked forward and pulled on the man's shirt twice before the fabric ripped. The soldiers held him up and she dropped the scraps of the shirt to the ground as she stared at him. Your decorations. She studied the many symbols on his chest and arms. This is your history, is it not?

Still breathing heavily, he nodded. It is.

She pointed to the outline of a pottery vase. What is this?

He looked down at her finger. It is the symbol of my home. Teruel.

You are far from home.

I have been, he straightened and his fear seemed to leave him, since your people attacked and took my family from the Leo.

Do you wish to return to the Leo?

No. I wish to live free of both of you.

Hyland looked again at the marks. Swords, a sun, circles, names, wavy lines. This is your … and your family's entire history.

With pride, he raised his chin. It is.

Excellent. Hyland glanced at Domos and smiled. I have our solution.

While the Civil War brought many changes to the way Virgo's government operates, Priest Ewart began, it also brought changes to the Holy Church. As power in the Parlement grew and the people saw their will reflected in their leaders, they sought the same in the Church. Thus, the Council issued decrees, called the Decrees of Dispersal, resolving that matters of policy and practice would be decided by panels of local priests instead of by the Council's bishops alone. They also decreed that it would be up to the local priests themselves as to whether to conduct their services in High Virgan or modern Virgan. Lastly, they decreed that the Council and its priests and saints are not the sole conduits to the Lords of Kobol for absolution. This means anyone, any of you, may pray to the gods as you wish and you may confess your sins to the gods directly, and not through your priest.

Priest Ewart, a girl said as she stood, my father said he does not like these decrees and he says we must still pray to the saints and confess to the priests.

These decrees are still somewhat new, Annalise, and there are many who disagree with them. You may certainly still see your priests for prayer and other matters, if you wish. And we should obey our parents, naturally. The girl sat and Ewart looked around the room. There is a rather large group of people who are very angry about these changes and disagree strongly, saying they are an affront to the gods. Who might they be? A boy stood. Bate?

Celtans.

Well, yes. That is true, but I had a different answer in mind. He focused on the boy whose head had been low all day and was often quiet. Linton? Have you an answer?

Domos raised up and looked around. The children were staring at him, waiting. Many were smiling because they expected him to fail as he often did. He sighed and stood. No, Priest Ewart. I do not.

Speak with me after class, please. He saw a girl stand. Ibby?

The Leo.

Very good. And sympathetic, too, are the Orthodox, the followers of the Virgan Church who wish to retain the old ways. Many have left Virgo for our colonies …

Slowly, Linton sat and he resumed his position, slumped against his propped-up arm. He waited afterward as Ewart asked and he listened to the old man go on and on about honoring the gods and how it is a child's duty to be educated. He nodded and said he would do better. In reality, he just wanted to be out of that room.

He left the class and jogged through the corridor and into another. Then, he emerged in the kitchen and scanned the room. Taurans were preparing the evening's meal and there was a hearty stew in pots on the stoves. He inhaled deeply and looked at each person as they went about their work. He heard the door to the pantry open to his right, and when he looked, he saw her.

Eva was taller and her hair longer. Her eyes were just as bright as always and her full lips drew Domos' gaze. She was carrying a tray of vegetables and she saw him immediately. Her eyes widened and she smiled. His entire body tingled at that. She said nothing and took the tray to the counter before she went back to the pantry. Linton wondered what she was doing, but then she looked back at him. With a slight tick of her head, his heart pounded and he followed her into the room.

It was colder than the kitchen, certainly, but the fourteen-year-olds didn't notice. They stood between the shelves of food and stared into each other's eyes. Tentatively, he reached up, intending to hold her arm, but she leaned away and pulled the door closed. Now the pantry was dark.

What do I do now?

As he thought, he felt her warm breath against his face and then her hands on either cheek. Her lips touched his and electricity raced through them both. It was over and she withdrew. Linton felt sad and disappointed in himself for not holding her while they kissed and for not doing more. He made ready to reach for her when he heard the door crack and saw the light of the kitchen come in. She was at the entry preparing to leave.

Wait, he whispered.

He took her hand and stepped toward her. Mimicking her movements, he held her face and kissed her now. His eyes were closed at the start and their heads turned in different directions as their lips puckered and slightly opened. He looked at one point and saw that her eyes were closed and he saw her lips against his. At that moment, he realized he could taste her. She has a flavor?

She pulled away. Her eyes opened slowly, with a flutter, and she smiled. She opened the door wider and said, Tomorrow. Again.

Linton could only nod. She left and he remained. He leaned against the shelves and closed his eyes, remembering the sensations. Remembering her taste. It was all he wanted.

VII

GARSEA

1,154 Years After Colonization

She was in her fifties and she was tired. The trip from Camas took longer than she expected and the priestly convocation would begin early the next morning. She needed to sleep. Instead, as she lay in bed with the sun still up, she could not. She lay the arm of her robe over her eyes to help blot the sun from the window and it helped. Barely ten minutes later, she heard the sounds of a crowd. Screams. Jeering. Then a gunshot.

She stood and looked out the single window in her small room. She could only see the side of one of the temple's towers. She slipped into her robe, ran her hands over her hair, and left the room where she had been billeted by the convocation's hosts.

Outside the largest native temple in Minos, hundreds gathered in the plaza. Two blocks away, the palace stood and at the center of the space between, a dais had been raised and Redshirts were on it, holding bound prisoners.

Reno Tomar Camin! a woman cried out as an officer read from a page. Arrested for rebellion! Arrested for theft! Arrested for conspiracy against the crown! A man was brought onto the stage and a soldier behind him kicked his legs, forcing him to kneel. First, your wife, Elicia. A woman was carried onto the platform next and she screamed the entire way. For your crimes, Reno Tomar Camin, you will witness the suffering of your family before you yourself are likewise punished!

The crowd moaned and many lowered their heads in prayer. Some turned away and left. Confused, Doda looked toward the dais and watched. A Redshirt produced a long knife with a curved tip. He sliced at her dress until it came free, exposing her nakedness to the crowd. Garsea felt compelled to look away but she forced herself to keep watching. The soldier then pulled on her left arm while another put a leather strap in the woman's mouth. She bit into it and the knife was drawn across her skin, peeling it away from her body. She wilted and nearly fainted as it came free and her arm was drenched in redness. The soldier held up the panel of flesh and even from this distance the priestess could see that there were tattoos on it. He threw the skin to the ground and then returned to the woman. He held her shoulder with his left hand and then began carving the decorations from her chest and breasts with the knife. She seemed to faint and blood spilled onto the platform like water. The husband wailed and screamed, finally falling forward with his face pressed against the wooden planks. His wife was completely limp and the