Echoes of Harmony

Space Station Vertyn

Stariek Orbit

2 March 3297

General Zorn scowled as the newest reports came to his office. They were nothing more than busy work, something he should have been able to offload to a secretary—at least, if Legate Rausch hadn’t denied his request to recruit one. Each was more inane than the last. Requisition requests, notices of position transfers, promotions for him to approve, just administrative filings designed to keep him in his office instead of making sure the station was actually running as it was supposed to.

Then again, perhaps that was Rausch’s goal. If he spent all his time working on the paperwork, he wouldn’t have time to properly discipline the cadets. In the end, that would lead to nothing more than a weak military, one that couldn’t stomach the war they were required to fight in.

However, one report did catch his attention. It was innocuous enough, simply discussing the weather on Stariek. That is, if one did not know how to read the code. After the initial correspondence with the mysterious X, they had devised this method of communication in order to prevent it from being read if intercepted. So far, each communique had indicated nothing out of the ordinary.

Until now.

He had to double check the cheat sheet he created for himself—a security risk, even though the file was stored in his CAM’s local storage—when he first saw the weather report that he was unfamiliar with. The content of the cheat sheet itself was written in a code. Otherwise, Zorn would not have felt comfortable using it.

Typically, the weather reported nothing but sunshine, indicating everything was proceeding as expected. This one showed a hurricane in the southern hemisphere. A glance at the key told him that indicated trouble in the Council—dissent among the military leaders.

That was one disadvantage, among many, of being this far removed from Hyperia. Even though he was near the front lines of the war with the Druthagar, he received information so painfully slow. By the time he was sent reports of patrols in the area, they had already come and gone.

And it provided an opportunity for X to fill in the gaps as necessary. Something Zorn both loved and hated. It allowed him to stay connected when some of those on the Council would have prevented it. Even if he did not have a say in matters related to the Empire, he could at least be kept apprised of goings-on. But needing to maintain such reliance on someone he didn’t even know left a sour taste in his mouth. There was no telling whether the information he was being furnished was accurate, let alone timely.

With a sigh, he opened the weather report. A file projected into his vision from his CAM appeared as if floating in the air above him. The contents, no longer hidden behind the facade of weather, indicated the failure of General Kindler in an attack on Druthagon itself. This brought a smirk to Zorn’s face. Perhaps Hades’ pet wasn’t as perfect as everyone thought. He was further surprised when the report went on to say she was killed in her attempt at destroying the space habitat the Druthagar called home. A certain subset of the dwarves was calling for the Hyperion Empire to be charged with war crimes, though the Council disavowed Kindler and asserted any actions she took were her own and not sponsored by the Empire.

What caught Zorn’s attention the most was a line hidden near the end of the report. There was a large force of Druthagar warships moving towards the border. Directly towards Stariek and, with it, Vertyn. The Empire overextended itself and would be unable to get reinforcements in place before their arrival in a week. It was the decision of the Council to allow the system to momentarily fall into enemy hands so that they may reclaim it at a later date.

The audacity made Zorn seethe. They were treating him as nothing more than cannon fodder. How could they just condemn however many people to their deaths? Didn’t they see the strategic advantage Stariek and Vertyn offered to the Empire? It was the closest to the border out of every outpost and colony of the Empire. Losing such a crucial staging ground would mean giving up the war.

Zorn stopped himself when he realized his palm was bleeding from his fingernails digging into it. He had made decisions just like that one in his career. Dozens of times. Always for the greater good of the Empire. Their society was worth more than any one system—except for, possibly, Hyperia itself. It was entirely possible the decision was nothing personal against him and was the only option available. That didn’t stop him, however, from feeling betrayed.

When he relaxed, he did the math in his head. The space station’s defenses were formidable. Combined with the First Squadron of the Seventh Fleet being stationed in the system, it was enough to deter most pirates and Druthagar raiding parties. If the report, however, was to believed, a force of over two hundred warships was heading in his direction, desperate for revenge and eager for blood. Unless there was a miracle—if one of the political commissars knew he thought of such foolishness, they would surely have him sent to a reeducation camp—there was little chance of their victory.

But that little chance, as he considered it, slowly changed into a better one. When Matteo von Sydow was elected governor of Stariek, he discovered the planet had over a thousand tritinium missiles ready for launch. Why they were not used in defense of the planet when the Empire came, Zorn did not know. What he did know, however, was that every attempt of theirs to gain access to the missiles was rebuffed by a surprisingly advanced artificial intelligence that refused to even acknowledge them without the proper codes. Now, it seemed they would need to redouble their efforts at gaining access to the missiles before the Druthagar arrived.

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And he knew just where to start.

#

Zorn made his way quickly to the opposite end of the space station. Time was of the essence if he was going to get everything in position in time. Two robotic soldiers followed him as a precaution, though he knew they would ultimately be unnecessary.

The prison ward of Space Station Vertyn was just as empty as the last time Zorn walked through it. There were a few times people needed to be held for a short time. Usually because they got too drunk and they weren’t allowed to wander on there own. Other times, one of the older cadets got too rowdy and required a stark reminder of how to stay in line. Only one was the mainstay of the ward that Zorn was looking for.

Hayden Reid’s cell remained just as it was the first time Zorn visited him. Half a dozen humans now patrolled the corridors, and the ward itself looked to be in fully functioning condition. Some of them greeted the general as he entered while others simply came to attention. He ignored each of them, confidently walking up to the cell holding the former Provost.

“Open cell A-3,” Zorn called out without slowing as he approached the barrier of light. It opened at his approach, closing again after he and the robots stepped through. The latter moved to stand just a meter to either side of him and slightly behind.

Hayden Reid laid on the bed, the issued holographic tablet in one hand and his other arm propping his head. He raised an eyebrow at Zorn. With a press of a button, he turned off the tablet and set it on the bed before sitting up.

“General, to what do I owe the pleasure this time?”

“Provost, we can skip the pleasantries.” Zorn tried to offer a genuine smile but could tell by the way his cheeks ached he failed. “We have a situation that I think you may be able to help with.”

“I would love to, sir.” Reid placed emphasis on the last word, the corner of his lip twitching in a smirk before resuming a neutral expression. He pointedly looked around the room as if scanning for something. “Unfortunately, I’m a little preoccupied. Since I’m going to be here a while, I thought I might do some decorating, but it takes so much work to get an appointment with an interior designer here. They all seem to be busy. Or maybe it’s just that my tablet doesn’t have access to the CoreNet.”

“I get it. I apologize that we couldn’t make this prison cell more accommodating.” Zorn took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. This man was not going to anger him. “The Druthagar are planning an attack here.”

Reid whistled and stood, pacing the room. The soldiers watched him, their piercing red eyes following his every movement.

“Now, that is something I wasn’t exactly expecting. Then again, maybe I should have. All those attacks they carried out on civilian ships in the system weren’t for nothing after all. I hope you have the forces to stop them.”

“We don’t.” Zorn knew there was no point in beating around the bush with it. Reid didn’t need to know what was happening, but the general had a plan. That combined with a little bit of confidence was all he needed. “They will outnumber our ships nearly ten to one. Our station’s defenses are not going to be enough to make up the difference. But there is something you can do.”

“No.”

The word came so fast, Zorn was stunned into silence for several seconds before recovering himself.

“You haven’t even heard my request, Provost. How can you deny me already?”

“You want to use the tritinium missiles, and the answer is no.” Reid took a couple faltering steps closer to Zorn. His eyes glistened with what looked to be tears—weakness, more like it. “My fleet marshal, Eli Tyn, wanted to start the program to research the destructive capabilities of the material and construct the missiles. I didn’t want to. I saw the initial tests, what he used to garner support for the program. There was no need for something that was so destructive. It was pointless. When I told him to cancel the program, he convinced me otherwise. I should never have let him get so deep in.”

“Yet, you did.” Zorn kept his voice quiet, hoping he was sounding sympathetic. “We all make mistakes. We do things we don’t want to do. And, now, you have a chance to do some good with them.”

“Don’t you dare patronize me. Killing who knows how many thousands of people is good?” Reid scoffed. He folded his arms and turned away. “When my son was born, I promised to not be responsible for needless death and suffering.”

“If you do nothing, that’s exactly what will happen!” Zorn shouted. He slammed his fist against a wall, both upset at himself and glad for losing his temper. “Millions of people will die when the Druthagar attack. It’s not just about us, Reid. They intend on sending a message. An eye for an eye. We attacked their home, now they intend on attacking one of ours!”

“And how does that affect me?” Reid shot back, turning and staring at Zorn with hate-filled eyes. “This is your insane empire’s mistake, not mine.”

“Where do you think they’re going to attack first when they get here, Provost?” Zorn snarled. The man couldn’t possibly be so naive. “Surely, the big floating station wouldn’t be the first target on their list. You know, the station that has your son on board? Give up the codes so we can fire the tritinium missiles, or your son is going to die.”

“How dare you use him as a bargaining chip?” Reid took a step closer before one of the robotic soldiers held up a rifle and stopped him in his tracks. He scowled at the machine before continuing, “My son is not a pawn to be used as you see fit.”

“Yet, that’s exactly what’s happening.” Zorn moved to stand toe to toe with Reid, relishing the fact he was a good five inches taller. “Either you give us the launch code for the missiles, or you and your son both die.”

“You bastard.”

“I prefer pragmatist.” Zorn smiled. He softened his expression, something that took an extraordinary amount of effort. “So, will you help us?”

“Fine.” Reid continued to scowl. “But I can’t give you the code. It needs to be me firing the missiles. No one else will have access; it won’t even allow them to do it.”

“Well, let’s get going then. Just remember: you try to betray me, I will make your life a living hell before the Druthagar kill us.”

“Of course. I need to get to the Bastion under Mornage. We can only launch the missiles from there.”

“Very well.” Zorn started for the door. “I’ll lead the way. Stay close behind, Provost, or the robots may take it upon themselves to shoot you.”

“I just want you to promise me one thing, General,” Reid said even as he followed. Zorn resisted the urge to roll his eyes despite the fact the other man wouldn’t have been able to see the gesture anyway. “Whatever missiles we don’t use get destroyed once and for all. I don’t want anyone else ever getting their hands on them.”

“You won’t have to worry about that,” Zorn replied. “It’s going to be a target rich environment, and we’re going to need every last one of those things.”

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