Chapter 3: The Last Hope of Htara

The Htarian sympathizer concealed his presence long enough to hear the secrets the crowns of Earth and Preyida revealed.

When Lord Haddaway’s eyes glowed in passion at the sight of his wife’s creyatura—which, the sympathizer admitted, was a very fine creyatura indeed—he punched in coordinates via the transporter wrapped around his arm. He entered the last data point and returned to the ruins of Htara as if he’d opened a door to the next room. As the portal closed behind him, the sympathizer adjusted small nodes along the inner backing of the facial plate to mitigate the effects of the poisonous environment of the decimated world.

Clouds swollen with toxic rains rolled overhead. In the far distance, a volcano oozed out streams of viscous lava. The ground underneath his feet trembled from geological instability caused by John Turner’s weapon of mass destruction. Htara rumbled in its death throes.

This would be the last time he’d set foot on this planet before it imploded. While he had visited Lord Haddaway, his ship had been gathering a precious commodity the Htarians no longer had need of.

“Sheetarin,” he spoke into the intercom connected to his hoverer, “come to these coordinates.”

“Command accepted,” his ship, one of the last to be manufactured, responded in his ear.

Violent shudders rippled throughout the terrain. Unperturbed, he waited for his transport. He faced the looming, blackened carcass of the once-proud Htara Hall of Diminishment. He recalled the day he received an invitation to watch the execution of a group of tourists who protested the Htarian way of life.

Loudspeakers attached to the roof of the building had amplified the screams as they reached high decibels of agony as the Htarian judges tortured them. Outside the Diminishment Hall, the Htarian children had played on the stone steps as the execution reached its finale.

The children’s laughter filled the air like the tinkling sounds of broken glass. They squealed with delighted glee as the judges sprinkled the blood of the dead on them.

A mournful groan, muffled by the facial plate, escaped the sympathizer’s throat. John Turner used Htara’s theft of Earth’s gold to retaliate but he wasn’t fooled. The Htarians had been murderers and cutthroats for years. No, their way of life was not the reason why Earth’s former ruler had destroyed them.

“Approaching coordinates. Please stand by.”

Sheetarin’s voice brought the sympathizer out of his reverie. No time to wallow in the past. The ship hovered above. “Initiating molecular disintegration.”