Chapter 10: The Guardian Strategist

Over one Earth year ago...

The Gular’shel’s passageway seemed quiet. The spinning ring continued to generate the artificial gravity needed for the Itrean crew to cohabitate peacefully. However, a noticeable difference can be perceived in the interior. The bulkheads had more of a dark purple hue to it. No Yutilians can be seen present as a few Shal’rein walked down the passageway dressed in dark purple and black wrap armor. The black and purple finned visors covered their faces. In their hands are a set of rifles.

Upon seeing another pair of Shal’rein, the soldier women step to the side, back pressed against the bulkhead, rifles pinned to the armored breasts, armored finned tails jutting to the right, almost in the form of salute.

The two Shal’rein walking past the soldiers are Veleshar and another with a seemingly familiar face. Veleshar was dressed in a black and purple, almost skintight uniform. A white three-tipped trident badge of rank could be seen on the shirt’s collar, along with a large pistol mounted to her side.

The other Shal’rein was slightly shorter. She wore a similar uniform but with a bident badge. There were noticeable white tinges on the clothing as well. A familiar large pistol was also mounted. This Shal’rein had a more rounded, stubbier gray nose. One prominent feature about her was the way her hair was established. It was tied into a large bun where the purple hair would flow downward, covering the right side of her snout and eye. There also appeared to be a hint of a black strap connected to her covered eye. The left yellow eye would gaze forward as Veleshar would walk alongside her, talking to her. The soldiers watched as the two prominent figures walked past them before they left the bulkhead, rejoined each other, and continued their patrol in the passageway.

A noticeable difference could be seen in how Veleshar and the other familiar Shal’rein walked. Veleshar’s gray hands were held downward where they would naturally sway as she moved. The other Shal’rein would have her hands neatly wrapped around her back. Even the way her wrapped gray webbed feet would step on the deck was done in the form of precision, being both prim and proper.

“Shira, how much longer before you join up with Greater Adjunct Lea’pre?” Veleshar questioned her in English.

“Approximately twenty more minutes,” Shira replied in a similar language.

Veleshar’s daughter was grown up. Her voice was deeper, almost similar to that of a smoker, while methodical in how it was said. Her English had little to no accent. She displayed almost no emotion in her tone, an almost clear contradiction to her mother.

They both stopped by the closed medical bay door. Shira remained focused forward.

“I wanted to commend you on your performance in the Calh’treb Sector,” Shira remarked.

“Hmmm...,” Veleshar replied. “The Aksren lost seventy-three ships and an observation outpost. I was only doing what was necessary for our clan.”

“Regardless,” Shira’s eye scanned the bulkhead. “I’m impressed with this Krintarch battleship. You managed to accomplish Gular’shel’s design and improved it. You continue to prove its value to the Shal’rein clan.”

“It has a name,” Veleshar said with a hint of empathy. “Named after your father...”

“Is that supposed to invoke an emotional response?” Shira turned to look at her mother. “I do not see the value of doing that.”

“Because it is your father’s work...”

“This ship is only an extension of its crew, the finest that Shal’rein has to offer. Just because it has my father’s name does not make it better.”

Veleshar took a deep breath causing her nostrils to flare a little bit. She briefly closed her eyes and looked down a little bit as Shira maintained her gaze at her.

“You appear troubled,” Shira said.

“I miss the time when you were young and innocent,” her mother told her. “So much has changed ... I never had the chance to tell you in person ... I’m proud to see you reach the rank of Adjunct.” A smile appeared on her face.

“It was expected. I was trained by Gular’shel, Greater Adjunct Lea’pre, and you. Those factors have led me to become what I am now.”

“You’re so much like your father ... too much, in fact.”

“Are you trying to imply something?” she asked. Her brow lifted a little bit in question.

“No ... don’t worry about it. Shira ... there is something that I wanted to tell you ... before you leave.”

“Continue...”

“I want to have you in my fleet. They are making more Mark 266 Krintarchs. The Xop’yododrein is set to be commissioned in a month.”

“You wish for me to abandon my recent commission onboard the Ekajal, abandon Lea’pre for that?”

“Yes,” Veleshar explained. “You would have a ship just like this. I can convince the Autarch to do it. It would be better than the Kiyliy dreadnought. This ship is state of the art.”

Shira seemed to think about it for a couple of seconds before continuing.

“I would agree with you. However, there is a flaw in that plan.”

“What?” Veleshar asked.

“You expect the Autarch to comply with your wishes.”

Veleshar seemed baffled by the remark. “Ah ... well, yes.”

“It is clear that you haven’t carefully considered what you just said.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Mother,” Shira explained to her. “The Autarch’s hopeful views towards you are artificial in nature.”

“Artificial? Shira, I worked with her numerous times. The Goltin Campaign, the Battle of Pob, the Battle of Sector GH-L, I’ve proven myself numerous times to Fisagrend. She trusts my advice.”

“And where has that gotten you?”

“This ship. She gave me the resources to make this ship. She...”

“She did it to silence your opposition.”

Veleshar gave a frown as she considered it. She shook her head.

“No...,” her mother remarked. “Why do you say such things?”

“Think carefully,” her daughter replied. “You didn’t get permission to begin construction of this ship until a month after you went up to the Autarch and requested a ceasefire with the other Itrean clans.”

“Yes, I wanted to establish peace ... the war can come to an end. Zilik’s Disease ravages all of us equally. There’s no need to continue this war.”

“And it is why the fact remains mute in the request for a ceasefire. You may hold an idealism, but it is one that has to be spoken softly, especially in the ears of the Autarch.”

Veleshar put her fingers to her snout as she shook her head. “I’ve held in good relations with Fisagrend these last five years.”

“That is what you believe, but let’s answer a question with a question.”

“No...,” Veleshar pointed her finger at her daughter. “Don’t be trying to pull that stunt with me, young one. Your father liked to do that, too.”

“Then you already know the answer to it. Fisagrend may be the Autarch, but she is still a politician, a weaker one than her prior mate ever held. You hold on to false dreams of establishing yourself as the great advisor, much as Gular’shel had managed to accomplish with the prior mate. You come to her with your dreams of glory, and she sees you as the prior mate of Gular’shel. She uses you to help sway the other Greater Adjuncts to her fealty. How long has it been since you last communicated to her?”

“Over a month ago,” Veleshar answered.

“And when was that in person?”

“Over ... two years ago.”

“Once a month with Gular’shel.”

“That isn’t true...”

“Prior to you meeting him, yes. Father told me. The Autarch trusted him ... saw him as the means to silence any opposition towards him ... silence the warhawks that wanted an end to the United Itrean Republic. Then, he met you, and the visits became less often.”

Veleshar closed her eyes again. “Stop...,” she told her daughter.

“My point is,” Shira calmly explained to her. “That Gular’shel became less and less needed to the Autarch as time progressed. You, yourself, witnessed it. He ignored his requests despite his efforts to convince him otherwise. Despite his efforts in fighting and defeating the Emphra, the Autarch saw Gular’shel as a relic. What a shame for father not to witness it, himself, that Zilik’s Disease would end it all for the both of them. Meanwhile, the new Autarch comes into play, and so do you. The cycle begins again. However, she also knows that you are a threat to her agenda. You can potentially sway more and more to your side.”

It was like drinking battery acid. What Veleshar heard made her sick to her stomach. She simply couldn’t believe it. It was too much for her to hear.

“No ... Shira, you’re wrong,” Veleshar explained. “I see you, and I see the rise of my former mate. You’ve done so well during these last ten years. Many of the Adjuncts, Wik Click Hore, Delajar, Qopa, they’ve all expressed commendations for your records. These see you as the future Gular’shel. I just want to have you by my side ... fight together like we did four years ago. Another ship like this and we can inflict substantial damage against the other clans. We would be the ultimate defense ... the sword of the Autarch, together.”

“Unfortunately, you dream too much, mother,” Shira told her.

The conversation was interrupted. A pregnant Shal’rein in a brown shawl was approaching the medical bay door. Her tail was dragging against the deck. However, her gray hand was braced against her stomach.

Veleshar spoke to the Shal’rein in the Itrean language as Shira observed quietly, keeping a stalwart look to her. There was a look of concern on the Greater Adjunct’s face while Shira remained indifferent. She even came rushing to the side of the pregnant Shal’rein as if it were an emergency.

Then, there was something else noticeable as well. Faint droplets of blood were dripping from the pregnant Shal’rein’s underside. Something was terribly wrong.

“Shira,” Veleshar addressed her. “Please open the door for her.”

Shira complied. She walked over to the panel and pressed a simple button. The medical bay doors slid open as Veleshar helped walk her to the room. She told the pregnant Shal’rein another few words in Itrean before watching her enter the medical bay. Once the door closed, Veleshar put her hand to the bulkhead in mild dismay.

“Our Gersin, Nuipa,” Veleshar told Shira. “She’s in labor, but ... it’s only been eight months.”

“Kopi Zilik’s...,” Shira remarked in her neutral tone. “Typical Zilik’s Disease rejection. The boy in her womb is already dead ... her body is simply rejecting the infant.”

Veleshar shook her head. “I know Nuipa. She was one of the first crew to come aboard the ship. Her prior two children were supposed to be sons ... she can’t keep going through this.”

“Miscarriage is a natural process in Zilik’s Disease. She knew what the consequences were when she decided to have a child. We all accept that consequence.”

“That’s not supposed to make things better, Shira. Nuipa is using the frozen sperm from her deceased mate to impregnate herself. But...”

“She should have conceived sooner. She would know that the frozen sperm from the males are too old to salvage at this point, assuming samples were taken just prior to the disease outbreak.”

“Ten years tops ... that’s my point,” Veleshar told her. “It’s from her former mate ... long dead from the disease. This madness has to stop. Shira, I used to help with deliveries! I watched the crew get mated. There was a time we were happy, but the war is eating us.”

“I agree, but you are also letting your emotions cloud your judgement. You’ve become too attached to your crew and act out of compassion. The others would see you as weak, just as the Autarch does.”

“Emotional ... no. Everything is emotional to you.” Veleshar walked in front of Shira almost as if to scold her. “You purged the good things out of you. I remember the joys you had as a child. Every leader has some form of compassion. And weak?” She held her hand out. “I had this ship built ... why? Because I want to have something to fight against the other clans because this is your father’s will, just as you would be promised from it.”

“Ah, yes,” Shira countered as she walked around her mother. “You still plan your ‘daring’ assault on Renlar. No doubt, the power of this vessel is impressive, but it’s still a foolish one. You obsess over a single planet in a galactic theater of war. Renlar may hold an important factor, but what about the starfortresses? What about the resources needed for such an all-out attack? What about the other planets? Even if Renlar ceased to exist right now, it would not stop the Aksren clan from their goal to annihilate us.”

“If we stop Itsis, we cut the head off the beast...”

“The Empress is one that cannot be eliminated so easily. Different factors have been considered for over 5,000 years. She has long had contingency plan after contingency plan installed to ensure her survival. It is why she is considered ‘the immortal one.’ Even if the Autarch devoted all her resources, given you every ship, every bullet, every warrior, it would accomplish nothing. Can the Shal’rein conquer the planet? It’s doubtful but not impossible. However, the resources that would be expended would ultimately cost us the war.”

“But if I had you at my side, more can be done about it, Shira.” Veleshar walked up and put her hands on his daughter’s shoulder. “You are the last part of my former mate. If we stop Renlar, we stop Itsis. If we stop her, then we can sue for peace ... together.”

“And how would that be accomplished? You say you do this for Gular’shel, but this ship was designed to battle the Emphra. The Emphra do not think as we do. They operate on simple instincts to feed. Itreans are more aware of their surroundings, when to look at their sensors, track ships that try to remain hidden from their view, and destroy them when they can. Great resources were devoted to the construction of this ship. By committing this vessel to attack the Aksren, you would betray the very belief system that Gular’shel sought in the design of this ship. He would also tell you that attacking Renlar would be a fool’s errand.”

Veleshar put her hand on the bulkhead before she calmed herself. “There’s more to it than just that, isn’t there? I want us to be together again, Shira. Having you under my fleet we would be able to counter anything. I know you would be happy to have a ship like this, but there’s something holding you back.”

“Why would I want to serve under you?” Shira countered firmly, facing her.

“To be recognized for your service to the Shal’rein.”

“Yet, you haven’t considered what I told you just now. Greater Adjunct Lea’pre is more recognized by the Autarch, more so than you. Even if you’ve gained significant ground in being declared one of the greatest strategists, she is more well-versed in politics, knows the Shal’rein elite, follows tradition, and garners greater resources than what you have accomplished in your service. She may even possibly replace the Autarch when Fisagrend finally succumbs to age, assuming the Trial of the Gun will be continued.”

Veleshar turned around to look down at her. “I feel like I’m losing you ... day by day ... year by year ... She’s truly become like a second mother to you ... But she’s also like poison. I trusted Lea’pre as your teacher, but she is too traditional, tied down by the hundred-year service before the Emphra War. You see her as something to gain, but she will only use you. The same can also be said with Qopa and Delajar. You hang around a dangerous circle.”

“Unfortunately, that is the road of politics,” Shira replied. “It is something that Gular’shel had to weave in and out of in order for him to reach his position as Master Adjunct. We can despise politics all we wish, but in the end, one must put distance between those that would likely hurt the other in the road of service for all Shal’rein.”

A tear began to run down Veleshar’s eye. She did her best to keep it confined. Shira remained unchanged in her emotions, being both stalwart and without care. Instead, she turned around and took a step away from her mother.

“My time has concluded,” Shira said without looking at Veleshar. “An unusual rumor is going around in the chain of Greater Adjuncts ... a claim about the T’rintar clan and their recent ‘discovery.’ How much do you know about it?”

“Rumor?” Veleshar wiped away her tears. “Rumors are as plenty as water. I don’t know what it is that you’re even talking about. Besides, I would be careful believing what the T’rintar clan says. What do you know of it?”

“Too little. Typical viewing of enemy propaganda media requires a Greater Adjunct clearance or above for access.”

“And you can’t ask Lea’pre to look at it?” Veleshar shook her head already knowing her answer. “No ... the T’rintar and Aksren broadcasts anything to deceive us. I won’t bother with it, and neither should you.”

“I see ... no matter.”

“But...,” Veleshar paused. “You can use your father’s access codes to look at it. The codes were never deactivated upon his death, and they were passed to you under his wishes.”

“Indeed ... very well. Thank you, mother.”

Shira began to walk away, but Veleshar had one more thing to say.

“Let me ask you this,” she questioned her. “When Lea’pre and the others are done with you ... if you do one thing that upsets them in any way, how much will their loyalty to you remain?”

There was a pause in Shira’s walk, almost as if she was going to respond to it. However, she continued her walk, leaving Veleshar alone in the passageway.

Veleshar put her hands to her snout and eyes. There was nothing more for her to say as she tried to recompose herself. It took her a few more seconds before a gentle smile slowly appeared on her face, almost as if she was putting it all away and replacing the sorrow with her work.

However, the door to medical remained. The Gersin was still in there and Veleshar had to check up with her to make sure she was ok.

The Greater Adjunct placed her hand on the panel, causing the door to slide open. Upon stepping into medical, Veleshar was met with an unsettling scene.

Nuipa was lying down on one of the medical beds. Tears were running down the Gersin’s face as she shook. Doctor Kol’da’gash was present and residing with her.

There was blood all around the bed. In the red-stained shawl of Nuipa was a deformed dead infant, a baby boy, stillborn.

Veleshar had felt accustomed to seeing this, but she felt inclined to step forward toward her. Nuipa was shaking, utterly dismayed with her dead baby. Her gray hands kept playing with the fined tail. In her Itrean words, she kept saying it over and over. “Gersa ... I failed you ... Gersa ... I failed you.”

Doctor Kol’da’gash remained firm, unshaken, as she looked at the Greater Adjunct. She shook her head at Veleshar. It was all that the Greater Adjunct needed to see...

It had been an hour since talking with Shira. Veleshar walked into her quarters. She seemed exhausted, almost as if she had run for miles without a hint of stopping.

After the door closed, Veleshar started taking her uniform off. She needed a break and called it a day, but a message beeped from her desk. She walked over to it and tapped the button to activate the 3D imager.

A projection showed her a letter of Itrean text. As Veleshar began to read it, a look of dismay appeared over her face. It was a letter from the ship’s security and Doctor Kol’da’gash, posted over two minutes ago.

“No...,” Veleshar said. She walked over and sat down on her couch. Her breathing had intensified, recoiling from the news that was just given to her. She recalled what was passed to her and needed to provide a response.

Nuipa had committed suicide. Ship’s security verified a letter written by her. There was no question to it. The death of her son was the final straw, her last hope for her religion and her past life. For the honor of Gersa, death was her final choice.

Tears were running down Veleshar’s face. To her, it was as if this was the post-apocalypse where everyone pretended to live on with their lives. Zilik’s Disease was the death blow, and what remained was a shell. Shira had already long left, and it was likely that Veleshar would see her less and less as the war carried on, consuming everything in its wake.

Veleshar didn’t cry out loud. Her staggered breathing and wincing could be heard in the room as the emotions ran through her. She lowered her head, her woven hair drooping to the floor, while she placed her finned arms on the back of her head.

“She didn’t deserve this...,” Veleshar whimpered. “None of them did ... none of them...”

In her quarters, Veleshar could vent. Her shark-like face was drenched before she finally tried to recompose herself. She leaned back up and looked at the desk.

The Shal’rein looked at a small 3D imager of pictures from their past. Veleshar remained glued to it. One of the images was of Gular’shel. In his hands was Shira minutes just after she was born.

She continued to stare at it. In Gular’shel’s face, a man of little emotion, Veleshar could swear that he was smiling. Of course, he was doing his best to hide it, but it was there, regardless.