13: UNVEILING SECRETS
Glyn walked along the spectacular archway, designed in a classical architectural style he was sure had not been replicated for millennia. He was escorted by four heavily armed military personnel, fully equipped with battle visors. Glyn stole a glance at each one, noting their positions. He saw no reason for the overkill preparations. He was just one man. A space station commander at that. The archway led into a small room, where Councilor Mason stood, with his back to the entrance. The room was a library. Glyn took note of the hundreds of thousands of data cards all neatly arranged in their storage slots. All the information stored in this room could not fit into a billion books. He looked around the room and then back at the Councilor, who had turned around. His long thinning hair was a snow-white color and seemed translucent on top of his pale white skin, which was occasionally spotted with the red blotches of an aging skin trying in vain to repair itself.
“Commander. So good of you to come.” The councilor finally spoke.
His voice, so thunderous, so powerful behind the amplification power of a microphone, was almost feeble in person. However, Glyn did not miss the air of authority it still had. It appeared that was what the microphone amplified.
“You asked to see me, Councilor.” Glyn responded.
“Yes. I did. Do you know how long humans have been living in Gaia, commander?”
“Three hundred years Councilor. Is this a history lesson? I can assure you, I know my history.”
Glyn knew he was being antagonistic, but he couldn’t help it. He was naturally a straightforward man, and he liked to cut to the chase. The Councilor’s first “beat around the bush” antic had already served to irritate him. However, the older man was unfazed by Glyn’s jab.
“Of that, I have no doubt.” The Councilor responded, his composure utterly unruffled. He paced around a standing Glyn, while he continued.
“Which is why I am sure you know that we only attained stability, fifty years ago. More importantly, we have never been viewed as a threat by the Seraph.”
The Councilor stopped in front of Glyn. His gray eyes searching for any facial expression that might betray the commander’s underlying emotions.
“Are we being viewed as a threat now?” Glyn asked.
“You tell me, Commander.” The Councilor gestured to one of the soldiers, who promptly stepped forward and handed the Councilor a digital display.
Councilor Mason swiped through the contents until he located the images he was looking for and handed the display over to Glyn. Glyn held his breath momentarily. The first was an image of the Seraph attack ships being shot at by a screamer. Sergei’s screamer. The next image showed four pods, three underneath one other, and the Seraph ships as they closed in. The third showed what looked like a burst of blue energy and the Seraph ships already being damaged by the burst. The final image showed the pictures of Maggy, Clieo, Kaya, Martha, and Sergei.
“I’ll tell you what I believe I know, Commander. You may fill in the gaps where necessary.”
Glyn knew the last sentence was less a request and more of a command.
“From the records we received concerning your residents, the old woman is the grandmother of one of those girls. The one named Maggy. The old woman also happened to be in the entrance pod, whose sudden explosion, destroyed the Seraph attack ships. I also have records that tell me your men pulled those three girls out of the procession line and re-fitted their pods with protective linings, matching specific colors. Finally, that screamer belongs to your second in command. A man you went out to rescue in the woods. A man my medical sources tell me survived a fall from space, a fall to the forest bed and two days without food or water. A man who has made a remarkable recovery, considering he was brought in with two dislocated shoulder joints, a busted ankle, broken ribs, and a sprained neck. Have I deviated in any way?”
“No Councilor. But I still do not see your point.”
“Commander my point is we humans have a peace treaty with the Seraph. The terms are simple, any humans with heightened spectral energies are to be eliminated. The preservation of such humans is considered a declaration of war. Commander, you were harboring four such humans and the Seraph attacked. That in itself was bad enough, but instead of letting them eliminate the humans, you had your second in command, attack them. What’s worse, one of them proved their existence beyond doubt by releasing their energy. Do you know what you’ve brought to my planet?!”
“Yes, Councilor. People… needing a home.”
“You’ve brought death!”
“We have a convergence Councilor. And with all due respect, all humans across the vast expanse of the universe, have been dancing with death from the moment we signed that treaty with the Seraph. They’ll still kill all of us in the end.”
“We bought ourselves time. We had to be tactful. Something you know nothing about.”
“Time until what? Until we find our way out of what is inevitably coming for us? I, like every other human who has held my position, has sworn to keep what we know a secret from the rest of our species. It is what all Seraph know, and they are unified in strength to escape the change that eats up all we know. What are we doing? Do we think they will take us with them? We must find it ourselves.”
The two men stood in silence for a while, recovering from the collective diatribe. Councilor Mason broke the silence, his voice holding a calmer, more somber tone.
“Of all the places for the convergence to happen. It had to be on my world. That story is as old as I am… existed even when I was born. I thought it was a silly prophecy. In this day and age, who believes in such nonsense anymore?”
Councilor Mason paced around a bit before stopping in front of Glyn once more.
“Martha… she was the Sierran miracle… wasn’t she?”
“We heard about it. We all thought she had died in that battle. Seraph hostilities towards us increased tremendously after that.”
“And so did their fear of us. One Spectral Warrior was able to turn the tide and give the inhabitants of Sierra 19A a chance at survival. Imagine what seven pure spectral would do.”
“Hmmm. The Seraph you engaged on entry to Gaia. There were five?”
“If you are asking whether the entire Seraph team deployed to watch over this planet was defeated, the answer is yes. Your human colony has not yet re-discovered space combat technology. They underestimated us and it is to our advantage. How long before the nearest Seraph relay station picks up on their absence?”
“A year at best. The universe is just too vast. Even the signals, take some time now.”
The Councilor walked to a desk in a corner of the room and tapped on it. A circle was inscribed on the surface of the desk and the circular piece shifted while a cup of water rose into view. The Councilor took the cup and helped himself to a few gulps before setting it back down. He cleared his throat and continued.
“It will take two years for any attack ships or even a mother ship to reach us. But they will come.”
“So we’ve got three years to find the rest.” Glyn surmised.
“Or I could just have you all executed and try to reason with the Seraph.”
The Councilor glanced at Glyn for a while before speaking once more.
“Rally them, Commander. It is as you say. You’ve got three years to make warriors out of them. Poor lads. They don’t even know what cards destiny has dealt them.”
“Soon, they’ll find out. And I’ll be there to guide them.” Glyn turned around to go.
Glyn stopped and whirled around.
“I might have started a revolution. Possibly the greatest revolution humanity has seen, and I may not live to see the end of it. You may not either. Do you believe this will work?”
Glyn contemplated the question for a while. A wry smile slowly formed on his face.
“I believe nothing will work if we don’t get to work councilor. I also believe in our spectral inheritance… something we have been denied for far too long.”
Glyn nodded at the councilor before taking his leave. Glyn had not been gone long when the medic who had examined Kaya and had observed Hope at the arena, walked into the library, from a separate entrance.
“What did you find out, Jane?” The councilor asked.
“It is as you suspected. The boy’s temperature soared past 150 degrees Fahrenheit when he fought with Duran.”
“Hmmm. What was the wavelength of his energy?”
“It fell in the green range… sir.”
“So that makes four of them.”
“What do we do sir?”
“Absolutely nothing, Jane. We watch and we wait. Soon enough we will know which side to pick.”
And with that, Jane fell back into the shadows.