Lieutenant General Salomon swiftly put down the box on the floor with its contents still inside but exposed.
“You have got to be kidding me…” Salomon steadied breath, now aware that a once-living person’s face was at his feet, and if her eyes were open, she would’ve been looking straight at him. “Not just any head, it’s hers. The old Terran resistance’s leader. What in Pizna’s realm is going on?”
“I killed that woman.” Maedoc bluntly reminded himself aloud, which Salomon was not deaf to.
“After you dispatched her and took this piece of her back for identification, what happened? Tell me, Antelius.”
“I had it sealed in an airproof container and presented it to the General. After that, I don’t know what she did with it. It’s not my place to ask.”
“It isn’t your place to ask,” Salomon grumbled. “But after all is said and done, why wasn’t it returned to Terra to rest with the rest of her remains? We bury even the most inconsequential enemy soldiers we meet in battle; it is part of our code. But this… this is the utmost disrespect that this woman could’ve been given,”
Antelius knew what he had been ordered to do by General Karesti through Colonel Kirchner: to retrieve the asset. If any resistance was shown, he was to respond with force so long as it allowed for the capture of the asset. Yet he was unable to accomplish his task. So had he killed a woman for no reason?
No, she was just a Terran after all. Before her, they were vermin who groveled about their planet. After her, they will continue to be vermin who grovel about their planet. One dead woman changes nothing.
“Do you understand how monumental of an injustice our General has committed?”
“No, sir.” Antelius answered honestly.
“This woman, Kallista Laine, was someone who gained the respect of Emperor Halsten. It is hard enough to gain such an honor from an Emperor, let alone a Terran. We all know that Halsten is one of the more sensible Emperors we’ve had but this went beyond simple respect. It was love. They cared for each other more than any other Emperor and his wife did. She bore his first child... a son. In her last moments, she must’ve thought that Emperor Halsten had betrayed her and their son, and even thinking of that possibility is repulsive.”
“So that child I was assigned to capture was…”
“Not an ordinary Terran child,” Salomon sighed.
He could not bear to leave the container holding Kallista Laine’s head exposed any longer, so he had it shut, just enough that it was covered but not locked.
“You’re proficient in healing Reserve, Antelius?” he asked.
“At a rudimentary level, sir.” Maedoc nodded.
He lamented that he didn’t take his healing training beyond the very basic level needed for squad leaders to be sent to Terra. At least then, maybe one of his subordinates could’ve survived.
“Heal the General’s thumb.” Salomon ordered.
Maedoc returned Rhona’s hand to her side, facing it palm up. He then hovered his own palm just above it, and from it an orb of purple light emitted. Salomon watched as the broken skin on Rhona’s thumb rapidly fused back until a nearly impossible to discern scar was all that was left of it, a process that took about three seconds.
“She’s healed.” Maedoc confirmed, pulling his hand away.
“Good,” Salomon nodded. “I need you to return to the vehicle with the box and contact Major General Sjogren. Explain our discovery to him. Have him prepare a full-sized sarcophagus to be sent to the Karesti family crypt. And hand the box over to him. She will be interred there quickly and quietly. No one but the three of us knows this transpired.”
“Understood, sir.” Maedoc nodded.
“Excellent, now be on your way.”
“Won’t you be leaving?” the subordinate soldier asked.
“Leave without me, I’ll have one of the mercenaries outside walk me out. I need a few moments. Just wait in the vehicle.”
Maedoc offered a curt nod, before leaving the concealment of the curtains and stepping out through the doors.
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“Where is Princess Ninon?” he asked a mercenary guarding Rhona’s room.
“That conference room down there.” he pointed down the hall, six or seven doors down.
The Lieutenant Colonel entered the aforementioned room where he found it empty except for the 13-year-old princess tapping away at her communicator, playing some kind of electronic game, her loyal maid watching at her side.
“Your Highness.” Maedoc smiled.
“Lieutenant Colonel Antelius,” she grinned back, pausing her game. “Are you and Mr. Salomon done seeing my aunt?”
“That’s what I came here to tell you. The Lieutenant General needs a few more moments, but he’ll notify you when he leaves. Then you may return to the General’s side.”
“Thank you for letting me know.” Ninon smiled.
“Of course, Your Highness.” Maedoc bowed his head slightly, before taking his leave, the box containing Kallista Laine’s remains never leaving his hands.
11 months earlier, he had been given a task and did his best to complete it. His steadfastness, resilience, and perseverance for a soldier of his ripe age of 21 had gotten him the task as well as his later assignment as the General’s adjutant. Yet it had come at a cost. The squad he led, motivated, slept and ate with for two years—the closest he had to siblings—had all perished in the months to follow. He should’ve been able to protect them. They were his responsibility, and he was mad that instead of receiving punishment for his shortcomings he only received reward for his appeal.
Very few nights of sleep since then had been without seeing their agonised faces, screaming, and begging for him to pull them out of Pizna’s grasp. It was as if he’d killed them himself.
And on top of that the woman who sent him out on those missions, first to capture the asset and again to try and retrieve him for a second time, had done it in the name of violently getting her hands on her own nephew. Killing his mother and detaining the two close men in his life meant simply eliminating obstacles. He hadn’t really cared if they were Terran, but to harm one’s own blood no matter the cost was despicable. He thought of his own father—who was in fact bedridden in that same hospital—and his heart wrenched at the mere idea of seeing him harmed.
Maedoc placed the box in the backseat of the unmarked van he drove Fabian in, before seating himself in the front.
As he drew out his communicator to contact Sjogren, he found his hands shaking. For the first time ever, Maedoc Antelius found himself personally attached to the work he was assigned to do.
--
Salomon’s green eyes found themselves darted up and down the hospital bed. He hadn’t had the time to visit Rhona since her hospitalisation a month earlier, but now he had a chance. He hadn’t ever thought this extraordinarily powerful woman would ever end up in such a sorry state. But besides looking at her, what could he do? It wasn’t like she could speak back if he spoke to her.
The bruising on her face had substantially decreased, now isolated to the area around her remaining right eye. Her left eye was unsalvageable, the site in which it rested in covered in gauze. Her nose was concealed under a cast. Her jaw had been wired shut to keep the fragile bones in the lower half of her head secured. The fingers of her left hand were concealed in a cast. That same hand had pounded Salomon’s chest and head numerous times while sparring during their years at the Heimat Academy, which only created a few scratches at most. Only a body as strong as the Red Devil’s could’ve reduced it to such a condition.
The bulky device that hid her midriff was the starkest change, and he found it strange to believe that this contraption was the only thing keeping her alive. However that didn’t stop him from noticing the curvature of her hips below her pajama pants, hidden from his view by the weighty military jackets she always wore. He imagined the device as a corset, widening her hips. Perfect for bearing many healthy children. Even her breasts looked plump despite her weakened state under her shirt. Many Titanians believed that while enlisting in the military was a great honour for all, raising strong and beautiful children was the highest duty for a woman.
What a waste… he thought. Strength and muliebrity, very few women are blessed to have them both in high quantities. She’s one of them.
To think that such a feared woman had finally come down to a vulnerable and helpless state and to be in her presence alone was an achievement no other person had done.
If he could just touch her in the place that made her so valued… no. Absolutely not. Salomon’s fingers only grazed the covered skin of her thigh when he realized how disgusting of an act he was about to commit. No, after calling out her own vulgarity, to do that would be hypocritical. He yanked his hand away from her and turned around, storming through the door. He motioned with his hand for a mercenary to escort him to the car park. On the way there, he stopped by the conference room Ninon and Alda were in.
“You may have the room back, Princess Ninon,” he feigned a smile. “Apologies for the intrusion.”
He promptly left as if he were in a worry.
“Mr. Salomon, wait!” Ninon exited her seat, the door shutting as soon as she reached it.
“Princess Ninon, if I may speculate… Lieutenant General Salomon looked like he was in quite a hurry. We shouldn’t bother him.”
“I know that Alda,” Ninon turned around. “I wanted to know why he looked the way he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“He didn’t look happy,” Ninon, remaining standing by the door. “Something’s bothering him.”
“Well, Princess Ninon, you’ve always had a talent for discerning emotions,” Alda smiled. “Your Detection is stronger than most. May I ask why you think that?”
“I think…” she paused to think for a moment. “He hasn’t visited Aunt Rhona until today. He looked content coming in but coming out…”
“Are you suggesting that maybe seeing General Karesti’s condition made him feel sad, perhaps?”
Ninon frowned.
“Something like that,” she shrugged. “But Mr. Salomon has an iron-will. I feel like there’s more to it.”
“That is a fair point. But you know he’s a busy man. More so now than ever. We shouldn’t stick our heads where they’re not needed.”
“I agree,” Ninon sighed, before turning around to open the door. “We’ve spent enough time here. Let’s say goodbye to Aunt Rhona and take our leave.”
“Of course, Princess Ninon.” Alda affirmed to her mistress, before getting to her feet and joining her.