CHAPTER 13
RDF Capital Battlecruiser Resilience
Near Planet Eteren, Eteren One Orbital Starbase
Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector
Date: Zeran 19, Year 4731
Garen awoke in his quarters on the Resilience to the familiar, long-forgotten beep of the Relay unit, drawing him from deep sleep. The sound repeated in a sequence of rising octaves—a tone he’d heard countless times during his years aboard the Riftkin as part of the Rhyus Defense Fleet: orders, emergency calls, dreaded alerts of an incoming Vorcon armada. But that was years ago. Memories surged through his mind, momentarily pulling him back to those days before fading as he fully woke, taking a moment to identify the sound.
Blinking against the darkness, he noticed a small desk lamp casting just enough light to outline the room’s details. I’m on the Resilience, he reminded himself, slowly reorienting. The past few days—the escape from Chiex, the Vorcon encounter, docking on the Resilience—all came rushing back. Realizing he’d slept longer than expected, he found himself sprawled on top of the covers, still in his clothes. He’d only meant to rest briefly.
Sitting up, he swallowed against the dryness in his throat, nearly choking. The comm unit beeped again, sharper this time, insistently pulling him back to the present. He touched the switch, and light filled every corner of the room. He winced, eyes narrowing against the brightness, which was harsher than he’d intended or wanted, then pressed the Relay unit, a green light signaling its activation.
“Rivers here,” he managed, clearing his throat.
An impersonal voice came through, formal and direct. “Good morning, General Rivers. General Maylone requests your presence in her office in an hour and invites you to join her for breakfast.” The voice sounded familiar—likely the same one that had addressed the Seeker the day before.
Garen’s hand hovered over the Relay as he processed the message. Breakfast with General Maylone? Was this unexpected courtesy—or a carefully planned move? Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, he replied, “I’ll be there. Rivers out,” ending the connection with a touch more force than intended.
Invitations like this weren’t unusual among RDF commanders, but being on the receiving end felt different. The Resilience’s insistence on docking the Seeker and extending his stay had struck him as excessive—almost aggressive. Yes, aggressive, he decided—though it had offered him a rare chance to rest since Chiex. Despite the formality of the invitation, the familiar atmosphere of the RDF ship, shaped by years of service, felt instinctively comforting. Still, a lingering thought hinted that the RDF might not be entirely pleased with his return. Yet, strangely enough, he felt... secure.
Garen winced as his stiff joints protested with each movement. Rolling his shoulders, he worked out the tension built up from days spent on edge, unaccustomed to the constant sitting in the Seeker’s cockpit. Before all this, he’d been in constant motion, always on the move—because he had to be. There hadn’t been a choice. Motion had meant survival, keeping him occupied both physically and mentally.
He pushed himself up and went to the refreshment unit, pouring a glass of water. The cool drink soothed his dry throat, though a pang of hunger reminded him he hadn’t eaten much since early the previous day. Maybe breakfast isn’t such a bad idea, he thought, though a strange, dreamlike feeling lingered. Am I really here, aboard the Resilience? For a moment, memory and reality blurred, but the details of his surroundings grounded him. Yes, he was indeed aboard the RDF battlecruiser. Much had happened in recent days, and he sensed there was more to come—more that was unexpected.
The guest quarters were functional yet comfortable: a bed, refreshment station, compact lounge, computer station, and Hygiene Module—everything he needed, with nothing superfluous. Garen headed straight to the shower. The strong spray jolted him fully awake, though the water felt different—lacking the natural purity of Chiex’s mountain streams. There, the water had been clean, untouched, and unrecycled, a reminder of a life he was no longer living.
After his shower, Garen dressed in the civilian clothes that he assumed the quartermaster had provided, perhaps at General Maylone’s request. He doubted she wanted him looking the way he had been. Waiting for him was an outfit: dark trousers, a charcoal shirt, and a navy jacket. The clothes felt strange against his skin, so different from the rugged, patched garments he’d grown used to. He rarely had the time to wear his better clothes. He slipped on a pair of new brown shoes, feeling an unexpected comfort.
Catching his reflection, he ran a hand through his hair and over his graying beard. If I’d planned to leave Chiex, I might have shaved, he thought, though the beard felt like a part of him now, grown out shortly after his exile began. Maybe just a slight trim.
Garen stepped into the corridor, catching the distant murmur of crew conversations. The air on the Resilience was clean and controlled—so unlike the rugged, earth-scented atmosphere of Chiex or the Seeker’s own lived-in air, which held a distinct, indefinable quality. He’d never dare mention it to Klamarez; he’d likely tear it all apart. It worked, and that was the main thing. Here, on the Resilience, the reality of his departure felt sharper, like a return to a life he thought he’d buried long ago. Yet now, here it was, unearthed once more—like a dream he half-expected to wake up from.
Garen rounded a corner, coming face-to-face with Sergeant Wallace, who moved in the opposite direction.
“Morning, General Rivers,” Wallace said, dressed in full gear aside from his helmet and weapon.
“Good morning, Sergeant Wallace,” Garen replied.
“I trust the ship’s treating you well?” Wallace asked, his steel-gray eyes holding a steady gaze.
“It’s more than comfortable, thank you,” Garen answered, appreciating the courtesy. He hadn’t seen much of the ship since falling asleep soon after arriving. Though curious to see more, he preferred to move on and depart soon.
With a nod, they parted, each continuing in opposite directions. Conversations hushed to whispers as Garen walked down the corridor. He caught fragments: “… didn’t expect Rivers back…” and “… thought he was dead…” A few crew members greeted him with quick nods, though most averted their gaze. Other snippets floated his way—“... heard he went on an expedition to another galaxy…” and “… Vorcons? Are we headed for another war? … he’s investigating the Origins? No way, you’re making that up.”
The gossip faded as he passed, silencing as though his presence alone quelled further speculation. Occasionally, a crew member paused to introduce themselves, shaking his hand and offering polite well wishes before returning to their duties. Some glanced at him with reserved doubt, quietly questioning his return.
The attention felt strange; he appreciated the respect yet wished to avoid it.
After navigating his way through the ship’s corridors, Garen found himself standing outside General Maylone’s office. He paused, collecting his thoughts. There was a time when meetings like this had been routine, but now it felt anything but. This isn’t my place anymore, he thought. He felt like an outsider, as if he no longer belonged on any RDF ship. In truth, he didn’t—not anymore. That time had long passed.
His hand hovered over the chime panel. What’s this all about? Curiosity, or pity? He recalled giving tours on the Riftkin to retired generals from a generation before his own. Is that what I am now?
The door slid open, revealing Maylone’s office. She rose from behind her desk and crossed the room to greet him, extending her hand. Their handshake was firm—his calloused, worn hands meeting her smooth ones as she offered a polite welcome.
She led him through an inner door into a secluded dining area. The room, adorned with understated art and quiet luxury, centered around a large table surrounded by high-backed chairs and a floor-to-ceiling viewing port. Through it, the emerald planet of Eteren loomed in the near distance. Garen eased into one of the chairs, noting the pristine quality of everything—so unlike the battered, front-line vessels he’d known. The Riftkin had always felt like a machine of war, but the Resilience, though equally powerful, exuded a distinctly different atmosphere. This is a ship of comfort, he thought, feeling the contrast. He wondered how quickly that might change if another war broke out. I hope they don’t find out.
Maylone sat across from him, activating a relay on the table to summon refreshments.
“General Rivers, your arrival was unexpected. You were the last person I thought to find aboard that vessel when we detected its entry into the Mottmor system.” Though her smile was warm and polite, a spark of curiosity lingered behind it.
Garen wondered if that was entirely true; he suspected they’d known he was coming long before the Seeker arrived. They knew about the Vorcons—he was almost certain they’d known he was on board, too.
Maylone leaned back, her gaze a careful blend of interest and suspicion. “It’s been quite some time since anyone last saw you. Still, having you aboard the Resilience is a pleasure. Your contributions to the Seven Worlds are remembered.” Her focus didn’t shift; her eyes stayed locked on him, an unreadable expression betraying a hint of contemplation, as though she were weighing unspoken truths.
Garen nodded, sensing the depth of her words. “Thank you, General Maylone. I have to admit, it’s... disorienting. I’d grown used to the idea of staying on Chiex.” The Resilience felt familiar in some ways—RDF battlecruisers all had a shared atmosphere—but everything about it seemed altered. Different didn’t quite capture it; it was as though his time with the RDF had almost never happened at all. Really, it was as if the RDF had moved on, evolving as he’d known it would, yet seeing the changes up close after ten years revealed how much was different while hints of the past still lingered.
“I can only imagine,” Maylone replied, her tone neutral and expression composed.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, and Garen followed suit, savoring the warmth as he took a sip. Her silent gaze held an undercurrent of questions.
“Thank you, General,” he said, his voice a mix of gratitude and weariness. “I appreciate the hospitality.”
Maylone’s nod was slow, her eyes distant, her face calm and reflective, as if piecing something together. “Your return… has raised some interest,” she said, her gaze fixed on him, observing his every movement.
The way she lingered on “interest” made him uneasy. “Interest?” he repeated, a crease forming in his brow. “RDF Command? The Council of Seven?”
“I meant it more generally,” she replied, a note of caution threading her tone.
Garen nodded, uncertain of her intent. “I suppose not many expected me back.”
Maylone’s mouth curved in a faint smile. “After all this time... no, I’d say not.”
Garen exhaled, his gaze drifting. “Not exactly where I thought I’d end up either. Not by choice. I didn’t expect to be uprooted from my home like that.” He paused, recalling the Otay trees that had surrounded his home, last seen ablaze. He didn’t yet know that Caul Malocktus had ensured its complete destruction.
Maylone leaned in, her eyes sharpening with curiosity tempered by a hint of compassion. “We’re more than happy to provide a safe haven, General Rivers.”
“Thank you, General,” Garen replied, fully aware they were here for questioning, not refuge.
Her tone shifted, taking on a guarded edge. “Still, I must admit, I’m curious about your journey back to the Seven Worlds. It’s quite a distance. I was concerned about your safe arrival.”
“Safe arrival?” Garen echoed, a hint of confusion in his voice.
Stolen story; please report.
“Your ship appears to have seen better days,” Maylone observed, her gaze sweeping over him with a scrutinizing look. “Will it make it back in one piece?” Her tone was almost—but not quite—mocking.
Garen took a measured breath, accepting that the Seeker was, admittedly, a bit rough around the edges. “The Seeker is more than capable. Klamarez is skilled. It’s still under construction, but it’ll hold. As you can imagine, there weren’t many ships available on Chiex, and we didn’t have much time. Still, given the circumstances, it held up well.”
Maylone raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “Then it seems you were fortunate to escape all that,” she remarked, her voice soft but laced with intrigue.
Garen nodded, though he knew that Caul Malocktus had merely let them go, toying with them. It didn’t seem worth mentioning, but he sensed that Maylone was probing, subtly questioning how they had managed to escape without saying it outright. Conus had provided them with data, and they’d had ample time to analyze it. Garen was certain they’d reach their own conclusions soon enough.
“I admire your confidence in the Camerian, Klamarez,” Maylone continued. “But I wish we had a ship to loan Colonel Taylen, just to be on the safe side. Unfortunately, our fleet is limited in this system. Hopefully, your friend can get his vessel fully operational.”
“The Seeker’s functional, just needs some fine-tuning,” Garen replied with a slight shrug. “Bit of a work in progress. Still, not bad for a maiden voyage.”
Maylone’s eyes widened with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Maiden voyage?” she echoed, eyebrows lifting. “It’s remarkable, then, that it’s operational at all. And once it’s fine-tuned, what then? I assume your stay here will be brief—in the system, I mean?”
“Mottmor was just meant to be a stopover,” Garen replied, omitting details he wasn’t ready to share—like the fact that Colonel Conus Taylen had concealed his affiliation with the RSIA, not the RDF. From what he’d observed, suspicion ran deep among the crew here. General Maylone concealed her feelings well, but Colonel Nolvin had made his doubts clear. Eteren One was never meant to be more than a regrouping point, he thought. A place for safety, maybe a chance to inform the RDF about the Vorcons—or so I’d hoped. But Maylone didn’t need to know all that. They already seemed more wary than they let on, and he wasn’t about to overshare and fuel their suspicions.
“And after the stopover?” Maylone pressed.
Garen’s eyes flicked to the viewport, watching the steady movement of ships around Eteren One’s starbase and the planet Eteren beyond. “I plan to head to Rhyus.”
Her expression softened, though her eyes held a wary curiosity, as if weighing what was left unsaid. “Returning to Rhyus after all these years must hold some significance for you.”
“It does. Never thought I’d be going back,” he replied.
She gave him a look that hinted at doubt. “The RSIA has taken a keen interest in you, from what we can gather. Do you have any idea what might have piqued their curiosity?”
Garen kept his expression unreadable, sensing her careful probing. ‘Not specifically, no. Maybe they want my perspective on something from my career. Hard to say. But really, your guess is as good as mine, General,’ he replied, his tone guarded but open.
As he mentioned the RSIA’s interest, Maylone’s smile lingered, her eyes narrowing briefly before settling back into their usual warmth.
“I see. With a career as extensive as yours, it could be any number of things.”
“I’m as curious as you are,” Garen replied, his tone deliberately vague.
“Your history with the Vorcons—and their sudden reemergence—makes the RSIA’s interest even more intriguing, however,” she remarked, her voice carefully neutral. Her gaze stayed sharp, studying him closely.
“Intriguing? What makes it so?” Garen asked.
“Just the timing, General Rivers. A coincidence, don’t you think? Your history with the Vorcons...” She let the implication linger.
“My history with the Vorcons?” Garen echoed. “You mean the history of the Vorcon Empire and the Seven Worlds of Rhyus?”
“Yes,” Maylone replied smoothly. “Though it’s hard to deny that your career is intertwined with the Vorcon Empire.”
Garen leaned back slightly. “It was a long war,” he said, his voice flattening as memories surfaced. “Twenty years of war takes its toll.”
Maylone’s gaze remained fixed, silently urging him to continue.
“I did what I had to do,” Garen went on, his tone resolute. “We fought to keep the Seven Worlds safe, to protect other systems from conquest, to free them. That’s not just my history, General Maylone—that’s the history of the RDF, of the Seven Worlds. I was one part of it, like so many others who gave years to that war. I’m sure you fought in it too, did your part.”
“I did indeed, General Rivers,” she replied, recalling a time long before she held her current rank. And I was glad when the peace treaty was declared—unlike you, she thought.
“My contribution was no different than anyone’s. We all had our roles to play,” Garen said, his tone final.
Her gaze held firm. “And yet, you lost your career standing by your beliefs. You faced the Council of Seven, advocating for continued conflict with the Vorcons. That’s a significant sacrifice for one’s principles; most of us were relieved to see the war end—I know I was,” she remarked, a slight edge to her words. “It’s remarkable how your return aligns with theirs.”
“That’s a matter of perspective,” Garen replied coolly. He was in no mood to revisit his stance on the peace treaty or the speech he’d given before the Council of Seven all those years ago. He’d made his point then and was past defending his position. “And I didn’t return by choice. The Vorcons saw to that. I’d refused Colonel Taylen’s offer to speak with the RSIA, but the Vorcon attack forced my hand.” What is she trying to imply? That I somehow brought the Vorcons back?
Maylone absorbed his words thoughtfully. “That is quite a chain of events.”
“I would agree,” Garen replied.
“Any regrets about how your career ended?” Maylone asked, her tone probing.
Garen’s expression remained steady. “Perhaps I could have handled things differently, maybe taken another approach—it’s hard to say. But regret? No.”
“Even after all you lost?” she pressed.
“No regrets,” Garen replied without hesitation. Well… perhaps a few.
Maylone took another sip of coffee, her eyes fixed on him. “Still, you can’t deny that your return and the Vorcons’ resurgence at the same time—it’s unlikely, wouldn’t you say?”
Her pointed look prompted him to consider his words carefully. “Unlikely, yes,” he replied, keeping his tone calm even as his thoughts raced. Why does she keep pressing that point? It felt as if RDF Command was more concerned about his return than the Vorcons’. His sudden departure from Chiex, his presence on the Resilience, and the RSIA’s involvement had surely unsettled more than a few on the Council of Seven. Do they think I’m here to reignite the war—or are they just looking for a reason to suspect it?
He nearly smirked. What kind of power do they think I have?
“As for the Vorcons,” he said, his tone intentionally casual, “I trust RDF Command is monitoring any developments.” He took a slow sip of his coffee, letting the silence settle before continuing. “Since the incident at Chiex, have there been further Vorcon activities? Additional sightings?”
“Not that we’re aware of,” Maylone replied. “Rest assured, General Rivers, we remain vigilant. Our assessments suggest a low threat level for now, but if the Vorcons enter our territories, we’re prepared to respond. Engaging them isn’t something the RDF does lightly—only when absolutely necessary.” Her tone, formal and placating, felt as though it were meant for a civilian rather than a retired general of Garen’s reputation.
Garen leaned in a fraction, his gaze steady as it met hers. “And the engagement on Chiex—would you consider that an escalation?”
“An engagement involving a retired RDF officer and a Camerian does not concern the RDF,” she replied with a calm that seemed immovable.
“But there were lives lost,” Garen countered. “Colonel Taylen and I fought them, took down six Vorcons. The Vorcons destroyed a transport—Colonel Taylen lost his entire team.”
“Regardless, Colonel Taylen is part of the RSIA, not the RDF,” Maylone responded, as if the line had been rehearsed.
I see, Garen thought. Is this her stance, or Command’s? The RDF and RSIA had always functioned independently, but Maylone’s words hinted at a complete severance. Just how deep is the divide now? he wondered. Deeper than I’d imagined. Did the Council of Seven see it that way too?
If this new Vorcon threat is real, then the RDF and RSIA should be working together more closely—for the good of the Seven Worlds.
His thoughts shifted briefly to Amar Lavont, the current head of the RSIA. Under Lavont’s direction, the agency’s approach to intelligence and security had changed dramatically. Has he stirred things up this much? Enough to create a divide like this? There had to be more at play than Lavont’s leadership alone. Conus had mentioned the RSIA’s near collapse. What exactly had happened? Garen was beginning to realize he was far from seeing the full picture.
Just then, an older woman and a young man entered, wheeling in a cart laden with fresh coffee and an array of food. Both wore crisp white uniforms, and soon the table overflowed with delicacies—the aroma of coffee mingling with the scent of baked goods and a full breakfast spread. Garen couldn’t help but marvel at the excess.
He nodded and thanked the servers warmly as they departed. Maylone watched him closely, her faint smile lingering, as if she were reading his thoughts.
“What about after your visit with the RSIA?” Maylone asked. “Have you thought about returning to Rhyus? To live, I mean?”
Garen shrugged slightly. “I might end up back on Rhyus, or maybe even return to my homeworld. I haven’t really decided,” he admitted. “I’m still adjusting to everything that’s happened, keeping my options open.”
“You’re from Amoreron, aren’t you?” Maylone’s tone suggested she already knew the answer.
“Yes,” Garen replied with a faint smile. “I might be overdue for a visit.”
Maylone nodded slowly, her gaze intent as she studied his expression. “Do you still have family there?”
Garen paused, drifting into thought. “Yes,” he said simply.
“Well, it might be nice to visit them,” Maylone said thoughtfully. “Being away from the Seven Worlds for a decade is quite a stretch. You should know, many crew members were eager to meet General Garen Rivers. There was quite a buzz about you possibly joining us in the mess hall last night. They even reserved a seat for you.”
Garen felt a wave of relief at having missed it. I’m not ready for that, he thought, shying from the attention. Forcing a smile, he replied, “I’d intended to join, but honestly, I fell asleep. The last few days have been more eventful than I’m used to.”
“Chiex must have had its challenges,” Maylone observed, letting her words settle as if inviting him to elaborate.
“More than enough,” Garen replied evenly. “But it was necessary—I needed the change.”
Maylone leaned forward, adding to her plate, her interest sharpening. “Tell me about Chiex. It’s intriguing that you chose to live there, so far from the comforts of the Seven Worlds. What were the challenges like? How did you adapt?” Her tone was casual, but a probing edge undercut her words, as though she sought more than he was offering. Her gaze lingered, assessing him.
Garen shifted slightly in his seat. “Chiex was... simple, but survival wasn’t,” he replied, recalling the mountain winds and the nights when even a fire barely held off the chill. He could almost feel those silent, endless nights again, the kind of cold a fire alone couldn’t chase away. The cold season had been approaching when he left—something he’d prepared for. But now, it was no longer his concern.
“It was a necessary change,” he added distantly, briefly mentioning growing his own food, hunting, fishing, and exploring—just enough to satisfy her curiosity without delving too deeply.
“That’s an admirable way to live, General Rivers. I can barely imagine it,” she remarked, her smile composed, though her sharp eyes missed nothing. He sensed the unspoken questions behind her carefully chosen words, coaxing him to reveal more.
He decided to steer the conversation. “This is a fine ship, the Resilience.”
Maylone nodded, pride evident in her tone. “I was fortunate to receive its command. Competition was stiff.” She mentioned taking over the Resilience, but soon shifted the topic back to the RSIA. “You’re aware Amar Lavont now heads the RSIA? Given your history with him, I imagine it might be useful. Have you spoken to him since you left for Chiex?”
Garen’s expression softened slightly, a quick smile escaping, faintly amused by her persistence. “I haven’t spoken to him since I left a decade ago.” He paused, the weight of past events lingering. “Our last meeting left some things unresolved. My departure wasn’t under the best of circumstances.”
Maylone nodded, a flicker of understanding in her gaze. “Difficult times often lead to difficult decisions,” she said. “He must still hold respect for you, after all the years you served together.”
Garen kept his expression neutral. “Respect, yes,” he said quietly. Loyalty ran deep, layered with memories—some of Lavont warm, others… less so.
After they finished breakfast, Garen and Maylone returned to her office, where a large map display on the wall caught his eye. He lingered on the details of the Ottorins’ situation within the Mottmor System.
Their conversation flowed naturally to the Ottorins and the RDF’s role in the region. Maylone explained the mutually beneficial mining agreement between the Ottorins and the RDF. “The agreement allocates a fair percentage of profits to enhancing their agricultural efforts while reinforcing our supply lines,” she explained.
Garen studied the star charts, his thoughts shifting to the complexities of the RDF’s military presence in the area—particularly at Eteren One. He considered the potential impact of a withdrawal, skepticism clear in his expression. Would the RDF really consider vacating their positions here?
“I’ve enjoyed our discussion, General Rivers, but I have a full morning ahead,” Maylone said, rising from her chair to signal the end of their meeting.
“Being in command of a capital battlecruiser keeps you busy,” Garen replied, rising. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“The pleasure was mine, General Rivers,” Maylone responded, her smile warm.
As they parted, Garen noticed a synthetic entering Maylone’s office just as he stepped out. What’s she really after? he wondered, their conversation lingering heavily in his thoughts as he walked away.