CHAPTER 21
Eteren One Orbital Starbase
Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector
Date: Zeran 19, Year 4731
Garen whipped his head toward the intrusion, his muscles tightening. A man in a sharp black suit entered first, an RDF-issue Fusion Blaster steady in his grip, finger resting lightly near the trigger. Close behind came a woman with chestnut-brown hair, similarly dressed in a tailored suit, her demeanor calm and composed. Her weapon stayed holstered, but her faint smile offered no reassurance.
“General Garen Rivers,” she announced formally. The insignia on her collar marked her as a Lieutenant Colonel. Beside her, the man—bearing the rank of Major—wore a cocky grin, his narrowed eyes drilling into Garen while the blaster remained trained on him.
“What the fuck is this?” Garen demanded. Whoever they were, whatever this was, he was at their mercy for the moment.
“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Syla,” the woman said, inclining her head slightly. She gestured toward her companion. “And this is Major Hanth.”
At her subtle nod, Major Hanth holstered his weapon.
Garen’s attention shifted between them, gauging their stances for any exploitable weakness. There was none—or at least not one he could act on. He was unarmed, outnumbered. For a brief moment, he wondered, Could I close the distance before they reacted? Unlikely. The Major’s hand hovered near his weapon, and the Colonel’s would follow just as fast. Garen forced himself to stay still, suppressing the urge to act.
“You with the Fleet?” he asked. The insignias on their collars matched those of the RDF. The thought gave him a faint thread of reassurance. If they’re with the Fleet in any capacity, I shouldn’t have to worry about getting shot. Right?
Lieutenant Colonel Syla’s faint smile widened, almost theatrical, her steel-gray eyes scanning Garen. “I represent the RIAB,” she said, enunciating each word.
Garen stared blankly for a moment, uncomprehending. “RIAB?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a dry laugh escaping him. “The what? I’m not even sure I want to know.”
“You should,” Major Hanth interjected, his tone sharp, almost offended. “You should want to know.”
“Rhyus Internal Affairs Bureau,” Syla clarified, her tone suggesting the name alone should dispel any confusion.
Garen’s expression didn’t change. “That still doesn’t tell me much,” he replied flatly. “Separate branch?”
“I’m surprised your augmented friend hasn’t filled you in,” Hanth said, shaking his head, his distaste barely concealed. “He’s very chatty.”
“You know Colonel Taylen?” Garen asked, his voice sharpening. Have I been lied to? The thought hung heavy as he wondered if there was a connection between Colonel Taylen and the RIAB. The Colonel had lied once before. But he doesn’t strike me as dishonest now. Could I have been wrong?
“Not personally,” Hanth replied, his rugged face twisting with incredulity.
Lieutenant Colonel Syla raised a hand, silencing Hanth. “Allow me to clarify, General Rivers,” she said.
The stiffness in her stance and the overly deliberate precision in her tone gave her away. Recently promoted, Garen thought.
Syla continued, "Tensions between the RSIA and RDF have escalated, prompting growing concern from the Council of Seven. Discord between their two foremost military branches is a risk they cannot afford. As you know, General, both play vital roles in maintaining the Seven Worlds’ infrastructure, providing safety and security. The RIAB was established as an independent branch to act as neutral arbiters."
As Garen listened, the way Syla spoke of the RDF and RSIA as equals drove the point home. The RSIA had grown in size and influence, far more than he remembered.
“The RIAB exists to monitor both the RDF and the RSIA,” Syla continued, “ensuring neither exceeds its bounds nor interferes with the other. We report directly to the Council of Seven. In essence, we audit their operations and investigate their activities.”
“Sounds like a headache. And what does any of this have to do with me?” Garen asked, his tone flat.
Syla’s expression shifted slightly, her composure slipping just enough for him to notice. His detachment had caught her off guard. Surely he knows what this is all about? “Your return has piqued the interest of the RIAB,” she said carefully. “General Rivers, your name still carries weight. From what we understand, you’ve been offered your former rank as General, with an opportunity to work for the RSIA—on a mission of significant importance. A mission, if I were to guess, with far-reaching consequences beyond what you might yet realize. Especially if it was critical enough to pull you out of retirement.”
Garen stepped back, then sat on the bed, perching on its edge as he looked up at them. “Well, I wouldn’t explain it that way. You’re leaving out the part where I was attacked at my home by the Vorcon Empire. I’d still be back there if I could. I don’t know what this mission is—or if there even is one. You seem to know more than I do.”
Syla was about to respond when Hanth cut in.
“Nothing to go back to, Garen. Sorry to tell you,” Hanth interjected, his voice devoid of sympathy.
Garen turned to Hanth, studying him for any hint of exaggeration or deceit. “Nothing?” he asked, then added, “How do you know?”
“Seen it with my own eyes,” Hanth confirmed.
“The fire got it?” Garen asked aloud, his voice subdued. The memory of the clearing around his home surfaced—trees ablaze, smoke choking the air as he and Conus fled into the forest.
“No, not the fire,” Hanth said, savoring the moment. “It was fired on by the Vorcons. They launched a barrage at it, from what we could tell. Overkill for a wooden cabin—you must’ve really pissed someone off.”
It shouldn’t have surprised Garen. He should have known. Yet the confirmation struck like a blow to the chest—his home reduced to nothing.
In some ways, the knowledge brought an odd clarity, severing an anchor he hadn’t realized he’d been holding onto. The hope of retreating to isolation, to the safety of his home, was gone. Even if the chance arose to return to Chiex, he doubted he had it in him to rebuild—not again. But the loss still stung, cutting deeper than he cared to admit.
He clenched his fists, forcing the thought aside. This wasn’t the time to dwell.
“So, you really spent the last ten years there?” Hanth asked, his expression skeptical, his tone even more so.
“Yeah,” Garen replied. He wasn’t in the mood.
“Alright,” Hanth muttered, twisting his face into a half-smirk—the look of someone unconvinced but unwilling to argue. He opened his mouth to add something else, but Syla cut him off.
“We find it curious that the Vorcon Empire would launch such an extreme response against your home,” she said, her tone pointed. “The attack was led by a Major Legate of the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force. Major Legate Caul Malocktus. You seem to have some powerful enemies, General Rivers.”
“Caul is someone I fought several times. We had a bit of a... rivalry,” Garen said.
“That’s some rivalry,” Hanth interjected. “That’s why he went out of his way to attack you?”
“If you understand Vorcon motivations, it wouldn’t surprise you,” Garen replied evenly.
“There’s not much to understand,” Hanth dismissed with a slight shake of his head. To him, Vorcons weren’t complicated.
“Vorcons, for lack of a better word, are known for holding grudges,” Syla added, her tone softening in what seemed like an attempt at sympathy.
Garen met her eyes but kept his expression neutral, offering her nothing in return.
Lieutenant Colonel Syla’s tone shifted, sympathy giving way to suspicion. "What’s particularly interesting," she continued, "is that after all this time, you’re returning to the Seven Worlds—and working under your former mentor, no less. The fallout between you and Admiral Lavont is no secret." Leaning in slightly, her steel-gray eyes narrowed as she looked down at Garen, still seated on the edge of the bed.
“Too much has happened for you to simply come back as though nothing has changed. A lot led to your early retirement and your departure from the Seven Worlds.” Her tone turned cold, the words slicing through the room like a blade. “Your return raises suspicions—and questions. Many are skeptical of your actions.”
Garen’s eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’ve started to notice,” he muttered. “Listen, how do I even know you two are who you say you are? You could be RDF, RSIA, RIAB—or even…” He let the pause linger before finishing, “Helix, for all I know.” Watching their reactions closely.
Syla and Hanth exchanged a look.
“What do you know about Helix?” Hanth asked, his trigger hand twitching slightly.
“Does your mission involve Helix?” Syla pressed, her composure cracking for just a moment.
Their reactions told Garen one thing for certain: Helix had their attention.
“No. I told you, I don’t know what any of this is about,” Garen replied.
“Then how do you know it doesn’t involve Helix?” Syla pressed further.
“I guess I don’t,” Garen admitted. He hesitated for a moment. “You say the RIAB is new?”
“Yes,” Syla replied curtly.
“It shows,” Garen gave a quick, faint smile.
Hanth rolled his eyes.
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Syla’s face clouded, as though she had expected more.
“I wouldn’t be so amused, General,” she said at last, her voice icy. “Many on Rhyus are not happy about your return—powerful people.”
“You mean the Council of Seven?” Garen shot back, unbothered. His mind flicked to their smug faces, staring down at him in judgment during his last visit to the Seven Worlds Parliament.
“I think you’ll find yourself very out of touch, General Rivers,” Syla warned.
“I don’t disagree with that. I am out of touch,” Garen admitted flatly.
“Then I’d advise caution. Why are you lingering on Eteren One? Do you have business here?” Syla asked, her gaze sharp and probing.
“The ship needed a look-over before we continued on. We’re setting course for Rhyus in the morning,” Garen said.
“That ship needs more than a look-over,” Hanth laughed.
Garen shrugged, unimpressed. “Yeah?”
Hanth wasn’t done. “Let’s see—former RDF General Garen Rivers, a Camerian freedom fighter, Klamarez, and an RSIA Colonel with augmentations so advanced people wonder how he was even allowed to attend the RDF Academy, let alone rise through the ranks. Now he works for the Seven Worlds’ covert operations agency, the RSIA. A lot of higher-ups have a real problem with that.”
Garen gave him a flat look. “And?”
“You do know most individuals with his level of augmentations are banned from the Seven Worlds, right? He’s not your average augment—not even close. You don’t think there’s something a little off about that?” Hanth Questioned.
“He’s illegal, in a sense,” Syla added, as though trying to emphasize the gravity of the situation.
Garen’s expression didn’t waver. “I realize his augmentations are more advanced than normal, yes.”
“And you don’t have a problem with that?” Hanth asked, incredulous, his disbelief unmistakable.
“Why would I?” Garen’s irritation edged into his voice, though he kept his composure. I’ve seen people with synthetics as best friends, but they’ve got issues with augments? “I don’t care that he’s augmented.”
“He’s not just augmented, Garen,” Hanth pressed. “Calling him that doesn’t cover it. He’s got... interesting origins. Bit of a cover-up. Something—”
“Hanth,” Syla interrupted sharply. The look she gave him left no room for argument.
Cover-up? For what? Garen turned the phrase over in his mind. What don’t I know about Conus? What do I know?
“This is something you should further discuss with Admiral Lavont,” Syla suggested smoothly, steering the conversation back on track.
“You both have still failed to tell me what this visit is all about. Why go through all this effort to lure me here?” Garen asked.
“It wasn’t hard,” Hanth quipped with a smirk.
Garen shot him a withering look, his patience wearing thin, before turning back to Syla.
“It felt like the best way to secure a meeting with you,” she said evenly. “And to present you with an offer,” she added, her tone deliberate.
“An offer?”
“If you want to return as an active general, Garen, the RDF is willing to offer you a command. Admiral Morgath Koss himself has made it clear—he’s prepared to give you a battlecruiser of your choice from several available options.”
Garen let out a skeptical laugh. “Just like that?”
“Yes,” Syla replied, her expression unwavering.
“Why?”
“The likelihood of conflict with the Vorcon Empire has risen sharply—though it’s far from guaranteed,” Syla explained. “Your track record in combat against the GVIF speaks for itself. And if I’m not mistaken, you know Admiral Morgath Koss on a personal level.”
The mention of Morgath Koss caught Garen off guard. Of all people—Koss. The man had always been insufferable, but there was no denying he was a damn fine general and a strong leader. Garen had been glad to have someone like Koss on their side during the war, even if he didn’t particularly like him. Still, he respected him. The feeling had been mutual, as far as Garen could remember.
“Morgath Koss is offering me command of a battlecruiser? Any class?” Garen asked, disbelief lacing his tone.
“Admiral Koss said he owed you,” Syla replied, her voice matter-of-fact.
“Owe me? I guess so. I mean, I did save his ass—but that’s what we all did, saving each other. I’m sure he saved mine once or twice, too. In fact, I know he did.” He paused, his gaze narrowing. “But here’s what I don’t understand: I thought the RIAB was supposed to be impartial. Seems like you’re leaning toward the RDF over the RSIA.”
“Our actions serve the Seven Worlds’ best interests,” Syla replied evenly. “It’s not bias. We serve the Council of Seven, and we act in their best interests. You now have two offers—one from the RSIA and one from the RDF. Though the RIAB believes you’d make a more meaningful contribution to the RDF.”
“Right,” Garen said, skepticism clear in his voice. Why don’t they want me to join the RSIA?
“Listen, all these events have been out of my control. If I could help it, I’d still be on Chiex. I’m only heading back to the Seven Worlds because it feels like my only option. I’m going to talk with Amar. I served under the man for years. I want to hear what he has to say. That’s all. Just hearing him out.” Leaning forward, he added firmly, “I’ll consider the RDF’s offer as well. But as of now, I’m still a civilian. That’s what I’ll likely remain. That should cover it.”
Garen wasn’t sure where his path would ultimately lead, but presenting himself as open to both the RDF’s overtures and the RSIA’s interests seemed like the least complicated option. For whatever reason, the RIAB, the Council of Seven, and the RDF all seemed convinced—or at least suspicious—that Garen was up to something, or had been.
“Very well,” Syla said, her expression softening slightly. “Be careful who you trust, General Rivers. A lot has changed. The Seven Worlds still value your service against the Vorcons. Despite your exile, you still hold respect.’ Her voice dropped, heavy with warning. ‘But Helix... they’re dangerous—more dangerous than you realize. Their power runs deeper than most care to admit.”
With that, she motioned to Hanth. They began to leave. “I wish you well, General Rivers,” Syla added as she exited.
Hanth lingered for a moment, casting Garen a long, narrowed look. Then, without a word, he followed. The door slid shut behind them with a quiet whoosh, leaving the room in silence.
For a long moment, Garen remained seated, Syla’s warnings echoing in his mind. What is their agenda?
Finally, he pushed himself to his feet. Minutes later, he stepped into Rorgal’s Pub, greeted by the clinking of glasses and the hum of animated chatter. The noise was almost comforting.
He spotted Klamarez and Conus at the same table as before, their conversation halting as he approached. Sliding into a seat, Garen recounted the encounter with the RIAB, his tone low and steady. He revealed most of the details but chose his words carefully, leaving certain parts unsaid.
Klamarez leaned back in his chair, his ears twitching as he processed the information. Conus sat silently, his expression unreadable, absorbing every word. I need to make a full report on this, he thought, his mind already working through what he’d heard.
Still, Conus couldn’t help but wonder what else they might have said to Garen.
When Garen finished, his tone hardened, serious. “We’re cutting the evening short. We’ll get a fresh start in the morning.”
Both nodded, offering no objections.
“We don’t need anything else dulling our senses tonight,” Garen added.
The trio left the bar together. Garen arranged new quarters, securing a three-room suite and covering the cost without comment.
Inside the suite, they each retreated to their rooms. Sleep, however, proved elusive. Each of them drifted in and out of restless slumber, each wrestling with their own reasons for concern.
***
Eteren One Orbital Starbase
Mottmor System, Venddral Raidezel Sector
Date: Zeran 20, Year 4731
The next morning, the trio gathered at a coffee shop. Garen and Conus sipped strong, black coffee. Across from them, Klamarez tore into a hearty breakfast, pairing it with a frothy, oversized caffeinated concoction that looked more like dessert than a beverage.
After some time, Garen glanced at his PDA, checking the time. Without a word, he drained the last of his coffee and stood. “Time to move.”
The others followed as they wove through the crowded promenade. Their path eventually led them to the Tailoring Couture Emporium. Garen stepped inside briefly, emerging moments later with a neatly packaged box tucked under his arm. Before leaving, he handed the Uxian attendant a generous tip, then rejoined the others.
They exited the market center and descended several levels on a lift, heading into the docking bay section of the station.
The lift doors opened, and the lively buzz of the promenade gave way to the muted stillness of the lower corridors. Signs along the walls pointed the way: Section N—Docking Bay N-7.
“Wait until you see it,” The words left Klamarez quickly.
“See what?” Garen asked.
“The Rift Redirector,” Klamarez replied, grinning. “Think we’ve got time to test it before leaving the system?”
Better let him get it out of his system. “Sure. Will it help us in a tight spot?”
“That depends on the spot,” Klamarez replied with a shrug.
They rounded a corner, and the conversation stopped abruptly. The corridor leading to the Seeker was blocked.
Kaelar stood firmly at the center of his group, his confidence bordering on arrogance. One hand hovered near the Vorvox Revolver at his hip, the other resting near the sheathed energy dagger at his side. To his left, Idara stood, her energy barely restrained. On Kaelar’s right, Talon stood draped in a robe that concealed twin pistols. Behind them, Mira lingered, watching.
Kaelar took a deliberate step forward, his gaze sweeping over Garen and Conus before locking onto Klamarez. “Going somewhere, Camerian?” he asked, his tone sharp and mocking.
Garen stepped forward, positioning himself closer to Kaelar. “Step aside, Kaelar.”
Kaelar bared his teeth in a low growl. “Not until we settle this.”
“They’re armed,” Conus warned, his voice loud enough to ensure both Garen and Klamarez caught it. Their own weapons were secured aboard the Seeker, leaving them at a clear disadvantage.
Kaelar’s voice dipped lower. “The debt will be settled—credits or the ship. And if we’re not satisfied… perhaps both.”
Klamarez stepped forward beside Garen, his fur bristling despite the calm he struggled to project. “I’m not refusing to pay.”
“We’re not going over this again, Camerian,” Kaelar shot back.
“Seems we are,” Garen interjected, his voice sharp. He’s overplaying his hand. If they get caught with weapons, they’ll be banned from the station. Garen’s gut urged caution, but their options were limited.
“Here’s my counteroffer,” Garen said coldly. “Step aside, or you’ll regret it.”
Kaelar’s confidence faltered—just for an instant—but it was enough to shift the balance.
Garen let the box he carried drop to the floor with a thud. “Face us here and now.” he said.
For an instant, Kaelar’s irritation showed before turning more calculated. He clearly didn’t want to escalate the situation physically—not here, not on Eteren. Despite his numbers advantage, he knew the risks were too great.
“Rivers,” Kaelar said, his voice tight with restrained anger. The impulse to strike shimmered just below the surface, but he reminded himself that any fight here would devolve into a prolonged and messy conflict.
He weighed the odds—three against three. Mira wasn’t much of a fighter, valued instead for her other skills. Idara was stronger than any of them, but the Colonel... Kaelar’s eyes lingered on him. Augmented, clearly. Rivers made sure I was aware.
Kaelar had seen enough augments in his time to know appearances could be deceiving. Some were unnaturally fast and strong regardless of how they looked. But there was something different about this RDF Colonel, something Kaelar couldn’t quite place.
“This encounter will be resolved—one day, one way or another,” Kaelar continued. “The Syndicate’s patience is long. So is mine. I will wait for the right moment. Myself—or someone else—will collect the debt, Klamarez. That, I promise.”
Kaelar’s eyes shot to Garen. “You’ve defied us, Rivers. You’ll find nowhere in the galaxy safe after this encounter. I know plenty who’d love the chance to take out a war general like you.”
With a sharp hand signal, Kaelar motioned to his crew. Idara, Talon, and Mira moved without hesitation, following Kaelar’s lead without protest.
As they rounded the corner, Kaelar turned back to shoot Garen a final look. Garen met his gaze, holding it steady until Kaelar and his crew vanished from sight. “Time to go,” he muttered under his breath. He retrieved the box and strode forward, never looking back. Without another word, he led them toward Docking Bay N-7 and the Seeker.