Devi Kali marched so fast that her two guards could hardly keep pace with her. When she was crossing the airfield, all the Celestians froze, pausing in their tasks, and turned their heads towards her, whispering under their breaths. Life on the board stopped, and after a while, went on in its ordinary rhythm.
Devi’s visits on the Annihilator were not uncommon but aroused the same interest every time. The Celestians observed the strange Kehrians, surprised by their splendour, the richness and reverence with which Devi Kali was treated. The Zetherionians appreciated simple, sometimes even primitive life, and all their items had to serve the more valid objectives than just looking pretty. They could not comprehend the aura of mystery and mysticism surrounding Devi Kali. They considered it to be a sign of conceit, haughtiness and waste of money that other rebel cells needed. Because of that, the Celestians despised the Kehrians, but they depended on them.
To the guards’ surprise, Kali halted, raising her fist. They gripped their richly decorated rifles, glittering in gold and surrounded her, taking a position comfortable to shooting. They glanced at each other.
“What happened, Devi?” asked one of them.
“Her,” she said and put her hand on the sword hilt, “check her.”
Next to the red ferry, a young Celestian girl sat on the ground. Her sticky brown hair, covered in dust, hung limply around her gloomy white face and her black sweatshirt appeared muddy and threadbare.
Devi Kali considered the Celestian girl’s different behaviour as a warning sign. She was not afraid for herself. She could crush the creature’s spine with one move, but she did not want to kill the girl. That was not an opponent with whom she would have an honourable duel.
Kali came closer. She stood five steps away from the Celestian girl, tightening her fingers on the sword-hilt. The immobile girl did not seem to notice a tall person looking right at her.
“The procedures forbid staying in the closed area,” informed the guard in a muffled voice, “leave this place.” He did not receive any answer.
“State yours and your Commander’s name,” ordered Devi Kali. After a prolonged silence, she tilted her head and said, “We can’t identify you. Go to the Registry Office and explain it. Leave the closed area.”
She looked in the glazed eyes of the Celestian girl. Then she understood her behaviour.
Living over a century now, the Kehrian woman had seen thousands of gazes like that and knew what they meant. So many times, leaving the battlefield, she’d faced the petrified, awe-struck eyes of the witnesses who’d seen bloodshed, sliced-open bodies and clouds of fire raging over the sky. None of them had been prepared for what the war gave them. Insecurity and constant fear slowly drove them insane, and every day brought them shocks with the loss of their loved ones, old friends or respected commanders. Death loomed over them all the time, waiting for that one moment of their distraction.
“Go to the Registry Office. They will help you,” she ordered.
“Nothing can help me!” shouted the girl, jumping to her feet.
Devi stepped ahead and gripped the Celestian girl’s wrists. Despite her strength, she held them delicately so as to not break the stranger’s bones. After several attempts to wrest out of her grasp, the Celestian girl froze, trembling and tightening her lips.
“He killed him,” she gasped out through her stifled throat.
“Who?” asked Devi. “Remember, you have to report all incidents.”
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“My father,” the stranger said in a voice so listless like they were her last words, “he killed my father.”
“Who?” repeated Devi.
The girl closed her eyes and shook her head. For her safety, Devi tightened her grip. Sobbing and sniffing, the Celestian girl slowly inhaled and gazed in the red lenses of Devi’s helmet.
“Seth.”
“If he was someone significant for the rebellion, you can’t leave it at that.” Devi Kali shook her, forcing her to maintain eye contact. “Do you know the procedures?”
“I will kill him,” she whispered.
“Do you know the procedures?” Devi her voice. “We can’t do anything without this.”
The Celestian girl frowned and clenched her teeth, almost crumbling them. She breathed faster, making sounds similar to growling. Devi felt how the creature’s limbs stiffened as if she were bracing to attack.
“He has no right to live!” the girl roared, boring her empty eyes in Devi’s lenses. “I’ll find and kill him for what he has done to my father, and you won’t stop me, you hear me?” She jumped back, but Devi did not let her go. “You won’t stop me!”
The Kehrian woman lowered her eyes. She had no chance to come to an understanding with the stunned girl, and she had no time to solve the problems of orphans she accidentally met. She followed what the procedures instructed. All she could do was feel sorry for the aggrieved creature and go away.
She bent and whispered into the Celestian girl’s ear, “Do it. I’ve done it so many times. Maybe revenge won’t fix anything and won’t make you feel better, but someone has to administer justice.”
Devi released her, leaving red marks over her wrists. Devi turned around and marched towards the ferry, quickly forgetting about the one girl in so many similar incidents.
Fading light fell on Antares who was walking around the room holding a LiqBoard. Twenty hours had passed since Devi had handed down a sentence on him, and his people should have known about it by now. He had written the speech earlier and read through it several times, trying to memorise at least parts of it, but every word escaped his mind, leaving only void, through which sneaked intrusive visions of the battle drawing near.
Antares sat on a hard bed and hid the device under a grey sheet. He rested his head against the wall and sighed harshly. He felt the sticky drops of sweat under his fingers and heard the rapid, rhythmic pulse of his heart. He raised his eyes to the black flag with the logo of three circles hanging near the door. The material was dusty, jagged at the edges and quite frayed, but Antares did not care about aesthetics only about history, the meaning of the symbol and the ideology related to it. His gaze dropped, and he looked down to the floor. He did not feel worthy of admiring this banner.
His old jacket lay under the mattress held by belts. He yanked it out and wore it. Dressed in leathery material, he could smell the scent of sand and musty cave again. It signified everything that reminded him about life from before the present occupation. Millenia of tradition slowly fell into oblivion, but he’d made it his purpose of life not to let the Union lay its hand on his world. He saw no other future for himself other than four hundred thousand Zetherioninans together reclaiming independence and returning to the planet that always belonged to them. With every passing year, he gradually collapsed under his burden of being the leader and defender of the Celestians who’d entrusted their lives to him. Now he had to send several hundreds of them under the Union’s knife to redress his mistake.
He spotted the gun, slipping out of the pocket. He caught the weapon as it floated in space and wanted to put it in its place, but he hesitated. He turned it around in his fingers, examining it from every angle. Numerous scuffs and stains of rust marked the matt barrel. Its stock was wrapped in a ragged, discoloured leather belt. Grains of sand, the same that covered the wastelands of Zetherion, stuck in gaps between the gun parts.
I forgot to load it anyway.
He jumped to his feet. He hid the weapon in his pocket. He crossed his trembling hands, clutching his fingers on his arms and hearing the rapid heartbeat and buzz inside his head.
No! he berated himself, too many of them rest their high hopes on me.
Panting and gazing at the floor, Antares stood still until the dizziness faded. He hung the antique shotgun over his shoulder. After four even steps, he halted before the door. Using all his strength, he raised his hand to get it closer to the control panel. One simple movement seemed to be unattainable to him, requiring so much energy that no creature in the universe would use for such an act.
The Celestian sniffed and contorted his lips. He hit the button. Soft scraping of the sliding door froze the blood in his veins. Cold, white light stormed into the room. He squinted and inhaled the dry air. He extended his foot from behind the doorway and stepped out.
Too many.
He straightened up, assumed a stern expression and marched on.