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The ride back to Sol was a long three weeks.
They broke FTL once, when they reached committee space, and sent a message ahead to notify General Caecilius of their intentions, then they jumped back to FTL into the edge of the Sol system.
The mood aboard the Fury was tense during the journey. As far as Justinius could tell, they’re secret was secure, however it had been necessary to dismiss the morgue attendants and brig security from their duties for the duration of the voyage, and Marcus had reported that there was speculation amongst the crew as to the reason behind that decision.
Amongst the crew, speculation as to the identity of the men who had boarded them, and why the officers were keeping it quiet was rampant. On more than one occasion, Justinius entered a room only for the conversation within to abruptly die out, replaced by wary stares on the faces of the crew.
His men were a different matter. The soldiers of the Terran First did not gossip or speculate on the matter at all. They simply accepted that Justinius must have his own motives, and trusted him to work their common interest. Their faith and trust was a reassuring balm to Justinius in those weeks, as the weight of the secret, and its implications, weighed on his mind.
When they broke FTL in the outer reaches of Sol, they received a message from Caecilius. He was awaiting them on Luna. They made best speed and before long, they hung in orbit over the cratered surface of Terra’s moon. Decades past, humanity had undertaken a massive project to terraform the moon, and their progress was apparent on the planetoid’s exposed surface. Small brush-like forests splotched the surface, where hardy plants struggled to gain a foothold in the poor soil and man-made atmosphere. To supplement the poor soil of the barren rock, Terra had drawn in massive amounts of material from the Sol system’s asteroid belt, and Terra itself. Lastly, the Terran government had decreed that all the dead from their world's vast population would become part of the foundations of this new world. Every day, nearly a million bodies were transported to Luna and interred, to supplement the soil and grow a new world for humanity.
My father is down there somewhere, Justinius thought, gnarled roots through empty eye sockets.
The poetic propaganda surrounding the project had always left Justinius apathetic. He saw only pragmatism in the undertaking. Terra was a crowded place, and as the surface metropolises spread outwards, there was less and less space for the dead. At the same time, efforts to establish military installations on Luna had faced trouble dealing with the harsh conditions. The government had appeared to have solved two problems with one stone.
Justinius knew that the project would take centuries to complete, and that even then, it was at best a stop-gap for the issues humanity faced. He had despised the messaging the government had broadcast. Your loved ones will watch over you, they had said, look up at the moon and see they are still with us.
Ship them off, Justinius had thought*, out of sight, out of mind*. Crushed under the heel of progress.
General Caecilius docked in the aft hangar and Justinius, Marcus and Halastar were there to meet him. The old man looked especially tired as he walked down the transport's rear ramp. At his side he brought a slim, intellectual-looking man Justinius had not met.
“Justinius,” The general began, “Good to see you again.” The old man nodded to both Marcus and Halastar. “This is Pothan.”
The man to the general’s side inclined his head.
The general continued, “He’s an intelligence analyst with the fleet. He’s got a reputation as a bit of a linguistics expert.”
Pothan blushed and lowered his chin abashedly. The gesture made his glasses slip down his nose, and he reflexively righted them.
Justinius nodded to the analyst, “Good to have you Pothan. General, let’s move to a place where we can talk freely.”
They whisked the General and his aide through the ship. Several crew members did double-takes as the entourage passed. Behind them, Justinius heard hushed whispers as the crew beheld the latest update to the unfolding drama.
They entered the brig, and Marcus left them, electing to guard the door to the room to ensure they were undisturbed. Justinius led the remaining men to the cell's entrance.
“Sir, I’ve had this section of the ship secured and swept, so I am finally able to inform you exactly what this is about”
Caecilius nodded his head in acquiescence.
Justinius continued, “We engaged in a mission to disrupt supply lines at Xeras Prime three weeks ago. During that mission, we encountered a non-standard void-ship and were boarded via teleport.”
Halastar handed the General a data wafer, and chimed in. “This is all the scan data and battlefield analysis from that encounter for your review. I’m reasonably confident this is not a vessel the committee has ever encountered. Or at least it’s not in the catalogs they’ve provided us.”
Caecilius took the wafer, and tucked it into his uniform. “I presume this is not the reason you’ve come all the way back to Sol.”
Justinius shook his head. “No Sir. Following the enemy boarding action the Terran First killed fourteen of the interlopers, and captured a prisoner.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Caecilius hesitated, looking at the opaque cell, locked before them. “Who’s the prisoner?”
“His name is Samir, Sir. As near as we can tell.”
“And what makes him so special?”
“We believe…” Justinius faltered slightly, “We believe he’s human, Sir.”
The general stared at Justinius, with a fierce intensity. “Is this a joke, Justinius?”
Justinius shook his head again. “I’m afraid not. In fact, all fifteen of the boarders were human. We’ve run genetic testing on all of them. Before you ask, it doesn’t bear the hallmark of cloning either. All the troops are genetically unrelated.”
“You’ve questioned this man?” The General queried, “What does he have to say about this?”
“We’ve managed to ascertain his name, and that he considers Terra his home, but little else.” Justinius turned to Pothan, “He referred to Terra as Earth. Does that mean anything to you?”
Pothan, started slightly as he was addressed. “It’s not an Alien name for Terra, I can tell you that much. At least not in any language I know.” The man fussed with his glasses as he contemplated, “It could be an extant language from long ago, something that used to be spoken on Terra but hasn’t for a long time.”
Halastar looked shocked at the suggestion, “Terran basic has been the standard language on Terra for over two centuries, Pothan.”
The analyst shrugged. “There’s one way to find out for sure.” He produced a small data-pad from his suitcase. “I’ve got this loaded with practically every language ever recorded. If he’s speaking one of them, it’ll register a hit.”
The General nodded, “Show us in Justinius. Halastar, I’m sorry but it’s a small cell.”
The shipmaster took his cue gracefully, and went and sat by the guard station.
Justinius used his biometrics to open the cell, and Samir sat up as they entered.
“Justinius.” The prisoner remarked. Noticing the other two men, he gestured at himself, “Samir”.
The poor man had spent the better part of three weeks by himself, and despite the fear he must have felt at these newcomers, his eagerness to see other people was clear.
Justinius gestured at Caecilius and Pothan, and introduced them both by name. He turned to Pothan, “Please begin Pothan.”
The analyst stepped forward, and spoke in a clear voice, holding his data-pad at waist height.
“Hello, my name is Pothan.” The man began, “I’m here to help talk to you. Where are you from?”
Samir looked confused, and looked at Justinius for help. Justinius nodded to the man, and he spoke questioningly in his own language.
The data-pad beeped, and translated the words into a computerized, monotone, voice.
“What am I supposed to do?”
All the men in the chamber looked at Pothan now, and the analyst looked surprised. “It’s an old Terran dialect.” He revealed, “Last spoken on the Western Plains of Terra some three-hundred years ago.”
The data-pad translated this back into the ancient language, and Samir sat up straighter.
Justinius stepped forward.
“My name is Justinius,” He introduced, “And I’m the commander of this vessel. You’ve told me your name is Samir, correct?”
Samir listened and responded. “That’s correct. I am Samir. I’m a lochniak in the third company of the survivors battalion.”
Justinius looked at Pothan, “Lochniak?”
Pothan shrugged, “It must be a proper noun, a name or rank.”
Samir, listening to their translated conversation, chimed in. “It’s a rank, a low one.”
Justinius resumed, “The survivors battalion, tell me about it.”
The man looked uneasy, “It’s what they call us. We’re the descendants of the survivors of old Earth, from before its destruction.”
Justinius laughed, despite himself. Samir’s hurt expression stopped him.
“You’ve been told Terr-, you’ve been told Earth was destroyed?”
Samir nodded, “The committee destroyed it. When they took it from the Conclave, they burned it down to ensure the committee couldn’t use it against them.”
Sitting on the cell’s cot, General Caecilius looked like he was about to be sick. The political implications of this conversation were huge, and it was likely the General had already started to foresee the mess that would ensue.
Justinius smiled at Samir, “Well I can assure you Samir, Earth has certainly not been destroyed.”
Samir looked confused, torn between hope and wariness. Justinius saw mistrust in his eyes, as though the prisoner mistrusted the truth of his captor’s word.
“You needn’t take my word for it Samir. We’re in orbit above Luna - the moon - as we speak. After this meeting I’ll organize for you to visit the observation deck and you can see for yourself.”
The thought of leaving the cell seemed to lessen Samir’s distrust.
Justinius had a thought, “Samir, if Earth was destroyed, why are you not more surprised to see other humans? Surely our existence here should be a shock.”
Samir shook his head, “They told us what they did to our people, enslaved them and forced them to fight.”
Justinius shook his head. “I’m sorry Samir, but none of that is true. I don’t expect you to believe me, but please allow Marcus to show you Earth from orbit. It’s an experience every human should have at least once.”
Justinius had Marcus order the hallways cleared, and in isolation his executive officer took Samir to the port observation deck, to view the planet-rise above the horizon of Luna.
Pothan and Halastar, Justinius dismissed. Then he resumed his seat next to the general. For a long while after, Caecilius and Justinius sat silently in the cell, thinking the conversation over.
Caecilius broke the silence first.
“So they’ve abducted and indoctrinated them?”
Justinius nodded, “It definitely seems that way. I get the impression he truly believes the things he’s saying. There’s a hatred in his words that's hard to fake.”
The general sighed. “There is a broader question here we need to consider carefully before we tell anyone of this.”
Justinius raised an eyebrow.
Caecilius continued, “Remember your lessons about first contact Justinius. We’re taught that the committee intervened to prevent the enemy invading Terra. If our theory about Samir is correct, then the enemy had access for a prolonged period of time before the committee turned up.”
“I don’t see the relevance.”
“They didn’t come in guns blazing to save us, spur of the moment. They beat back the enemy, who had only just made their first public appearance on Terra.”
“You think there’s more than we’re being told?”
“I worry…” Caecilius broked off suddenly, then sighed again, “...I think the committee knew the enemy had access to Terra. I don’t think they saved us at all. I think they knew the enemy was abducting humans and training warriors. But that’s not the worst part.”
Justinius shifted uncomfortably. The cot protested under his weight.
“What is it General?”
“They lied to us,” the elderly man seethed, anger seeping into his tone, “and they never told us we’d be fighting humans. Justinius…what if we’re what they’re fighting over? They tell us we’re fighting against a tyrannical empire, but they don’t even tell us the truth about our own planet?”
The thought stopped Justinius cold.
“You’re not suggesting…”
The General nodded. “Both parties want Humanity to fight for them. The enemy tried it, but they lost control of Terra too early, and now the Committee has brought us into the fold to deny the Conclave any further access to our military strength.”
The warrior looked at the General. The old man had his head in his hands.
“What should we do?”
Without lifting his head, the general responded.
“I don’t know.”