Little Celah, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS
Triezal had not been sure where to begin his search. In the first place, he had little chance of finding traces of a Shade’s intrusion to their database, particularly one from the Epon. He wouldn’t be surprised if the organization had hidden secret backdoors into all of the Heirs’ systems. This eliminated the strategy of having their network security personnel scour the database for traces.
Of course, Triezal had them try anyway, though he did not expect any results. There was no loss in making the attempt, and perhaps she might have made an error.
Knowing Janottka, she might have left traces on purpose, so it was best to check. One could learn even from the information one’s enemy gave willingly.
It was said that Shades were natural manipulators- their ability to manage information and put it into effect far beyond that of a mortal being. As the rumors went, even the Osine feared their potential. Triezal lacked the connections to know the truth behind the rumors, but he did know the power of a Shade.
It was not that Janottka was built for manipulation- rather, she had been designed to write stories. Her influence on Tseludia was indicative of this. The war had been almost inevitable, but in Triezal’s opinion, it would not have broken out for years, at least. The wild card that was the Riverfiend was the perfect leverage, and yet… the development was not a natural one. The tensions between the races had always been there, after the last conflict, but nobody had been quite ready for another. In mere weeks, the slumbering beast of discontent had awoken,
They could have avoided the war, of course. Discontent among the population was one thing, but it could have stopped at the occasional riot and civilian casualty. While the two forces were a part of their racial community, they were not beholden to it. They could have come to a deal, and simply suffered through the
All this might have been possible if the foundation for trust existed. Unfortunately, that foundation had eroded far too long ago, and this old war had returned to plague the station’s people once again.
Triezal sighed as he thought back on it all.
“Senseless,” he muttered.
In Epon Celah, Janottka had fooled her targets because they had wished to be fooled. After all, her domain was entertainment. What she offered was entertainment at a level far beyond that which his own society could muster. All the joys and sorrows of an exciting, adventurous life, safely contained in a virtual domain.
Modern civilizations did not develop the virtual arts past a certain point, restricted by the rules imposed upon them by the higher species, or so he supposed. For all he knew, the Shade Rachel was merely the scout of a thriving civilization with incredibly advanced virtual technology. In all likelihood, deep in the Frontier, or perhaps in the untold number of galaxies beyond Telles, a multitude of such races existed. Perhaps even Telles itself was only a part of a far larger tapestry draping across the distant cosmos, not that it mattered.
While there was a great deal of difference between a true virtual landscape and mere internet chatter, those who sought discussion on the net were also seeking something to feel, something to engage with.
Something that Janottka had been all too happy to provide.
This had all been taught to Triezal in his youth back in the Janaste system. All magisters were taught of their homeworld’s past, and Shades were an integral part of this, the final remaining vestiges of that civilization their organization revered. While Janottka in particular had not been heavily discussed, the information had been available to those who needed it.
Perhaps due to their Leader’s background, the Heirs had a similar way of going about things to what Triezal had become used to from the Epon. It was a concept that could be summed up in two short phrases: One could never be too prepared, and unspent money was wasted money. These were words that Kadeki lived by, and they had greatly influenced the policies of his protege Deuvar.
Among other matters, this was the reason why the titan program was operated as it was. The program was split across different bases, each with no knowledge of the others aside from a general understanding that others existed. This was both to assist in keeping the base’s vital information a secret, and also make the machines far more difficult to destroy in one move.
With no better leads, he had decided to follow Deuvar’s instructions and check on its status, with the goal of ensuring that it had not been infiltrated by either of the station’s resident Shades. In addition, Triezal thought secretly, it had been awhile since he had spoken with Kalthen, and he felt that they could probably find the time for some drinks while he was at it.
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Deuvar had sent notice ahead, so the guards at the facility had allowed Triezal to enter without much fuss. As he stepped into the vast room, he was met with the colossal structure of the powerful machine. Even from a distance, the machine was one of the most impressive sights Triezal had ever beheld.
The bases all looked the same, but this was not enough to confront his instinctual awe. A cavernous hangar stood before Triezal, crowded with the machinery to construct and maintain the powerful weapon of war. Technicians worked to keep everything in perfect order, ensuring that the titan could be launched in mere minutes if the order arrived from above.
At the center of it all stood the titan itself.
Vast constructs of iron and bronze, as far as Triezal was aware, titans were still the pinnacle of military might for his people, at least for ground combat. Anything larger or more powerful would need to be a starship, otherwise the investment was not worth it. In theory, advanced naeratanh technology might be more destructive, but that was not something that could be used on a space station without inciting the ire of the Pantheon. In Tseludia, there was little that could compare to it, and perhaps only the Pantheonic Navy stood above.
The cost of constructing a single titan could feed the residents of an entire stack for a year, and the cost of doing so in secret was even higher. Only the funding they had received from their former patron had made their three titans possible.
Standing by the railing before him, Triezal jogged over as he saw the recognizable figure of Kalthen waiting for him.
“It’s been weeks!” said Kalthen, jubilantly, upon his approach. “It’s good to see you.”
He offered a hand outstretched, and Triezal happily clapped it and accepted the shake.
“You’re doing well, I take it?” Triezal asked, a smile on his face.
Kalthen truly did seem like he was doing well. Better than how he had been a few weeks back. Triezal knew that his friend had been dwelling on the deaths of those under his command, as well as his temporary demotion. It seemed that his current assignment was just what he had needed to finally recover from his slump. Triezal was truly happy to see it.
“They weren’t all happy to receive a new overseer, much less one as young as I am. It’s not been easy, but I feel energized handling even the minor manners. You know, as a kid, I always wished to pilot one of these things. This role is… close enough to that.”
The smalltalk continued as Kalthen gave Triezal a short tour around the base, helping him to familiarize himself with the building’s layout. He did not suspect that he would need to do anything with that information, but it could not hurt, he felt.
As the tour slowly wound down, Kalthen finally got to the point, likely catching on to Triezal’s general unease.
“So, why are you here? If this was just a social call, I imagine we would have met in a bar.”
Triezal hesitated, glancing around, before finally leaning in close to whisper into his friend’s ear.
“Deuvar and I are concerned that a Shade might have intruded into the program’s systems.”
Kalthen’s pupils dilated, and he took a step back, turning to Triezal as if to confirm.
“I thought the plan was to work with her?” he whispered, glancing around as if somebody might be listening in on their conversation.
Triezal sadly shook his head.
“There’s another, Little Brother. It seems that the representative we killed was not the lot of them. It’s a complex situation, but I’ll suffice to say that there is some solid evidence to support the theory.”
Kalthen’s brow twitched, and his expression that of a man who understood the issue at hand.
“What countermeasures were you wishing for?” he asked.
“I’ll need a full diagnostic to be run,” Triezal explained. “Check the systems and ensure that the firewalls are untouched, and check for any unusual access records or other traces.”
Though he had already done similar checks on the main system, the titan program’s network was isolated, and would need to be checked separately.
Kalthen nodded attentively, quickly fiddling with his glyph slate
“I’ll want to talk to the pilots as well, Little Brother.”
“I’ll call them over.”
Having said this, Kalthen walked off to the side, rapidly drawing symbols into the surface of his slate. He had matured in this short time, Triezal realized. Kalthen was not quite the reckless young man he had been. Though, he did get the feeling that part of the reason for his friend’s professionalism in this case was due to concern.
Kalthen knew well the implications left by a Celan Shade’s presence in the system.
While waiting, Triezal found his eyes roaming around the chamber, eventually drifting up to the titanic machine before him.
Every day, tens of the organization’s soldiers died in the fires of the war. While neither side had made a large offensive since the attack on the headquarters, the low-level soldiers had been suffering for this choice. It was unfortunate, but inevitable.
Triezal would do his best to help others, but in the end he needed to prioritize his own life as he always had.
It was possible for the war to end now, of course. They could go into talks with the Canvasians, and perhaps bring things to an end. At this point, however, a gradual unwinding was far more feasible than an immediate resolution. Unless…
Triezal’s eyes glanced up to the mighty form of the titan, and sighed.
Perhaps it was the only way. If he had been granted the authority… Triezal was not sure which decision he would have made.
The Pantheonic Navy: [A powerful individual is qualified to rule a nation, but to impose law, a military is necessary. Largely under the influence of the Church of Verain, the Pantheonic Navy is the sword-arm of the Council of Clerics, and altogether, is said to be the most powerful mortal military in Telles, simply due to its size. Every planet and station under Pantheonic rule is guarded by at least one warship posing enough firepower to annihilate it outright. Despite its great power, the Pantheonic Navy has never been a wartime force, as no mortal force has yet dared to covet that which belongs to the Pantheon.]