The Forsaken Empire (The Endervar War Book 2) (53 page)

But the peace she saw was almost a lie. The rest of the Alliance was still in ruin, and its scars might never heal. The Endervar fleets might have retreated into the abyss, but Arendi had seen the onslaught firsthand. Colonies and home worlds had been utterly destroyed. Their populations had been annihilated and left to burn. To this day, the news reported freshly uncovered victims, adding them to the final death toll.

For the Alliance, it’s simple, she said. There will be no mercy.

She walked back to the silver fabric in the grass. She knelt down over the combat jacket, thinking of her duties. To be a Sentinel meant many things.

I’m supposed to protect and to serve, she added. To carry out justice.

Arendi stared at her two hands. Over her long career, she had taken down many criminals, including petty thugs, hired assassins, and even vile murderers. She had done so without question, in her duty to protect the Alliance. According to her superiors, this time was no different.

Still, I can’t. I can’t turn her over. Not after all I know.

Arendi shook her head. Rather than clench her hand, she stretched out her fingers, too tired to do anything more.

Julian understood why. He didn’t pretend to understand everything. He had been spared the carnage and the pain that now lay deep in the experience of the Alliance. But he knew enough.

Farcia is the last of her kind. She has a child, he said. Those are legitimate reasons.

Yes, Arendi said. But it’s more than that.

Her people are gone because of this war. Extinct. Hasn’t she lost enough?

Arendi had said those very same words, days ago, during a confidential meeting with Alliance leaders, who had summoned her, demanding that she do as a Sentinel should and obey them.

I told them everything. That her people simply wanted to survive. That they had tried to find a way.

But despite her pleas, the Alliance Supreme Council remained unconvinced. Their judgment allowed for no leniency or compromise, she explained.

I don’t blame them, Arendi said. Even I don’t know the answers.

Maybe no one did. For eons, the Great War had raged on, with one side struggling against the other, but with true peace always out of sight.

Now it was over. The enemy had been almost completely destroyed.

They want Farcia now. Immediately, don’t they? Julian said.

Yes, she replied. They believe it has to be done.

It left her with little room to consider much else. Her duties and their rigid beliefs had collided with the reality that maybe the war wasn’t quite over. That for some closure would only come when Farcia was dead. The Alliance had made it clear that as a Sentinel, she had no other choice but to follow its commands. But after much thought, Arendi had decided to believe in something else. She touched the sleeves of her combat jacket, thinking of her recent decision.

Arendi put it succinctly: So I resigned.

She shrugged it off, even as Julian stood there, shocked.

What? he asked.

The Supreme Council had reacted in the same way. Her decision had taken them all by surprise.

It doesn’t matter, she explained. I’ve violated too many regulations already. I might as well move on.

But still, Julian said, you don’t have to resign. If anything, the Alliance should be thanking you. You’re a hero.

He thought it was obvious. The galaxy was at peace because of her. Time and time again, Arendi had fought, trying to stop the wars and save lives.

Maybe some people think that, Arendi said. But others wonder whether I’ve committed treason.

It was all valid. Technically, the so-called Savior had gone rogue. The mixed opinions and controversy although secret from the public for now would no doubt persist. Even now, the council continued debate over what to do and what the ramifications of her decision were.

It’s OK. The choice is mine, she said. Besides, I’m still working with the Alliance to find a solution.

To try to reassure the council, she had told them that Farcia was securely imprisoned in a location that almost no one knew. It was a heavily guarded place, and perhaps one the woman might very well never leave. It was Arendi’s way of carrying out justice without any more death.

Maybe one day Farcia will face their judgment, Arendi said, but right now, I just want to help her.

It was a sentiment very few could probably understand. The white-haired woman was the enemy, after all. Most would rather have scoffed and demonized Farcia for all eternity. But Arendi didn’t see it that way.

Feeling the air, the android touched her human hair and face. It might have looked real, but it was also cold and sometimes stiff. The facsimile, while carefully constructed, would never be ideal.

Arendi then thought to her own history. To the very beginning. It was the tale of another woman. A lonely woman who had also once struggled to exist.

It might sound strange, Arendi said, but Farcia reminds me of myself.

She closed her eyes, recalling it. The pain and the agony. That sense that she didn’t belong. It was familiar. Too familiar. Like a perfect match.

That was me once. A long time ago. I was desperate and afraid.

The Arendi from that era had been alone and lost. She had felt completely out of place, always in doubt. At times, she wasn’t even sure whether to continue or just give up.

But then one day I met someone. Someone who changed everything. Someone who made things better.

Arendi would always remember that person. She stared at Julian, thankful. The pilot smiled back, feeling the same way.

I hope Farcia can find that, Julian said.

Yes. I think she already has.

It was the promise on her mind that maybe no one had to be left behind.

Not everyone might agree, however. The Alliance thinks I’m naïve. Maybe I am, she said.

No. I don’t believe that.

To try to cheer her up, Julian reached into his jacket. He fumbled around, patting the fabric, and finally found what he was looking for. From the lower pocket, the pack of cigarettes came out. Arendi noticed the old gesture, and came closer and closer to him. Eventually, she was only inches away, as Julian unsealed the pack.

I have to say, he continued. I think the Alliance made a mistake. Without you, the Sentinels won’t be quite the same.

He pulled a cigarette out and handed it to her. The blunt sat between his two fingers, resting there, for her. For a moment, Arendi was tempted to take it as she had always done before.

But no. Not this time. She came to him once more, thinking of her true desire.

Actually, to be honest, I’d like to try something new.

Arendi took the cigarette and placed it back in the pack before throwing it to the ground. Then she bent in close. To Julian’s surprise, she put her arms around his neck.

Face-to-face with him, Arendi blushed, thinking of all the possibilities.

Do me a favor, Arendi said. Kiss me.

He did.

Epilogue

The child watched, curious. He had seen them before.

One was a pilot; the other was the Savior. Over the years, the pair had visited their home many times. The two had even played with him, bringing toys and candy.

But now the child was old enough truly to notice them and then to ask questions. He was still quite shy, so he didn’t say much at first. The toddler stared as the father now remembering more week by week kindly walked the two visitors out. They bid their farewell, and the child had to ask, Who are they, exactly?

The mother was nearby and replied affectionately.

They’re old friends, she explained. They helped me a long time ago.

She then took the child up in her arms and cradled him in her lap. They even helped you. Before you were born.

The child knew what that meant and hugged his mother’s belly. He was still quite small and clung like a baby to her body.

Will they visit again? he asked.

Yes. Of course.

Good. I’d like to make more friends.

He turned to the rest of their home. It was fairly simple and secluded. Enough for two parents to raise their growing little child. No one else was here, except for the other man the blond one.

I wish I knew more people. I only have Magnus. Except, for you and father, he’s my only friend, the toddler said.

From his mother’s lap, the child glanced toward the corner of the room. It was there that his friend stood, crossing his arms, silent but smiling. The blond-haired man wasn’t quite like his parents.

He doesn’t talk much, the child observed. He’s shyer than me. I can’t feel anything from him.

That’s fine. He’s here to help us. He takes care of us.

Although the child nodded happily at that, he was becoming old enough to wonder innocently. He puffed up his cheeks and looked around at their home, thinking beyond it.

Why do we live here? Alone? he asked. The child let his eyes wander over the ceiling as his feet dangled over his mother’s knees.

I’ve heard of cities. Other planets. Starships. So many people.

He sat wide-eyed, utterly amazed by the thought. He was starting even to dream it. His mother stared back, however, suddenly tense.

It’s complicated I’m afraid

Complicated. It was a word the child was hearing more and more now. With each passing day, he was raising more innocent but sensitive questions.

Where are we exactly?

Are there others like us?

Will we ever see them?

Do we have to stay here forever?

Unfortunately, the mother struggled to offer the complete answers.

It was a sentiment that the child was becoming aware of. The emotions. The thoughts of others. Although he was still very young, his mind was growing and starting to mature. He could feel things now. From his mother especially.

Gradually, he had come to feel the sadness. An apology entered the child’s thoughts. Although the mother had many things to say, for now she was still reluctant.

But don’t worry, she added. Maybe one day we can visit the stars.

Really? he asked, excited.

Yes. That’s why Arendi was here. We’ll see what happens.

The child felt better after that. The mother patted him on the face and pinched his cheeks. He felt happy at the touch, but he was still very curious.

The child then peered at the desk where they sat. He stood up from her lap and took a peek. This was his mother’s work. His father had told him something about it. For weeks maybe many months now she had been busy compiling things. Apparently, she was writing something. Stories, in fact. Stories from a long time ago.

The child pointed and asked: Why don’t you ever tell me about the past? Father says that your stories are important. That they need to be told. Can you not tell me?

The child remained insistent. His questions came as he yearned for more. There was a whole world that he was craving to feel and understand. The mother realized it, too.

Yes, he’s right, she answered. I’m just afraid that these stories may frighten you. They can be difficult sometimes very sad.

He could feel it from his mother and then from his own memories. Sights, sounds, and images off in the distant. Sometimes dark. Sometimes confusing. Sometimes dire.

I know. I can already start to see things

The child faced the darkness, holding on to his mother’s waist. He almost grew somber as his mind sensed the tragic past.

But I’m not afraid. Please tell me, the child said. I’m strong.

He forced himself to be brave and raised his head high. His mother was here; there was no reason to back away.

Farcia was smitten and embraced the child. Undeniably, he was innocent and naïve.

So be it, she thought.

This is my story, she began. This is about how you and I came to be.

She then opened her mind and started to tell it. No, she couldn’t offer him the whole painful truth. Not yet. But she would make sure that he understood what was important.

It’s a sad story. It may be hard to listen to, hard to accept the things I’ve done, Farcia warned. But don’t worry. It has a happy ending. There’s friendship in it. Unlikely love, too. But most of all, hope.