Hyperlane travel had a strange way of making one feel weightless, Marcus thought, as he sat there watching the whirling tunnel of distorted star light zoom by them from the window. His foot tapped restlessly on the floor while the stratoship cut through space at an unimaginable speed.

  Claric sat across from him in silence, his nose buried in his datapad, eyes flickering across whatever project held his attention. Likely some sort of astrophysics that Marcus couldn’t understand, but his presence would be needed at the next meeting of the government. He’s not the worst company, really, Marcus brooded. He had always preferred the presence of intellectuals over fawning idiots, and when one became wealthy, one always came into contact with fawning idiots. He initially thought it was women who would be coming to him in flocks after he had attained his riches at such a young age (and they certainly did), but in reality, most of his hanger-ons had been men. Bros and dense jock-types that he knew from school or who had seen him on Instagram, trying to always invite him out or talk to him out of the blue in pathetic attempts to gain his favour like some peasants to a king. Perhaps they thought just being around me would get them pussy, too. He smirked.

  Either way, Claric was like a version of Marcus that might have went to university to study physics. A brainier, more upright version of himself with his head screwed on right. Not a fuck up who was kicked out from his home and wasted his youth whoring and drinking…

  But the clone did bring Marcus a good piece of information a few days ago. It was about a week into their hyperlane travel when Claric told him that they had managed to decipher the star elven language. The miner they had captured did not have much to say apart from crude insults and how his people would kill them all for their impudence. Even under torture. But Claric assured them he would be broken down one way or another, then his secrets, whatever they may be, would spill.

  Either way, there were more pressing matters. He could have sped up his journey to Neptura in the GCI if he wished, but Marcus chose to keep out of it for the time being. He feared what might be said at the next meeting, that he might be held responsible for their failure to claim the Eryndal system… It set him on edge.

  A clone officer walked into the room and saluted Marcus. “Your excellency, First Minister Ironsides has requested an urgent audience with you. Alone.”

  Claric stole a curious glance at him for a moment, then Marcus said, “Very well,” and got up off his comfortable chair to go into the command room, where the miniature version of the GCI was on the stratoship.

  He tentatively made his way there, thinking this must be something to do with their recent mishap. Upon entering the command room, the door closed shut behind him like a gaping metal jaw.

  The holotable in the sombre commandroom was already lit, the metal walls dimly catching the radiant blue hue. The projection of First Minister Ironsides materialized into view by the holotable as though he’d been waiting in the room the whole time.

  Ironsides got straight to business. “Your excellency, I hope I am not disturbing you at this hour, but I am afraid the matter is crucial. Our diplomat, Fenrick, has received a transmission from the Eryndal Anomalies. Thanks to Claric’s team, we were able to decipher it. I think you will find it most interesting. They call themselves ‘The Aeluyn Covenant.’”

  The First Minister pressed something off-screen. The static buzzing sound of an unfiltered transmission crackled through the holotable, then a holographic projection of a tall, elegant star elf clad in a bundle of robes, with a mantle that rose just past his head, appeared before them. It glowered at him with those pupiless, celestial eyes, causing his hairs to stand on end.

  The star elf stood tall and proud, and spoke the static-filtered words, “To the leaders of the lost human dominion, I speak on behalf of Holy Hierarch Veldanur and the Aeluyn Covenant. We had hoped, in the wake of your arrival, that first contact between our species might be one of peace. Instead, we have been met with nothing but hostility. Your kind abducted one of our own in an unprovoked act of aggression, followed soon after by a full-scale attack on our mining operations and military units that has cost the lives of thousands. Is this to be diplomacy in a new age of stellar exploration?”

  The star elf’s gaze hardened as though he accused Marcus himself.

  “If this is the course you intend to set, then know this: The Holy Hierarch shall never bow to threats or blind aggression. We are not so easily cowed. If you choose to keep walking down this path you pave, it will only lead to your own ruin.”

  The transmission cut out, the hologram fizzling off into nothing, leaving Marcus alone with the hologram of Ironsides once more.

  “Huh.” Marcus exhaled slowly, his heart beating a little quicker. Dammit, Valen! Could the War Minister have been so careless about the abduction? That star elf just called them all out, and now Marcus himself could be compromised in acting against the policy of his own government.

  He wiped his brow. “Seem a little dramatic, don’t they?”

  Ironsides chuckled dryly, then shrugged. “Perhaps. Then again, isn’t all politics theatre, your excellency? The trick is to be the one writing the script.” His hologram flickered ever so slightly.

  Marcus hummed, leaning against the table with his shoulders arched behind him. He appreciated the sentiment, but unfortunately this wasn’t some televised election debate or boardroom spat between rival corporations. This was large scale conflict with a foreign, space faring state. The Aeluyn Covenant had painted Neptura as villains. And worst of all… they weren’t wrong… Marcus picked at his thumb. Had he been accused of something fabricated, it could have been torn apart. Instead, they had hit Marcus with cold, hard facts.

  “Have we learned anything else about them?” Marcus said. “Besides their flair for self-righteousness, that is?”

  Ironsides held his hands behind his back, chin up, with all the flair of a soldier. “Not so much more than what we knew before, though the transmission itself speaks a lot. Their leader is a ‘Holy Hierarch,’ and they call themselves a Covenant. This suggests a theocratic form of government. That can give us great insight into how to go about dealing with them going forward.”

  “How so?” Marcus said. “They seemed wary before, they’re even more wary now. As far as I’m concerned, we need more ships.”

  The First Minister nodded. “Well, that never hurts. I meant more that diplomacy with them could be tricky. A theocracy may not negotiate the same as a secular state might. Should they view our actions to be heretical or profane in any way, logic may not be enough to bring them to the table. We could be dealing with zealots, here.”

  “Great.” Marcus rolled his eyes, hunching over the table. He threw his head into his hands and sighed. “Because the last thing I need amidst this shitstorm is to be dealing with star-born crusaders who think the universe revolves around their little god.”

  Ironsides smiled, looking as though he was keeping down a laugh. “Do not trouble yourself too much over it, your excellency. Your ministers are here to take these burdens from your shoulders. Look at it this way. A religious state can be more predictable. If their faith holds absolute authority over their actions and policy, they may be more rigid in their decision making, failing to change under certain conditions lest it contradicts their faith. Rigid things tend to break when pressure is applied the right way.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Thank you, Ironsides,” Marcus said. “I’m not sure I’m in the right headspace to unpack your riddles right now, but you’ve made me feel a bit better all the same. We’ll speak more when I return to Neptura. Ironsides, do me a favour and keep this between us for now. I should like to reveal this to the rest of the government at our first meeting.”

  The holographic clone bowed respectfully. “Of course, your excellency. I await your return.” His image fizzled out, leaving the room shrouded in a blanket of shade once more, with only silence to accompany his thoughts. Marcus collapsed into his seat, rubbing his temple. His mind ran through every possible move, every advantage and weak spot. The next few weeks would be difficult, and now he knew that Valen would have to take the blame for all of this, as he himself predicted, though he never wished for it to have come to that. I’ve never liked fucking anyone over, yet that is what I had to do to survive in my world…

  After some eighty days of travelling, the stratoship arrived on Neptura. Marcus decided not to look into the GCI at all. Partly due to stress, and also because he didn’t want to be surprised by any more bad news of unemployment figures or other economic problems whilst he had to decide how to handle Valen. It was becoming a bit much, and he found himself resorting to getting drunk on these strange, glowing purple alcoholic beverages called Lyran wine to calm his mind.

  Back on Neptura, Marcus awaited Valen on an open air terrace near his apartments. The cool, salt-tinged breeze swept through the air, rustling the black and white banners bearing the Nepturan eagle that lined the high steel railings. Below, the vast sapphire ocean stretched endlessly, its surface glinting with the golden twinkles of Neptura’s setting sun. The command complex loomed high above the city skyline, its towering spires casting long shadows over the glimmering water. An oddly serene place for a conversation that would undoubtedly turn sour.

  Marcus stood at the edge, his gloved hands resting against a cold metal railing. The distant waves rolled back and forth, breaking against the rocky cliffs below in a frothy display. Behind him, footsteps tapped on the polished floor.

  The War Minister strode in with his usual soldier-like demeanor, clad in a white uniform decorated with shining medals. A silver eagle insignia glinted sharp on his breast. His stern, weathered features looked to be carved of stone, and his pale blue eyes cold. He stopped a few paces from the Grand Archon, waiting.

  “You wanted to see me, excellency?” Valen said.

  Marcus didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between them as he listened to the distant crashing of waves. Then he let out a sharp breath through his nose, turning slowly. “Yes, I wanted to tell you something before the government meets.”

  Valen raised a brow. “Oh? Of course, excellency. What is it?”

  He leaned back against the railing, folding his arms. “Your operation was compromised, Valen. The star elves know of our abduction, and we could all be exposed now. How the fuck did they find out?”

  Valen’s face twitched, just barely, though Marcus could see the irritation. “I took every precaution. The commando team was handpicked, and the operation, as far as I am aware, was clean. I… I don’t know how they uncovered it. Perhaps it is just an accusation.”

  “Well, they seemed pretty fucking sure on the transmission I heard on my way here.” Marcus looked away, irritated, scared. “Now their entire covenant knows we abducted one of their people. They paint us as aggressors, and now I will have to explain myself to the government when Ironsides tells them of all this.”

  “A transmission?” Valen’s jaw tightened. “What of it? We needed to learn about them. You and Claric said it yourselves. And we held them off. I regret nothing.” He folded his arms, pressing his lips.

  “I don’t give a shit about your regrets.” Marcus let out a humourless laugh. “I care that you were sloppy enough to let it compromise us. Now I have to clean this mess up.”

  The cold sea breeze picked up again, ruffling their coats, but both men remained still as statues. “Are you trying to pin the blame for all this on me, excellency? This was your idea!”

  Marcus straightened himself, trying to take a diplomatic tone as he got hot under his clothes. “You must understand this, Valen. When the council convenes, this cannot fall on me.”

  Valen blinked, his lips moved with some sort of uncertainty, but no words came out as though the realization was dawning on him.

  “You need to take the fall on this,” Marcus said bluntly. No need to mince words now. Just put him out of his misery.

  His face twisted into a snarl. “What!” he hissed. “You and Claric planned this, you came to me to do your dirty work. Blame him!”

  “No, Claric conceived this. You planned it and failed…” Marcus said calmly. And Claric is far more important to me than you… and far more loyal. “The blame must fall on you, and for the sake of unity in the council and diplomacy with this covenant going forward, me and Claric must have no knowledge of this. You acted on your own accord for your own reasons, and it went south.”

  Valen took a step forward, his boot clicking on the floor. “You came to me! Now you’re just going to throw me under the fucking shuttle while acting oblivious to save your own skin?”

  “You left me no choice,” Marcus said, still maintaining a calm demeanor. “This is for Neptura. We can give the star elves some kind of perceived justice, lest they decide to keep attacking us. For now, we should at least maintain peace as we rebuild our fleet. In any case, if you decide to kick up a fuss about it, and I deny it, the council will believe me, not you. And Claric will support me.”

  Valen’s nostrils flared, his fingers twitching. Almost like he wanted to reach for a side arm on his belt, or throttle Marcus there and then. “That fucking labcoat… It was a grave mistake to ever give them places on the high council. You both schemed and lied to me.”

  “No I didn’t,” Marcus lied as smooth as ever. “I adjusted the plan. This cannot result in the division of the council. Once we start pointing fingers at each other in that meeting, we will be weakened in the face of a foreign threat. If you take the fall, here and now, the issue is put to bed.”

  “And then what happens to me?” Valen growled. “I was amongst the youngest to graduate from the Nepturan Military Academy. I wrote my thesis at five years old for creator’s sake! I will not be left out on the rafters to rot!”

  Marcus sighed, shaking his head. “Is that what you fear? I have no intention of letting you out to rot, Valen. I know you are a talented soldier, and while we may have our disagreements, I do find your advice wise. You will be demoted, temporarily, and replaced on the council. But you will still have my ear as a special advisor in the shadows, and I will always come to you for advice—” another lie “—while all this blows over. Then, after a few years, you will be brought back with open arms, okay? I’m just trying to placate these bloody aliens. It’s nothing personal. Had we achieved a decisive victory, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But I must play with the hand I'm dealt.”

  Valen scoffed. “Special advisor… a few years… Those sound awfully vague to me, and vague things have a tendency for never materializing. You can’t seriously expect me to take this like some beaten dog.”

  The Grand Archon shrugged. “It’s either that or be removed entirely. Court martialled or something. Should that happen, you’ll lose your prestige, your men, your voice… You’ll be a relic. I don’t want that to happen, but if you force my hand…”

  The clone soldier glared at him, his eyes alight with pure hatred. “You don’t want that? Spare me, your excellency. You just don’t want to lose control.”

  After a pause, the silence broken by the breeze, Marcus smiled faintly. “Same thing.”

  “May I be dismissed, your excellency?” Valen said through gritted teeth.

  “You’ve never needed my dismissal in the past, it seems.”

  The clone scoffed. “No, indeed I haven’t. I’ll do my duty for Neptura. Because I’m a soldier and a patriot. Not for you.” He turned sharply and stormed toward the door, his broad shoulders tense. The door hissed shut behind him.

  Those words bordered on treason… Marcus thought as he turned back toward the sea, letting the salty winds glaze his skin. The ocean was calmer than the thoughts running through his head by a mile. But Valen would fall in line, for now.

  I have made an enemy today. A dangerous one.