The Parallels

1 - Halazar

1 - Halazar

Mutya 10, 2493

The news of the explosion that caused the death of Plinn Corbol and his squad of twelve soldiers woke Halazar from an already restless sleep. According to the report she received, the commanding officer of Hydra Station, a tal of the Manderian militia, had gone down in a blaze of glory.

Halazar had served with him for only a few months, but she considered him a friend, even though he was her superior officer.

She threw away the bedsheets in a gesture of anger and frustration, but the mess of her room only added to her temper as her forty-five years of training forced her to leave her area clean and tidy. She gathered the blankets, made the bed, and took a quick hydrosonic shower.

Ten minutes later, she sat at the tactical console in operations—Ops—receiving a more detailed report from young Goa Norfit and thinking about what messages to send to the families of the victims.

Halazar glimpsed the curvy, grey-haired junior officer and couldn’t help comparing herself with the lower-ranked officer every time she saw her. She always coiffed her long hair in dainty braided styles, and her Manderian scales resembled alabaster. The cranial eyeridge above her red eyes highlighted her oval-shaped face. Goa represented everything Halazar had never been: in her standard dark-charcoal uniform—a straight-cut jacket with stand-up collar embroidered with gold buttons, tight blue trousers, grey metal toe cap hobnail boots, and her ripper g*n—she was stunning.

The three silver pins designating her military rank of centur shone bright on her collar.

Halazar shook her head to focus on the woman’s report.

‘When Tal Corbol’s vehicle exploded, he was on his way to the space-port to return here after the conclusion of his planet-bound mission. The first report from the surface mentions a quick inspection of the wreckage and doesn’t exclude any possibilities. According to this,’ Goa sneered, ‘anything might have happened, a mechanical malfunction, sabotage, or a full-blown terrorist attack. The list of suspects is long, but merely circumstantial, in my opinion.’ The younger woman handed her a tablet containing the whole report.

Halazar gazed around her. There weren’t a lot of personnel on duty during the night shift, and they both spoke openly to the late tal. However, respecting the chain of command from tal to pal, from pal to centur, from centur to tesser, and all the way down to decur was part of their job as soldiers. Goa should keep opinions to herself, at least in public.

‘Let’s move to Tal Corbol’s office, shall we?’ Halazar led the way to the CO’s room with Goa following her. Once behind closed doors, she stared at her friend’s chair with longing, then turned again towards the centur.

‘Goa, both Plinn and I agreed on certain ideas. Still, speaking like that in front of everyone is not safe. Before the Occupation, the Halden forbade concepts like individuals’ opinions. They imprisoned me for thinking.’

Goa shrugged. ‘I was born during the Five Years’ War, and the Halden was falling by then. I’m not afraid to speak my mind. And neither should you.’

That was not the point. Halazar wasn’t afraid either. That wasn’t a good time to speak her mind. She strode to the desk and took a seat, pointing at the chair across the table.

The junior officer sat down and crossed her legs.

Halazar told herself she shouldn’t forget that younger recruits had no idea what living in the times of the Halden meant.

‘I understand your position, but from now on, I’m asking you to think before you speak. Until someone else arrives to take Tal Corbol’s place, I have to assume command. It’s a responsibility I didn’t ask for but that comes with the job.’ Halazar leant forwards, resting her arms on the desk and crossing her hands. ‘Now, I applaud your honesty, but I want you to keep your personal opinions to yourself when you’re on duty. Unless we’re alone, you’re not supposed to express them. Your professional one will do.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Goa said, uncrossing her legs.

‘We’re alone now. No need to call me ma’am. I want to find out the truth about Plinn’s death. He was … my superior officer, but also—’

‘A friend,’ Goa said, cutting her off. ‘Yes, I miss him too. I served under him longer than you did. He was a kind person. With everyone, even the locals.’ The other woman shifted position again, this time placing her arms on the armrests.

Sadness washed over Halazar, and a bittersweet smile enlightened her face.

She should talk with Marin, the waitress at the Nanhat, and the lover of the late commanding officer. The news would devastate the woman.

Halazar took the tablet from Goa’s hands and read the list of suspects. Marin’s name showed up, of course, like all the people that Corbol had met in the last six months. Goa’s reaction at the report explained itself now.

‘Okay, this list isn’t useless. Let’s make the best of it. We start from here and remove the names that make no sense once we have a report with more details,’ she said.

‘Starting with your name?’

‘I suppose not. It will be the decision of whoever is in charge of the investigation to keep it there or remove it. For the time being, I’m the most suitable person to move on as I studied Crime Law and Deviance back in the day. Not a mandatory subject, but for a time I considered the military police as an option. And my professor was very thorough with his teaching.’ Halazar sighed. ‘Besides, I’m the highest-ranking officer present on the station at the moment.’

Goa nodded, then a chirp of the communication panel interrupted their conversation. A guard warned her that Tal Zamal Dortal from the militia HQ waited on comms to talk to her.

‘I’ll take it from here. Thank you,’ she said.

Goa stood and walked over to the door to leave, but Halazar stopped her. ‘Stay!’ She activated the screen on Plinn’s desk without waiting for the centur to retake her seat.

An auburn-haired woman who looked older than her appeared on the screen, staring at Halazar with inquisitive eyes.

‘This is Tal Dortal speaking. We’ve received the report about the loss of Tal Plinn Corbol. We’re not sending anyone to take his place for the time being. You will do so. You’re also in charge of the investigation, but someone is coming to help with that,’ the woman said.

Someone to help her?

‘Yes, ma’am. I’ll arrange everything. Who’s coming?’

Dortal hesitated. ‘Agent Salin Makbar. He’ll be there in five hours.’

With that news, the weight of the world dropped on her shoulders. Why were they sending an agent of the Draconian Order? What had the secret services got to do with the investigation into the death of a tal of the militia?

‘Understood. I’ll be waiting for him. I’m sure we can cooperate to find out the truth about this unfortunate event.’

Did she actually believe cooperation with the Draconians was possible?

‘Dortal out.’

‘What’s going on? Why are the Draconians getting involved?’ Goa blurted out.

Halazar had forgotten about her for a moment.

‘I don’t know, but you’d better keep your mouth shut while Makbar is here. Whatever the reason, he’ll observe everything.’

‘This doesn’t seem very different from what you said about the Halden.’ Goa crossed her arms. ‘Are they listening to us here now?’ Her eyes explored around.

‘That is a possibility. Now, let’s get back to business. We won’t find the truth by staying here arguing about the Draconian Order. Arrange an investigation team. I’ll see you all in meeting room one at 0700 hours,’ she said.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Goa replied, turning her back to her and leaving the office.

Plinn’s chair seemed bigger than ever now that she sat on it. It was only a sensation, but that didn’t change the dreadful response inside her chest.

***

‘So, based on what we have so far, what are our hypotheses?’ Halazar asked her investigation team. She sat uncomfortably in her chair, arms on the armrests, showing a calm she didn’t feel at all in her new commanding position.

Goa sat to her right. The other three members of the team sat across the oval, metallic table: Rhune Olpren, with the rank of tesser sat at her left. Milfo and Lurin, the two lower-ranking officers, took a seat respectively near Olpren and Goa.

They all wore the standard grey uniforms.

‘The Federal Coalition could have sabotaged Corbol’s transport,’ Lurin speculated, his clenched fists seemingly glued to the table.

Lurin, the youngest member of the team, ranked decur, glared around with his flaming-red eyes. His square jaw and furrowed brow gave him the appearance of a seasoned warrior, but he was far from being one. Still, they needed young and strong recruits to grow up and gain experience.

He was a good addition to the team and Halazar appreciated Goa’s choices.

‘Yes, this could be the first of many attacks from the Federal Coalition, but it seems insignificant if you look at the big picture. If the Coalition wanted to create chaos, they wouldn’t kill just one of our tals and a bunch of soldiers going about Tau. They would aim at something bigger, like the station itself. Our war machine won’t stop because of the loss of a single team of soldiers. That’s not nice to hear, nor to say, but it’s a fact.’ Halazar paused to gaze around her, hiding her pain behind a mask of professionalism. ‘What else?’

‘Taurian terrorists,’ Milfo said, the oldest of the decurs, a twenty-year-old man with an obsession with terrorism. His graduation thesis at the Warfare Institute dealt with its history in the Manderian Directorate.

‘That’s a possibility we can’t exclude, but we haven’t seen a Taurian terrorist attack since the time Tal Kosset was commander of the station. Why would they start again now? Tal Corbol didn’t change Tal Kosset’s politics towards the locals. These people have been living in peace for several years. The newest generation, like our new generations, was born after the end of the chaos that reigned after our invasion. Tau is a peaceful member of the Manderian Directorate. We guarantee peace,’ Halazar responded.

‘But they wanted to be independent,’ Milfo insisted.

‘I’m not saying we can exclude the terrorists from the investigation. I’m just saying it seems improbable that these people would start trouble out of the blue. Maybe the Coalition wants us to believe terrorists are back on track against us. I’m not excluding that possibility either. What else?’ Her eyes turned towards Olpren, a slender twenty-one-year-old male that Corbol had promoted to the rank of tesser just before leaving the station for the last time. They had been teasing him all along for the way he sported his new rank pipes with pride.

‘A system failure on his transport.’ He lowered his eyes from her to the tablet. The fact he had mentioned that option didn’t surprise Halazar. He had lost his mother the same way in an accident.

‘Sure, and in that case, we want to find out what piece malfunctioned and where it came from, who managed maintenance, and so on. We don’t have the luxury to lose good soldiers this way.’

‘What about the Righteous?’ Olpren’s opal eyes shifted back to Halazar’s face. The gentle grey scales covering his visage hardened at the mention of the illegal political movement.

Halazar forced herself to smile at the suggestion. The Rightful Movement—and its followers, called the Righteous—was a hot subject, mostly a taboo.

‘Come on, Olpren! Director Cressel disbanded the Rightful Movement soon after taking power and ordered the execution of all its known members. They’re a figment of your imagination,’ said Milfo, saving her from replying.

‘Milfo, the director disbanded the Rightful Movement indeed. That doesn’t mean there aren’t sympathisers. But what reasons would the Righteous have to kill Corbol? Besides, we still don’t know if it was an act of sabotage, but putting all these ideas on the table is a good start. They might be handy later on,’ Halazar intervened.

‘Or it could be something completely different we’re not yet aware of. Let’s not forget an agent of the Draconian Order is on his way here for an official mission. If they have another agent here, they didn’t want to blow his cover for a simple murder,’ Goa said, touching her chin with her left hand.

Halazar sighed, asking herself if putting Goa in charge of this investigation had been a good idea after all. The woman had a rebel nature, and putting her in direct contact with an agent of the Draconian Order might be a mistake. But she had a point there.

‘Okay, of course, there could be something the Draconians didn’t tell us. Still, let’s not waste time with conjectures. I want facts.’

‘What about a personal vendetta?’ Olpren leant on the table, hands crossed in front of him.

‘I’m not aware of any specific enemy Tal Corbol might have had, but we can’t exclude that possibility either.’ Halazar thought again about Marin, and then forced herself to focus on the meeting. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘Would his wife have had any reason to kill him?’ Goa said.

Halazar stiffened. ‘I’ll take care of his family and friends. We can’t exclude anyone, of course. Is there anything else?’ she replied, ignoring her mother’s voice telling her she was making a mistake.

No one answered.

‘Goa, you’re going to Tau with Milfo and Lurin. Take with you all the engineers and the personnel you need. Examine the wreckage and talk with the locals, the people who saw Corbol during his last mission, then send me a detailed report.

‘Olpren, you’ll stay here with me and make enquiries with the residents of the station and the personnel. I want to find out the truth. We owe it to Tal Corbol and his family. You’re dismissed.’

Everyone left, but Halazar stayed a little longer in the room, pondering about Marin’s secret. Something that could not be filed into an official report, not with a Draconian agent on his way there. Not until she talked to Marin. But first, she had to send messages to the families of the victims, including Corbol’s widow.

***

Mutya 11, 2493

‘Greetings, acting Tal Meviz.’ Agent Salin Makbar arrived in the middle of the night without being announced. The olive scales of his face exposed to the artificial lights of her office highlighted his cocky expression. Aside from his head, his body was clad in black. He also wore the usual black gloves of the Draconians’ uniform. Even his eyes and hair were black.

He examined the office as if he could scan beyond the average capacity of Manderian vision.

Only then did he take a seat across from her desk; again, without asking permission.

He arrived sooner than expected and behaves as if he owns this station already. Technically, he outranks me if he plays the security card.

‘Greetings to you, Agent Makbar. I hope your trip to Hydra was pleasant enough, despite the grim reasons that bring you here,’ she greeted him back, smiling.

Makbar would be like a korilis’s thorn during the investigation: he was there to spy, not to help. However, she kept hoping for his collaboration. Innocent Manderians had died, and it was their duty to find out why and to punish the people responsible for their deaths.

‘Not quite. I get space-sick when travelling at warp speed,’ Makbar confessed, grinning.

‘I am sorry. If there is anything I can do to make you feel better, just let me know.’

She didn’t believe a word of what Makbar had said but kept smiling nonetheless. An agent of the Draconian Order never told the truth; had he actually been space-sick, he would never have admitted it. Not with her.

Never trust a spy!

‘Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to get back to business. I read the first report about the explosion, and the body of evidence is insufficient at the moment. A squad of engineers, scientists, and technicians is recovering the wreckage and what remains of the corpses. I’m eager to do anything in my power to guarantee the punishment of the people involved in this tragedy, whether they are Coalition collaborators or just distracted workers who did not do their job. I believe cooperation would guarantee the success of our mission,’ she said.

The Agent never took his eyes off her while she spoke, as if he were evaluating her. In all probability, he had read a copy of her personal file and was now comparing the information found there with what he saw.

‘Cooperation. Of course! So you have already restricted the possibilities to treason or technical mistake,’ Makbar said matter-of-factly.

She leant forwards. ‘Well, no. We’re also considering a terrorist attack. And there’s the possibility of a personal vendetta, but I’m not aware of any enemies Tal Corbol could have had. I’m not excluding any possibilities until I have something solid in my hands. If you would like to share whatever data you might have so far, I would appreciate it,’ she added while Makbar kept studying her.

‘Oh, I’m prepared to share all the data I have with you, acting Tal Meviz.’ The agent paused and leaned forwards, placing his elbows on the desk. ‘And I expect you to do the same.’

She observed his black gloves, betting with herself his moves were intended to make her feel uncomfortable. Some people said spies wore gloves to not leave fingerprints anywhere, others said the agents did not want to touch anyone without protecting their scales. Halazar suspected that most of them would be supporters of the Rightful Movement if the director hadn’t disbanded it.

‘By all means. Unless it’s classified data, I will share everything I have with you,’ she said while the agent leant back on his chair, his gloved hands on the armrests.

‘I am not sure that would be enough, acting Tal.’

Halazar didn’t like the way he stressed the word acting. His words implied a hidden threat. She had hoped to work with him, but it was unlikely she’ll get any cooperation from the Draconians.

‘If you’re asking me to spy on the militia for you, I’m afraid that isn’t possible. If a file is classified and you don’t have clearance to access it, then there’s a reason for that. Same as there’re reasons I don’t have clearance to access certain files of yours. It’s called the chain of command.’ Halazar wanted to make a point of the reasons behind her behaviour. ‘All I want is to arrest the culprits of this m******e and prevent them from causing further damage to our people.’ She handed the data strip with the reports to the agent.

‘Oh, but we will stop them and you might take all the credit for it … Or not. It all depends on you, acting Tal Meviz.’ Makbar took the data strip from her.

‘I do not care about getting credit, Agent. I want to save Manderian lives,’ she blurted back.

‘That is very thoughtful of you, but you must understand there are lives that are … expendable.’

Halazar couldn’t believe her ears. Had he come to Hydra to tell her the obvious?

She shook her head. Justice was all that mattered to her. She had fought for it all her life and didn’t intend to stop now. ‘So, you would let other Manderians die because I won’t spy for you?’

‘Halazar,’ he said in an uncharacteristic way to address a stranger, ‘let’s face it. We are effective with our methods, which is why you’re asking for our help. I’ll give it gladly, in exchange for simple information. It is not a big deal, Tal Meviz.’

Was he trying to bribe her by offering her a promotion?

‘It sounds good, doesn’t it? You can’t stay acting tal forever. A promotion—’ Makbar left the sentence unfinished.

No way she would accept that.

‘I do not need a promotion. I’ll have one when and if I deserve it,’ she said, feeling outraged by the thought someone might believe such an offer could tempt her.

Makbar stood. ‘It is commendable how much you believe in the system, although you know very well why you have been denied a promotion until a certain family fell in disgrace. Have a good day, acting Tal Meviz!’ The agent left the office, letting her taste the bitter flavour of her own bile.

She reminded herself that the Directorate was not the Halden. Things had changed. Still, she had no doubts now: Agent Makbar had read her file and about her ordeals with the rich Partaks.