Arc 1: Conniption

“This is Taipys,” the voice rang out. Each syllable was stressed with a sharp accent. “It is eighteen-hundred tonight. Five days have passed since the worst terrorist attack the world over, right here in the Federation’s capital. Death counts have yet to be finalized as we wait for the government to identify all those who perished in the attack, but current estimates put the total well over one million people. As of four hours after the attack was over, the Solaeren Revolutionary Guard claimed responsibility. This was later confirmed by the government and us here at FNN.

“The attack was a collection of over two hundred individual bombings involving a pair of plastic explosives and an airborne, weaponized version of Anthrax, targeting what many of us here in Aelmys considered to always be a safe place of refuge in the event of disaster: the metro system. After an hour of debate, AEGIS Archadmiral Walther Emerson gave the order to send in AEGIS Emergency Medical and Emergency Service responders, only to be taken out by a second wave of significantly stronger bombs hidden within the closed water systems of the—”

I promptly grabbed the remote lying next to my seat and muted the television, turning my attention away from the horrors earlier in the week.

The room was quiet, modern, sterile. Modern furniture, geometric wall art, marbled flooring, and of course, wall mounted flat screens. The palette of the room was a typical mix of obsidian, gray, and a mix of silver and white accents. There were no windows. The lighting was instead provided by circular light fixtures made flush with the ceiling.

I myself sat in a rather square, blocky chair. The solid black was only disrupted by a few metal rods that made up the sparse frame.

The walls were the only area of interest. That of which being three-dimensional, low poly panels made up of silver triangles.

The modern doors on the wall perpendicular to my right opened, allowing in a man donning an unassuming suit. Just past him, armed Sentry Agents stood at attention, wearing heavy armor instead of their usual, light armor. That has changed recently, though, for obvious reasons.

“The Sentinel is ready to see you, Praetorian,” Taliya’s Chief of Staff said.

I myself got up with haste, dusting off my service uniform. While similar in rank to Admirals, a Praetorian had a far more utilitarian suit. The gaudy cape they all wore was not offered to us, and our carapaces weren’t designed like engraved dueling pistols. They were converted into tactical suits with pockets for ammunition and tools, all hidden underneath matte black kevlar and carbon plating.

My hips holstered two PDWs and a pistol for good measure. We were the only members of the Federation allowed to carry weapons on our person outside of emergency situations aside from Sentry Agents inside the building.

“Thank you, Asher,” I responded. “Lead the way.”

I nodded his head before I followed him out of the double doors. We walked through a short corridor lined with geometric, metal tessellations. The door directly ahead of us did not look all this dissimilar to the one we had just passed through, though the metal blast door that accompanied it had been lowered to permit our transit.

Two pairs of Sentries manned the flanks of the doors, armed with carbines and helmets. They stood at attention, their gazes as unmoving as their posture stiff. In Caskya, the royal guards had a more ceremonial attire, but the ever constant objective of protection was consistent between the two juxtaposed groups.

Asher grabbed both of the handles on the doors—vertical, metallic cylinders—and pushed them open synchronously like I had seen him do countless times before, opening us up into the Office of the Sentinel. We in the military colloquially called it the Hawk’s nest.

It was a long, rectangular room with the doors opening from the center of the longest side. Directly in front of us lied a square seating arrangement. In line with us where two pearl white couches—the closest one facing away from us, the farthest one facing towards us—while to the right rested two similarly colored chairs, and to the left rested just one. Both sides of the couches had end tables with lamps atop them. Within the seating arrangement was a contemporary coffee table.

I needn’t look after seeing it so many times, but the right side held more intimate meetings with a long, chocolate table underneath a modern chandelier. Six white chairs surrounded it. Three per side.

The room had a very different feel from the rest of the building.The Decagram, the central housing for all governing bodies for the Aelmere Federation, naturally had a heavy focus on the military and its command structure due to it being the conduit for administrative actions. Of course, the Federation does not want world leaders coming to meet with the Sentinel to bear witness to our military secrets, so the Sentinel’s section is partitioned from the rest of it. The only connecting point between the military portion of the Decagram and the Sentinel’s was the pair of doors opposite ours, leading into the Situation Room.

Caramel wood panellings and beige fabrics covered the walls, partnered with a chestnut bamboo flooring in all places minus the central seating arrangement, and a smooth, light cream ceiling.

The left side was our primary focus, dominated entirely by a long, sleek desk which Taliya presently sat behind, the AEGIS Archadmiral speaking across from her. In front of table were two office chairs. The right side of the desk, left for Taliya, had a dual monitor computer display, though that did not prevent several hard copies of documents, binders, and folders from being neatly littered across the desk.

“—Until the SOE lifts, we will continue to keep an overwhelming sign of security with the measures to boot, if that is what you wish,” Archadmiral Emerson concluded.

“It is,” Taliya said placidly, getting up out of her seat. The Archadmiral followed. “Thank you, Walther.”

He saluted her before turning heel, leading us to lock eyes for a second. We nodded back to each other.

He headed out the doors into the Situation Room, requiring him to walk between two vertical, metal posts that one could easily assume to be a modern sculpture instead of them reading one’s biometric data. The doors closed just as quickly as they opened, leaving only the three of us in the room.

“Thank you, Asher,” Taliya said. “And on your way out, please give the IT department a call.” Code for cut all forms of surveillance on the office until ordered otherwise. I continued to walk forward, eventually meeting up with Taliya on opposite sides of the Sentinel’s desk. We waited the ten seconds necessary for the surveillance to be ceased in silence, though Taliya put on a faux smile for the time. The silence broke after time expired.

She bowed her head, burying it in her paws, though not without letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Oh my stars, Cayden,” she moaned into her paws. “I—I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.” She slid her arms down so that they crossed over her chest, hugging her sides before turning her back on me.

“Ma’am, you have nothing to be sorry for,” I said in a flat monotone. “The responsibility for what happened lies squarely on me and no one else.”

She turned her head to the side in an effort to look at me, her head and muzzle pointing downwards at an angle. “We could have been better prepared. I could have ordered to implement your recommendations sooner, I could have used the PA system inside to raise spirits. Use my position and standing to make things go along easier…”

“Taliya,” I said. “People were going to die regardless of what we did. There was nothing we could do to fix that.”

She turned back around to face me, but she kept her head held low, pointlessly scanning the top of her desk from left to right to left and back again. “And now over a million people lie dead, including our beloved Kayetlin.”

“Aye, Ma’am.”

“Damn it, Cayden!” she roared. “Your wife just died, and all you can say is ‘Aye, Ma’am?’”

I opened my muzzle, but quickly closed it, thinking better than to say what I was about to tell her. “It’s—that’s because...That’s all I can bear to say right now.”

She winced, squeezing her eyes shut. Her round ears flattened, though I could not pin down the exact emotion as to why. A tense, guilt-ridden silence followed.

“It was good,” I said. “Your speech at the memorial ceremony.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

“Nothing could have been good enough, Ma’am. Not during times like these. The fact that it was good is nothing short of a marvel.”

“Yeah, well, unfortunately, I’m getting pretty damn good at it.”

She looked back up at me, her paws pressed firmly into her desk, though not as a sign of strength. Closer to weakness, depending on the leverage to stand.

“You know,” she said, regaining some composure. Now, however, her voice carried more of an exasperated and depressed tone instead of a wailing one. “For the first twenty minutes I was up there today, speaking, I kept trying to spot you in the crowd. Asher eventually whispered where into my earpiece.”

“Row sixty-seven, column B3.”

“Yeah, well, would have been nice to know that prior. There were over a million people there. Thank the stars we didn’t go another round.”

“You seemed to deal with the Archadmiral pretty well just now,” I responded, directly the conversation away from impending doom and destruction.

“Hardly. The man is barely holding it together. Won’t last the month, seeing so many of his comrades die from his order—”

“—My order.”

“Well, contrary to your belief, Praetorian, people are responsible for their decisions, regardless of what advice they receive, and that certainly applies to yours. I certainly know so about mine. Besides, it’s terribly straining. Having to put on a show of placidness and composure to him and everyone else in the Federation without showing an inkling of passion or sensitivity!”

“It’s what I’m here for, Ma’am.”

“Oh, drop this ‘Ma’am’ horseshit, Cayden. Taliya will be just fine here...it’s hard enough with everyone treating me like a monolith of order and dignity.”

“I’m sorry. That’s the price you pay, though, for being the most powerful person in history. I am lost to history, and your emotions are sacrificed for the world.”

“Noted,” she responded curtly. “The prices we pay...Still, I cannot help but empathize and pity the man. I never faced such pressure and loss as my tenure as an Archadmiral.”

“One would hardly consider the Space Corps to be on the same level of importance and caliber as AEGIS, Tali.”

She shifted her composure, tensing her face up with bared teeth and punching me in the shoulder. Even with all of her skill and training, it wasn’t meant to budge me. I let myself for her sake.

“Bastard,” she proclaimed. “I built it from the ground up, and I would sooner die than have my best friend disparage it.”

“Love you too, Tali.”

She gave me a smile. A bit forced, but there was geniality behind it. “Well, I think this concludes my annual therapy session, so I won’t drag the mood down any longer. This wasn’t what I called you up for anyway.” She extended her right paw out towards the table on the opposite side of the room. “Shall we?”

I nodded and followed her over after she cleared the desk.

We sat down across from one another. I positioned myself in a place where I could see the whole room, may back up against the wall. Taliya had her back turned to it all, leaving only me and the slatted wall with Ivy growing through it in her view.

Taliya ordered evening coffee and set her tablet down. A weekly tradition of ours whenever we were both in the same city. A rare event, but one that we tried to keep.

Shortly after, two furs walked in. One in a service uniform carrying a black lacquered tray. Atop was a black and silver carafe, a porcelain bell creamer, two cups, a platter of Eglitican biscottis, and two tablets with the day’s edition of the Federation Star loaded up. The other fur was yet another heavily armed Sentry.

The unarmed officer placed the tray down before straightening her posture and saluting Taliya and myself.

“Thank you, Sloane,” Taliya told her, a natural smile spread across her face.

The officer firmly dropped the salute and made her way out of the office. The Sentry followed. After the door closed behind them, we waited until the sound of their footsteps was abruptly silenced. The doors had sealed shut, and we were free to continue on.

“You know, I have sources in Veritas that are telling me that they are going to avoid naming the SRG on the Bulletin tonight,” I said.

She sighed as she picked up her cup and saucer. “They still haven’t called them out yet?”

She sipped it black. No cream or sugar, and still rather hot in her paws.

“No, but I am happy to report that ‘their thoughts and prayers are with the Aelmerian people,’” I retorted smugly. “Damn it, when will those imperialists understand that, A, saying that is absolutely meaningless to us, and B, that ‘thoughts and prayers’ are the equivalent of sending a Get Well Soon card to someone who just got diagnosed with cancer.”

Her ears perked up erect at that. I could even hear the sound of her tail swaying along the floorboards.

“Probably the same time that they die and realize there is no afterlife,” she mused, adding some levity to the situation.

I nodded my head before grabbing one of the biscottis, dipping it in my blonde coffee, and biting off the end of it. “Hmph.”

“What?”

I made sure to swallow fully before responding. “You finally took my suggestion to add chocolate to them.”

“So I did,” she retorted matter-of-factly before turning her attention to the tablet restricted to the press.

I myself glanced at mine. It was still being updated live via the WIN, and after more than five days, the only thing that dominated the front page was the attacks. I had to scroll down until the equivalent of page three before I got into something other than terrorism in Taipys.

“So. How are Darryl and Casdy handling things?”

Her head remained at the same angle, but her eyes locked with mine before looking back down. “For starters, the Generals are keeping them secure in the bunker. Don’t want them to be compromised and, therefore, myself. Darryl is taking it in strides as we all are. I don’t think there is a way to escape it. Mourning the loss of a great many friends.”

“We all are,” my tone turning somber but neutral once more.

“It’s impossible not to. I can’t even understand the scale of it all, and I control the world’s largest population. It’s as if I had to give out Silver Phoenixes to a fortieth of the military. That’s the only way I can think about it, and I dread the day I will have to.”

“And what of Casdy?”

“She—well...she is taking it rather hard. A lot of her friends from school or family members of were caught in the crossfire. She even lost three of the cadets in her Morning Star platoon.”

“Don’t tell me—”

She nodded. “She had to write the letters to the families as CO.”

“Tali,” I said incredibly, “she’s sixteen. Why hasn’t her platoon sponsor taken over for her?”

“Believe me, I agree, but I was told by my advisors that it would build character. For all officers in the Morning Stars. Unfortunately, we live in a world, in a society, where they will have to grow up writing letters upon letters to family members about their subordinates’...mortality. Nonetheless, these are extreme circumstances, but I must respect the military’s guidelines.

“Still, it is a hard time for her. Kayetlin and her—they were close, as you know.”

“Unsurprising when you remember we’re closer to her age than you and Darryl.”

The glare she gave me was initially laced with daggers, but she relented. “They were always more like sisters than a mother and daughter relationship.” Her tail ceased its sway.

“How hard is it on her?” I asked before taking a sip of my coffee. Three parts coffee, one part soy creamer.

Taliya put her cup down before straightening her back. “Hard enough that Darryl had to restrain her before she smashed the hologram of the five of us on the bunker’s concrete.”

“Oh. That’s...wow. And you’re telling me she has been locked down there for the past five days?”

She nodded in response.

“Huh. Well, I certainly hope she’s not watching FNN.”

“And why is that?” Tali said, cocking her head as her ears shot up yet again.

“Tali, half of the screen is perpetually cycling through photos of the victims, and it hasn’t stopped since the attacks began. By the time that they end it, it will have been almost three hundred days by my guess, and that is on the conservative side.”

“It’s a powerful image.”

“Tali, at this rate, that barrage of names, dates, and faces will never be down.”

She looked normal, for the most part, but began slightly shifting her gaze.

“You suggested it, didn’t you.”

She turned back to me. “Yes, I did, and it is working. People want justice.”

“It’s working too well, and they don’t want justice, they want vengeance.”

“How can you not be when they killed your wife—”

“YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO USE THE DEATH OF HER AGAINST ME!” Before I realized what I was doing, I was barking with my hackles raised and teeth bared at the only person I had left. My paws were balled into fists, slammed down with force against the table while I towered over Taliya. Standing instead of sitting.

As quickly as I could, I tried to return to my previously calm demeanor, pushing away all of the thoughts and emotions and images that were trying to flare up. I sat back down, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them up to see Taliya pressed against the back of her chair while gripping a butter knife so hard it might have snapped.

“Sorry,” I said, hanging my head in shame. “Every time you said her name, all I could think about was her lying there, limbs blown, blood covering the floor, eyes still open but glazed over and lifeless, her maw still ajar, and our ribbon around her neck turned crimson, and—”

I was cut short after I felt Taliya’s paws holding my shoulders. Not in front of me, but behind. I hadn’t noticed her getting up.

“Cayden, it’s—well, it’s not alright. Nothing is alright presently, but if you are not alright, you have to tell me.” She was trying to be calm, but her voice showed that she was very scared. Perhaps of me, perhaps not.

“Fuck it, Taliya, if someone was alright in this nation right now, then they certainly aren’t in the right state of mind, body, or character for that matter. And if we want any hope of recovery, we certainly should not be fear mongering them via the sole bastion of journalistic integrity on the planet.”

“Cayden, calm down. It’s reminding them of the evil we have to face every day.”

“It’s desensitizing them to the fact that over one million citizens, many of whom sacrificed their safety and any possibility of seeing their loved ones for the possibility that others might get such a chance. If you want to show them the price we pay, show them the few who were taken from us too early. Show them the heroism and sacrifice showcased instead of parading around the people who died like a trophy.”

“Alright,” she said, looking me directly in the eye.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“That’s all the information I need.”

“Information for what?” she asked, slightly squinting her eyes.

“If you really had done it, you would have had the conviction to defend it to the death. Either that, or I had suggested it to you. Seeing as it obviously wasn’t the latter, you are covering for the GC.”

She remained silent.

“Why are you kissing their asses right now?”

She looked down at her tablet and typed away for a few seconds before turning it my way and handing it to me.

“High risk, covert mission, T0 level classified, eleven people know about it. Now that makes twelve.”

I scanned the document being displayed.

“Undercover in Caskya?”

“For an indeterminate amount of time.”

“Tali, this briefing has a quarter of what I give to my subordinates. You’re asking for a specialist in genetics and cloning, yet you have a virologist who specializes in the engineering of biological weapons in front of you.”

“From what we gather, you might as well classify this as a biological weapon.”

“I know ten people who are more qualified than me to take this up, and I can have their names on your desk within the hour.”

“It needs to be you.”

“When Asher’s assistant called to set up this meeting, this was the driving force behind it, am I wrong? You have been keeping this in your backpocket the entire time, and seem apprehensive about even showing it to me, making everything connect back to them.”

“Cayden, they want you specifically.”

“No, you need to please the Council by sending me off on a mission, from what I gather, without a handler, extraction plan, or sizeable intelligence. It’s a suicide mission that guarantees I end up in a freezer, but if that was the case, the Council would not be sending a Spectre Praetorian into a black site run by the Caskyan military industrial complex.”

“Damn it, Cayden! They want to send you away! I have been staying up until seven to get them to choose someone else before sleeping for half an hour, popping an adderall, and governing the world’s biggest superpower during its worst time in history. I have been doing everything I can, but they want to send you off. The reason being exactly this.”

“This?”

“You taking priority.”

“Over them,” I finished.

She nodded.

“And you do not want me to accept the operation?”

“No one declines the Council, but anything you could do that would prevent you from being exiled would be prefered. You and I have—what,five days?—before they would send you off to figure out how to counter it.”

“Then you and the GC will have my debriefing report on the attacks in four,” I said before calling Asher back in and standing up.

“Why?”

“Because I accept,” I said before walking back over to the door. It opened while I was a couple meters away from it.

“Cayden,” she said firmly. “Cayden,” a bit louder. “Cayden, get back here this instant! That is a direct order!”

I was out of the office before I could hear any more.