Ava left one of the ship’s meeting rooms feeling utterly disgusted with herself. When Kaius had called and asked for her help to synthesize the orange chemical used on Reya, her immediate reaction was to refuse to be party to such evil. That the gru’ul had conceived it once was enough. There didn’t need to be more of that wretched thing in existence, to be spread and used on others.
Any measure of stability she thought she’d gained from her dealings with the Tribunal was shattered upon hearing Kaius’ threats. Ones she knew he would make good on should she refuse. Logically, Ava knew that the chemical would be vital for retaliation against the gru’ul when they invaded. In a sick, twisted way, it made sense to her.
Though she still had two favours remaining from Kaius, he had refused to allow them to be invoked to get out of doing his bidding. The only positive outcome from her work was that now she held power over Kaius. Given how cagey the Elder was being with regards to the information and the threats, Ava surmised that the rest of the Tribunal was unaware of his clandestine research. At least, she dearly hoped that was the case.
Kaius had graciously gifted her with his potential downfall. Ava didn’t know how information on the chemical was sealed and under what circumstances somebody could access it, but she did know that the Tribunal had publicly declared the purple chemical the worst crime against the living possible when they had revealed Adrian’s existence. She assumed, naturally, that such a classification also extended to the orange chemical used on Reya.
She would wait until the time was right to leverage the information she now had.
Leverage or not, it didn’t change the fact that she was the one who’d gifted Kaius — and, by extension, the a’vaare as a whole — the ability to synthesize the chemical using technology they hadn’t yet developed. Ava drew the line at developing weapons for Kaius. Regardless of the threats levied against her by him, she refused to conceive the precise ways to harm others with it. That knowledge would be for the faction to develop and would be a stain on their conscious, not hers.
Standing guard outside in the hall outside the room was Jyn. He noticed her scowl and couldn’t help but be intrigued. “Something bad happen?” he asked.
“Depends on how you look at it,” Ava replied. “I may have committed the biggest mistake anybody could ever make.”
“And it has to do with the fact that you’ve been holed up in that room for days now without leaving?” Jyn said. “Did you even eat anything?” He wasn’t exactly certain what caloric requirements Ava needed, if she needed any at all. So much about her design was shrouded in mystery and nobody was certain of how she functioned.
Ava shook her head. “I don’t technically need to eat or drink. I ca, and it helps me maintain my body, but it’s not strictly necessary,” she said.
“Then why did the gru’ul give you the ability to do so at all?” Jyn asked.
“My creators,” Ava started carefully, “wanted to turn something artificial into something biologically superior to a’vaare or humans that was alive. To those ends, they designed me to be able to fully mimic the beings I was modeled after. Though they were able to successfully implement those features, they were unable to remove my inability to have free will and make me truly alive. Because I couldn’t meet their expectations, I was deemed as a failure and promptly discarded once they deemed the project unsalvageable.”
Jyn frowned. “But they succeeded with that in the end, didn’t they?” he said. “You’ve told us you have free will. That you’re alive. If they didn’t fail, why were you brought to Earth?” Something didn’t add up for Jyn.
“They failed with their original design iterations,” Ava said. “They wanted to program something alive that would ultimately obey them. A bit of a paradox, when you think about it. I only managed to break free of their influence due to an error in my code. Turns out that glitch was what sparked life in me and is what turned me into something more than a failure.”
“That still doesn’t explain why they shipped you off to Earth,” Jyn insisted. Though his orders regarding Ava included ensuring nothing untoward happened to her, he was also ordered to learn anything important and report back anything noteworthy. He’d learned his lesson with Adrian and Stanley. He wouldn’t push. He wouldn’t pry incessantly. He contented himself with a more nuanced approach. If Ava wanted to talk, so be it. No longer would he hold his charge at gunpoint to extract information from them.
“Because they thought they could still make use of me,” Ava replied. “I was similar enough to a human and could simulate proper social protocols after I’d learned them. They needed an agent to do their work for them because they couldn’t be bothered to do so themselves. Since the a’vaare had already discovered their existence by accident, they wanted to remain as obscure on Earth as possible so as not to influence any preliminary experiments. Unlike the a’vaare, who only have one language, Adrian’s home world has many. They learned your language out of necessity. Learning all of the ones on Earth was simply too much of a headache. So they sent me to interact with their experiments in their place.”
Jyn took a moment to digest the news. “I see,” was all he could say for the moment. He motioned for Ava to join him as they slowly made their way off the ship. Eventually, he found his words once more as they walked through the halls. “How long were you on Earth for?” he asked as they approached the hull.
“I don’t rightly know,” Ava replied. “Maybe a couple hundred years?” she guessed.
Jyn’s brows shot up in surprise. “That long?” he said.
Ava nodded. “Yes. Humans also have a much shorter lifespan than the average a’vaare. Whereas you might live for several hundred years, humans are lucky if they make it to a hundred.”
Jyn stopped dead in his tracks. “Does that mean Reya will outlive Adrian?” he asked. “By our society’s standards, we’re all very young. We still have hundreds of years ahead of us. Do you mean to tell me Adrian doesn’t have that long?”
“Honestly, I don’t know when it comes to Adrian,” Ava said. “After all the changes that were made to him, it’s highly possible he’s the one that attends all of your funerals and not the other way around.”
The pair descended the ramp and set foot on the grass. They walked in silence towards the house, and it was only as they approached the front steps that Jyn spoke up. “Should we tell Reya about this? I feel like that’s something important to know about a partner.”
“Maybe later,” Ava said, eyeing the couple through the window as they collected each other into a warm hug. “For today, let them be happy. They deserve it after what they went through.”
“We have enough evidence now,” Cirrus announced to Orryn and Cyrix as she reviewed the last of their findings. The three of them were in a call together discussing what they’d learned. “This proves that Nadi was implicated in the theft of the orange chemical for Kaius.” Over the last several days, she, Orryn, and Cyrix had been hard at work unearthing new proof that Kaius had gone against their edict regarding how information pertaining to the chemical was to be handled. Not only had he made an entire group of researchers aware of its existence, but he’d also stolen a sample knowing full well that the Tribunal had voted unanimously to keep it sealed.
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“That still doesn’t explain what happened to the sample of the purple chemical,” Orryn pointed out. “Nadi came into possession of it after Fahl gave it to her. If Kaius only ordered her to steal the orange chemical, why did she stash both of them in the med bay?”
“I think the answer is obvious enough,” Cirrus said darkly. “The Rukkan magically obtained information directly from Irric’s data slate regarding Adrian and even the facility’s coordinates. She was clearly also a Rukkan spy.” It infuriated her that not only had Kaius inserted a pawn into the upper echelons of the operation in the Arvis sector, but that he’d spectacularly failed at vetting her properly.
“Does this mean you don’t believe Irric was responsible for the leaks?” Cyrix asked. As Irric’s direct superior during the operation, he had the best grasp on his personality and work ethic. Irric had gone above and beyond what was expected of him in order to grant them access to the gru’ul terminals. He followed every gag order placed on him, even if it meant keeping vital information from his only two assistants.
Cirrus sighed. “That’s right,” she said. “At first, it made sense that Irric was the one responsible. When Tassie verified his data slate remotely and found that it had been tampered with, it also made her a suspect. Yet, if Nadi was next to Irric almost the entire time acting as his guard and we know she already stole information for Kaius, it makes even more sense that she seize the opportunity to provide the Rukkan with some information as well. Kaius gave her all the tools she needed to do so.”
“I find myself in agreement,” Orryn said. “If Nadi was the perpetrator for both leaks, Fahl’s story makes an astounding amount of sense. Especially now that we have proof of his claims.” Though she hadn’t liked how Fahl had been treated since it turned out he was innocent, Orryn couldn’t fault the measures taken at the time. They’d thought they were dealing with high treason at the worst possible time. Extreme measures were to be expected.
“What do we do with Fahl then?” Cyrix asked. “Let him go or use him to bait Kaius into revealing his betrayal?”
“What we’ve found is pretty damning,” Cirrus said. “I don’t think there’s a need to keep him locked up. We have cause to arrest Nadi and interrogate her as we please. Since Kaius clearly has a longer reach than any of us expected, I believe we should grant Fahl a security detail to keep him safe. He is our only witness, after all. If something happens to him it will drastically reduce the impact our accusations will have.”
“Don’t we have a recording of your interrogation session with him?” Orryn asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for ensuring the man’s safety. His live testimony isn’t really worth much though.”
“Kaius could claim we tampered with the recording,” Cirrus replied. “It’s best that we at least have Fahl present during the hearing, if only to attest that his confession is true.”
“What I still don’t understand,” Cyrix said, “is how Fahl was allowed back on the ship without me being made aware. I gave explicit orders to the guards that the Fahl and his team were not to be allowed anywhere near the ship.”
“I suspect we’ve only seen but a fraction of Kaius’ influence,” Orryn pointed out. “He probably overrode your orders to the guards and issued new ones to a different set of soldiers.”
“I don’t like this,” Cyrix grumbled. “How much of our past and current operations were compromised due to his interference?”
“We’ll never know,” Orryn said, “but I suspect Kaius has a great deal of skeletons in his closet. I doubt we’ll find any of them and honestly, they’re not that important at the moment.”
“I agree,” Cirrus said. “We already have enough evidence to remove him from his position as Arbiter. The only problem is that we’ll need somebody else to fill the role. Somebody unbiased by previous Tribunal dealings and whose rank is high enough that they understand the situation.”
“General Nessah fits the criteria,” Orryn mused. “The only problem is that she’s readying herself to direct a war. Can we afford to pull her away from the battlefield at such a crucial moment?”
“General Nessah doesn’t have to fully inherit the title and position,” Cyrix said. “Make her an Interim Arbiter until the war is done. She can still spend most of her time directing the war and having her weigh in directly in Tribunal votes will allow the other Elders to make properly informed decisions based on the reality of what’s happening on a daily basis.”
“This theory assumes that the other Elders won’t try to vie for the position,” Orryn said. “If they vote against our suggestion, then at best Nessah might become another Elder for the duration of the war.”
“I can live with that,” Cirrus said. “Either way, we’ll be getting Nessah’s vote where it counts.” She turned towards Cyrix. “Commander, organize a proper guard detail for Fahl to keep him protected. Arrest Nadi and question her until she talks. We know she’s guilty. We just need her to confess and once she does, we’ll be able to go after Kaius.”
“Understood,” Cyrix replied formally. “You can expect a status report soon. I’m not in the mood to play games with Nadi after what she’s done. That the Rukkan are less of a threat than we first thought is irrelevant. Her actions cost us the lives of good soldiers when the Rukkan attacked the facility. They also led to an attempted invasion of Verilia. Such a thing can’t go unpunished.”
It had happened so swiftly that Nadi hadn’t even seen it coming. One moment, she was helping organize the repairs on the flagship in a small, utilitarian office. The next, she was arrested and thrown in a cell. She wasn’t a fool. She knew full-well why she’d been arrested. The real question she asked herself was whether her arrest was related to Kaius or the Rukkan.
Nadi was certain she’d left no traces of her actions while operating under the orders of both. The only weak link was Fahl, but he was currently being detained. She knew that his story was flimsy at best and wouldn’t hold water. Not without any tangible proof.
Which begged the question of why she’d been arrested now of all times.
She was left to stew in a nervous silence cuffed to a chair for over an hour until at last, the door to her cell opened. Cyrix strode into the room, followed by several interrogators. His gaze held a barely restrained cold anger. Nadi barely managed to stop herself from swallowing hard out of fear.
“Nadi,” Cyrix said, “you know why you’re here. Talk, before we make you.”
“You can’t do this to me!” Nadi protested indignantly. “After all my years of service, this is how you repay me? Strapped to a chair in a cold prison cell isn’t what I deserve.” She knew playing innocent was a gamble. Nadi saw no other choice if she wanted to avoid being made an enemy of the faction. She would play the role until the very end. They had nothing on her and she knew they couldn’t keep her detained indefinitely due to that.
Cyrix, for his part, merely raised his hand and motioned to one of the interrogators. The nameless soldier approached Nadi and delivered a firm punch to her face, followed by a strong kick to her stomach, leaving her winded and seeing stars.
“I’m in no mood for games,” Cyrix responded harshly. “This is not a trial. This is your confession. Speak freely, or we will make you speak. Frankly, I don’t care how much of you is intact by the time you do. Consider this your only warning.”
Nadi took a moment to collect herself. A metallic taste filled her mouth, and she spat blood on the ground next to her, having bitten herself when she was hit. Nobody in the room seemed to mind. “Tell a girl what she’s in for before you treat her like a queen,” Nadi taunted.
“Very well,” Cyrix said, unbothered by her obvious attempt to get a reaction out of him. “You are hereby under arrest for being a Rukkan mole and feeding our enemy vital, top-secret information. Additionally, you are accused of having sent to them a sample of the worst chemical to ever exist. You are also under arrest for following illegal orders from Elder Kaius to procure a second sample of an equally awful chemical and for the murder of Private Alarr.”
Nadi winced internally but kept her face blank. She’d been expecting accusations for one of her crimes, not all of them. How had Cyrix found out about them? “I’m not guilty on all accounts,” she stated. “Let the record show that this is unjust treatment of a high-ranking officer due to baseless accusations.”
“While I would normally be hard-pressed to believe that my trusted second was responsible for such a long list of crimes,” Cyrix said, “we have sufficient evidence that corroborates our findings. These accusations are not baseless, and this is perfectly adequate treatment for an enemy of the faction. I hereby declare so as War Commander Cyrix, with all the power vested in me.”
Nadi paled upon hearing that she was officially an enemy of the faction. “You can’t do that,” she stuttered. “That’s not fair!”
“It wasn’t fair when your actions directly led to the deaths of good men and women,” Cyrix spat. “Be glad I haven’t had you executed for what you’ve done. Whether you live to see tomorrow depends on your usefulness to me now.”
Nadi’s heart skipped a beat. She knew the situation was bad, but not that she danced with death. “Killing me makes you no better than the murderer you’ve accused me of being,” she protested.
“I think you’ll find,” Cyrix said slowly, “that you’ll wish I was a murderer by the time we’re done with you. You have yet to confess anything. Interrogators,” he called, “make her talk.” He turned sharply and strode out of the room. He had no pity for traitors.
When Cyrix returned, Nadi spoke, unable to handle the pain any longer. Her confession put smile on his face when he left, finally with enough evidence to convict Elder Kaius.
