Her face was plastered all over social media and on every news station. The world had finally given Mihn what she deserved. Since her first message to the masses, she and Annkor had been hard at work curating additional content and the result pleased her immensely.

  Due to the intensity with which people were reacting to Mihn’s videos, Annkor was forced to change locations to remain out of the public’s eye. He’d brought Mihn along, naturally, as well as the soldiers who had liberated him. They’d found themselves in an abandoned campground that had cabins with all the amenities the group needed to remain comfortable during their stay.

  Annkor knew their stay would be temporary and was glad to be away from urban areas. He’d seen the news and knew the war with the gru’ul had turned ugly. Quite frankly, he felt safer lost in the woods than near a military base.

  The chaos and division he was sowing had begun impacting the Tribunal’s ability enforce martial law. Riots and looting were becoming commonplace, and a growing hatred for the military was in the minds of many. Inwardly, Annkor smiled. He would get his revenge against the Elders for their transgressions while awaiting rescue.

  Annkor knew his people wouldn’t sit idle with his capture and the death of another High Diplomat. He’d sent out emergency beacons that had surely reached his home world. All that was left was to await rescue. His only worry was that his people wouldn’t get past the gru’ul that now occupied Verilian-controlled space.

  Still, that was a problem for future him. Once the Sunalii were sufficiently weakened from their senseless fighting, his military would break through Verilia’s battered defenses and save him from whatever fate the gru’ul had in store for Verilia.

  He glanced towards Mihn, who was seated on the other side of the table, her eyes glued to her data slate. She sported an angry expression that gave him pause. “What’s wrong?” he asked her.

  “Have you seen footage of the live combat zones?” Mihn asked. “It’s downright barbaric. People are getting butchered while the military does nothing!”

  “I have not,” Annkor replied. “Where did you find that information?”

  “It’s all over the networks,” Mihn said. “It’s harder not to come across it than it is to find it.” She swiped and started watching the latest report. Annkor moved to join her so that he could also see. Onscreen, a young reporter with a pallid expression spoke.

  “We’ve received reports that the gru’ul have breached the city proper,” the reporter said nervously. “All citizens of Grahann are advised to evacuate or hide.” A rumble tore throughout the building he was in, causing it to shake. “This may be my last report for the foreseeable future. We will update you on the evolving situation once we’ve found a secure location. Remember, stay safe and—”

  An enormous boom was the last thing Mihn and Annkor saw before the feed cut and the screen went black. They shared a look. “Should we really be working against the military right now?” Mihn asked, worried. “They surely have their hands full trying to protect us.”

  Annkor scoffed. “That,” he said, pointing towards the data slate, “is not proper protection. That young man probably died along with everyone else in that studio while the military sat back and did nothing. They don’t deserve their power. It’s up to the people to arm and defend themselves, yet it’s the military that controls all the guns. They’ve chosen to leave the people defenseless while they hole up and keep themselves safe.”

  Mihn frowned. “I’m not sure anymore,” she said. “We’ve been creating a resistance with the videos we released. Shouldn’t we be encouraging cooperation?” She wasn’t a fool. After seeing the war progressively worsen over the last several weeks, she knew that the military was the only hope they had at survival. Dying a pointless death would do her no good. If that happened, the world would never continue to have her in it and be a better place for it. She felt there must be a way for her to remain relevant while delivering a different message. One that wouldn’t paint her in a bad light.

  “We’ve come all this, and you want to back out now?” Annkor asked. He wouldn’t allow that. He needed a scapegoat to throw to the people when the time was right and refused to risk losing her. “Mihn, our message is necessary. Your military has failed you. They kept their power to themselves instead of helping those they were sworn the protect. The people deserve to survive this ordeal that the very same military you’re vouching for brought upon them. We were given no time to prepare for this war and now people are dying in droves.”

  “I understand that,” Mihn replied, “but wouldn’t it make sense to focus on repelling the gru’ul first?”

  “If that happens, it’ll be too late,” Annkor replied. “Your military’s success will only serve to consolidate their power and we’ll never be able to change the system into something where the people’s voices are heard.” He could see that his words were starting to sway Mihn and keep her invested in his cause. He gave one final push. “They’ve denounced the gods. That can’t go unpunished. Help me restore world order, Mihn. You will go down in history as a saint.”

  Mihn quite liked the sound of that and nodded along. “I deserve nothing less after all,” she said.

  Annkor kept from rolling his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “Now then, let’s record another video. Maybe this time we’ll spur the people into proper action.”

  Nessah stepped off the ship and made haste inside the building that housed enemies of the faction. She wasted no time in making her way to the room inside that already held the person she needed to talk to.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  Opening the door, Nessah entered. A small table and two chairs adorned the otherwise empty room. It was cold and damp, but she paid it no mind. Cuffed to the table in front of her was Miarre.

  Miarre eyed Nessah suspiciously, fighting the urge to flinch. “What do you want?” she asked. She was weary from her time in the uncomfortable cell she’d been left to rot in. Her injuries had healed, but the trauma would stay with her for a long time. “Have you come to kill me?”

  Nessah took a seat across from Miarre. “No,” she replied. “I’ve come to offer you a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?” Miarre asked, unwilling to trust Nessah’s words. Isolated in her cell, she had no idea that a war had begun or what the Tribunal had announced to the world before it started. Her capture marked the last time she’d heard any news of the outside world, and Miarre couldn’t fathom what Nessah could possibly want from her.

  “One where if you do as I say,” Nessah said, “I will remove your status as an enemy of the faction.”

  Reya read the script one more time to make sure she had memorized everything. Contrary to her expectations, the task had been trivial. She could recite the entire transcript by heart with ease, including the host’s part.

  Now that she had some measure of practice doing interviews, Reya was far more confident in her ability to properly conduct herself during her upcoming one scheduled to be recorded in ten minutes. Seated on a special set made specifically for that occasion in military headquarters, all she had left to do was wait until she was told to begin the interview.

  Nessah had approached her yesterday and explained the current state of affairs for her in rather blunt language. Reya was then whisked away to the base and dolled up for the military’s attempt to bring some semblance of order back to the masses. Although Reya still doubted how impactful her words would be, she agreed to proceed with the whole affair. Not that she had the choice anymore.

  Seated next to her in the host’s chair was Miarre. The makeup department had done their absolute best to hide her pallid skin colour and deep-set circles under her eyes. If Reya hadn’t known any better, she would’ve sworn Miarre just returned from a nice, relaxing vacation down south.

  Reya glanced up from her data slate and eyed Miarre. It was her eyes that gave away her exhaustion, and Reya knew that no amount of makeup could hide the lack of spark in the reporter’s expression. Reya set down her data slate. “I’m surprised they let you out,” she said pointedly.

  Miarre startled and turned her attention to Reya. “You knew I was arrested?” she asked, surprised. Miarre quickly chastised herself for her senseless question. Of course Reya would have been aware of what happened to her given her involvement in the mission.

  “It was pretty obvious when your last news report was cut so suddenly,” Reya said offhandedly. “Given the sensitive nature of the information you so carelessly revealed to the world, it didn’t come as a surprise when you stopped appearing on news channels.”

  “Information you clearly already knew when we last spoke,” Miarre replied, regaining her composure. “I understand now why you were ordered to keep it a secret.”

  “Do you really?” Reya asked bluntly. “A large portion of the chaos that came before the war is directly your fault. It’s thanks to you that the military had to scramble to address the issue and reveal the truth to the world. I’m assuming you at least learned about their announcements?”

  “I was without any access to the outside world since my arrest,” Miarre explained. “I truly had no idea what the repercussions of my actions were. I could’ve never imagined the actual truth. I thought I was doing society a favour in exposing the military. Turns out, everything was a secret for a good reason.”

  “While you definitely did society a disservice by revealing inaccurate information,” Reya said, “I think it was ultimately a good thing.”

  The comment surprised Miarre. “Why?” she asked. She couldn’t comprehend how her colossal mistake as a reporter could be viewed as something positive.

  “Because it finally forced the Tribunal to shed light on their secrets,” Reya said. “It might not have been done at an ideal time or in the best way, but there was never going to be a good time to reveal the truth. Things were going to get ugly no matter how the topic was broached.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Miarre confessed. “How much did you truly know?”

  Reya flashed Miarre a cold smile devoid of warmth, and the reporter shuddered. “I was intimately aware of the chemicals and Adrian’s existence, as well as what truly happened before we found him. The only thing I didn’t know was why any of it happened at all.”

  Miarre took a moment to parse through Reya’s words. Understanding dawned on her. “They used the chemical on you,” she realized. “That’s why you were taken out of the public’s eye despite being awarded the Silver Star.”

  “Correct,” Reya said calmly. “I needed the space to recover after what happened to me. The person who helped ground me the most was Adrian. He’s the only other person who truly understands what the experience was like.”

  “And what was it like?” Miarre dared to ask.

  “There is no word in any language that will ever accurately describe the pain I endured,” Reya said. “It hurt in a way so visceral, so primal, that it cannot be properly described.” She took a deep, calming breath. “And for that reason, I won’t even bother trying.”

  It was only for the briefest of moments, but Miarre caught a glimpse of the pain expressed behind Reya’s eyes. The barest whisper of an experience so awful that it couldn’t be empathized with. And then the glimpse was gone, as though it had never been. “I’m sorry for asking,” Miarre said in a small voice.

  “That’s okay.” Reya shook her head. “I’m sure you’re curious, and who wouldn’t be? But it is not an experience I wish to discuss.”

  “I understand,” Miarre said. “What do you think of what we’re going to say today?” she asked, hoping to change the topic. “Will it truly have its intended effect?”

  “I doubt it,” Reya said. “I think this will be the first of many such videos. The military can’t afford a civil uprising, not when the stakes are so high.”

  “You believe everything the Tribunal revealed?” Miarre asked. “They actually told the truth?”

  “What they said makes total sense given the events I personally witnessed and am aware of. If anything, it makes too much sense and that’s why, even though I don’t like it, I believe it,” Reya said after a moment’s thought. “I understand why people are upset and think it to be a power grab. I mean, it is a power grab, but a necessary one to properly respond to the gru’ul invasion.”

  “And a civil uprising when they’re so short on manpower is the last thing they need if we have any chance at surviving,” Miarre realized. “I think I understand now why today is so important.”

  Reya nodded. “Exactly,” she said. “I don’t want to do these interviews, but if there’s even the smallest of chances that it will help us not get annihilated, I’ll do it.”

  “Then let’s make them count,” Miarre said.

  The set director called for everybody to take their places and prepare for the recording. Miarre and Reya put their data slates out of sight and turned to face the cameras. There was a brief countdown and then Miarre spoke, ready to change the world once more.