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“Life began with the birth of Solixi. Just as it will end the day she dies. The Starmother will care for all things in between.” – The Starguide
The Colony
Camila studied the sleek monitors embedded within the wall with more interest than she had in years. There was one screen for each of the five planets that revolved around the system’s lone star, Solixi, their images shifting constantly based on an array of variables chosen by the Meteans thousands of years before.
The Speaker of the Alliance had watched these screens for longer than some Solixians had lived; yet, they still frustrated her.
At least on this day there was purpose to Camila’s gazing. Today was the day that the first Solixians would step foot on Metabode since the Great Victory – since the end of the mighty Meteans fifteen hundred years before.
The Speaker focused on the bleakest monitor. The large screen was expectantly dark, the endless storms of dense black clouds allowing only the most cunning flashes of light to break free. She had a feeling that for once the algorithm and her needs would coincide – there hadn’t been life on Metabode since the Alliance had ended it.
Surely the Watchers will take interest, Camila thought. They have to.
As the time neared, the Speaker forced herself to take a calming breath. Smoothing the blue blouse that covered her aging body, Camila stood and made her way to the room’s great window where she proceeded to adjust her long, graying hair in its reflection. It was an action that always comforted her.
The rays of the distant sun greeted her, flirting with the handle of the ancient s’ore dagger nestled through her black belt.
The ancient dagger had belonged to the first Speaker, Valeria DeVry – the chief author of the Great Victory. Every Speaker since had brandished the small weapon, and Camila was not one to let tradition fail. Besides, it was one of their predecessors’ tools that they had actually determined how to properly use.
There was no telling how long that had taken.
Outside of the window, the vast nothingness of space dominated. Currently, only Solixi herself could be seen from the great window, burning brightly in the distance. For the religious – which Camila was certainly not – two distant red stars known as the Starmother’s eyes were occasionally aligned with the ancient viewing room.
As planned, the Speaker turned just as the door parted to admit the Voices of Solixia’s four habitable planets. Their motley colored clothes and serene faces contrasted sharply with the dreary metal walls that made up the Colony.
Each Voice represented their people’s interest within the Alliance, balancing the delicate fields of inter-planetary politics and trade. Their duties were far more complex than the tasks delegated to the ‘rulers’ of each planet. Each of the women had earned their position just as she had, through a lifetime of service to the Alliance.
“Madame Speaker,” Evelyn smiled as she approached Camila.
The woman from Terramere was the youngest of the four and wore a slim fitting dress of deep greens that complimented her brown hair and hazel eyes … and shamelessly accentuated her youth. Her skin was a fetching shade of white colored with just enough of Solixi’s touch to identify her planet of origin.
“I assume it has been done?” Camila asked softly.
“Of course, Speaker. It was long past time,” Evelyn grinned deviously. “I was beginning to worry that you actually liked the fool.” She took the seat in front of the Green Planet’s screen in case something was to develop involving the newly introduced white stag.
Next to greet Camila was Leyla of Salmedia. The woman’s flawless golden skin was nearly lost in her violet shirt and crimson pants. A deep-blue cloak hung from her shoulders, just touching the tips of her black boots. Leyla’s bright eyes locked with Camila’s for a second, seeking a hint of weakness she could exploit.
Camila gave her none. “I love what you’ve done with your hair.”
The Salmedian smirked. The woman’s space-dark hair had been intricately woven around her ears, and, in a classic Salmedian fashion, a thick strand that had been dyed blue hung freely in front of her eyes, matching the exact shade of her cloak.
“I would love to take a crack at your own,” Leyla replied mischievously. “I could do wonders for your complexion with my dyes.”
They shared a laugh as Charlotte from Orilix approached. In the glow of the monitors, her thick golden curls sparkled like starlight. The Voice of the Builders wore a pristine white dress that would have been better served in an Orlixi ballroom. It was evident she felt the formality of the day as much as Camila did herself. She embraced the Speaker warmly. “It has been too long, Camila. I have missed your company dearly.”
“As I have missed your insight.”
Charlotte nodded her head respectfully before taking her seat.
Finally, Anisa detached from the shadows and strode forth to greet Camila. The Voice of Kire wore one of the tightly fitting, breathable black suits that allowed life on the Red Planet to be slightly more bearable. Her dark brown skin was lined with several prominent red veins, a sign of great beauty and noble blood among Kirians. As all from the Red Planet did, she wore her white-blonde hair short and had small black eyes.
“Kire awaits the results of the expedition as eagerly as I do,” Anisa said simply. The beautiful woman flashed a white smile and bowed to Camila. “The High Lord Drusen under the banner of the Phoenix sends his regards.”
Camila clasp her hand in the traditional Kire greeting and returned the woman’s expression. She had told Anisa a thousand times there was no need to bow to her, but, just as her choice of dress demonstrated, there was no taking the formality out of the Red Planet’s Voice.
Just as there is no taking the scheming out of a Salmedian, Camila frowned as she caught Leyla’s starry blue eyes upon her again.
The Speaker had no need to worry about the woman making any sort of move, it was simply her nature. Still, Camila made sure never to find herself in a room full of Salmedians for more than a few moments. Some of those aboard the Colony had never quite broken free of the political games of the Great Oasis, even after they understood that the Alliance had put them in place to stifle potential rebellion.
With a start, Camila noticed the image on Metabode’s screen shift to a Watcher’s view just outside of the planet’s thick atmosphere. The lens of the ancient machine eloquently zoomed in to catch the beginnings of the Orlixi spacecraft’s decent.
“Lady Voices,” Camila announced as she took her seat in-between the four women. “The day has finally come. And for the sake of our rapidly draining s’ore reserves and Solixia itself, I hope it is a profitable one.”
“On that we all agree,” Anisa responded. “The core of Kire is nearly picked clean. The mines grow more dangerous and unstable by the day.”
“But there is enough s’ore in reserve for another decade by our calculations, Madame Speaker,” Charlotte pointed out. “There is no need for immediate worry.”
“Only if the Alliance provides a reasonable plan for proper allocation,” Leyla chimed in, her eyes locked on the screen. “Travel between the planets will have to be kept at a minimum. We must have enough set aside for emergencies.”
They all turned to Evelyn who remained quiet. The woman from Terramere knew as well as they all did that the Green Planet would see no hardship. The great farms stretching over its thousands of miles of fertile soil fed the majority of all Solixians.
Evelyn’s eyes turned slowly from the screen. “I believe we all know where Terramere stands on s’ore matters.”
That was all that truly needed to be said. Even the Salmedians would not argue with increased s’ore rationing in the face of starvation. The natural fuel was the cartilage that linked the entire system together, powering everything from spaceships to the desalination plants of Salmedia to the heavy farm machinery of Terramere.
Put simply, whoever controlled s’ore controlled Solixia.
“Charlotte, please tell me you convinced him to stay behind,” Camila said flatly as they watched the sleek spacecraft slice through the murky clouds of Metabode, the Watcher’s eye expertly behind. The Metean machine truly was a ghost of the past age, somehow managing to provide a clear visual despite the darkness.
“You know that it is ultimately out of my control,” Charlotte responded with a tinge of worry. “The Orilis family has ruled the planet since the Great Victory – they will always do as they please in the end. No matter the amount of prodding.”
Camila sighed. Aaron Orilis was even more of a fool when it came to seeking glory. The King of the Builders would have never missed the chance to be the first Solixian to step foot on Metabode, no matter the risk. However, his recklessness could prove beneficial; death always presented opportunity. His death would offer far more than most.
“He has assured me that he will take all precautions necessary,” Charlotte added.
“But what do we even know of the surface?” Leyla asked. “The after effects of the red-bomb could still be present – the ship might not even land safely.”
“It is too late now,” Anisa replied bluntly. “The man but hears the word s’ore and he would try to navigate the Rim itself to find it.”
Camila glanced at the screen displaying the capital city of Orilix. Hundreds of citizens were spread throughout its sparkling grid of streets going about their daily routines. Of course no motion would be wasted by any of them – they were all Builders through and through. Everything on Orilix was about efficiency. On either end of the planet.
“Madame Speaker?” Evelyn posed. “Have you decided on a direction for whenever we find the Metean’s hidden s’ore supply?”
“Not yet,” she answered. It was foolish to make decisions without all available information. “But the Alliance will play no favorites between the four planets.”
“Of course, Madame Speaker,” Evelyn said, clearly satisfied. The plan submitted from the Terran had been nothing more than a default to the best plan and a proportionate increase in s’ore for the Green Planet’s armada of trading ships.
“I’m sure you all are aware of the unspoken truth in this room,” Leyla began. “If Aaron Orilis finds any amount of s’ore on this mission, he will want the majority for … how does he usually put it … for the advancement of technology itself.”
The four other women nodded in unison.
“It matters little what he wants,” Anisa replied coldly. “Their lust for knowledge is why we let the Orlixi lead this expedition in the first place. They’re blind to the risks.”
“And if it is there, they will need the Alliance’s aid to extract it,” Evelyn input.
“Still, his point remains ever valid,” Charlotte argued. “Without the Builders, the secrets of the Metean space vessels could never have been discovered. By allocating Orilix additional s’ore, more of our predecessors’ mysteries could be unlocked. When the time comes, we will need every advantage possible.”
On that, they all agreed. The more Metean technology the Alliance could duplicate or improve upon, the better their chances at surviving the Return – the day those Meteans who had left to explore and conquer other galaxies finally came home; the day they discovered the fate of their home world and their kin.
“We will cross that bridge when we arrive,” Camila said after a moment’s silence. The ship had finally broken through the thick green and gray clouds of Metabode’s upper atmosphere allowing the five to view the surface of the planet for the first time.
As if sensing their thoughts, the Watcher’s lens widened and scanned the gray, mountainous plains below. Nothing appeared to grow on Metabode.
In every direction, the land was covered in craters and misshapen rocks. Slimly blue-green water filled some of the depressions; undoubtedly, they had once been lakes. Faint indications of long dry rivers wove like spider webs between them.
The Watcher rotated briefly to display the ruins of a once great Metean city. Some of its tall spires still stood, towering hundreds of meters above the ground like giant tombstones. Most were cracked and broken, slowly falling in on themselves in an endless cycle of decay.
The buildings below were far worse. Many were nothing more than piles of broken and blackened stone. Unlike Orilix, there was no motion on the streets of the city. The city was as dead as the planet itself.
Reaching the same conclusion, the screen switched views, bringing the glossy Orlixi ship back into focus. S’ore sprouted like fire from the ship’s thrusters as it rocketed through the last stretch of the ruined city. Once clear, it gracefully flattened and began to race across the open ground towards its final destination.
The five women held their breaths as another city materialized in the Watcher’s eye. It was far grander than the first they had seen – nearly all of the structures and buildings still remained standing. Of course, it too was silent and void of life. Metallurg was a regal cemetery beneath the dark and dying sky.
Let us pray that there is actually something to find, the Speaker thought restlessly as the Watcher raced to keep pace with the ship.
They had based this expedition on the word of Valeria DeVry herself. Before the Metean King and his army departed, the first Speaker had discovered that the Ironskinned had hidden away a massive quantity of s’ore somewhere in Solixia.
Even in its infancy, the Alliance had been thinking of the future. Valeria DeVry and her allies had known the s’ore on Kire was not limitless, that a day of scarcity would eventually arrive. The first Speaker had chosen the very spot the red-bomb was to be activated – the tower of Metom and its secrets had been preserved for a reason.
Camila could only hope that she had been right. The fabled reserve had never been found in nearly a millennium of searching the other four planets. Metabode was their last hope.
Without s’ore, both the Alliance and Solixia were certainly doomed.