The Starlight Lancer

Chapter Eighty-Two: Almada's Endgame

"Better to avoid emotional attachment. It helps you get the most value out of the assets under your control."

—Daglov Trymik, former leader of the now-defunct Great Cargo Guild

"A-yup," replied Fell. "See, Almada's been trying to make a case for a restraint release for two years now, but the courts usually won't rule for it unless either the judge is bribed—thank Bor, Almada drew an honest one in this matter—or in extreme and hostile circumstances."

As if his words snapped her out of a minor trance, Xyrthe jolted up. "That's why he called us. That's why Gilvus—oh."

Fell nodded. "I knew you were intuitive."

Confused, Zaina's head darted back and forth between them. "Wait—what do you mean?"

Xyrthe sighed and then said, "Almada played it pretty smart, I've gotta be honest. All he has to do is fudge the paperwork a little—the Order probably wouldn't notice until hundred of years later, when the restraint-release records go public. Wow."

Throwing her arms up, Zaina asked, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well," Xyrthe said, "Almada needs to prove total exhaustion—that he's exhausted all of his terrestrial and atmospheric options in attempting to neutralize the threat with minimal harm to the civilian population—before he can have a judge sign off on a restraint-release form for TPB—total planetary bombardment. I'd say the deaths of four or five lancers would be enough to qualify Fell here—who would be blamed—as a threat worthy of writing off the civilian population."

"Four or five?" Zaina asked, only getting more lost with each answer. "But there's only two of us!"

"Ah," Xyrthe said, rubbing her chin, "but that's easy to fix—Almada could easily lie on his paperwork for the incident report. There'd be no public announcement for something like this, or if there was, it'd be a washed up version. The Order doesn't have access to Synatorium records until they de-crypt and go public—which can take hundreds of years—so they wouldn't find the discrepancy until then. By the time anyone found out the resort would already be a historical monument."

Fell blinked, then said in a disbelieving tone, "Wait—that's what Almada's doing all this for? A resort? Please tell me that's a joke."

With a grim frown, Xyrthe shook her head. "Sadly, no. A resort moon on Irdelan."

An angry grimace came over Fell's face, then passed; with a shrug, he said, "Well, if you're gonna build a resort moon, I guess that's the place to put it. Still, by Bor—a resort?"

Xyrthe leaned back and crossed her arms. "Yeah, I know." She then turned to Zaina and asked, "Well, kid? How do you want to play it?"

The entire conversation was replaying in Zaina's head as she tried to sort out the truth. Someone was lying to her, neither really had any evidence, and Xyrthe was putting the decision of what to do next in her hands—quite a bit of pressure. Zaina had to get this right.

Part of her wanted to believe both of them. If Almada was lying, she would be aiding in the destruction of an innocent village—hell, the entire Synatorium would be in on it; if Fell was lying, it boded no better for the people of Freewater.

In a soft voice Fell said, "Sorry if I was a little long-winded, there. I tend to get carried away when I'm telling a story."

There was too much to parse out. Jamming her eyes shut, Zaina shook her head and demanded, "How the hell am I supposed to believe you? How can I know you're telling the truth?"