Return From Exile

Chapter 5

Garen and Conus stood in silence after knocking on the rusted, peeling door of the rundown house. The knock echoed through the clearing they had just emerged from. A security camera above the door tracked their movements as they scanned the tree line and sky, finding no signs of hostiles. Though the sun had fully risen, its light was already fading behind the gathering clouds.

The clearing, more exposed than the dense woods surrounding Garen's cabin, was overgrown with wild grass and scattered debris. In the distance, the faint roar of a waterfall echoed.

Behind the cabin, the land sloped sharply toward a cliff's edge. Beyond that, mountains stretched out, their rounded peaks blanketed in thick forest. The clearing felt exposed, vulnerable.

Garen knocked again. Where are you? Has something happened? Is there danger at Calio Landing?

Through his augmented eye, Conus spotted more cameras hidden among the debris. Why all the security?

Moments later, footsteps sounded from within, followed by the clatter of locks turning. The door creaked open with a long, drawn-out squeak.

Klamarez appeared in the doorway, his light-green pupils dilating as he took in Garen and Conus. Dressed in faded blue coveralls with brown straps and a utility belt full of tools, a compact sidearm was holstered at his hip. His fur was a blend of brown, white, and subtle orange.

"Quick, get in!" he urged, his pointed ears twitching as he scanned the clearing behind them.

Garen and Conus stepped inside without hesitation as Klamarez locked the door behind them. The interior was cluttered with components and half-assembled gadgets. Klamarez's gaze lingered on Conus's RDF uniform, briefly noting the insignia of his rank and the augments that covered much of him, but his attention shifted to more pressing matters.

"Garen, why is the RDF here?" Klamarez asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

His gaze settled on Conus, who offered an awkward smile under the scrutiny.

"They came looking for me," Garen replied simply.

"They?" Klamarez's ears twitched. "You're saying there's more?"

"There was," Garen said.

Klamarez nodded slowly, the realization sinking in. His ears lowered, and his eyes narrowed. Can't we ever have peace? This kind of trouble was the last thing he'd expected on this remote world.

He exhaled deeply. "Last night, I detected signals from an RDF ship, followed by three Vorcon transports."

"Three?" Conus couldn't hide his disbelief. How did we miss it? He was in command. The failure was his. "We didn't detect any ships on our approach," he admitted.

"They came in from the far side of the planet, staying low until they neared your landing site. Their signatures were masked—detectable, but only if you knew what to look for. It's an old trick," Klamarez said, his tone almost instructional. Suddenly, memories of the Grand Vorcon Imperial Force flashed through his mind—ships blotting out the skies of his homeworld.

"I didn't intend for this," Conus said. The failure to spot the ships nagged at the back of his mind. They died because I missed it.

"I get it," Klamarez replied, his tone softening before frustration returned. "But make no mistake—we don't want the RDF here either." He shook his head.

Conus raised his brows, genuinely puzzled. "Why not? The RDF liberated your homeworld," he asked, his tone more curious than accusatory.

Garen rubbed the back of his neck, well aware of Klamarez's strong feelings on the subject.