This Isn't About Reya

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sunlight, somehow, danced through the shifting clouds and into Michel's eyes from the far window - actually more of a wall than a window, glass and facing towards the city of Dragotsennost'. They were high in the sky, near the very top of the Tower of Victory, above the lowest layer of clouds. Much of the city was veiled beneath them. 

Ozero was in a different time zone from the capital city of Aquilo-Nix, and where it had been the middle of the night in his home district, Michel found himself watching a red, setting sun tessellate across the gleaming floor of the room he now stood in. 

The room, with that white marble floor and tall, black walls, was far too large for its contents: a decorated black desk faced away from the window-wall, with a high backed chair behind it and two much smaller, conversational chairs in front of it. Michel stood several steps away from the two chairs. He knew he was meant to sit in them at some point, but had to wait for the invitation from the room's other occupant before he could do so.

The Ram stood silently at the other end of the room, watching the sun through the glass wall. He faced away from Michel, fully donned in his ceremonial battle armor.

He was always armored. It was only fitting for the Tsar of War. 

Eventually, the Ram spoke.

"Even the sun must die."

The voice was rough and low, like a metal grate being dragged along concrete. It was not an invitation to speak, Michel knew. He stood patiently at attention.

The tsar turned from the window, but did not look at Michel. Instead, he walked slowly to the desk, pushed the high backed chair away from it, and rearranged some of the hardlight sheets laying atop it. The man was old, with a thick but neatly trimmed grey beard and a mane of matching grey hair slicked back along the top of his head. His eyebrows were dark and troubled, like his eyes. His face was lined from years of fighting - fighting both enemies of the Union as well as the Union itself. 

The Union was full of infighting these days.

"Even the sun must die," the Ram repeated. "And yet, we still fear the day." He motioned for Michel to sit.

He wasted no time in addressing the situation at hand.

"The death of our principal MP chief is distressing for many reasons," the Ram said, his dark eyes studying Michel from across the desk. "Which of these reasons do you believe is most detrimental to us now?"

Michel knew this was not a request for his opinion; there was a correct answer. "The manner in which he died, sir."

The Ram nodded slowly. "He was alone, in your district, torn apart by something we cannot identify and cannot trace." He tapped at each of the hardlight sheets on the desk, and they dissipated, one by one, until the desk was bare. "So what am I to do with you?"

Michel's body stiffened. "Sir, are you implying that I - "

"No, I do not believe it was you." The Ram's eyes shifted down and began studying his own armored gauntlets. "But many would. That is why we cannot allow the news of his death to become public."

Michel let out a low breath of relief, but his concern lingered. "Sir, I'm sorry, but I don't think I understand. He's been missing for several days. What are we to tell his family? The Dragotsennost' district's MPs?"

"You must assume his position," the Ram explained, reestablishing eye contact. "You are now the principal chief of Dragotsennost', Aquilo-Nix, and thus, the entire Union. You will inform the Dragotsennost' detachment that Officer Charzhinkar has been reassigned to investigate further disappearances on other planets. You will tell them that we believe these disappearances are connected to the ones here on Aquilo-Nix. And you will tell them that we are now reappointing all of our resources to find the source of these disappearances." His gaze darkened even further as he spoke, but the rest of his body remained totally motionless. "We must find whatever is causing this, and we must bring it to heel. We are in the middle of a multi-front war with the Redeemed terrorists, the Quoc Quyet raiders, and with ourselves. We cannot afford to have a mystery kidnapper and murderer wreaking havoc on our own capital planet."

Michel nodded, partially in shock. "As you wish, sir."

The Ram nodded back and stood from the chair. Michel followed suit, numbly.

The Tsar of War turned and walked slowly back towards the window. When he reached it, he motioned for Michel to follow. He obeyed, standing several feet behind the elder officer.

They both gazed out the window at the shifting cloud layers for some time. 

Suddenly the Ram spoke. "There are many secrets within our Union, Petrushev." The man closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nostrils. "Some of them, I do not even know."

Michel doubted that statement but said nothing. He watched the Ram intently, but could not process any of his movements.

The Ram opened his eyes again, and they seemed suddenly older. "I fear, now, that some of our most dangerous secrets are beginning to reveal themselves of their own accord." 

At this, Michel shuffled his feet. He was about to speak, but the other man beat him to it.

"Some of these secrets would tear the Union apart instantly. Others would tear apart all of humanity. We have many agents working to bury them once again, but it appears we need even more. You are now one of these agents, Petrushev. If you fail to find and destroy the source of these disappearances, then our nation will crumble. Do you understand me?" 

"Yes, sir."

"Do not lie to me, officer."

Michel pursed his lips. "I only have one question, sir."

"Yes?"

"You told me to lie to the Dragotsennost' detachment, to tell them that disappearances on other worlds are connected to the ones here. What will I do if they try to investigate the other planets and find nothing?"

The Ram turned from the window and locked eyes with Michel. The red sun blazed across half of his battle-scarred face.

"I did not tell you to lie," he said quietly.

Michel was unsure what he meant. His mouth silently tried to piece together another question.

"There have been thousands of disappearances across our hypernation over the past year." The Ram turned back to the window, his hands clasped stalwartly behind his back. "They are all from the same source."

Michel fell silent once again and let his hands fall limply to his sides.

"We have many secrets within our Union," the Ram said to the sky on the other side of the glass. "As the sun must one day die, so too shall all our secrets one day be revealed." He turned back to Michel one last time, and said, "But that day cannot be today."

And with that, the two men fell back into silence.

They watched the red sun disappear beyond the horizon, buried by the ice and snow of Aquilo-Nix.