Echoes of the Past

Chapter Thirty Four - Part One

Chapter Thirty Four: Good Enough - Part One

A small maintenance mech whirred around the wooden floorboards, collecting dirt and polishing as it went. Sam Hawkings studied the cylindrical robot as he settled into an armchair with a drink in hand. The smell of dust and dirt lingered in the study, mixed with the light scent of polish coming from the beeping mech.

He tried to put Castan behind him and out of his mind. The man could have been a good friend, but he had ruined what he had been given. Now, from the looks of his companions, Sam had more pressing issues to worry about.

Opposite him sat Jorak, his large frame taking up most of a two-seater sofa as he wiped a few remaining crumbs from his buttoned shirt. He'd removed his military jacket and had rolled his sleeves up during dinner. Den sat on a recliner between them, his braced leg stretched out towards the centre table.

Sam took in the scene; him in the company of two famed war heroes that most cadets would kill to meet. There were shelves filled with books, rolled up maps and military documentation in folders - some very rare and informative items - but a young Oneron soldier could learn more from a conversation with people like Jorak and Den than by reading them all. Despite having known them both separately for years, and both older men knew each other well, the three of them had hardly spent much time together. Two weeks ago, Sam would never have dreamed of being there right now, too lost within his guise as a construction worker and keeping watch on James Island. He knew this day would come, eventually, but a part of him hoped it never would.

"This is quite the concoction," Den said, raising his glass.

Jorak's grin shifted his heavy beard. "Ipan whisky, Old Class. We recently aided Victory City with the removal of the occupying Fire Born forces, and collected a few cases while up there. Perfect for the harvest and wind seasons." He took a big swallow from his glass. "And goes well after a big dinner," he added, patting his stomach.

Sam's throat had seized up. The close reminder of Castan's troubled history felt almost too much of a coincidence. He eyed Jorak, trying to read more from the General, but was careful not to make his stare too obvious.

Jorak had insisted on them having a late-night drink together. James declared himself wiped out after dinner and wanted some time alone. Evan was still interlocked with the young sorceress, Melida. Liana had some business to take care of and said she would join them later. Most of the outpost had wound down at this hour, leaving a small crew to keep watch over night.

"That Voarn you have with you is an interesting character," Jorak said, nodding to Sam. "Never met anyone who didn't like fidja rolls."

"He's far from what he's accustomed to," Sam said.

"Your men still know how to cook up a feast," Den said.

"One of the most important skills to learn as a soldier," Jorak said. He leaned forward with a low grunt and refilled his glass from the jug on the table. Jorak eyed Sam as he poured. Sam could tell something serious was on his mind.

"James showed Liana that photo he has," Jorak said. He replaced the jug and leaned back with his filled glass, taking a moment to sip his drink before continuing. "He asked if she knew the men in the picture."

The air in the room filled with a charged silence.

"I meant to tell you about it," Sam said, "when we had the chance."

"No, you didn't," Jorak said. His voice remained deeply calm, with understanding, though his eyes were serious. Sam was familiar with the quiet anger of his lectures. Jorak looked to Den and back at Sam. "Something is going on here. You brought it to my people and tried to keep it hidden. Now I think I should know why you've been lying to James."