“Let me remind you, Donellanus. This is no longer a monarchy. We operate under the decisions of a council We must all mind our tongues in the Higher Order,” bit Caullen.
As Drogan focused on their voices, the room around him faded away. The meeting of the Higher Order was more real to him now than the bindings around his wrists.
“How right you are, Caullen,” Donellanus grumbled. With a click of his talon, he turned off the translation node on the side of his own head. “You think I, of all of us, could forget? I remember our last King. It was his decision to turn governmental control over to the Higher Order. A decision I always respected. I have his white scales. His ruby eyes. His blood in my veins.”
“What’s your point, Chairman?” demanded Caullen, whose scales were only a slightly darker tinge, blue. His eyes glinted yellow.
“If your concern is one shared amongst the council, let their concerns be heard. Are there any others who second Caullen’s concern about the Faders? Shall we set aside resources to send them back to Antila II? Remember how long it took us to recover after we used our Chrysum Gravity Well Transporter to get here? Shall we, who they have worshipped as deities for centuries, banish them?” To this, the other light-scaled Dragons around the room were silent. Even Caullen. “Then we honor our ancestors, who visited the Faders’ world long before we were born. We allow them to express their gratitude to us as maintainers of the sanctum and interrogators of our prisoners.”
“Fine. The Faders stay. Thank you, Dormis,” Caullen resigned with a nod to the leader of the Faders, a guest at the council meeting. “Perhaps we can send some of his Faders out to help with the raids?”
“Dormis,” Donellanus said, to get the Fader’s attention, “Krema tuken grehtahana?” Dormis confirmed that his people were at the Higher Order’s disposal, in the same harsh tongue. “The Faders will join us in the field. I’ll keep the two who interrogated Drogan today to continue, and teach them our tongue myself, if it pleases the Order.”
“Is it enough?” posed another doubter amongst the Higher Order. The shifting gemstone eyes of others made Donellanus wonder just how many there were amongst the council.
“The WCC has tightened security in their Outerworlds. Greatly. The satellite barracks outside Saturn and the new office on Neptune are the newest ones we know of. There could be more,” Caullen seconded. Donellanus clenched his massive jaw in preparation for the only suggestion he had left. Cutting the supply routes of the humans had slowed them down, sure, but not nearly enough. The WCC was developing all around them, boxing in the fire of their insurrection. Soon, it might be tight enough to snuff it out.
“There is one tool at our disposal we have yet to exploit,” Donellanus forced himself to say. He might not have been King, but he was a leader amongst the council. What sort of leader wouldn’t at least consider anything to save his people. “The primordial life form Machaeus.” Shifting around in seats gave rise to uncomfortable chatter.
“Perhaps you remember your father less clearly than you think,” Caullen dared to say. With this, all other conversation rumbled out. The Higher Order sat in tense, silent apprehension of their Chairman’s answer.
“Perhaps you’ve let your memory warp your judgment, Caullen. It was Drogan’s pact with Machaeus that resulted in the destruction of our home. I know this. I also know it is because of my father’s pact with Machaeus that we survive still. I am not suggesting we enter a similar pact. Note my use of the word tool.”
“Forgive me, Chairman,” one of the other Dragons shuddered in the pause that followed, “what exactly do you propose?”
“We have, imprisoned here, but a small fraction of Machaeus. It was splintered into countless, weakened pieces when we lost Mukurus. We don’t need to grovel to Machaeus anymore, but perhaps we can use it.”
“If you believe you can control that…thing, then we truly are lost,” Caullen shook his head. “Machaeus all but orchestrated this war we’re in now. It always finds a way to serve its own needs. We trusted it once before, and three-quarters of our population slept through the explosion of our home. I vote against.” Donellanus gave a solemn nod. He expected no less or more from the biggest thorn in his side amongst the council.
“What say the rest of the Order? Rise if you stand with me,” Donellanus opened the table to the official motion. It was a mixed motion across the room. When at last the others had all decided, Donellanus counted for a majority vote. It was split, right down the middle. He lowered his head, let out a puff of Chrysum steam, then said, “As dictated in our charter, a split vote can be revisited. For now, we continue our raids, with the added help of the Faders. I hope it’s enough, but…I suspect you will hear this proposal again.”
Drogan listened closely to every word of the council meeting, right up until the bitter end. Only then did he let his head swing low. He closed his eyes to go over it all in his mind, until he inevitably passed out. Perhaps, he figured, an idea of what to do with all that information would come to him in the release of dreams. He had almost set sail on their invisible winds when a whisper crept across his mind.
“What…they done to you?” murmured a voice Drogan recognized. He looked around the room in frantic fits. There was no one, but he was certain he’d heard it. In his thoughts, in the Chrysum in his very b
lood.
“D…DA-Vos?” he dared think only in a whisper, one that would go no further than the walls of his empty room.
“Drogan? You can hear me?” DA-Vos laughed quietly, from somewhere unseen. It was all Drogan could do not to break out in hysteria himself.
“I damaged their bindings, just lightly, but…I can hear you. Where in the hell are you?” he smiled.
“You’re not going to believe it,” said DA-Vos.
Chapter Four: A Look Back, a Way Forward
Marcus led the Dogs of War from his office to another elevator back to the surface. It was not the one they arrived in. Uncomfortable shuffling in silence was par for the course on the long, silent walk. Demi, Kalus, Lilia and Sophia spread in a perfectly even formation around the see-through platform all the way down toward the sand of the Coliseum. This particular lift, however, didn’t stop when it reached ground level. The light of day shrunk by inches to a tiny shard, then extinguished. The Dogs of War continued deep underground.
They passed by five, six more floors than they could have guessed existed beneath their training grounds. Flashes of researchers in white coats floated up and away from them. Their destination was deeper. They passed by a cafeteria, a floor of offices much simpler than Marcus’ and an armory overflowing with Chrysum powered weapons on racks and in cases. Kalus folded his hands over his waist to keep from fiddling. What he would do to get ten minutes in that room. The things he could dissect and reconstruct better - it was too much to think!
The elevator slowed over a long descent through a huge steel amphitheater. Its stony, bedrock walls were held up with immense steel pillars and girders. The elevator softly lulled to a stop when it reached the floor. The door slid open.
“Welcome to the WCC’s Roman hangar. The first of its kind - storage and SkyLine launch, right from Earth,” announced Marcus over the roar of commotion throughout the hangar.
Welders flared up hissing sparks. Diamond-tipped drills pierced steel. Heavy sledges beat thick carriage bolts into stone. The percussion and winds of industry boomed through the hangar loud enough to deafen anyone without earmuffs, the Dogs of War included. Kalus’ head sunk down to his shoulders in place of actually covering his ears. Sophia clenched her fists to keep them from doing the same. Captain Demi managed to cage his own discomfort with the occasional shake of his head. Among the group, only Marcus seemed entirely immune to the commotion. Lilia’s ears rang just as loudly as her companions’, but it helped to be more occupied with excitement. Her fingers began to tremble from the second she stepped out of the elevator. That was when she first laid eyes on it: the Cerberus.
“Is that…” said Lilia to Marcus. He barely heard her, yet he knew by her tone of sheer wonder exactly what she referred to.