Return from Exile

Chapter 9.

Inside the Seeker, the remnants of their clash with the Rheeavher lingered. Garen sat at the helm, watching the swirling white streaks of the rift stretch ahead, carving a tunnel through space.

Caul Malocktus's threats echoed in Garen's mind—a promise of impending war. For Garen, it was hardly surprising. The Vorcons thrived on conflict; it was embedded in their cultural ethos. Rituals preceded every campaign: seers pronounced the divine will, while shamans purported communion with deities to secure favor for forthcoming battles and placate the gods. The Vorcons existed perpetually in a cycle of warfare or preparation for it.

Yet, for the Vorcons, mere battle was insufficient. Conflict had to be monumental—a spectacle crafted to forge a place in legend. Their ambitions transcended mere conquest; they sought enduring glory, achievements meant to resonate across generations. The Vorcons not only venerated their gods but also exalted the Immortals—figures whose names achieved transcendence in the annals of history. Caul Malocktus wasn’t just a warrior chasing triumph—he sought a place among the Immortals, a legacy to ensure his name lived on.

The Vorcon Empire’s mythical past wasn’t seen as fable but as historical fact, and from Garen’s experience, much of it contained unsettling elements of truth.

Garen had distinguished himself early in his RDF career. He led troops in ground engagements, survived duels with Vorcons, even bested them. However, his initial encounter with Caul had seared itself into his memory—a chaotic battle on a desolate world, the air thick with dust and debris. He recalled the choking cloud that enveloped everything, explosions reverberating through the barren landscape, and the agonized cries of the fallen echoing around him. He had watched as Caul tore through RDF Marines, his Kelkor blade leaving jagged, uneven wounds, with soldiers collapsing in pools of blood. Caul moved as though he were untouchable, as if the Vorcon gods themselves provided him with divine protection—relentless and impervious.

Garen had barely survived. His vision blurred in the midst of the chaos as reinforcements arrived just in time. Without them, Caul would undoubtedly have finished him. That battle had been an awakening for Garen. Part of him blamed his youthful arrogance, but another knew the truth—Caul was simply superior.

Now, Caul held the rank of Major Legate, an extraordinary ascent for an individual born outside the noble class in a society that revered emperors and the nobility.

Facing Caul again was not a matter of if—it was a matter of when.

Is that why Amar Lavont summoned me? Did he really think I could return to my old role? Command another Capital Battle Cruiser? He doubted his capacity to return to that life. Those days felt irrevocably lost, buried deep within his past. Garen had no inclination to resurrect them.

Amar required Garen for a mission, but not to command a capital battle cruiser. He needed someone intimately familiar with the enemy, someone who could remain composed under extreme pressure, and someone he could trust to make the difficult decisions that this mission demanded. A mission so critical, only a select few could be trusted to ensure its success.

But Garen’s time with the RDF had ended. There was nothing left for him there. How could Lavont expect him to return after all these years? And even if he did, what use could he possibly be? Did he even want to help?

Garen knew the enemy well, but a decade had passed. This wasn’t the future I’d envisioned. If things had gone the way I'd planned... Perhaps he could have made a difference. He’d been preparing for the next phase of his life—a chance to contribute to the Seven Worlds as the war wound down. He didn’t want a promotion, just a chance to teach at the RDF Academy. But unforeseen events had driven him down another path—into exile on a remote world, where the days blurred together in quiet solitude.

Years had passed. Garen had changed. How could he not? Isolation had reshaped him, dismantling the man he once was and forging something new in his place. Lavont was searching for a man who no longer existed. Soon, others from his past would come to realize the same truth.

Why now? To return to war? That was never why he enlisted. Garen hadn’t joined the RDF simply to serve the Seven Worlds. It was his curiosity that drove him—a fascination with the Karadolex Galaxy and its countless worlds and species. What better way to explore it all than by joining the RDF? Yet, soon after graduating, he found himself trapped in a twenty-year war.

Before entering the Academy, Garen had a deep interest in other civilizations and histories. His father, a seasoned RDF officer, had fostered this curiosity, often bringing home volumes on various galactic cultures, including those of the Vorcons. Garen particularly remembered a translated manuscript on the Oiroen—a species that had reached its height centuries earlier, commanding one of the galaxy’s most powerful fleets. At their peak, no force could challenge them. However, their strength eventually turned inward, leading to an endless civil war that left their system in perpetual conflict. Once a dominant power, they had since become largely irrelevant.

Garen often wondered what might have happened had the Oiroen maintained their unity. Would they still wield the strength they once did? The galaxy was full of empires that rose to greatness only to crumble into obscurity.

Some of these books were original texts, while others had been translated into the galactic standard. Over the years, Garen built an impressive collection. His passion for knowledge drove him to follow in his father’s footsteps and enlist—though his father had been more scholar than soldier.

While Garen had attended the RDF Academy, with war against the Vorcon Empire seeming likely, Garen immersed himself in studying them. Their unwavering devotion to ancient gods, each representing a distinct virtue, captivated him. The Vorcons treated their home system as sacred, preserving it with meticulous care. They revered beasts and upheld cultural traditions that spanned centuries. They were more than warriors—their culture had depth beyond conflict—but their obsession with war defined them.

Was it blind faith or deeply ingrained tradition that drove them?

The Nalore resisted the Vorcon Empire for decades before ultimately facing extermination. The Nalore valued peace. They maintained a defense-oriented fleet focused on repelling incursions. For a time, their strategy worked—successfully fending off several attacks from the GVIF. However, the relentless pressure from the Vorcons gradually eroded their defenses.

Eventually, the Vorcons obliterated the Nalore fleets, and the final days of the conflict spilled across their planets, into the very streets of Nalore cities. In the capital city of Relore, the Larocol held out for days, fighting fierce, street-to-street battles. But they were ultimately overwhelmed. The Vorcons concluded their conquest with orbital bombardments. By the end, few, if any, survived. The Vorcons didn’t just defeat the Larocol—they systematically ensured their extinction.

Garen had long been drawn to the fallen Nalore system, now abandoned, looted, and left desolate, lying in ruins. Rumors persisted of sacred sites scattered across the Nalore worlds—sites tied to theories that Garen had followed with casual yet persistent interest.

These locations were said to hold clues about the origins of the Karadolex Galaxy—possibly containing artifacts or ancient maps pointing to a distant point of origin. One theory suggested that the original inhabitants of the Karadolex Galaxy had migrated from a far-off galaxy over five thousand years ago. Some even believed these sites held powerful relics and ancient weapons.

Since the Vorcons' departure, the Nalore worlds had been stripped and looted, after their lands were reduced to ruin. What intrigued Garen most, however, was why the Vorcons abandoned the system after conquering it. Perhaps they had found something they feared, or maybe the resources they sought weren’t as valuable as expected. Such behavior was unlike them. What could have prompted it? Was it a strategic withdrawal or something else entirely?

He wondered if there was truth hidden in those rumors. This is what I should be doing, not wasting my time with the RDF.

The Seeker shuddered as it emerged from the final rift, the sudden pressure shift causing a creak within. A surge of residual energy propelled the ship forward as the swirling streaks of the rift dissipated, and the tear in spacetime sealed behind them. Normal space reasserted itself, the vast darkness stretching endlessly ahead. The Mottmor System slowly came into view.

“The Mottmor System,” Klamarez remarked, his voice laced with contempt. “A festering hive of corruption and villainy, deception, violence, and betrayal at every corner. We should be cautious.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Garen shrugged, a faint smile on his face. He projected indifference, but beneath the surface, a dread lingered—an instinct he had learned to heed. Klamarez, observing him, wasn’t fooled. He had known Garen long enough. Garen might brush off the situation with a casual remark, but Klamarez could tell the weight of it was heavier than Garen let on.

“Everything I just said,” Klamarez retorted.

A dry chuckle escaped Garen as he gazed ahead. “It is what it is. We’ll be careful.” He added, “Relax, Klamarez, just don’t get shot.”

Klamarez snorted.

“And let’s not forget the RDF presence here,” Conus interjected, a hint of optimism in his voice. “That adds another layer of stability. There shouldn’t be any issue.”

Conus believed in the ideals of the Seven Worlds of Rhyus. Whether it was the RDF or the RSIA, their core values remained the same. The mission was always clear: protect the Seven Worlds, maintain order in chaotic regions like this, and act in the interest of the greater good. At least, that’s how Conus saw it.

Upon Conus’s recommendation, they had exited the rift just beyond the system's perimeter. The Seeker, unregistered and absent from RDF databases, might attract attention`.

Eteren One would be their first real refuge since leaving Chiex. The Seeker’s bunks were adequate, but the food—a bland nutrient paste designed purely for sustenance—had been the target of countless sarcastic remarks from Klamarez. Ironic, since it was his ship, and he had stocked it himself, convinced it was a wise investment.

Garen reclined in his chair, adjusting the ship’s trajectory as the sublight engines kicked in, propelling them closer to their destination. He didn’t want to go to Eteren One. He didn’t want to return to the Seven Worlds. All he wanted was to be back in his cabin on Chiex. He had no way of knowing that everything he’d built there was destroyed.

Klamarez, engrossed in his PDA, hummed a soft tune as he made some notes, a list of items to fix. His eyes scanned the power readouts, paying particular attention to the shield matrix, where a subtle fluctuation had briefly registered.

Conus sat at the trace display, briefly adjusting his glove over his augmented hand before continuing. His eyes narrowed in concentration, posture rigid. Several distant contacts appeared on the long-range sensors—an unidentified freighter and a few smaller ships.

"The IRD held up better than I thought," Garen said, his shoulders relaxing.

"Thanks to Conus's reroute," Klamarez replied, glancing at him. "It's holding steady for now. I've got plenty of data to work with."

"She's solid, Klamarez," Garen said, gesturing toward the unfinished panels and exposed wires. Modifications still waited to be completed.

Klamarez gave a small, appreciative smile, his fang showing briefly. "Thanks, Garen. But you know me—never fully satisfied."

Conus didn't look up from his screen, his augmented eye tracking ship IDs as lines of data scrolled past. "Glad to help get us here," he said.

Klamarez rubbed his temple, frowning at the fluctuating readings. His eyes narrowed as he studied the diagnostics again. “Still... something’s off. The shield matrix is fluctuating—it could be minor, but I’d rather not take chances. I need to replace those damn converters. I need to give this whole thing a look over, once we’re at the station.”

“Just don’t take too long,” Garen muttered, impatience creeping into his voice. Eteren One was just a temporary stop, he hoped.

He ran a hand through his beard, feeling its length. His hair was in a similar state. Maybe I should get a haircut. His eyes drifted to his worn clothes. And some new clothes, too.

“I’ll take the time I need, Garen. Or have you forgotten the Vorcon attack?” Klamarez's tone was casual.

“No,” Garen replied, his voice distant. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“The hits we took weren’t direct, but they carried a lot of energy,” Klamarez continued. “Repeated impacts like that can compromise critical systems. The damage might not show immediately, but it’ll come eventually. I’d rather deal with it now while we’ve got some breathing room. We’re a long way from Rhyus.”

Garen gave a faint smile. "I suppose I could help. Assuming you're desperate, that is."

Klamarez laughed, shaking his head, his ears twitching in opposite directions. "No, that's okay. Let's keep her intact."

Garen let out a dry chuckle, leaning back. "Just offering."

"Oh, I’m sure you were," Klamarez quipped, flashing a grin. In truth, he looked forward to some time alone, tinkering with the ship, maybe hunting for parts—anything to decompress. He glanced around the ship, already mentally listing the adjustments he wanted to make.

Conus's voice cut in, his expression stern, eyes focused on the data in front of him. "We also need to brief the RDF. They must be informed about the Vorcon activity."

Garen nodded. "Proceed, Colonel. I'll leave that in your hands."

"Understood, General," Conus responded. I still need to tell him I'm with the RSIA.

Klamarez's thoughts wandered. News of the Vorcons near Calio Landing would spread quickly. It would instill fear—not only among the Camerians but across other species that had suffered under Vorcon rule. Their presence alone was enough to unsettle anyone familiar with their ruthless reputation.

“Why is the RDF here?” Garen cut in, his voice sharp. “Trade deals? They never move without a bigger play.”

He paused, suspicion growing. "It has to be more than just trade bringing them to the Mottmor system."

Conus leaned forward, his eyes brightening. “It started when the Ottorins discovered substantial trivieum deposits in their moons."

Garen listened as he absorbed the information, rubbing the side of his neck. "They have enough to mine for decades. However, they lacked the technology and the will for deep mining." He paused. "The Seven Worlds made the best offer—security in exchange for mining rights. They provided assistance with infrastructure development as well."

“So they outsourced it?” Garen asked.

Conus nodded. “Precisely. The Seven Worlds get their share. The RDF provides security, ensuring the space around the planet remains protected. That allows the Ottorins to focus on agriculture and expanding their trade. It’s mutually beneficial. The Ottorins keep a large portion of the trivieum, and with the RDF stationed here, raider activity has dropped significantly.”

“What about the rest of the system?” Garen pressed. “The RDF’s always got more going on,” he muttered darkly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“The whole system benefits now. The Mottmor Trade Union has flourished. Resources from the system are reaching farther than ever, thanks to the Seven Worlds’ extensive trade networks. They’re not just working with the Ottorins anymore, but with all the trade union members. Though security is limited to the Ottorins and Eteren,” Conus added.

Klamarez shook his head. "The RDF, always there to help. Helpful neighbors," his tone made it clear he meant the opposite.

Conus tilted his head slightly, his expression hovering between amusement and annoyance. "Just happens to be profitable this time."

"Not surprising there's an agenda," Klamarez said.

Conus hesitated, processing the sarcasm. They always think there's an ulterior motive. “Agenda or not, the Ottorins benefit from RDF’s presence. It’s... mutually beneficial.”

Garen smirked. “I see something else this system provides.” He glanced at Conus.

Conus thought about it for a moment, surprised by all the skepticism but quickly grasped Garen's meaning. "Mottmor is a strategic location if conflict breaks out. It gives them an outward staging area should a conflict happen." He still believed the RDF had saved more than they had harmed. Maybe General Rivers seen too much, been away too long, Conus thought.

Garen smirked again. Conus really bought into all of it, believing the RDF was all about helping and always had good intentions. But Garen knew that no military force became powerful without being aggressive at times. He had witnessed too many so-called “mutually beneficial” deals where one side ended up exploited. The RDF had its own interests, and he doubted their motives were purely selfless. Then again, perhaps I’m just out of touch with the current political landscape.

“No shortage of danger here, especially with the Vanicktus Syndicate,” Klamarez added. “They’ve built a real foothold in the system. The Moon Ynd might be the worst of them—it's run by crime lords. At least Eteren One is secure.”

“The RDF presence probably just pushed them underground,” Garen said. “Groups like the Syndicate don’t just vanish.”

“You’re right,” Conus agreed.

“Is this station strictly commercial?” Garen asked, a hint of doubt in his tone.

“It has defensive capabilities as well,” Conus replied. “The starbase is also the primary hub for trade in the system. The Mottmor system is complicated—different species, each with their own agenda. Nsalron, Sabons, Netraxians, Ottorins, and more... it’s an odd amalgamation.”

The green orb of Planet Eteren appeared on the display. Eteren One’s starbase, an octagonal structure with docking ports and defense turrets, came into view. Blinking lights from ships and floating markers surrounded it, directing traffic.

Garen glanced at the station. It wasn’t just a temporary outpost; it was a major investment. The RDF had a strong military presence here. The Seven Worlds had constructed a substantial starbase with advanced defensive capabilities—turrets, shield generators, and hangars for rapid deployment of RDF Verta fighter craft. The Seven Worlds had always been known for humanitarian aid and peacekeeping, but this felt different. This isn’t how they usually operate. It looked permanent.

He thought of Vesnara, a planet in a nearby star system that had been overwhelmed with flooding. The RDF had gone in, helped clean up, restored the planet's utilities, and then left. That was what Garen remembered. This, however, looked different.

“They’re preparing for an invasion, aren’t they?” Klamarez half-joked, a crooked smile barely masking the seriousness behind his words.

“Klamarez?” Conus glanced over, taken aback.

“You don’t like the RDF? You don't trust them at all?” Conus asked, his voice neutral, betraying no emotion as he awaited the answer.

Klamarez's feelings were more nuanced than simply liking or disliking the RDF. He had seen Camerians, who had always valued peace and family, turn into something else in the aftermath of the occupation, abandoned by the RDF after the Vorcon devastation. While Eteren received a massive starbase due to its strategic value and resources, the Camerians were left with nothing—forced to rebuild with ruined infrastructure, scarce resources, and no support. The Seven Worlds could have helped more than they had, but they chose not to when there was nothing in it for them.

Klamarez sighed, his tone heavy. “After the war, they left us. We had nothing left to offer, but we still needed help." His claws out, his eyes darkening with the weight of old memories. He looked away for a moment. "Maybe if they’d stayed, we wouldn’t have fallen so far... Instead, we were left to pick up the pieces alone.”

Garen glanced at Klamarez, noting the bitterness there. He remembered that feeling well—it was familiar to many who had been left behind. Klamarez had told Garen more than once what it was like on Calio. Garen had seen it firsthand when the task force he led liberated the planet.

Conus absorbed the gravity of his words, his mind wrestling with the conflicting beliefs he held about the RDF. “I didn’t think about it like that. There must be a reason why they didn’t.”

“We had nothing of value,” Klamarez said bluntly.

“There’s more to it than that,” Conus insisted.

“Come on, Colonel, sometimes it’s as simple as it seems,” Garen said, leaning back with a dismissive shrug. “What do they teach at the Academy? That the RDF were the heroes of the galaxy? Do they tell you they did no wrong? You don’t fight a twenty-year war and come out clean. Sure, we did a lot of good, but we messed things up too.”

Conus fell silent, aware of the depth behind Garen’s critical view. He could feel the weight of Garen’s experience pressing on him, the disillusionment of a man who had seen the reality behind the rhetoric.

Was he right? Had he been blind to the truth, preferring instead to see only the noble image the RDF projected? Garen had once been a highly respected general, only to retire disillusioned. He’d advocated for the complete dismantling of the Vorcon military to prevent a resurgence after the conflict. When he voiced his concerns, the leadership of the Seven Worlds shunned him, publicly tarnishing his reputation and branding him disloyal.

Still, the RDF had saved worlds, hadn’t they? Conus couldn’t help but wonder.

The Seeker pushed forward at sublight speed, roaring with dark blue exhaust streaked with violet. Eteren came into sharper focus—a green orb, with its three moons peeking from behind the planetary curve. Trade vessels moved around, while bulky cargo haulers lumbered through space. Shuttles darted between them. Verta fighters flew in tight formations, patrolling the area.

Ahead, the RDF starbase, Eteren One, rose like an octagonal structure against the backdrop of the green planet, adorned with bright navigational lights and beacons. Hangar doors of varying sizes dotted its surface, while turrets were strategically positioned along its perimeter, contributing to the station's defenses. Garen tracked the ships maneuvering around the starbase, while larger vessels held position nearby, smaller ships ferrying goods.

“The Seven Worlds never do anything halfway, do they?” Garen muttered. “This could rival Port Narris.”

“Port Narris is actually larger,” Conus replied, eyes fixed on the sensors. “But this place has everything. You could live here and never leave.”

Garen shrugged, letting the comment pass. The idea of living on such a station held no appeal for him.

As they neared Eteren One, Garen’s attention lingered on the station. A colossal trade vessel moved toward it, shrinking as it drew closer, before disappearing behind the structure. Garen steered the Seeker forward, steady and deliberate.

“The Ottorins don’t want outsiders settling on their planet,” Conus said. “That’s why the Seven Worlds brokered the deal—keeping most of the activity in orbit on Eteren One and the moons. Their farmlands are their main source of income and value in this system.”

The RDF’s assistance focused strictly on infrastructure, ensuring that Ottorin life remained undisturbed.

“A quiet people—I can respect that,” Klamarez said with a nod.

Klamarez activated the general communications channel, opening a link. Inside the Seeker, dozens of voices on various frequencies coordinated with station operators. “Eteren One, this is Shuttle Equis requesting priority docking for medical emergency,” came a transmission, quickly followed by, “Shuttle Equis, priority granted. Divert to docking bay E-3.”

As the starbase drew closer, Garen’s eyes locked onto a spire at the top of the station. A strange sense of familiarity washed over him. He hadn’t spent much time in this system—just passed through years ago without much thought—yet seeing the RDF’s growing presence felt almost surreal.

Proximity alarms blared from Conus’s station, a shrill, urgent sound. The trace display detected new contacts.

“Two RDF capital battlecruisers, approaching fast!” Conus’s voice was tight with alarm. His eyes widened as he leaned over the console.

Garen frowned. “Report, Colonel. What’s their course?”

“They’re heading straight for us,” Conus replied. Conus might have wanted to inform the RDF about the Vorcons, but he didn’t want to be greeted this way. He was with the RSIA, and there had been increasing tension between the RDF and RSIA, particularly over their differing approaches to security. They had no idea about the mission. How would they react to General Garen Rivers being on board?

“Well, that didn’t take long,” Garen muttered, already flipping switches. “Just what we needed.”

Soon they would learn the RDF had tracked the mission. In fact, they were already aware of the Vorcon attack on Chiex.

Garen brought the Seeker to a complete stop as the two battlecruisers continued towards them, moving at top sublight speed.