Year: 75,350 A.A.
Location: Lírterno - Medulla Mountains
Designation: Baltair Orazon - Chief General

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    Baltair's clenched jaw ached as he watched Pariah soar into the atmosphere at a rapid speed, thanks to the engines the mercenaries appeared to have stolen off their abandoned ship. He had already called in the order to have them pursued and knew it would be carried out immediately.

    Starships had likely already been deployed from bases all across Lírterno, not just the one in Ternio, but he didn't anticipate them having much luck. Perhaps once the other planets became involved, they'd stand a better chance. Malak was a good pilot, but even he wouldn't be able to escape capture forever.

    Finally, his gaze dropped to the vial of dark liquid hidden in his palm. It was undoubtedly a blood sample, but why it had been given to him and whose it was, he couldn't say for certain. He guessed it to belong to the cyborg, the alleged plague victim, but he'd seen no signs of the plague on her. But given what Marek had told him when he was last at Site "Occult", and now with Lady Rythe's crippling revelation...

    He closed his fist as Ethelyn's voice rang out behind him, fraught with rage. "You bloody imbecile!" Baltair twisted to face his sister, not balking from the sparks within her hazel eyes. "How could you let them escape when they were right in front of us!"

    His brow arched. "I wasn't aware their capture was so important to you." In fact, it hadn't been. Her presence was merely out of curiosity about the cyborg, and yet, Ethelyn had barely paid the woman any mind.

    "The same as it should be to you," Ethelyn countered, ducking his insinuation with expert precision. "You saw what that man could do, and you saw what little effect on him a regular bullet had."

    "Malak has cybernetics, as is mentioned in his files."

    Some of the anger in Ethelyn's gaze faded in lue of a dark curiosity. The same look she'd worn when Benat was born. A morbid, dangerous greed. "Cybernetics would not give him the reflexes he has, or leave him all but unscathed from a shot that should have done more than just graze his face."

    In spite of her frustration, Ethelyn's posture grew gradually languid, and Baltair recognized the shift in his sister's train of thought. "Did his file mention where he comes from?"

    "We found him out here in the desert. The ESC hired him and his partner for their sharp shooting abilities when they were about twenty," Baltair answered. "I don't know where he's from originally, but he believes he's always been on Lírterno."

    Ethelyn's attention snapped back to him. "What do you mean 'he believes'? He doesn't know where he came from?"

    Baltair shook his head. "He claims to have no memory from before he was around sixteen. He's not even certain of his exact age."

    Her eyes narrowed and something about her stare grew heavier, until Baltair could almost feel the holes she was burning through him. "Does he seem familiar to you?" She asked finally.

    "I've been working with him for the past five years. Of course he's familiar to me."

    "Hm." His sister continued staring, then finally shrugged and smoothed a hand across her perfectly sleek hair. "Send me his file, and whatever you can find on the cyborg and that Triumvir Initiate. I've met her before on Atyr, but something tells me I should become better acquainted with a Glacíen that is willing to turn on her own kind."

    "Very well."

    "And leave these soldiers here. I want to examine this site and investigate that ship for any clues they might have left behind."

    Baltair only nodded his consent as he turned on his heel and approached the shuttle that had brought him here. He relayed Ethelyn's wishes to the man he intended to leave in charge on the way, and when he reached the shuttle, only his pilot remained on board.

    Unease pricked at his gut when he glanced back over his shoulder, briefly catching Ethelyn's eye, before the boarding ramp sealed and blocked her from sight. The feeling only deepened while they flew to Ternio, and he clutched the blood vial tighter, grateful Ethelyn had been too caught up in her own musings to notice it.

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    The hour was late before Baltair had another moment to himself. The sun had already set during his flight and the minute he arrived in Ternio, he'd found the ArchImperator, his councilors, and the ambassadors waiting for his report. It had taken entirely too long to deliver as each of them interrupted multiple times.

    From there, he had to uphold his promise to Ethelyn and send her everything the ESC databanks had on Malak, the cyborg fugitive, and Lady Initiate Rythe. He also sent what had been compiled on Zandyr and Zarina Wethyn for good measure. If he knew his sister, it would only be a matter of time before she was asking about Malak's known allies in addition to him.

    At last, he was finally able to return to his private lodgings near the base barracks, a home much different from the one he had shared with Remena. When his family was whole, they had lived in the city. Remena had forced him to live the life of an actual man, not a machine of war. But he'd left that house immediately after her and their sons' deaths. He couldn't bear to live there by himself, and he'd known of nowhere else to go.

    The door hissed open and Baltair stepped inside. A light flicked on overhead, triggered by his motion, and illuminated the dismal space. He propped his rifle near the door and set about removing the other weapons strapped to his body, then pried off his boots and slumped into the single chair beside a small table.

    Baltair pitched his elbows atop the smooth surface and rested his face in his hands, massaging his temples with a weary sigh. How had things become so unfettered in the span of a few weeks? He had more than enough to deal with between worrying about Benat and Marek, and attending to his regular duties. Now he was supposed to be leading a galaxy wide manhunt and failure to produce the desired outcome would mean forfeiting his life.

    "Mena was right," he murmured under his breath. "I should've resigned years ago."

    He lifted his head only when a dull beeping echoed through the room. Baltair frowned and retrieved the datapad, but his grip faltered when he saw the source of the notification. The message was encrypted and took a few minutes for him to unlock it, and then Malak's recorded face appeared on screen.

    It was not a live transmission, he soon realized, but it wouldn't have mattered. The location stamp in the corner of the screen revealed that it had been made earlier this very day, likely while the small crew had been in the mountains. Baltair listened quietly as the recording began to play.

    "I'm taking the liberty of making this recording for you, General, as I'm well aware we won't have much of a chance to explain ourselves in person," Malak said with a crooked smirk.

    "I can only hope you hold enough respect for Zandyr and I, and possess enough understanding from your own past to recognize why this is important. This sample of blood is from Sloane Tehyr, the cyborg fugitive from Nësťys, who was taken there because she was infected with the plague. But she shows no sign of the disease now."

    Baltair's disbelief grew with every word as Malak's explanation continued. The woman had amputated her arm and replaced it with a cybernetic one while in the Q.Z. and somehow, she was still alive. She had no symptoms of the plague whatsoever. It was impossible. No one had ever survived the plague before, much less had their symptoms disappear!

    "We couldn't think of anyone else who might be willing to give us a chance and listen to this," Malak said towards the end of the message. "But we needed someone who would have access to the facilities needed to run tests on the blood sample and determine for certain whether or not Sloane is rid of the plague. General, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that if she is, it would change everything. We need answers. We deserve the truth."

    Baltair swallowed, unable to remove his eyes from the vial. What he held in his hands could lead to a cure for the plague. The answer to all of Ethelyn's research. The means to allow Benat to have the life of a normal boy. Perhaps the secrets within the cyborg's blood combined with what Ethelyn and Marek had recovered from Benat's could be enough to link the gaps and find the cure!

    Then he paused, his mind snagging on one particular detail. That gnawing feeling in his gut. A sense that he should not let this fall into Ethelyn's hands. At least, not yet. Which meant there was only one other person he could trust with this. Baltair shoved the vial back in his pocket and erased the message from his datapad at once.

    Until he knew the full extent of what was happening, he couldn't risk letting this information make its way to those who should not possess it. He then sent a vague message of his own to Marek, only warning him to be waiting for his arrival and not to let anyone else know.

    The moment it was delivered, Baltair raced out of his home and back to the shipyard. He woke no pilots or guards, and none of the soldiers on duty even bothered to question their General's presence in spite of the hour. He found the first single pilot starship he could and took off to Site "Occult", his mind chasing him all the way.