Untitled
Chapter 1

Mother Confessor:

What have I become? Was it always like this? Too many lost memories, and pain of growing so cold. They use my skills and leave me with emptiness. I loathe all of them, always taking. I would love to make them suffer the way I have suffered. Some race that I despise will be once again at my blackened world.

The primitive beings inhabiting this forsaken rock will always fear me for what I do. I never oppressed them in my travels. I have tried through the centuries to show them that I bear no ill will to them. In their fear they revere me as a Goddess. They make sure I am cared for, and consult me when dealing with off worlders. Though, I do not receive much company out here in the outer rim.

Enough with the past for now. It must intrigue and mortify you what I do. Some call it interrogation. To others it is torture. Call it what you will, but I still enjoy implementing it. Upset someone in a position of power, and I will take great pleasure in loosening your tongue. My loins burn at the thought of you trying resist divulging your secrets to me. What sensitive political information do you hold? Are you a dissident leader planning to stage an uprising? Top military prisoner with strategic or classified information? Matters little to me what your status or faction. Once you are here in my cold clinical abattoir, I will revel in your immolation.

As much as I would like to entertain such thoughts. I truly want something more than to be locked away like a monster. I want my freedom. Too long have I been shackled here with this flattering and ugly title: The Mother Confessor. To be more than a nightmare in so many tongues. I can only hope to see the day I am released from this bondage and be free…

Marckus:

I can feel the frigidness on my body, raising the question of what they want from me now. I never liked being put in the freezer until the upper echelons have a problem that needs fixing. As my body starts to wake from the cryo sleep, my ears pick up an alien setting. Two soft female voices speaking in a Centurian dialect. The two Centurian females seem to be in dispute about something. Maybe they are like our Terran women and gossip as well. They do not sound hostile, nor do they sound military. They do however replace something amusing, as they giggle like schoolgirls. Flexing my calloused hands, in case I need to defend myself. They take notice of my movement and one of the females points this out to her comrade. Seeing me slowly revive a soft voice speaks. I am little rusty on Centurian tongue, but I think she says,” Good he is waking.”

My tired eyes are greeted to a brightness of a lamp, and seamless ceramic wall and ceiling. The females are dark blurs, as my eyes adjust after being thawed out. They start to come into focus as they open the cryo tube. My eyes hurt as I peer at the two reptilian females, their greenish bronze scaly skin covered in full surgical garb.

“Please try and relax, we mean you no harm”, the elder of the two females says, peering down at me with large yellow eyes.

Using their combined strength, the pair of tall females help me out of the tube and onto the cold ceramic floor. Helping me to keep my balance, they lead me to a large ceramic surgical table.

“Where am I, and what year is it”, I ask in their tongue, to whoever will answer.

“You are safe here, in our surgery. The year is 2715”, the elder female answers.

It has been a hundred and fifty years, I think taking a seat on the one point two meter high ceramic table in my issue boxers.

“Ok, but that doesn’t really tell me where I am. Are we on a planet, a ship, or some weird drug induced hallucination”, I ask a little sarcastically.

“We are on a ship”, the younger female giggles, as she shines a light in my eyes. So I wake up on a Centurian ship a hundred and fifty years after our last major conflict. Something is not adding up. Has Terra been turned into a lifeless wasteland? This is confusing as hell.

“What happened to your body”, the young female asks, taking my blood pressure.

“I was on the wrong side of an incendiary”, I laugh half-heartedly.

“That is terrible”, she says in a lower tone, I try to guess her expression hidden behind her surgical mask. Surely she has seen burn injuries before, or she is creating small talk for my sake. Judging by her bright green eyes, they look sympathetic. Removing the blood pressure cuff from my arm, she turns to the tray behind her. The elder is observing the proceedings, and filling out their replaceings on a clipboard. Listening to the scratch of the pen on the paper, and her breath filtering through her mask. The younger females tale flicks back and forth in a slow and steady rhythm. She turns around with a blood sample vial, tourniquet, antiseptic swab, and a medium sized bandage in her gloved clawed hands. Placing the bandage on the table, she gently applies the tourniquet to my left upper arm. Satisfied that it is tight on my arm, she cleans the inside of my elbow. Uncapping the needle on the blood collection vial, she flawlessly inserts it into the vein.

“Would you mind”, she asks, indicating that she wants me to hold it in place. Placing my right hand around the vial, I keep it steady as it starts to fill with my blood.

She about faces again, I take a deep breath waiting for her to turn back.

“So what kind of a ship are we on”, I ask looking over the clipboard, and into the elder females eyes.

“I think that will be answered shortly by the captain”, she says courteously from behind her paper work. At least this captain can tell me what the hell is going on.

“I have never seen a Terran before”, the younger female says as she turns back to me. Removing the full vial and needle gingerly, she bats her bright eyes at me flirtatiously.

“I have seen plenty of your kind”, I tell her politely, hoping they are almost finished with me.

After performing a few more simple tests for their records, they let me off the cold table. Walking across the cold floor back to the cryo-tube, I enter my access code into the storage compartment. It displays that it is empty.

“Where are my belongings”, I ask turning to look at them.

“We have your clothing here,” the younger female says stooping to retrieve my fatigues, boots, and mask from the bottom of a trolley. Walking back to the two females, and my clothing.

“Where is my pistol and coat”, I ask them agitated that they went through my personal effects, as I put on the articles.

“Your weapon and coat have been confiscated until you are deemed not a threat”, the elder female tells me. So I am a threat, I mull it over as I complete my dressing by lacing up my combat boots.

“You are to go through there”, the younger female tells me, pointing toward a hatch across the room. I begin marching toward the exit of the bright white surgical suit.

“Why do you wear that mask”, the younger female asks stopping me mid stride.

“I don’t like people to stare at my burnt face”, I tell her, continuing to the door to her low hum of acceptance.

Stepping out into an alcove of dull metal, leading out into a wide corridor. I am greeted by a familiar face, that I cannot quite place. Looking up into his hard expression, from the pistol pointed at me.

“Will you follow me please. Don’t give me a reason to shoot you”, he says gruffly in a familiar voice. A small smile forms on my masked face, I remember you.

“Well done Lieutenant, you got me where you want me”, I chuckle at my old adversary.

“Not anymore. It is Captain now”, he says darkly.

“Captain my apologies. What do you want with me”, I say in a snarky tone.

“Come with me, Ober-Commander Syrilious, and we can talk in private”, he says a little less coldly. Motioning with the pistol to come with him. Making my way around the Captain, he walks with me at gunpoint out into the corridor.

“Good for you Graxis on the promotion”, I say to him asininely, as we trek down the large corridor. He doesn’t respond to my jab.

After traversing many more lit corridors and a few large stairwells, we come to a halt outside of a hatch on an upper deck. The many Centurian soldiers milling about the ship do not pay any attention to us as we travel.

“What’s this, my cell”, I jest with the Captain.

“No, it is my private quarters. If you will”, he says to me.

Hitting the slap pad, I am greeted to a medium sized Spartan living quarters the same mellow metal as the corridors and stairwells. A fixed bunk, mounted desk, desk chair, and foot locker occupy the space. Entering the living space, I notice a console built into the mounted desk, and a few books leaning up against the wall on the desktop. Hearing his boots enter behind me, the hatch closes us inside.

“Have a seat”, Captain Graxis offers his desk chair to me.

“I will stand, thanks”, I politely decline the offer,” So Captain why am I on your ship?”

“You were brought aboard by the will of the Council of Elders. We lost some good men in our attempt to acquire you”, he tells me, taking the chair.

“And you don’t want me dead”, I ask still confused, I start pacing the length of the room.

“If we wanted you dead, we would have killed you back on Terra”, he replies calmly. So Terra is still there, that is some good news at least.

“So am I the only one you took, or are there others”, I inquire, watching the toes of my boots as I continue to pace.

“We do have three more. Your personal staff”, the Captain responds.

“I assume you woke me first, to see if I will go along with whatever scheme you have in mind.”

Graxis replies,” Yes Commander, we are keeping them in cryostasis for now. We don’t need any incidents for the time being.” Understandable, but I doubt four Terrans could cause much of a problem surrounded by an army of large reptilian soldiers.

He continues,” There is something strange going on with the Confederation on Terra. The Colonials are up in arms over what is going on. We Centurian are ready to put an end to this war once and for all. Two months ago during the mission to extract yourself, and company. We monitored a plasma trail from an unmarked Terran freighter headed toward the outer rim in a hurry.”

That did seem somewhat absurd, usually freighters were in a hurry to get back to Terra. Even more bizarre the lack of insignia.

“Black-Ops mission would be my guess”, I respond rubbing my head quizzically. “Have to send the B-Team, since you have the A-Team,” I add with a chuckle.

Captain Graxis rubbing his chin thoughtfully at this. “So what do you think they will be packing on a freighter?”

“Depends on where exactly they are going. No doubt they have at least a battalion of Greys in reserve. No way of knowing what kind of heavy armor they would have in the cargo bay. Only way to know for sure is to know where they are headed.”

“I see commander. We will not know the destination for sometime. It is a long journey for the Terrans to make for the outer rim. About six months minimum, but by then they will have achieved their goals.”

“Not much in the outer rim. A few refuge planets, and the black world rumored to be the home world of the Mother Confessor. Other than that your guess is as good as mine.”

The captain considers this for a moment. “What should we do about it regardless of it’s occupancies?”

“I say let it ride, as the old adage goes. Keep an eye and an ear on that section of the galaxy. There will be chatter before long, or at the least a distress signal. Your people perfected the sub-space engine right?”

“Standard on all armada and emissary craft, why?”

Taking a moment to gather my thoughts on this news. “How long does it take in sub-space to reach the outer rim?”

“A little over seventy two of hours.”

“I am willing to place my bet that the freighter will not go unnoticed once it nears it’s target. Better keep two ears on the area. I would also like to be kept in the loop when she surfaces so that we can make our counter offensive if necessary.”

Captain Graxis acknowledges this. Moving to my fore front curiosities I try to replace the start. “To other matters why am I on a Centurian battleship bound for Centuria ?”

The captain pauses a few seconds. “The council of elders believe that the mighty Terran commander can bring the galaxy to harmony. They also felt it would be in the interest of the other races to bring that harmony.”

“So in other words, fight fire with fire?”

“In a manner of speaking”, Graxis agrees.

“This whole time I thought the Centurian hated us Terrans.”

“It seems your masters have lied to you, commander. That is just the tip of the dagger I’m afraid. I will send the classified data to your quarters. The images and documents are quite troubling. Spanning the course of the last decade or so. Not to give away to much, they had you placed in cryo stasis because of your high esteemed honor that you hold. Your council has been highly oppressive to all within it’s reach. As you know that is a wide berth. To say that they enslave is putting it mildly, commander.”

“I take it that you want to have the upper hand, in the event your home world is in the crosshairs.”

“Precisely, that is why you are here.” Fair point the captain makes.

“I will meet with you in the morning to address the situation, Captain.” I salute the captain and make my way to my quarters.

Ah the cold calm of quiet solitude. Taking a seat at the small desk, I set to work of studying what Graxis sent me to look at. The small screen inlayed starts booting up and loading the information. Taking the few moments to reflect on not wanting to be a desk jockey like the generals in command of the Confederation military. I always will be a hell of a warrior. Hate knowing that those bureaucratic idiots don’t have the nerve I do. Pretending they are ever going to make a damn bit of difference. Just a bunch of loud mouth, pencil pushing thugs. Almost as bad as the politicians.

Retraining my focus to the screen, and away from spiteful thoughts. It takes a few moments for me to remember how to read the alien language scrolling upon the screen. Catching my attention on something noteworthy. I manually have the scrolling pause on the article. As I decipher what it says. Terra has a highly secret base on the exact opposite side of the Martian Colonial colonies. According to the date of the article, the base was established a few years after I went into the freezer. No mention of exactly the aim of the installation or what kind of activity it has on going. This is very interesting that the Confederation would go behind the Colonials back, but for what purpose. Taking the time to ponder the implications of breaking the treaty allowing Martian territory to be free from Confederation control. I delve further into the files with a renewed interest. Half dozen Centurian Science vessels fired on by Confederation patrols. Not so much as a chance of surrendering to the warships. Typical of those with a biased of other species. Pluto now lies in ruin from a major assault on the multi race refugee outpost. What remains of the battered rock has been overtaken by the Confederation, something still in construction on the heavily worn surface. My we have been busy haven’t we? The article on Pluto has a few images of the native inhabitants trying to flee the onslaught. My fist clenches in anger at the lack of honor I have seen this far.

Fury mounting I push on. A broken message received in rather sporadic and fast paced fashion originating from Pluto. The sender an alien male of unknown origin, possibly further than the outer rim. The report notes a sense of despair coming from the individual. It states that not all the refugees at the out post were slaughtered. The males were kept as slave labor by the Confederation. The females and young ones rounded up and taken off world. Where they were taken has yet to be determined. Upon reading this it sounds a lot like what happened in historical studies at the academy. Back before the information age. Brings back the time I was reprimanded for not issuing the order to kill the civilians in a village during my first year as captain. Having fought my superiors through that whole ordeal. Stating in my own words that they were not combatants, nor did they pose any kind of threat. They were just very scared and malnourished. No way in hell was I going to attack those unarmed and frail people. Thanks to that incident they changed policy on innocent persons in the combat zone. It was a paramount that there would no longer be heavy bombings of populated centers ever again. Looks as though now those in charge are going to revoke that policy, amongst others.

The side note from article regarding the distressed message stated that no aid was to be sent to help. Why, I ponder for a bit. I will have to get answers regarding this and what is to follow.

Having seen enough after a few more articles. Stomach burning with a new fire of anger. I turn off the screen. Standing up from the desk I begin to pace. What in the hell are they up to! Silently screaming in my mind. I will need to see if Captain Graxis can get me an audience with the Council of Elders on the bridge. I need to see if it would be possible to go snooping on that freighter. Something very foul is going on between the Confederation and the rest of the universe. I want to know exactly what they are up to. Lying down in the wee hours of the morning, hoping to get a few winks of sleep before I meet with the captain.

Waking early and paying the captain a visit.

“Are you serious, or have you gone completely mad,” Graxis snorts pacing his office. Allowing the privacy to indulge in a cup of coffee. Wasn’t sure they had something like that on Centuria.

“Why would I not be serious, Captain,” I reply back taking another sip of the beverage.

“You want a battleship to pursue a freighter, then do an extensive sweep of the remaining refuge planets all the way to Pluto”, the captain bites back.

“Don’t you see what is going on here, or do I need to spell it out for you. Why else am I here if not to be in assistance and advisement on the matter at hand. You know I will fight to the end, or have you forgotten our last encounter”, I challenge the captain. I continue,” Obviously my own people are not going to try and take me from you with a lack of pursuit. Not fully understanding why they let you take their prized lap dog from them, and personally I don’t care. What troubles me is why there are innocent people being caught in the middle of all this shit”, I remind the captain of what the reports contain,” I took an oath to defend the defenseless and up hold the fundamental ideals of the laws written by good men. Men who believed that liberty and justice for all was better than the rule of the tyrant. Just like them we are on the verge of standing in their shoes. To stand up and declare liberty, just as they did many centuries ago. Like them we will fight bravely and if need be die for that basic right of all. I am sure if they had known of those amongst the stars, they would have extended those basic rights to them as well,” I passionately convey to Graxis, as I drain the last bit of coffee in the cup.

The captain stops pacing and faces me.

“I understand your point of view Commander. I had no idea that Terrans were capable of such passion and devotion to such beliefs. Should I survive this, I would like to learn more of the elders that you speak of”, Graxis says with a sense of wonder.

“I will drag your battered body to the history if I must. As for now we need to get this show on the road. I will not compromise that ideology. Death before dishonor, my friend”, I conclude the conversation. Captain Graxis flashes a small smile at the beginning of this newly forged alliance amongst old enemies.

Graxis:

“Admiral a heavy request if I may”, I ask my superior.

“Captain what would that be”, the old admiral inquires back.

“The Ober-Commander wishes an audience of the council”, I relay obediently.

“Why does he want that, it is forbidden for anyone not of Centurian to speak with the council, you know that Captain”, the admiral reminds me. A small knot in my gut, I express the Ober-Commanders concerns. At length I plead with the admiral, with all my resources. Suddenly like a spirit the Ober-Commander barks in the dim light.

Marckus:

“How long before the Confederation forces come knocking in your system. If you deny me an audience with the Elders, then I cannot have a chance to keep your people safe from the atrocities that will inevitably ensue”, announcing in my entrance to the bridge gruffly.

“What is the meaning of this”, the admiral growls angrily at Captain Graxis.

“Sir, let me introduce the Ober-Commander”, Graxis bites back his agitation.

“This is the demon that you speak of, Captain”, the admiral arrogantly smirks at me.

“Yes sir”, the captain returns confidently.

“Admiral either you hear me out, or let the infection spread like wildfire”, I snarl back.

Graxis:

Standing there stunned. Never have I seen anyone assert themselves in such a way.

“I shall leave you and the Ober-Commander to business, sir”, I salute my departure.

A verbal war starts as the door seals behind me. I hope that the admiral will see the truth in the Ober-Commander. Otherwise we are in a fine mess in our dismissal of what will inevitably come to be our final hammer fall. We cannot undertake another assault on our homeworld. I only hope that the admiral will see that through his stubbornness. Still I wonder why the Terrans let us succeed in our mission of desperation and not give chase. Maybe I will get my answers at the wars end.