The council hall was quieter than Athos expected. Royals huddled in small groups around the perimeter, beyond the curved table that ran parallel to the exterior wall. The sun’s bright light spilled through the open ceiling and felt warm despite the nip of autumn cooling the oxygen-rich atmosphere. Without the ship’s protective outer hull, this room would be a mess after the first storm.
No one noticed him at first, and the general listened in on conversations as he passed. Aristocrats engaged in nervous speculation, mostly about their new enemy.
“General Athos,” Gentras said. It sounded more like an announcement to let everyone know he had arrived than a greeting.
Athos stopped in the center of the room, ready to be pummeled with their questions from all sides.
“Speaker,” he acknowledged Gentras. He dipped his head toward the rest of the people in the room. “Council.”
“As you can imagine,” Gentras continued, “we are all confused and concerned here. Can you shed light on what is happening?”
“We’ve been attacked,” was his curt response. “We’re stranded and powerless. None of our weapons function, and our technology is useless. In short, we have been returned to a preindustrial condition, and we are surrounded and greatly outnumbered by a species that is physically much stronger than we are.”
No one stirred. Gentras and many of the other royals surveyed him with suspicion in their eyes.
“There is a rumor,” Gentras said and then paused. “Have you withheld information about the attack from this council?”
Athos expected that to leak out much earlier than this and had planned his response. But now, the game had changed. He didn’t have to answer to the royals anymore. They were as helpless as newborns in this situation, and martial law was instituted by default. He could tell them to go to Duat and have their hearts weighed or shut up and sign up for military service. That course of action might make things easier for the short term, and it would be gratifying to no end. However, Athos had the foresight to see the benefit in allowing the aristocrats to still feel like they had some control over the destiny of the citizens aboard the Pegasus.
“I did withhold information,” Athos conceded, daring them with his gaze. “We received a message that Anu was overrun and the wormhole that brought us to Earth was destroyed. We needed our focus on recruiting humans, as I expected the attack against the Pegasus was forthcoming.”
The implication was clear, and the council erupted into anger. Among the shouted insults, the general heard demands that he be punished or his rank be taken from him. He didn’t react, just stood and stared at Gentras. The speaker glared back at him, his expression showing his disappointment. Athos wondered who leaked this information to the council, expecting it was Admiral Vecan. The admiral was more aristocrat than officer and had always behaved as such.
“Although I disagree with his course of action, under the circumstances,” Gentras said, loudly enough to quiet the room, “the general acted within his authority.”
The insults and threats diminished to grumbling. Athos glanced around the room, expecting someone to dispute Gentras’ statement. His eyes fell on Kilnasis, the one royal who always had something to say. Kilnasis met his gaze for a moment, but then looked away. He seemed to want to be left out of the discussion.
“Can you tell us more about the enemy?” Gentras drew the general’s attention back to the podium.
“I cannot,” Athos replied. “Other than the initial encounter when the wormhole was destroyed, there was no sign of the enemy until this attack.”
“Have you ever encountered this species in your many campaigns?”
“No,” Athos replied. “And I searched the ship’s databanks for information on them after the first encounter and found nothing. They appear to be an energy-based life form, and their technological ability seems millennia ahead of our own. They’ve reached through our defenses and have taken control of everything that uses or creates electricity.”
“It is the gods,” a younger aristocrat seated near the back doors blurted.
“Perhaps,” Gentras replied. “But what have we done to anger them? The Anunnaki have carried on in the same fashion for millennia. We have brought order to the galaxy and have liberated many species from barbarianism.”
“It is not the gods,” Kilnasis finally spoke. His voice was quieter than usual, and Athos was certain it was tinged with guilt.
“Do you have some information to share with the council?” Gentras scrutinized Kilnasis, his dark eyebrows rising.
Kilnasis stood, still looking down at the table as if he was uncertain as to whether he should speak.
“Before the mission to harvest Earth was planned,” the elder began, glancing around the room and raising his voice so all could hear. “I funded the harvest of a planet beyond the outer reaches of the empire.”
Kilnasis always had a way of capturing the council’s attention, but never had they hung on his words as they did now. Though his tone was somber and he sounded ready to admit his culpability in some horrific crime, he still seemed to thrive off the absolute attention of the members of the council.
“The harvest of the Jurasians, I believe,” Athos said, amused to see the haughty man at a disadvantage. “A successful venture. No?”
“Yes, indeed it was,” Kilnasis replied, sounding unnerved by the general’s knowledge of his activities.
Athos had made it his business to know everything he could about those on the mission to Earth, especially the ones with any power.
“As you probably know,” Kilnasis continued, “though Juras is a relatively large planet, their population was small.”
“They are a passive species that developed in a high-gravity environment,” Athos replied. “Useless as soldiers, but their physical strength and endurance makes them ideal for mining operations.”
“Correct,” Kilnasis said, his initial surprise becoming annoyance. “Due to the size of the usable population, only one recruit ship was required to harvest the entire planet.”
He paused. Although his eyes aimed at the podium, his focus seemed blurred by the effort of recalling the memory. The duration of silence made Athos wonder if Kilnasis would stop there and sit down. When the council member to the right of the speaker cast a questioning glance at Gentras, Kilnasis cleared his throat with a grunt.
“We landed in the most densely populated region of the planet and began collecting slaves,” the aristocrat continued, the guilt returning to his voice. “This green thing appeared.” He pointed up. “It took control of our ship, and the voice spoke to us as it did here. It said they were a superior species from a galaxy unknown to us. They claimed to be explorers who are appalled by our way of life. The voice informed us they would be monitoring the Anunnaki and that if we didn’t stop what it called ‘our abuse of other species,’ it would destroy us.”
“What did you do?” Athos asked, excited to have some intelligence on the enemy. “How did you escape?”
“After it gave us the warning, it vanished. We discovered a way to measure its presence, although we couldn’t see it. So, we installed a sensor on the planet, lifted off, and headed back toward Anu. Using the sensor, we could tell when the enemy left, and then we returned to the planet and completed the harvest.”
“Why were there no reports of this attack?” Athos asked.
“Had we reported the attack to Anu, we would have been forced to abort the harvest and return to the home planet,” Kilnasis gestured with his hand toward the others in the room, his expression saying the reason should be obvious. “The military would’ve stepped in to investigate. We would have lost the investments that funded the mission.”
“Yes, perhaps,” Athos replied, growing angry. “But it would have allowed us a better understanding of this enemy. We may have learned ways to defend ourselves. Now it appears our home planet has been conquered and most of our people killed.”
The council erupted into angry shouts, but now the accusations were directed at Kilnasis. That most of them would’ve done the same thing in his place didn’t matter; they wanted someone to blame.
“Silence,” Athos shouted. “There is no time for this.”
The room fell quiet, all eyes on him. Most of their expressions were astounded, like they couldn’t believe the general had dared to speak to them in that manner.
“You can go at each other’s throats once we’re safe,” Athos growled. “I’m not sure you realize how vulnerable we are right now.”
The insulted expression remained on the aristocrats’ faces, but fear seemed to take hold of them once more. They needed to be afraid—needed to understand there was no escaping the hard days to come.
“Our numbers are too few to waste time squabbling. We must focus our energies on only two things for the moment.” Athos pivoted around in the center of the room, trying to connect with each of them. “We have to get the power back on, and we have to recruit as many humans as possible.”
He waited, not wanting to demand their assistance. His eyes met Gentras’. The elder gave a slight nod.
“There are many civilians aboard this ship,” Gentras said resolutely. “I propose they assist the general in any way possible. All in favor say aye.”
The chorus of ayes built slowly, but everyone joined in. Regardless of their greed and ambition, the council members were smart. When the vote ended, Athos assigned each of the family heads a task, allowing them to control their portion of the Pegasus’ nonmilitary passengers as they saw fit. Admiral Vecan entered the council hall while Athos gave his briefing. The general could read the guilt in his eyes, a confirmation of his betrayal.
“Anything else, General?” Gentras asked.
“I’ll need formal control of the sailors who are not critical for getting the reactor started,” Athos replied. He was going to take control anyway, but couldn’t pass up a chance to do it in front of Vecan and his friends.
“Admiral?” Gentras made it clear he wasn’t giving Vecan a choice.
“Of course, sir,” the admiral said, unable to conceal the humiliation in his voice.
“That is all for the moment,” Athos said. He bowed and left the council hall, satisfied he now controlled every Anunnaki aboard the Pegasus.