Return from Exile

Chapter 4.

Garen and Conus pressed through the thick forest, not having stopped since they left Garen’s cabin. The air was dense with the scent of damp moss, decaying leaves, and the rich, earthy musk of the soil. Occasionally, vines snagged their clothing as they moved, while moisture clung to their skin. Their breaths grew heavier in the biting cold.

Low-hanging branches forced them to duck or push their way through at times. Every so often, the snap of a twig or the rustle of leaves made them pause, subtle movements of unseen creatures, stalking from a distance. The ancient trees towered above them, their trunks thick, with roots burrowing deep into the soil. The forest felt still, Garen knew better—something was always watching in the woods. On a planet like Chiex, the wild thrived unchecked.

Garen led the way. He guided them through clusters of smaller trees, over rolling hills, and across stretches of slick, clinging muck, his eyes scanning their surroundings, noting every slope in the land. His mind raced, calculating the quickest route to cover.

Though the sky was still dark, the first hints of dawn began to creep in, though the sun had yet to rise. They had covered significant ground since leaving Garen’s cabin. By this point in their journey, the once-dense Otay trees were thinning. Fading beams of moonlight blended with the softening of morning light.

Conus followed in silence.

Garen hadn’t spoken much since they’d left the cabin, maintaining a steady pace through the woods. He paused only occasionally to check their path, clearly familiar with the route.

Conus scanned the dark with the aid of his augmented right eye, equipped with night vision—a feature he had possessed for as long as he could remember.

He was impressed that Garen navigated the terrain even in areas that were pitch black. Even when Garen stumbled, he quickly regained his balance, moving as if the darkness didn’t hinder him at all. Curious, Conus closed his right eye, relying only on his natural vision.

I can’t see a thing, he thought, trying to compare his sight to what Garen might be seeing.

“You spend much time in these woods at night?” Conus asked, breaking the long silence.

“Plenty,” Garen replied, his tone clipped.

“What do you do out here?” Conus pressed.

“Hunting.” Garen said.

Garen had done his share of hunting in the woods of Chiex—and more than once, he’d nearly become the hunted. The planet’s wildlife was abundant across its continents, each with its own harsh, unforgiving nature.

“Stay alert. Chiex has creatures you might not even see coming.” Garen warned.

Garen enjoyed exploring the planet, discovering buried remnants of its past. Someone had lived on Chiex long ago—there was evidence of that, scattered and hidden beneath the surface.

Conus scanned the trees around them. “What do you hunt?”

“Depends on the season,” Garen replied.

A loud screech echoed through the forest as a large bird with wide wings soared above a clearing.

“What do you call that?” Conus asked.

Garen glanced up. Everything in these woods had names he’d come up with. Whenever he encountered a new creature on Chiex, he named it.

“Trellow.”

“Trellow,” Conus repeated, letting the name settle in.

He was still surprised they had survived the Vorcon attack. That Vorcon Bruiser had him—if not for Garen, he’d be lying in the ground with the rest of his team.

But there was something different in the way Garen fought. That final shot into the already fallen Vorcon... His anger had been unmistakable. Was it the war? Or the bitterness surrounding his retirement from the RDF and everything that had led to it?

Has he always been like this?

It’s wise to remember, stories of heroes never fully held true.

Conus knew what it was like to lose everything—he had lost everything.

But which was worse? To remember what you had lost and be haunted by those memories day after day? Or to forget entirely and struggle to reclaim fragments of a past that felt distant and foreign? And what if, after remembering, you found that those memories were better left buried? Sometimes, it was easier to wonder and search than to uncover truths far harder to accept.

Garen paused, pulling back his sleeve to reveal a jagged scar on his forearm. “Got this from a Yobrel,” he said, his voice tightening.

“What’s a Yobrel?” Conus asked, assuming it was a battle scar.

“It’s a two-legged predator—and vicious,” Garen replied.

As they continued forward, Conus took a deep breath, inhaling the forest’s rich, earthy scent. “That fragrance is nice,” he remarked.

“Don’t breathe it in too much,” Garen cautioned, pointing to a bright teal plant hidden in the underbrush nearby. “Up close, that plant releases a toxin. It lures you in, but it’s deadly.”

“What’s it called?” Conus asked.

“I don’t know,” Garen said. “I don’t name plants.” He kept walking.

“You know, General Rivers, that was quite a display back there.”

“Thanks,” Garen said, his tone flat, offering no further comment.

As they trudged through another stretch of thick underbrush, Garen’s mind drifted back to the fight with the Vorcons. He thought about how Conus had handled himself. The man was a good shot—no denying that. Precise, methodical.

Garen had seen plenty of soldiers in his time, and Conus had that calm, focused demeanor. But there was something else—something that didn’t sit right with Garen.

He’d sized up Conus’s augments, was he holding back? Garen couldn’t quite place it, but it nagged at him. He’d met countless fighters over the years, he didn’t sense dishonesty in Conus. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Conus was capable of more.

An effective general knew how to get the best from his crew, recognizing both their potential and their demons. In war, it was all about results.

“Can I ask you a question, General?” Conus spoke up after a moment.

“Yeah,” Garen replied.

“Where’s your Scalar Falcata?” Conus asked.

“That’s what’s on your mind?” Garen let out a quick, sharp laugh.

“Just curious,” Conus admitted.

“I left it with someone when I left the Seven Worlds,” Garen said quietly.

The realization that he had no control over his destiny weighed on him. He could steer it, but sometimes, something else took over.

Conus hesitated, then asked, “General, where exactly are we heading?”

“There’s someone not too far from here. An old friend.”

Garen’s thoughts drifted to Amar.

Was working with Conus part of Amar’s plan? Was he already on the mission? Garen had known Amar long enough to understand that nothing was ever a coincidence. Whatever was happening now, Amar had likely set it in motion, and whether Garen liked it or not, he was already involved.

What Garen didn’t know was that Admiral Amar Lavont had left the Rhyus Defense Fleet and now commanded the Rhyus Strategic Intelligence Agency, wielding considerable power, with vast resources and personnel under his control.

“And will your old friend help us?” Conus asked, searching for reassurance.

“He’ll do what he can,” Garen replied.

They halted when Conus tilted his head, listening. “I hear a ship.”

Garen stopped in his tracks. The sound grew louder, and they caught sight of a distant Vorcon ship through the sky, barely visible through the thick canopy overhead.

Garen squinted. “Looks like a troop transport.”

The ship passed on, its sound fading into the distance.

They had walked all night, and this was the first ship they’d seen or heard. Garen’s hand tightened on his blaster. Are they waiting?

“So, where’s home for you, Colonel?” Garen asked.

Conus hesitated. It was complicated. “My parents were traders.”

“Born on the ship?” Garen asked.

“Yes,” Conus replied, though he wasn’t entirely sure if that was the truth. “Near the Enyo Dorez system.”

At least, that’s what he’d been told—details were always scarce and vague.

“Spent your childhood there?” Garen pressed.

“Until I was ten,” he said “Then I went to live on Cresnor.”

Cresnor, a planet within the Seven Worlds of Rhyus.

“Sounds like you’ve always been on the move,” Garen observed. “Must’ve been dangerous. I imagine you had a lot of run-ins with raiders.”

“We had our moments,” Conus said, his thoughts drifting back. He could recall flashes of danger—images, feelings—but piecing together anything concrete was impossible. His memories were fragments, buried deep in his mind—accessible at random, but never whole. But the raiders... I remember them.

Eventually, they emerged into a clearing. At its center stood a dilapidated house, its presence almost surreal. The structure had rotting wooden walls and patches of rusted alloy roofing barely clinging on.

Conus stared at the structure. This is where his old friend lives? he thought. What a dump.

Mechanical debris littered the ground around the house—parts and components from old ships and vehicles lay strewn about.

Reaching the rusted, peeling door, Garen knocked firmly. The sound echoed through the stillness.