Return from Exile

Chapter 7.

The Seeker ascended, its silver hull streaked with orange standing out against the surface of Chiex below. Oceans and mountains blurred as the ship climbed higher, escaping through thick, dark clouds. The twin engines roared, dark blue exhaust streaked with violet.

The ship vibrated gently as it ascended, pulsing through the deck beneath their feet. On the Trace display, three Vorcon contacts blinked, continuing their pursuit.

“How’re the systems looking, Klamarez? Environmental online?” Garen asked, leaning back in the helm, fingers absently stroking his beard. The seat felt unfamiliar, the controls foreign, yet even after all this time, it came back to him—muscle memory and instinct, sharpened by years of experience that time hadn’t dulled.

“All systems online,” Klamarez replied, glancing at the display screens in front of him. His ears twitched slightly. “At least, the ones that are functional.” His eyes narrowed as he tracked the power levels.

“I tried to activate the weapons, but they’re offline,” Conus said, tilting his head as he rechecked the system. His posture remained perfectly upright, unmoving, while his augmented hand input commands.

“I had to prioritize essential systems,” Klamarez responded, his focus on his screens.

“Weapons aren’t essential?” Conus asked, surprised. The light from his display highlighted the part of his face where natural skin met synthetic augmentations. No weapons?

“They wouldn’t make a difference anyway,” Garen said flatly. “Better to keep the power for shields.”

Garen trusted Klamarez, but the Seeker was still untested, far from the final design Klamarez planned. Hope it’s enough to get us through this.

The ship broke through Chiex’s upper atmosphere with a shudder, lightly straining as it passed through the last layers, before finally slipping into the silence of space. The vibration beneath their feet softened as the transition smoothed out. Stars sharpened in the darkness ahead. Behind them, the green forests, blue oceans, clouds and rugged terrain of Chiex now just a blur. The planet’s moons hovered ahead, as the Seeker cruised forward.

Garen glanced at the display. "It’s been too long," he muttered. A chill crept through him, sharper than the cold of Chiex. Space always felt different—colder, emptier. "Where’s the heat in this thing?" he asked, scanning the controls.

"I’ll adjust it right away," Klamarez responded, already working on it.

Garen gave the Seeker a quick spin, feeling the ship respond smoothly. "She handles well, Klamarez," he said, a brief smile. "Not bad at all."

"I appreciate that, Garen. I’d have wanted you on the maiden voyage either way," Klamarez replied, eyes focused on the readouts.

"I guess this wasn’t the first flight you had in mind," Garen said with a dry chuckle.

"Not even close," Klamarez admitted

“Colonel, give me an update on the Vorcon ships,” Garen said.

Conus’s augmented eye locked onto the Trace display, processing the incoming data. “General, they’re still climbing from Chiex but haven’t breached the atmosphere yet. Their trajectory is steady—they’re headed our way.” He quickly scanned the wider field. “Long-range scans show no other hostiles at the moment. There’s a trade vessel and a few commercial craft in the system, but nothing that poses a threat. I’ll keep monitoring.”

Garen nodded. “Good. Keep on it. Let me know the moment something changes.”

Klamarez exhaled with a hint of relief. “Looks like it worked, Garen. They’ve left the planet. Calio Landing should be safe.”

“Hopefully, that’s the end of it for Chiex. They should be safe now.” Said Garen

Conus studied the Seeker’s engine specs on his screen. Verta Fighter Craft engines—built for speed and agility—were typically installed one per RDF fighter craft. But the Seeker? It had two, compensating for its much larger frame. “How’d you manage to get these Verta engines?” Conus asked, surprise edging his voice. They were rare for ships outside the RDF. Verta engines weren’t designed for something this size. It’s surprising they work at all.

Klamarez smirked. “A Narjaus trader passed through Chiex a few years back. Got a decent deal.”

“And the third engine? Looks like something from a racing craft—an Omprel engine, right?” Conus asked, his voice curious.

Klamarez’s grin widened, revealing the tips of his fangs. “Most wouldn’t catch that,” he said, impressed. “You know your ships.”

“I’ve spent hours studying spacecraft. Just a bit of a hobby,” Conus replied. A fragment of a distant memory surfaced. He vaguely recalled keeping lists, cataloging different ship types and engines.

The war between the Vorcon Empire and the Seven Worlds of Rhyus had left a trail of wreckage—abandoned ships and tech debris from both sides. Scavengers thrived, combing the remains for valuable parts.

“Are all systems holding up, Klamarez?” Garen asked, bringing his focus back to the situation.

“Systems remain optimal, shes good to go.” Klamarez replied, though there was a hint of doubt in his voice. He felt a surge of pride but couldn’t shake the reality—the Seeker was Unfinished, untested, its maiden flight thrown straight into combat. He’d hoped for test runs, careful adjustments.

Contemplating their next move, Garen turned to Conus. “What’s the nearest RDF outpost?”

“It should be the Mottmor System,” Conus replied, scanning the star charts and running calculations. After a brief pause, he added, “The nearest is Eteren One, orbiting the planet Eteren in the Mottmor system.”

"When did that happen?" He didn't give Conus time to answer. "Get me the coordinates. I’ll punch them in.” Said Garen

Conus relayed the information. “Coordinates sent.”

“Received,” Garen acknowledged, accessing the Navcon—an advanced navigation computer.

“General, the Vorcon vessels have left Chiex’s gravity,” Conus reported. His eyes stayed focused to the Trace display, monitoring their pursuers.

“What’s their range?” Garen asked.

“They’ve got a few heavy turrets, but their long-range capabilities are limited,” Conus replied, his eyes locked on the display. “They’re accelerating. Standard attack formation,” he added.

“They won’t catch us,” Garen said, easing the throttle forward to widen the gap between the Seeker and the Vorcon transports. “I’m more worried about reinforcements,” he muttered. “They didn’t come here alone. Do they have IRDs?” he asked, seeking confirmation.

Conus quickly scanned the data again. “None detected, sir.”

Garen groaned. “So where’s their command ship?” he wondered aloud. “Anyway, let’s put more distance between us and Chiex before we open a rift,” he added, maintaining course.

Klamarez ran a final diagnostic. "The IRD’s fully charged," he confirmed.

A surge of power vibrated through the deck as Garen prepared the drive for activation. The Navcon synchronized with the IRD, plotting their jumps to the Mottmor system—five rifts, each carefully calculated to avoid anomalies, according to the calculation it presensted.

With the transports lagging far behind and enough distance gained from Chiex, Garen initiated the sequence. The Seeker surged with energy, as a bright light formed at the ship’s domed nose, ready to tear open space and launch them into the interdimensional rift.

Suddenly, the sequence halted. The rift collapsed before it could fully form, and alarms blared through the cockpit, shattering the calm. The drive’s vibrations fell silent.

“What just happened?” Garen asked, his pulse quickening.

Conus checked the readings “I think... the IRD’s fried.”

Klamarez immediately sprang from his station, yanking off an access panel to inspect the drive housing. Garen shot him a glance but was drawn back to Conus’s voice.

“General, a rift is opening at the edge of our short-range sensors,” Conus announced. After a pause, he added, “New contact—a ship just emerged from the rift.”

Garen exchanged a grim look with Conus before turning back to the helm. “We need that drive operational, Klamarez. Status?”

Klamarez, his hands buried deep inside the IRD’s housing, muttered, “Garen, I’m not one of your officers. Don’t bark orders at me.” He sighed, then added, “Just give me time. Trust me.”

“I’ll give you as much as I can,” Garen replied.

Conus’s voice broke through the exchange. “That contact... it’s big,” he reported, still focused on the sensor data flashing across his TRACE display.

Garen kept the Seeker on course, his grip tightening on the controls. Meanwhile, Klamarez rummaged through crates of spare parts, making a mess of the components. “Where’s that regulator... and those damn CPU units?” he muttered, exhaling sharply as he tossed aside pieces. Finally, his hands found the regulator. I should’ve known better. She wasn’t ready. I’m going to get us all killed.

“General, new contact inbound,” Conus continued. “Vorcon war galleon—new class. They’re adjusting vector, matching speed. They’re coming straight for us.”

“What about their weapons, Taylen?” Garen asked, his eyes locked on the helm’s readouts.

“Some forward banks are online, but it doesn’t look like their full complement,” Conus replied.

“They don’t see us as much of a threat,” Garen said grimly. And we’re not.

“Can we get a visual?” Garen asked.

Conus activated the rear video feed. The distant shape of the Vorcon warship approaching closer.

“The war galleon’s fast. Even if we change course, they’ll adjust to catch us,” Conus warned, tracking the ship’s trajectory.

“A ship that size can catch us?” Garen asked, turning to face Conus.

Conus nodded. “It looks that way.”

“Great. A Vorcon war galleon,” Klamarez shook his head, still focused on the IRD. He scanned a section with a tool. “I need to reroute this, recalibrate the regulator flow, replace these damn CPU units... That should stop another blowout. It’s a mess, but it’ll hold,” he said.

The Vorcon war galleon grew larger on the display, continuing to close the distance. Garen’s eyes remained fixed on the helm. We need more speed. He turned toward Klamarez, ready to speak, but Klamarez shot him a sharp glare.

“Don’t. I’m working.”

A proximity alert blared through the cockpit.

“New contact closing fast,” Conus reported, his focus locked on the TRACE display. “They’ll overtake us in ten minutes, maybe less—they’re accelerating.”

Garen’s grip tightened on the helm controls as he leaned toward the left display for a closer look. “Klamarez, that third engine isn’t online,”

“I know it’s not!” Klamarez snapped. “It’s not even fully connected. The engines we’ve got aren’t optimized. I told you the state she was in before we left.”

“Alright, Klamarez.” Garen kept his expression neutral, eyes on the helm. Either that IRD comes online, or we’re overtaken.

Conus’s mind flashed back to the battle on Chiex. Why did I feel so unsettled back then? He remembered walking to Garen’s cabin, struck by a sudden, splitting headache—worse than the usual ones he always had. What was that about? But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. He needed to stay focused. Pushing away the thought that crept into his mind.

The Vorcon war galleon grew larger on the rear display with each passing second. Its angular front narrowing into a broad, triangular hull, narrowing into a rectangular core that stretched back. Jagged protrusions on its surface. A bank of engines at the rear emitted pale blue-white exhaust.

The warship’s bay doors slid open, and Predator-class fighters shot out rapidly. With trapezoidal hulls and hammerhead noses. Reinforced wings and heavy armored frames.

Proximity alarms blared aboard the Seeker, as new contacts appeared on the Trace display. The Vorcon transports from Chiex were still distant, trailing far behind.

“There are twenty fighters, General,”

Garen studied the screen. It’s overkill. They could destroy us if they wanted to. They don’t want us dead; they want us captured. His gaze hardened. I’ll blow this ship up before I let them take us alive. The Vorcons weren’t known for mercy.

Klamarez, focused on his repairs, settled into a rhythm. He handled stress better when left alone. Humming quietly to himself, he half-sang, “Take me to Calio, that’s where I wanna go... the stars never hold me the same...”

“Incoming weapons fire!” Conus’s voice broke through the moment.

Klamarez glanced up, wide-eyed, before quickly turning back to his work, forcing the distraction aside.

Garen held the course steady. We can’t take many hits.

Dark blue energy streaked past the Seeker, raw and untamed. The shields flickered under the pressure.

The first shot barely missed. The second and third grazed the shields, sending jolts through the ship. Though the shields absorbed the hits, each impact drained a bit more energy.

The barrage continued—each strike slowly sapping away power, weakening the shields, piece by piece.

“They’re not missing,” Garen muttered. “They’re toying with us.” He’d seen the Vorcons do this before when they had the upper hand—and this time, they clearly did.

Garen glanced at Conus. “Go help Klamarez. Get the IRD online.”

The Seeker strained at 91.1 percent of light speed, the dual Verta Velocity engines pushed to their limit. Another hit landed harder this time, and the shields dropped by 15 percent.

Conus nodded, moving toward the IRD housing behind the cockpit. He studied the intricate setup Klamarez had rigged together. It wasn’t standard, but as Conus traced the wiring, his augmented eye quickly analyzed the configuration, making mental notes.

Spotting a potential workaround, Conus pointed to a spot on the circuitry. “This reroute should stabilize the power flow.”

“That’ll do!” Klamarez flashed a quick grin. “Adjusting the flow there should keep everything steady.” Without hesitation, he dove back into the repairs.

The communications console beeped, drawing their attention—an incoming transmission. Klamarez glanced up but didn’t break his focus. “Conus, handle that. I’m busy here.”

Conus moved swiftly to the console. “We’re receiving an audio transmission from the war galleon,” he said, pausing. “It’s identified as The Rheeavher.”

Klamarez’s voice echoed from the back. “Just give me a few more minutes, Garen. Keep them distracted—this will work. I just need time.”

“I’ll get you as much as I can,” Garen replied. Which isn’t much.

He muttered the name Rheeavher under his breath, then turned to Conus. “Open the link. Let’s see what they want.”

The transmission clicked open. Garen spoke calmly. “This is the civilian vessel The Seeker.”

“General Garen Rivvvers,” a voice hissed, each word dripping, savoring the “s” in his name. It slithered through, low and raspy, predatory.

Garen’s grip tightened on the controls. He knew that voice all too well. Of course, it was him.

“Caul Malocktus,” Garen said, his tone sharp but controlled.

Caul’s mocking laughter echoed through the transmission, filling the cockpit.

“Shut down your engines, General Rivers,” Caul commanded, cold and deliberate. A warning shot followed, making The Seeker’s shields flicker as the power dipped again.

“Caul, I’m retired. No longer a general, no longer with the RDF. I pose no threat to you or the Vorcon Empire. I’m seeking peace,” Garen said, keeping his voice even, though his mind raced. What does he want? Why here, of all places?

Caul’s laugh was chilling. “General Rivers, do you really expect me to believe that? You, fading into obscurity? We both know that’s not who you are.”

“My time with the fleet is over, Caul,” Garen replied firmly. “It’s time to move on. I have.”

“Move on?” Caul’s voice darkened. He let out a long hiss. “I’ve been waiting for this—our final encounter. One last time.”

“I haven’t thought about it in years. That was a long time ago,” Garen said, trying for a casual tone.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” Caul hissed.

“So, you’ve got nothing better to do than chase me down in the biggest ship you could find?” Garen’s voice was calm and rough.

“This ship is granted by my rank. I’ve ascended to Major Legate. The Emperor himself vested me with power and influence.” Caul paused, savoring the words. “I received information on your whereabouts. I wanted to see for myself how far you’ve fallen, Garen.”

Is it just revenge? Garen wondered. It’s never that simple with him. There’s more to this.

“You’ve risen far, Caul, while I’ve lost everything. If it satisfies you, consider it a victory. I concede—you’ve won. Let me pass in peace, knowing you’ve surpassed me,” Garen said, his tone flat, almost rehearsed.

Caul snickered. “You’ve always had a talent for drivel,” he said, amusement lacing his voice. “But there’s a war coming. We’ll take the Seven Worlds and the Frontier territories long before it’s over.”

“More than the Seven Worlds will stand against the Vorcon Empire,” Garen replied, his voice firm, recalling the Coalition that had rallied with the RDF in the last war.

Caul sneered. “And what do you know of the galaxy, tucked away on that insignificant world?”

“I’ll catch up soon enough.”

“Our armada will stretch beyond Vorcon space,” Caul continued. “This campaign will eclipse anything the Empire has ever done.”

Conus signaled Garen—an incoming video request. Garen gave a nod, and the feed flickered to life.

On-screen stood Major Legate Caul Malocktus, towering, draped in black armor with silver accents. A small emblem marked his chest, and a voluminous white cloak flowed over his shoulders, the hood on his head, half concealing his face. As he lowered the hood, his features came into view: pale, chalky skin, large black eyes with deep red centers, and faint ridges for a nose.

Caul’s mouth twisted into a sneer, revealing sharp black teeth. The ridges on his head extended down his neck, devoid of hair. Behind him, Vorcon crew stood rigid, flanked by armed guards. Tall pillars and high ceilings rose around them.

“The next great war is coming,” Caul declared.

“There was nothing ‘great’ about the last one,” Garen shot back dryly.

“You were hailed as a hero—how can you not see the greatness in that? You cemented your place in history.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Garen dismissed.

“Garen,” Klamarez whispered.

Garen glanced down. The IRD was back online. Without hesitation, he activated the controls, and Conus cut the video feed. The Seeker shuddered as space-time bent before them, a beam of energy tearing open a rift. Its jagged white edges pulsed erratically as the ship surged forward, vanishing just as the rift fully formed. Moments later, the tear sealed itself, leaving nothing behind.

A collective sigh of relief rippled through the ship. Klamarez and Conus stepped up to the helm beside Garen.

They drifted through the rift, white streaks swirling around them.

“So, that was Caul Malocktus?” Klamarez asked, glancing at the now-blank display where the video feed had been. “After seeing him, I can’t say I’m impressed.”

Garen remained quiet, lost in his thoughts.

Klamarez studying Garen’s distant expression. “What’s on your mind?”

Garen’s voice was low, thoughtful. “It was all a show for him. He had the power to destroy us the whole time. We escaped, but he let us. He gave us all the time we needed.” His words lingered.

Conus and Klamarez exchanged glances. The crew fell silent, reflecting on what had just transpired as the Seeker pressed on trough the rift, on its way to the Mottmor system.