Greshon glanced around the studio, still recovering from the shock of the unimaginable, humiliating experience he had been forced to endure. Rage built within him, and he unwisely directed it at Lothion. "You... you told us you had complete control!" He accused, his jaw quivering. "You said you could bring us the key to break the defenses of Quarinor. But now we stand to lose everything!"
"Don't you think we foresaw this?" Lothion rejoined in a measured tone. "Remember all that we have shown you; remember our power and what we have already delivered to you..."
"Which is as good as nothing!" Greshon seethed, "If the population of our world turns against us. We have worked long and hard to bring Kypro to this point. We have planned and prepared and..." Greshon's diatribe was cut short as Lothion constricted his throat by means of his mental power.
"Do not forget," Lothion enunciated clearly, "who gives you your advantage." Greshon held up his hands in surrender and the alien released his hold. The unfortunate ruler lay on the floor gasping for breath, having received punishment from alien super beings for the second time in the space of an hour. None of his colleagues made a move to help him.
"Let this be a lesson to all of you," Lothion said wrathfully. "You are all here for one purpose..." he looked at each of the rulers and scientists. "To serve us! And not the other way around!" Lothion stood and began pacing the floor as he spoke. "Do you know how long I have been in existence? Hmm?" The humans watched him carefully. "No one cares to answer?" Lothion looked at one of the scientists, "You?"
The scientist began trembling and shook his head slowly. Lothion pointed in his direction. The scientist crouched, raising his arms in defense. Lothion lifted his hand and the man began to rise from the floor, gasping and crying out in terror till he was pressed flat against the ceiling. The others watched in horror, hoping they would not be the next object of the alien's displeasure. "So, who has the greater power? You think it's them? Hmm?" Glances of uncertainty were cast from eye to eye.
"Well," the dark lord went on. "If they really did have greater power..." he withdrew his hand and the scientist dropped to the floor with a thud. He groaned in pain but did not utter a word. Two of his companions rushed to help him into a sitting position. "Then why are they leaving? Anyone with real power would have killed us all and taken control themselves, wouldn't they? Very strange indeed that they would make all this fuss, just..." he sniffed derisively and shook his head at one of his underlings who mirrored his master's smirk, "...to try to convince a few Cholan to join their side.
"What are they afraid of? Is it our hidden powers which we have not yet reveled to you but which they are well aware of?" Greshon looked with contempt at the Ophilion in the studio. "Is it..." he locked eyes with the prime ruler, "...my secret weapon?" his expression became unreadable, "is that why they ran? Is that why they cannot harm us – cannot hold us more than a few mec-lan?"
Greshon looked at Lothion with a new sense of hope; he was desperate not to lose the dream of greatness he had so diligently constructed over the last twenty-five years. "Or do these Merenthaal," Lothion spat, "really work for us, ridding us of those who are not worthy of the new order we will create once we have control of Quarinor. Who is serving whom?"
He focused on a vision in his mind. "No, my friends, even though we pass through opposition, we will emerge the dominant power. Let us not rest till we have taken Quarinor and made it ours. Then, with the power available to us from that world we can find and punish the deserters." The commander took a deep breath, savoring the sweetness of the ideas of revenge and victory. "In only a few calah, everything will change."
Greshon regretted having questioned the Baccaran's abilities. He realized, too late, that his best option would have been silent observation. But he was used to being the one to make final decisions. Clearly, this would no longer be the case. A line had been crossed and they were now in open confrontation with the Merenthaal. This was not a realm he was familiar with. He would have to follow his new master now, and hope that, once they had Quarinor safely under their control, he would be recognized by Lothion as the rightful ruler – at least in name.
Greshon also realized, after having witnessed the abilities of the Merenthaal, that the entire plan could collapse and he could end up with nothing, or worse. He would have to play his cards carefully if he was going to survive this stage of the game.
A few of the rulers, however, began to have serious doubts about the Quarinor shield project. What the Merenthaal and the rebel science chiefs had told them seemed to make more sense than Lothion's story. If the Merenthaal were telling the truth, if the weapons tests would have the consequences they predicted, they would be responsible for murder on a scale that was unimaginable. They would not go that far to secure power, no matter how great. They began looking for a way out.
***
Orion and Jenna dropped Fel and Celli off on the roof docks of their buildings, then flew to Orion's building, which was located near theirs. The pilot brought the Elen-Tron in for a landing, touching down gently. Their agreement was that they would bring their families to the Elen-Tron as soon as they could manage.
Orion and Jenna quickly made their way to Orion's apartment. "Mom?" Orion said as he entered. Belarin looked up from her place on the couch. Orion could see that she had accepted the news. She was even packed to go. Belarin rose and embraced her son and cried. Orion held her, feeling, for once, grateful for the position he was in.
Belarin held her son at arm's length. "Your father would be very proud."
Belarin looked to Jenna. "Thank you," she said, and reached out her arm. Jenna approached and Belarin included her in their embrace.
***
Celli walked quickly down the corridor leading to her apartment. She thought of her family – her mother, sister and brother, then she thought of her father and stopped before reaching her door. She sensed the inevitable conflict, but hoped that the broadcast had changed the way he usually saw things.
The scanner brushed her shoulder and the com-lock disengaged. She slowly opened the door and sensed the atmosphere in her apartment, peering into the small entrance hallway. It was empty. She could hear the sound of the wall screen in the common room to the right; the re-run of their broadcast was playing. She unfastened her backpack, let it slide to the floor, then quietly walked to the threshold of the common room. Her father was sitting in his chair, watching one of the Chiefs explaining the effects of the toxic compound.
"Dad..." Celli spoke quietly. "Dad." A little louder. Hanro's eyes widened as he recognized his daughter's voice. Celli watched him carefully, hoping for a miracle. Hanro turned his head slowly, wondering if Celli could really be there, in the main room, or if it was just his imagination. His eyes rested on the girl in the entrance hallway. He stared at her in shock. Celli could not guess what he might say or do. Hanro blinked a few times, still watching the girl as if she might be a hallucination, then turned his head slowly back to the screen.
Celli observed her father carefully. She usually knew what to expect under normal conditions, but the conditions now were anything but normal. Hanro watched the wall screen for ten seconds before he turned his head back toward his daughter and seemed to see her for the first time. His expression was one of utter disbelief. His mouth opened and his eyes widened. Celli had never encountered this reaction before. She did not know what counter-reaction to make, so she waited and hoped.
Hanro rose from his seat and Celli took a step backwards into the hall. Hanro walked to the middle of the main room and stopped, three meters from his daughter. "You..." he said in a constricted voice while his arm rose up before him, a finger pointed at the girl in the hallway. You... you... how could you do this... you..." Celli now recognized the pattern. This was the calm before the storm. Only this calm was more frightening than any she had witnessed.
Her father's face flushed an angry red, and the storm broke. "How dare you, Celli!" He yelled. "How could you do this? To us! To your family! To me!" His voice reverberated through the small apartment, alerting the neighbors and bringing the rest of the family rushing to the scene of the tragedy.
"Don't!" Hanro issued a clear warning to his wife and Celli's older brother and younger sister who stood at the other side of the main room. "Now you see clearly, don't you? Now you see what she is capable of." Hanro was not a large man, but no one would willingly stand in the way of his tirades. He had a definite way of looking at the world – his world; and this vision was not to be interrupted.
"Do you know what this means for our status? Do you know what this means your career? Do you know what they could do to me at the plant? What about your family? Did you think about your family?" He held out his hand in the direction of his wife and two other children. "What about their futures? Were you thinking about any of this when you... betrayed Kypro? your com-zone? in front of the... ruling council?" Hanro's voice broke, his face contorted and it seemed he might start weeping; then, suddenly, his rage returned in force.
"First you disappear for over four porthen, telling us you're doing a Keneso study program with an organization called..." he reached over and picked up the papers an agent had given him, "the Merenthaal? We thought this was something legitimate. Something that could move you ahead." He looked at her as if she had doomed the entire family to exile from their star system. "But you... you stood up in front of the whole com-zone and..." he could hardly make himself say it, "spoke against the rulers... right in front of them." His voice was a strangled squeak again. "How can you go back to Tur-Lam now?"
Celli was shocked beyond what she thought was possible. She realized that her hopes of acceptance by her father were so badly mistaken as to be absurd. She stared at him, then turned her gaze to her mother and siblings. She only looked at them to gauge their reaction, she knew that they would not come to her rescue. That had not been effective as long as she could remember.
"Of any of us, you were the one who had a chance to move ahead," Hanro said, in a voice of smoldering wrath, "and now this?"
"But..." she had never answered her father when he was in a rage, however this time it was different: the lives of her family members were at stake. She forced herself to speak. "You saw the broadcast, you heard what the rulers and the scientists said, you saw me standing right there. Can't you see that it's true? Everything we told you will happen." Celli had found inner confidence and was determined to relate the message in person, to her family. "Anyone left in the com-zones will die! Why would you think I made this up? What does it matter if we get better positions if we're dead?!" Hanro was frozen with shock. It had been many cenro since he was last challenged by one of his children, and he had made sure it never happened again.
"I was there!" Celli called out loudly. "I lived with them and I know them. I met the Chiefs, I spoke with them. They told me that this will happen. I saw the rulers – they do not care for us! They only care about power and control! The Baccaran..." she motioned to the wall screen, "you saw it all yourselves. They're real..."
Celli's father had returned to a 'dangerously calm stage', but he had not finished. He would leave the room and give his subordinates time to come to their senses.