The halls leading to the Council’s chambers felt colder than usual to Elo. A creeping sense of dread clung to his spine as he navigated the starkly lit corridors. As the designated guide and protector of the mission, and of the young gatherer Gan, he bore a heavy responsibility. Now, standing at the precipice of failure, the weight of his duty was a leaden anchor around his neck.

  The hem of his ceremonial robes swept the floor, echoing the somber mood that gripped him. A guilt headdress adorned his head, a grim testament to his transgressions. Its vibrant hues clashed against the bluish tint of his skin, a mockery of his desolate state. Yet vanity was a foreign concept to Elo. His torment was of a more personal nature—a bitter cocktail of lost pride and looming judgement. The Council’s reaction haunted his thoughts, filling him with a terrible foreboding. He would present an unbiased account of the events and then brace himself for their verdict.

  Before he was ready, the grand doorway leading into the Council’s chambers loomed ahead of him. He paused, allowing himself a few moments to marshal his scattered thoughts. As he reached out to activate the door sensor, the doors slid open unbidden, revealing an unexpected sight.

  A figure, clad in the garb of a maintenance worker, backed out of the doorway. The worker was dragging something heavy, and as he came into clearer view, Elo’s heart seized with terror. It was a lifeless body being hauled from the very chambers Elo was about to enter. Even more unsettling, the deceased wore a similar ceremonial guilt headdress as Elo, the colors a harsh contrast against his still form. A chill ran down Elo’s spine as he recognized the deceased as a fellow Paktu. His stomach knotted in apprehension and fear. The sight reinforced his regret for his pupil’s actions, and the guilt that was currently symbolized by the headdress he wore.

  As Elo touched the door sensor, a soft chime echoed in the hollow silence, and the doorway evaporated, clearing his path. He stepped inside, halting just before the petitioner’s desk. His gaze traveled upwards to meet the silent scrutiny of the Eight, the Council members who looked down upon him from their elevated positions. Elo knew better than to break the silence, and so he waited. The judgement, he knew, was about to begin.

  “Why are you here, Elonquay?” echoed the voice of the Engaru, a resonance that filled the entire chamber. The deep, unsettling tone of the question instilled a sense of foreboding in those present. Using Elo’s full name, a practice reserved for the gravest of situations, made the room tense, a silent testament to the seriousness of the impending discussion. “Where is your protégé, the one you have chosen? Is he safe?”

  His ceremonial guilt headdress, a traditional mark of responsibility and penance, had not gone unnoticed by the Council members. Its presence was a glaring symbol of silent confession, a beacon of regret that spoke volumes to the observant Council.

  A chilling wave of unease coursed through Elo, prickling the fine hairs on his neck and sending goosebumps running down his spine. The question he had been dreading, the bitter reality he had been avoiding, was now out in the open, a raw wound exposed to the biting air. His anxiety manifested itself in the tremors that coursed through his body, a ripple of apprehension that betrayed his facade of composure.

  “An incident… an incident occurred,” he began, his voice quivering yet audible, frail but unbroken. Each word was like pulling teeth, but he persisted. “A Marau mine affixed itself to the Valtorian, our vessel, inflicting serious damage. Gan, my chosen, tried to defuse the situation, to dislodge the mine, but, in the process, he lost control of his ship to the intrusive device,” he confessed hurriedly, the weight of his words rushing out like a dam bursting.

  The stark confession sent shockwaves rippling through the chamber, inciting a tumultuous uproar amongst the Eight. What had been a serene room now buzzed with frenzied activity as Council members began vehement discussions, their gestures as heated as their words. The chamber, once a haven of quiet deliberation, was now awash with a tempest of animated debate and palpable consternation.

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  The commanding voice of the Engaru cleaved through the cacophony, a sharp blade slicing through the rampant chatter and restoring a semblance of order. “Explain how the Marau mine assumed control of your vessel?” The question, though calmly posed, carried a heavy undertone of disapproval.

  “I’m afraid,” Elo began, his voice barely audible, a mere breath of confession in the vast expanse of the chamber, “that Gan took an ill-considered decision to link the mine with our ship’s mainframe. His intention was to bypass its command-and-control protocols.” It was an admission that tasted of bitterness, a rueful acknowledgment of his pupil’s deviation from the teachings imparted to him.

  “The Marau, in a startling twist of events, exploited this precarious connection to infiltrate the Valtorian’s operating system, gaining control.”

  His revelation’s echo was swallowed by a deathly silence that seemed to choke the air out of the room. The Engaru averted his gaze from Elo, turning to engage in a hushed yet intense conference with his fellow Council members. To Elo, every passing second of their silent deliberation was an agonizing eternity, the weight of their judgment hanging heavily over him.

  “Your account raises a plethora of alarming questions,” the Engaru finally spoke, his voice cutting through the tense silence as he turned his penetrating gaze back to Elo. “What was a Marau mine doing in that quadrant? We are privy to the command-and-control codes for Marau mines; why was your pupil unable to disable it?”

  The Ellurians indeed had an insider embedded deep within the Marau military structure, a spy who had provided invaluable intel on Marau activities for a period far surpassing the lifespan of their current peace treaty. A Marau mine’s existence in Gan’s assigned harvesting quadrant suggested a potential breach of the treaty terms, a worrisome development that Elo couldn’t help but suspect.

  At long last, the Engaru posed a question that sent a wave of urgency rippling through the chamber, the anticipation hanging thick in the air. “And what of the harvested materials your student had acquired? Do they yet remain intact?”

  Elo found himself ensnared by the piercing gaze of the Engaru. The gravity of this moment weighed on him; his response to this question had the potential to shape the courses of both his own life and Gan’s.

  His eyes locked with the Engaru’s, the exchange serving as a silent testament to the magnitude of the moment. Elo’s reply carried the burden of consequences, the power to alter the fates of both him and his pupil.

  “Before the unfortunate series of events, Gan successfully transferred the accumulated material to the computational unit of his escape pod,” he declared, his voice echoing in the grand chamber, belying the apprehension clenching at his heart.

  “In anticipation of retrieving the precious cargo, I have orchestrated a plan for a rendezvous at predetermined coordinates within the same quadrant,” Elo added, his voice betraying none of the desperate hope that he was praying for his assertion to manifest into reality.

  The Engaru offered him a silent nod before pivoting away, leaving Elo disregarded as he engaged in a private conversation with the remaining seven.

  Anxiety set Elo’s heart pounding in his chest as he grappled with the outcomes of his confession.

  “We can only hope that your statements prove truthful, for both your sake and your pupil’s,” the Engaru’s voice cut through the silence once more. “We must admit, your choice of Gan perplexed us, considering the plethora of more suitable candidates. However, we agreed to your unusual selection, and it appeared to yield results. It would be lamentable to see a mishap jeopardize this arrangement further.”

  Elo simply nodded in response. His throat constricted with tension.

  “Disappointment is not a sentiment we take kindly to,” the Engaru declared, gesturing towards a spot on the floor behind him.

  Elo followed his gesture, his gaze landing on a small pool of greenish blood. His stomach churned violently at the sight.

  “That,” the Engaru declared, nodding towards the chilling aftermath of the preceding Paktu, “is the consequence of disappointing us.”

  “Gan and I... We will not fail you,” Elo blurted out, barely keeping his voice steady.

  “Good,” the Engaru replied. “We expect your report in two weeks.”

  Elo merely nodded in affirmation. He had a pressing task ahead: locate Gan and secure the harvested material before anything happened to it.

  “You are dismissed.”

  That was all the cue Elo needed. Bowing respectfully, he hastened out of the Council’s chambers before he lost control of his bodily functions.

  political minefield. The Council is not pleased, and they’ve made it very clear what happens to those who disappoint them. Now, he has two weeks to find Gan and recover the harvested material—or risk meeting the same fate as the last unfortunate Paktu.

  Was the Marau mine just bad luck, or was it planted there on purpose? And what exactly makes Gan so special that the Council allowed Elo to choose him in the first place? ??

  Did Elo just barely escape with his life, or is the Council setting him up for failure? Drop your theories in the comments! ??

  favorite, rate, or leave a review—it helps more than you know! ?? Thanks for reading, and see you in the next chapter!