“She carried stillness like a weapon.”

  Vol clade bone memory of their encounter with Feebee

  The smell of cyanide was strong. Almost overpowering. She thrashed for nearly nine seconds. Her face bloodied, her body ached. It felt like she was being beaten senseless.

  Meanwhile, within her body the real battle was going on as her nanites fought for her life.

  Then it was over. The blood on her face and on the floor turned into dust. She rose, instinctively wiped her face, and shook her head.

  “Sorry, I really am having a bad day. Anyway, where were we?”

  The Commanders exchanged glances, unsure if this was normal behaviour for a human under stress, and she’d certainly looked under stress; flailing around the floor.

  She’s going to be easy meat, this’ll be fun, and a good memory for the Shadow Hands, thought one of the guards.

  “We are here to interrogate you.”

  The person that spoke was not of the Vol clade; this person sat to her left and wore the Broken Cloud at its neck. It was of the Vek, a ‘small’ but influential clade that specialised in clandestine assassinations.

  The voice was high-pitched and squeaky.

  Any sense of menace or danger was lost. The Vek sounded more like a cartoon duck about to be strangled than a threat. Feebee kept her face straight and fought back laughter. She loved those duck cartoons.

  The person before her was a master of Stillness, a precision assassin, whether they had a duck voice or not.

  But it was still funny.

  She bit her tongue and said, “Ok.” It was matter of fact, held none of the terror they expected. She crossed uninvited and casually sat in one of the free chairs, as if joining them for a meal.

  The seat adjusted to her form. “Quite comfy, thanks”.

  “We are here to interrogate you,” the Vek repeated with exaggerated menace, annoyed that the human had somehow taken control of the interrogation.

  “Yes, you said.”

  Then Vol’Sereth spoke, “So, you are a new recruit and a musician.”

  “Yes.”

  “And this is your instrument?” She pointed to Hissy, who seemed to have turned her head, as if listening.

  “Yes, but I’m not very good yet. Still practicing. The others are much better than me.”

  “Others?” Vol’Sereth concealed a smile, the prisoner was already revealing much.

  “Yes; there are many others. At least two in each band and there are lots of bands. Every ship has a band; every barracks has at least one. Then there are…”

  “We get it. There are lots of bands.”

  Feebee nodded, happy to be of help.

  “How did you get the Intel about our military operation?”

  “There was no intel. I’m here on holiday, to practice with the Serpent.” She pointed to Hissy.

  “And the squad of Scouts we sent. What happened to them?”

  “Well, I just magicked them away, with cheap magic. We like cheap magic because it’s silent, efficient and without spectacle.” It was a deliberate barb, aimed at the Vek.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  It dripped with cultural references.

  Feebee wondered if he’d bite. She didn’t have to wait long.

  He snorted again. “Cheap magic indeed. You can’t make people dissolve with cheap magic.”

  Feebee looked directly at the master assassin and held his gaze.

  ‘Using Misted Choc – Kill the guards when I click my fingers.’

  ‘Ack’

  “Indeed; you are right. There is no such thing as magic.” And with that, Feebee turned in her chair and, looking at the guards, clicked her fingers.

  They all instantly dropped, unravelled and turned to dust before hitting the floor.

  Feebee spun the chair back around. All four Commanders were dumbstruck. The Vek was the first to recover.

  He leapt up and issued a single command. “Release the gas,” then, pointing at Feebee, he added, “And now my cheap magic will kill you. For the Vek!”

  Feebee smelt the gas, bitter almonds and hoped the QI had got the nanite programming right. Fighting the gas would achieve nothing; she was either dead already, or not. So, she just sat still, looking at the Vek. Then, after waiting what felt like a lifetime, she started tracing patterns on the tabletop with her fingers, clearly bored.

  “Will this take long?” she asked.

  The Vek was visibly shaken, he’d been told it would be instantaneous and quiet. A perfect kill. Trademark Vek.

  The other commanders looked confused, clearly not in on the treachery it had intended.

  “Will you tell them or shall I?” asked Feebee with a flick of her head. When the Vek said nothing, she continued, “Cyanide gas, which, while of no consequence for Drexari, can be lethal to humans. It used to be, but now… well, as you can see.”

  And with that, she exploded out of her chair, crossed the table and with one well aimed strike, broke the Vek’s neck. The other commanders started to rise from their chairs.

  “SIT!!!” shouted Feebee and raised one hand, it was locked and loaded, ready for a finger click. Then quietly she added, “Please, sit. We’ve had enough spectacle for one day.”

  After a pause Vol’Sereth spoke, “What do you want?”

  Feebee spoke to the QI. ‘Can you open the doors to the Conclave.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do it.’

  ‘Ack’

  Feebee gestured at the door just as the QI started to open it. More magic.

  ‘That was cheap,’ commented the QI.

  Vol’Shaar was first in the room and played her part. The guards were gone. GONE! and the Vek commander dead, slumped across the table.

  She looked shocked, no acting needed, drew her pistol and before she could point it at Feebee, Vol’Sereth spoke up, “That won’t be necessary.”

  Then Vol’Sereth turned to Feebee and asked again, but this time it was spoken to an equal, “What do you want?”

  “Before we get to that, can I assume that I don’t need to demonstrate any more cheap magic?”

  “I’ve seen enough,” said Vol’Sereth. The other two nodded vigorously. “Good. Is the offer Vol’Shaar proposed still on the table."

  "Remind me," was all Feebee said.

  "We withdraw, set-up a joint protectorate around the planet to protect SolDiri artifacts and discuss broader peace... even trade?”

  “Yes, that is acceptable. And the hostages, my team?” asked Feebee.

  “They will be released unharmed. We aren't animals.”

  “Good. Then we are done, this war, a war that never started, is over without spectacle.”

  The human’s constant use of Drexari cultural idioms was…unsettling for Vol'Sereth. How did she know to use them so correctly?

  More to the point, how did she know them at all?

  Feebee then instructed the QI, ‘Send a needle-comm to Chen. We don’t need the fleet, we need a couple of diplomats. Human diplomats. The misunderstanding with the Drexari has been resolved.’

  ‘He’s not going to be happy.’

  ‘Care factor?’

  They both answered at the same time, 'ZERO!' and laughed.

  One question continued to nag at Vol’Sereth, so she asked, “Could you have killed us all?”

  “All in here? Yes. Easily.”

  Vol’Sereth shook her head, accepting the truth in the statement.

  Feebee continued. “All in this Orbital? Highly likely. This is what one young human recruit can do.”

  Vol’Shaar then spoke up, “I am the Ember so hear me when I say that humans are beyond comprehension. I have seen what she can do, what humans can do. We must never forget that there are billions like her on one planet… And they have many planets.”

  Feebee picked up Hissy and walked towards the conclave doors

  “Where are you going?” Vol’Shaa asked.

  “Find my squad,” was all she said.

  Meanwhile, somewhen else… The Long Quiet reported.

  THREAT: None

  OBSERVATION: Satisfactory Conclusion. Balance restored.

  PRIMARY ACTION: Reassign The Silent Flame

  STATUS: WATCHFUL

  And now…the Protectorate of Velithra is a quiet beacon for Drexari and Humans alike.

  On the day The Silent Flame ended the war, the one that never started, the planet’s movement between human and Drexari space ceased. It simply stopped.

  Its location remained equidistant between Drexari and human space. It was checked and rechecked. No change.

  That lucky coincidence, just added to the mystique of the place and that of The Silent Flame.

  And for that reason, visitors of both species saw the planet as the place where miracles could happen. Drexari pilgrims looked for miracles, Confed observers watched. Both dwelt in uneasy peace, pilgriming and observing.

  The Silent Flame was never officially acknowledged, and Feebee vanished from public record. There was the briefest of appearances. She got another medal she couldn’t wear or talk about.

  Major Chen was duly promoted to Lieutenant Colonel with the whole of SSCOM now under his command. A reward for his uncanny foresight, tactical brilliance and outstanding contribution to peace.

  A Drexari saying arose and was muttered by ensorcelled pilgrims. “Where stillness walks, the Silent One follows.”

  They bought tacky keyrings with contrabass serpents on them, ate green choc bars while listening to the deep sonorous sounds of military brass claiming it was the Music of Reckoning.

  A standing stone appeared exactly one cycle later. A tall stone megalith that carried the Void Spiral at its centre and was inscribed with both Drexari clade glyphs, and Confed sigils.

  It reads: “Once named, you are whole. Stillness needs no weapon.”

  Occasionally, a single green mote would appear, lighting up the Void Spiral. It pulsed at around thirty-five beats per minute. Some claimed it was tuned to the Silent Flame.

  When asked about Feebee, all LTC Chen would say was “She has important work and is assigned.”