A tremendous clash occurs.

  “Get down!”

  “We know you’re hiding the truth! Show her to us!”

  “Stand down, citizen!”

  “Get off our planet, Coalite scum!”

  “You are ordered by Coalition decree—”

  “Ten thousand years of prosperity to Qiaou! Long live the Qiaouian People’s Revolutionary Front—!”

  The fanatic words of the man cut out just as he explodes into a bright fireball, bigger than the first, taking out with him several peacekeepers in his presence. A few others surrounding him get knocked down, either losing consciousness or getting killed immediately upon impact with the ground thereafter. In the smoking aftermath, a few smoldered bits of him could be seen smeared and baked into the surrounding pavement.

  Gahn looks on in horror as his troops rush back to the ships by his order. His men and women are endangered by the chaos, and already, he could see some of them getting caught in the crossfire. The Qiaouian radicals are pulling at them and holding them hostage.

  “What’s going on?” Vertan asks one of the troops rushing by.

  “Terrorist attack!” she responds. “We don’t know what they want, but they’re holding some of us hostage!”

  Back outside on the streets, the confusing struggle between protestor, peacekeeper, and mix of revolutionaries becomes louder and more violent. The peacekeepers begin firing indiscriminately into the crowd, killing and injuring several.

  “Meet our demands, and they’ll go free!”

  “You’re bluffing! Bluffing—!”

  “Defy us, and they all die!”

  “You’re all barbarians! Animals! Hell awaits you—”

  “Barbarians, ha?! Animals, ha?! Who pillaged our planet and raped our children?!”

  “Woah, woah, stop, stop!”

  One of the Qiaouian revolutionaries tightens his chokehold on the peacekeeper, and shoots him in the leg. The peacekeeper screams out in agony, trying to clutch both at his neck and his injured limb. Surrounding them, the revolutionaries have managed to use the advantage of home territory, rounding out the peacekeepers, Gahn’s returning troops, and any suspected ‘sympathizers’, and bringing them down to their knees, lining them up at gunpoint.

  “How you like that, ha?!” the partisan screams. “How about an ounce of our suffering!”

  “Stand down!” Gahn’s voice bellows from the giant ship. “We come in peace and mean no harm to Qiaou. We are simply an Ulminhan fleet in transit on a diplomatic voyage. We request the peaceful return of our troops unharmed, and we will be shortly on the way!”

  “We know there is a truth you are hiding!” one of the partisans, seemingly a leader, bellows back via gigaphone. “Reveal it to us, and we will set your men free!”

  The situation outside grew increasingly tense, the smoke from the previous two bombings still smogging the air. Gahn and his men struggled to reach a consensus.

  From within her chamber, Lym’s mechanical eye closely watched the situation through the visor of her suit, which she had remotely moved to be perched above the ship.

  Vertan reenters the chamber, having taken a look at the situation for himself outside the ship. Gahn’s troops have by now taken up arms and positioned themselves against the Qiaouian revolutionaries, though much to everyone’s shock, today’s attack was unexpectedly very strategically coordinated.

  “You probably shouldn’t step outside right now,” Lym comments.

  “What?” says Vertan. “How do you know? I haven’t told you anything yet.”

  “The suit.”

  “—Oh, right.”

  “I’ve been watching.”

  Faintly, a gunshot rings through the air outside. A few screams break out in the ensuing commotion. The revolutionary leader’s demands could be heard again, shouted through the gigaphone.

  Outside the chamber, the troops guarding Lym nervously chatter.

  “Hiding the truth? What do they want?”

  “Is it not obvious?”

  “Yes, but what do we have to do with these guys?”

  “Nothing, right? I thought these terrorists are just a thorn in the Coalition’s backside since forever.”

  “Did we do something?”

  A few thoughts race through Vertan’s head.

  “I think they want you, Lym,” says Vertan.

  “How do they know of our mission?” Lym asks.

  “Maybe they don’t know. Maybe they’re just suspicious enough.”

  “Fuck it!” a voice comes from outside the chamber. A small window slides open. “She’s on our side, right? She needs us, right? Why don’t we just throw her out there and let her take care of them?”

  “What are you, nuts?!” another responds. “We can’t do that! That’s against our orders! Gahn will kill us!”

  “Hey, lady!” one of them shouts in. “My brother is out there! Can’t you at least save him? I’m sorry for anything I said the other day!”

  “I don’t know,” replies Lym. “I’m just an ancient demon that needs to be contained, right? Maybe letting a weapon of mass destruction out there like that would be a bad idea.”

  Vertan scowls at the man’s desperation, and the fact that suddenly he needs her now.

  A ringing sound comes from one of the men's belts, and upon receiving the call, he finds a commanding order from Gahn.

  “He wants us to bring her out!”

  “Really? What?!”

  “You’re sure of this?”

  “They won’t cooperate with anything else. What other ‘truth’ aboard the ship is there other than her?!”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “We’re losing time, he says to escort her out immediately! Our comrades are at gunpoint!”

  “Hey lady! You’re coming out with us!”

  “No,” replied Lym.

  “Please, my brother is out there! We need to go!”

  “My name is Lym.”

  “Alright! Please! Lym! Please come with us!”

  “Thank you.”

  As the panicked men continued to struggle unlocking the chamber’s thick door, Lym stood up from her knees, the heavy chains snapping off from their clasp and clattering to the floor, as effortless as tearing wet paper. Stepping to the side, Vertan watched as Lym walked to the door, motioning for the men outside to move away.

  She lightly presses her fingers up onto the door, and with a slight shove, sends the heavy meter-thick door flying across the room, and it implants itself on the opposite wall with a loud crash. Lym steps out of the chamber for the first time in several days. Vertan follows shortly after, looking around at the cowering men.

  “Well?” Lym says to them. “Lead the way.”

  *****

  “Are you sure it’s them?”

  “I am certain.”

  “How can you be so sure? There’s a lot of things we have yet to confirm.”

  “Like they say. Sometimes, you have enough dots for you lying around, you don’t need them connected yet.”

  “Risky player as always? And if you’re wrong?”

  “I’m not. Here they come now. Get our cameras rolling!”

  One by one, the Qiaouian revolutionaries turned on their cameras to face the escort moving out of the ship. Some broadcasted from their own personal eye lens, others with more dedicated equipment. Some drones watched silently, hung in the air, and more still hid amongst the environment like snipers. The worldwide network across Qiaou slowly began being taken over by the revolutionaries’ broadcast as it overrode nearly every live feed and channel. News of this begins to seep out of Qiaou and is shared amongst the stars.

  “Ah, see,” says the leader. “What did I tell you all?”

  Peering through the sun’s glare, he could see the fruit of their mission, validation of their suspicion. As the armed escort moved down the ship’s ramp, they could make out two main figures of interest in the middle of them. Firstly, the legendary Vertan Zviedal, “hero” of the Coalition, sole survivor of the Abomination. And next to him, a thus-far unknown woman.

  But it was the same woman seen in those Ulminhan newsreels. The same dark robes, scarred face, and red mechanical eye. The narrative surrounding her had been suspiciously inconsistent. Some proclaimed her to be a “foreign fugitive”. Others, a “violent protester”. But too many made the mistake of aligning with Coalition narrative, calling her an “anomalous demon”. It contrasted too much with eyewitness recordings, which showed her aiding in the protection of protesters. The information was too good to disregard.

  Insider intelligence allowed them to anticipate a suspicious flight plan. An entire Ulminhan battle fleet coming their way. The two worlds had nothing to do with each other, and based on available knowledge, Ulminh is not known for its military, even with recently increased Coalition alignment. The fleet’s existence could only mean one thing, and as it seems, diverting their arrival to Aei is playing straight into their hands.

  A tense aura suffocates the air as the escort arrives before the greeting revolutionaries, Vertan and Lym impossible to ignore out of the crowd. Both sides continue pointing arms at the other as both bystanders and captives look on.

  “Alright,” bellows Gahn, up front and center. “I have here before you all, the anomalous demon discovered on Ulminh. With me is Vertan Zviedal, hero of the Coalition, the one who helped us capture said demon. I am open to negotiating any further requests, and I demand the safe return of my troops.”

  “There is no need to keep pushing your narrative, Coalite,” replies the partisan leader. “Please, if you will.”

  A woman next to him brings out a handheld holoprojector, and with a twist and a click, displays before them a giant projection for all to see. Several eyewitness footage from personal devices play across the projection, displaying different perspectives of the Ulminhan protests. All showed the same thing: Vertan and Lym on the same side protecting protesters.

  With a gesture from the leader, the woman obliges, turning the holoprojector off and returning it to her sack.

  A slight scowl of unease could be seen from Gahn’s face as he tries to calculate the consequences. Was there still use in this charade?

  “Behold, before you, the ‘great demonic threat!’” the partisan leader bellows. “The latest scapegoat of the ages! The latest justification for war! Behold, no truer truth than the truest truth before you all!”

  A fervorous commotion spreads amongst the crowds. For the Ulminhan troops, many wondered what was to come for them, now that something so glaring had been exposed of them. For the Qiaouian partisans, a sense of vindication and awe, that indeed their suspicions turned out true. And for any remaining bystanders, and the many growing billions across the stars watching the leaking broadcast, watched on in shock.

  “And to demonstrate,” he continues. “For verification purposes.”

  He comes over to grab one of the Coalition peacekeepers by the collar, and pulls him over front and center, forcing the bound and shaken man to kneel down in front of everyone. To call him a ‘man’ would be an overstatement; upon closer inspection, he appeared young enough to be a boy.

  Pulling out a handgun, the partisan leader steps back, points at the young peacekeeper’s head, and immediately fires, sending the entire crowd yelling and flinching.

  The peacekeeper had flinched, but remained alive.

  Looking behind him, he finds in disbelief that the strange woman had caught the bullet, clenched within her fist. She had instantly appeared before him, previously a few meters away. The crowd watched Lym grind the bullet within her palm, its particles flying out from under her hand like sand on a windy beach.

  “Spare him,” Lym says as she looks towards the partisan leader. “He is young.”

  However, the partisan leader instead smiles, revealing some silver teeth. Suddenly, amidst the tense air, his demeanor softened.

  “So good to meet you,” he says. “I’m Giaya. Tell me, surely, you have a name?”

  “I do,” says Lym. “My name is Lym.”

  “Ah, Lym,” he repeats. “Lym!”

  Gahn and Vertan glance at each other as they look on at the interesting character. He seemed to be rather proud of himself as he said this.

  “Well, Lym, welcome to Qiaou,” he continues. “I apologize on behalf of everyone here for the trouble. Tell me, where are you from? And what brings you here?”

  “I am from Happia. We are hoping to find my way home.”

  “Ah, a home,” he replies as he kneels down. Feeling the soft grit of the grinded bullet, he feels the metallic powder in his hands. How marvelous the raw power is, he thought to himself. “Don’t we all have a home.”

  Standing back up, he looks around him. Countless recordings and broadcasts from all the different perspectives will make the rounds for weeks, even months, from this incident. He knew very well this kind of information will stick in that peacekeeper’s mind forever, infinitely more dangerous than the bullet he just fired at the young boy’s head, which is now strewn about as dust.

  It was all already more than enough, and yet still…

  “Mr. Zviedal!” he calls out to Vertan. “Did I say your name correctly?”

  “Uh, yes sir, you did,” replies Vertan, unassuredly. “Mr. Giaya, right?”

  “I appreciate you getting my name right the first time,” says Giaya. “Would you mind showing us some ID?”

  Vertan and Gahn look at each other, unsure of what to do. The two both already knew. To not show meant they had something to hide, raising suspicion. To show meant to confirm what they already suspect.

  “Come on!” he teases. “You have nothing to hide, don’t you? Aren’t you the honorable hero of the Coalition they say you are? Just the last step before we’ll be on our way.”

  Sirens wail in the distance.

  “We’ll shoot the rest of them if you don’t show it—”

  “Here,” says Vertan, outstretching his badge. “I’m legitimate.”

  Gahn continues to uneasily monitor the situation, his troops continuing to point their arms on the Qiaouians.

  Giaya snatches the badge from Vertan, much to his alarm.

  “No, no, don’t you worry!” he exclaims. “I’ll give it back to you.

  He holds it up for everyone to see, making sure the view is as clear as possible.

  The sirens grew louder, closing in proximity.

  Suddenly, he tosses the badge back to Vertan, who barely catches it.

  “All the verification we need,” he mutters, before blowing a loud whistle. “Everyone pack it up! Let’s move!”

  And in a short moment, all the Qiaouian partisans leave the scene, honoring their word of keeping their hostages alive. Law enforcement will have great trouble attempting to make any arrests today.

  Giaya seemingly melts into the crowd, vanishing from sight entirely, with only Lym’s mechanical eye being able to track his movement.

  Vertan, Lym, and Gahn, all glance at each other, each thinking about the incident that had just occurred.

  For Gahn, an upending of the status quo. For Lym, another strategic front. For Vertan, revolution.