Nessah sat on the ornate chair in her office, reviewing critical reports on the state of the war. Whole cities had been razed, and the death toll now numbered in the tens of millions. Despite her military doing the best it could to protect the populace and drive off the invading force, she couldn’t help but lament the immense loss of life.

  All due to the perverse inferiority complex the gru’ul had.

  Though they justified their actions through their Mandate and claimed themselves to be superior, Nessah knew that if that were truly the case, the gru’ul would have felt no need to improve upon their species with such dogmatic fervor.

  In any case, they were now warring with their supposed lessers and still hadn’t won. That fact alone brought Nessah a grim satisfaction. While not perfect, her military’s preparations had paid off and Verilia hadn’t been glassed at the beginning of the war. Still, she pushed Maraz to complete the repairs on the planetary shields as quickly as possible, fearing that another attempt to glass them could come at any moment.

  She now had whole teams dedicated to monitoring the enemy motherships and none had reported any signs of the colossal energy signatures that hinted at an attack. Nessah continued parsing through the reports in record time. She had no choice, now that her attention was split between being leading the army and attending Tribunal sessions as the War Arbiter, something that still intimidated her.

  She’d had her new position all of five minutes before being called upon to vote in what she knew history would view as having been the most important decision their faction could have made during the war. Nessah sighed. Although she’d voted in favour of weaponizing the orange chemical due to practical reasons, she was still personally deeply against it.

  Before she could give the topic further thought, a new emergency report came in. A distress signal had been found. While normally Nessah would have dismissed the report and delegated the responsibility to someone of a lower rank, whoever detected the signal had deemed it worthy of her immediate attention, and for that reason, she looked at it right away.

  The signal came from the gru’ul home world.

  Nessah startled. There were no troops stationed there, and unless the gru’ul had specifically begun kidnapping soldiers for ransom — which she doubted — then there was only one person to whom that signal could belong.

  She immediately searched for archived mission reports and brought up the one from when Jyn’s team had been attacked at the military compound. While they had been the only survivors, the report did mention that Adrian had been equipped with a comm before entering the base.

  Nessah’s thoughts spun furiously. It was strange that she was only receiving the signal now, months after Adrian’s abduction. It made no sense to her. Still, something tickled the back of her mind. There was an explanation for this, she was sure of it. She just needed to find it.

  She brought up Adrian’s highly classified file and started from the beginning, looking for clues. It took her two hours to find the single relevant passage that confirmed her suspicion.

  The research facility in the Arvis sector had stasis pods. If Adrian had been placed in one shortly after his abduction, it would explain the sudden signal cut and reappearance. Though initially presumed to have been destroyed, it was wholly possible the comm had been on Adrian when he was put in stasis for transport back to the gru’ul home world.

  Nessah continued connecting the dots. There was no reason for only a single distress signal to be coming from the gru’ul home world. Could it be a trap? She discarded the idea immediately. Based on their past behavior, she knew that the gru’ul would deem traps for their lessers beneath them.

  She ruminated on the conundrum for another hour before coming to a decision. It was too plausible that it was the distress signal from Adrian’s comm. She checked the time and sighed once more. She did not have the time for what she was about to do next, but she’d made a promise. One she intended to keep.

  Nessah made a call and summoned Reya to her office.

  It took merely half an hour for her to arrive, having already been present on base. Nessah stared at the nervous young woman as she entered her office and motioned for her to sit in the chair in front of her desk.

  “You called, General?” Reya asked nervously. “We just finished recording another report for the masses. Was there something wrong with it?”

  Nessah shook her head. “This has nothing to do with the report you recorded,” she said. “A signal has been discovered coming from the gru’ul home world. I have reason to believe that it’s Adrian’s.”

  Reya gasped and hope swelled in her chest. It had been months since Adrian’s abduction and each passing day with no news chipped away at her optimism that he’d be found. During his absence, she’d been forced to take on an increasingly public role in order to counter Mihn’s propagandist videos. Her mother hadn’t been found yet, though she wouldn’t be surprised if the military wasn’t truly looking for her given their more immediate priorities.

  “We have to save him!” Reya exclaimed. “The gru’ul could be experimenting on him as we speak. Gods, he must be in so much pain.” Her heart broke at the thought. “How long have you known about the signal? Have any preparations been made yet for his rescue? When do I leave?” She wanted nothing more than to be on the next ship heading towards him. She needed to see him again. Needed to feel his touch and hear his voice.

  Nessah raised her hand to slow Reya’s tirade. “No preparations have been made yet,” she said.

  “You promised you’d save him!” Reya exploded. “I worked for you for months! You plastered my face on every building tall enough and put me on every news station you could force to obey you! I’ve done everything I could to keep the people from turning on your soldiers during this war and I succeeded. You don’t just owe it to Adrian,” she ranted, “you owe it to me.”

  “The signal came in only a few hours ago,” Nessah said calmly, choosing to ignore Reya’s outburst. She couldn’t fault the woman for being deeply concerned for her partner’s wellbeing. Already, they’d tarried too long confirming the odds of the mysterious signal truly being Adrian’s. Given how long the journey would take to make it to the gru’ul home world, even with the upgraded engines, Nessah knew that time was of the essence. Every second wasted brought Adrian closer to death at the hands of the gru’ul. “I notified you as soon as I confirmed it to be his.”

  Reya paused, deflating somewhat. “So you’ll rescue him?” she asked, trying not to get her hopes up.

  “Yes,” Nessah said. “I’m not comfortable with the price it will cost to free him and the risk we’ll be taking. It will take a sizeable task force to free him. If his comm keeps outputting its distress signal, locating him on the gru’ul home world won’t be too difficult. Successfully attacking his location, finding him, and bringing him back without anything happening to him is what’s going to be hard.” She leveled Reya a hard look. “Are you comfortable sending others to die so that you can see Adrian again?”

  Reya’s hesitation played out on her face, plain as day to Nessah. “I’ll never be comfortable condemning others to die,” Reya replied. “I love Adrian more than anything and I’ll do whatever it takes to bring him back home safe.” She returned Nessah’s hard look. “When do we leave?”

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  “You,” Nessah stressed, satisfied by Reya’s answer and resolve, “won’t be going anywhere.”

  “That’s not fair!” Reya exclaimed. “I need to be there for him. I can’t leave him alone when he needs me.”

  “Your enthusiasm is commendable,” Nessah said. “However, you are no longer a soldier. Beyond that, there’s nothing you could meaningfully contribute to the mission. Your presence would only be a liability. Instead of only needing to protect Adrian, we’d also need to protect you. Our resources are already stretched too thin. I simply can’t afford to have you leave Verilia and go on this mission.”

  “Then what do I do?” Reya asked. “It’s going to be months until you bring him back. You can’t expect me to stay here and do nothing while I wait.”

  “You’re to continue as you’ve been doing,” Nessah ordered. “Keep working with Miarre to erode Mihn’s influence on the people. Let the soldiers do their job while you do yours. It would do Adrian no good to have the place he returns to is reduced to rubble and scrap, not because the gru’ul destroyed it but because the people did.”

  Reya reluctantly nodded. “But you do have a plan, right?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Nessah replied. “I intend to send your old team to save him. Familiar faces will be best for Adrian after the horror’s he’s surely endured.”

  “I’ll be all alone,” Reya whispered.

  “You haven’t seen your team in months. A few more won’t hurt,” Nessah said gently. “Have faith in them and prepare for when they return. Give them a warm home to come back to.”

  “I understand,” Reya said sullenly.

  “Good,” Nessah replied. “Now, here’s what we’re going to do to save Adrian.”

  Nessah was the last to arrive to the meeting she called. The other Elders waited impatiently for her to get on with whatever news she had. Nessah looked around the room and spoke with authority. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. As the first official meeting called by me, you must surely be wondering what it is I deem so important.” She paused briefly. “We’ve located Adrian thanks to a distress signal. He’s trapped on the gru’ul home world.”

  Surprise played across every Elder’s face. They had all assumed Adrian to be either dead or with no way to contact them if he were somehow still alive. “You’re certain of this?” Cirrus asked. She remained skeptical that such a signal would only come months after his abduction.

  “I’m reasonably certain,” Nessah confirmed. “He had a comm on him when he was abducted. I’ve even contacted the team who gave it to him and asked for them to provide its signature. It’s a perfect match.” She went on to explain her theory about Adrian having been placed in stasis again. “Admittedly,” she added, “it took me an embarrassing amount of time to contact them and ask. I was so focused on reviewing archived records for clues that the thought slipped my mind.”

  “Could this be a trick by the gru’ul?” Cirrus asked. “I wouldn’t put it past them.”

  “Doubtful,” Nessah replied. “they’ve never displayed any inclination for that sort of behaviour.”

  Cirrus hummed, deep in thought. “If he’s trapped on the gru’ul home world, then he’s as good as dead. That’s going to be difficult to explain to the people.”

  “Not quite,” Nessah replied. “I’m arranging a specialized strike team to save him. Finalizing it is what made me late to this meeting.”

  “That’s ludicrous!” Cirrus exclaimed. “We’re already stretched so thin, and you want to reduce our combat capacity even further? That’s pure madness.”

  “I find myself in agreement with Cirrus,” Darros spoke up. “We simply can’t spare the resources. If we did, we’d have to consider them a loss, since there’s no way an attack on the gru’ul home world with nothing less than our full fleet would have a chance of succeeding.”

  “I understand your concerns,” Nessah said calmly. “However, in return for having Reya act as our public spokesperson, I promised to rescue Adrian. Or at least make a token effort.” Internally, she winced. Her proposal hadn’t even been looked at yet and it was already being shot down. Nessah knew it was going to be a hard sell, and the others Elders weren’t disappointing.

  “A promise?” Darros scoffed. “You’re going to send good people — useful people — to die for a promise? We’re the War Tribunal. Reya has to follow our orders, whether she wants to or not. There’s no need for you to keep the carrot you used to get her to cooperate.”

  Nessah sighed. She tapped at her data slate and sent her proposal to the rest of the Tribunal. “I’ve just sent you my plans and their potential impact on the war here on Verilia,” she said. “I want everybody to take the time to read them while we’re here so we can discuss whether there should be any changes made.”

  “There’s no point in even looking at it,” Darros replied. “Nobody’s going to vote for it. Why bother bringing it up to begin with?”

  Nessah’s eyes turned hard and cold. “Perhaps you misunderstand,” she said in a voice that could cut steel, “this isn’t up for debate. It’s going to happen, whether you want it to or not. I’m including you so that our choices are well-thought out and informed.”

  “You’re overstepping your bounds, War Arbiter,” Darros said in a low, dangerous voice. “You do not have the power to unilaterally decide something so important. Your plan cannot pass without our agreement, and you only vote in the event of a tie.”

  A predatory smile formed on Nessah’s face. “You’re correct,” she said. “But you forget that I am also the War General, and it is within my power to organize and deploy our fleet how I see fit without your input should it be necessary.”

  “This entire operation is unnecessary and jeopardizes our chances of survival!” Darros roared. “You’re just after admitting that you can only make a unilateral decision if it’s necessary. I claim it’s not.”

  “Overruled,” Nessah said harshly. “Only the War Arbiter may oppose the War General’s decision when the War Tribunal is in power. Given that I’m both, I vote in favour of my decision.”

  “You can’t do that!” Darros sputtered. “That’s a clear conflict of interest that goes against what we stand for.”

  “You should have thought of that before vesting in me the power of both roles officially and by your own vote,” Nessah said. “We cannot allow the gru’ul to complete their experiments. If they succeed in transcending their limits and becoming an improved version of themselves, they risk being harder to kill on the battlefield. If the war were limited to just space warfare, you would be correct. But it’s not. There’s the very real threat of confronting the gru’ul directly on the ground, both to our own soldiers and to our citizens.”

  Maraz had remained silent thus far, instead opting to focus on Nessah’s proposal. “Your plans need some adjustment,” he said offhandedly. “The risk is too high if we follow them. I can think of several ways to improve it while keeping us safe here.”

  Darros spun and faced Maraz. “You can’t possibly accept this! She’s usurped our power and defies the War Arbiter’s core directives.” He was furious. No one person should be allowed to have that much power. It would mean pandering for her favour in order to pass any vote. The very idea was insane. It effectively rendered the Elders obsolete. He couldn’t let that happen.

  Maraz shrugged. “She’s right, we should have thought of that before giving her such power. It’s a bit late now. We would need another unanimous vote to remove her, and I find myself in agreement with her assessment, so it won’t pass.” He had to admit, Nessah’s move was a bold one. He reassessed his earlier opinion of her and saw her in a new light.

  Darros was at a loss for words. “Do you want to get us all killed?” he choked out. “Because that’s how we lose this war.”

  “Read her proposal first,” Maraz insisted. “I think you’ll find that it makes a surprising amount of sense.”

  “Thank you, Elder Maraz,” Nessah said. “I’ll give everybody the time they need to read it over right now, since this needs to be dealt with swiftly.”

  Darros reluctantly opened Nessah’s report and read it over in silence. The other Elders followed suit and in less than an hour, they had all gone over it. They discussed how best to improve it, resigning themselves to the fact that Nessah would proceed with the operation regardless of their wishes.

  Once Darros begrudgingly accepted that there was no preventing the operation, he voiced his concerns with the plan, being highly critical of every aspect. His criticism slowed the process down considerably, but Nessah was glad for it. He brought up valid points and strategies that would minimize the risk the army would be taking.

  When at last they finished hashing out how to proceed, Nessah addressed the Tribunal once more. “I understand this may seem unnecessary to most of you,” she said. “But I want to deny the gru’ul the only chance they have to carry out their Mandate. Adrian is the key, and I want to make sure the door remains locked.”

  “Fine,” Darros grumbled, “have it your way. But I won’t forget this.”

  “I don’t expect you to,” Nessah replied. “Be that as it may, it is my firm belief that this is vital to winning the war. Maraz,” she said, focusing on the other Elder, “how are the repairs on the planetary shields coming along?”

  “They’re almost finished,” Maraz responded. “It took a lot of work, but they’ll be ready tomorrow.”

  “Excellent,” Nessah said, pleased. “With the shields back up, we just might survive the next attempt to glass us.”

  “Do you really think they’ll try again with so many of their own planet-side?” Maraz asked.

  “Absolutely,” Nessah said. “They’ve sent us their mutated failures. We have yet to see a normal gru’ul. What we’ve fought so far is nothing more than cannon fodder, and my bet is that they don’t value the lives of their failures. They are rather unsightly, after all.”

  “In that case, I’ll get those shields back online as soon as I can,” Maraz said. “If we’re going to die anyway, I’d rather we deny them their spoils of war,” he added somberly.

  “If they get what they want, we lose,” Nessah warned ominously. “I won’t let that happen.”