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    Cia
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Ancalagon - 117. Chapter 117

“I’m just the one they’re listening to. Your people have been working behind the scenes to stop the Kardoval for years.” Garjah stared down at the city streets. “Apparently little whispers joined by one big truth can create a wave not even the Kardoval can escape.”

“What will the officers do to them?” I asked. My heart was still pounding, and I wasn’t sure if it was from all the running, the hill, or my fear that those people would get hurt because of something we’d done. “We can’t let them get hurt.” Ases agreed with me.

“What can they do? There’s too many.” Chaintrik waved a hand toward the streets where more and more appeared. “Look there.” Circling above the streets were transports or something. “Those are recording too.”

“So we’ll be able to see if something happens?”

“Once we get to a safe place.” Garjah put his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go.” Bouncer stood up.

“We should go down there. You should be there. In person.” Chaintrik was still watching. “This is everything we want happening right now. How can you turn away from it?”

“I’m not. I’m getting my bonded to safety. I don’t care how many comm screens are watching, how many people are there. I will not risk Essell until I know the Kardoval have stepped down.”

“Hey,” I said. I didn’t stop him from herding me back toward the road, though at least we weren’t running anymore. The Kardoval and their officers had bigger problems now. “You can’t lock me up and try to keep me away from everything. This isn’t going to be something that goes away in a day.” My parents were scientists, and I’d been exposed to more than enough stations, planets, and governments to know just how volatile changes in power could be. “You will have to be visible. And remember, we’re stronger together than apart.”

“Later. That back there is not safe.”

“Fine.”

“I’m going back.” Chaintrik stopped in the road. “Someone has to be there.”

“Are you sure you want to go alone?”

“I know how to blend in. Without all of you, no one will even notice me.” He had a point. Two aliens, Bouncer, and Ases’ mech did sort of stand out. By himself, he would probably he much safer than if he stayed with us. Chaintrik didn’t say anything else, just took off back in the direction we’d been running from.

 

We kept walking but eventually Garjah stopped in front of a home tucked back in the side of a hill. The building was older, but well-kept. Like most of the places here, it was surrounded by plants. “Where are we?” I asked. Bouncer sniffed the plants, then started marking territory. “Stop that,” I hissed.

“He’s fine. This is my place. Not that anyone knows that.” Garjah pushed through the thick garden. “Send your mech down the path.”

“Shouldn’t we go to the front door?” Ases asked. The mech followed his instructions.

“No. We’re going to the back.”

Of course we were. “Why?”

“The front door has a few surprises.” Garjah didn’t even take us to the house. There was a small building in the back, and he went for that. I’d have said it was a greenhouse, but it looked unused and overgrown. It was entirely the wrong time, but I wanted to explore the plants. Two of them swayed as Bouncer sniffed them, and he growled and backed off quickly.

Inside the greenhouse was entirely different from outside of it once we got inside. Outside looked dusty, covered in plants. The walls inside were crawling with vines. A wooden platform holding flowers blocked the view inside from the open door. I spun slowly, trying not to lose my balance on aching calves and feet, because the rest of the place was a mirror of Garjah’s safe room with all the tech that went along with that. Comms that went life the second we stepped inside covered the property. And then there were the ones that roamed the city. “Are you scanning the city?” I asked.

“No, that’s broadcast footage.” Garjah indicated a few seats built out of smooth wood. “Sit down. I’m sure you’re exhausted, Essell.” He reached under a cabinet and pulled out several drinks. I wrinkled my nose. I recognized those, so I didn’t take it when Ases did. His mistake, and he choked on it.

“Nutrient fluid?”

“You need it.” He waggled it. “You’ll feel better.”

“Ugh.” He was right though. I sat and drank the noxious fluid, watching as he started up several comm systems. “What are you doing?”

“I think Chaintrik was right. This will change everything. We’re going to need outside help.” Garjah turned toward Ases. “We’re going to need your mech. I need to contact the Galactic directly.”

My jaw dropped and I stared at Garjah. “You… want to bring them here?”

“We need advice to solve this. I may or may not I invoke the clause to bring additional… envoys here.” He faced Ases. “Not that I don’t believe you won’t give excellent advice. But I think the people need to see the wider universe represented here. To see and know what we say is true, not just hear it.”

Ases leaned back. “I agree. The idea is politically sound, and there are many people you could contact. Who were you thinking?”

“Well….” Garjah looked at me.

“Do not say anyone related to me, or part of the Institute.”

Garjah smiled. “Your parents are not suitable, no, though I’m sure your mother would disagree. I was actually thinking about those Aqnars we met. Councilor Alae and Lipro? They seemed to be adept at meeting those who are new.”

Ases nodded. “Yes, that’s their job, sort of. That’s a good choice.”

Copyright © 2020 Cia; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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