This time when a summons came from the military, Miarre came willingly and without a fuss. She now sat once more before General Nessah, alone in her office. A mess of frayed nerves and anxiety, Miarre hoped that it wasn’t a rebuke for deviating from the script during the interview several months ago.
Nessah was more than content to stare down the poor woman before her. It would do the reporter good to sweat a bit before being handed her next task. The military had their claws sunk into their little pawn, and when Nessah felt she was suitably intimidated, she spoke up. “You deviated from our script two months ago,” she said.
Miarre’s eyes grew wide. “I can explain!” she stammered. “It would have been weirder had I not done a follow up on what Reya was talking —”
“It’s of no matter,” Nessah said, not bothering to listen to whatever sorry excuse was Miarre was going to try to hide behind. “We’ve been monitoring how people reacted to the interview. We’ve noticed that there’s quite a bit of controversy around Reya’s decision to pursue music as a hobby since becoming a Silver Star. Some believe it to be beneath someone of her standing.”
Miarre nodded slowly, unsure where the General was going with her statement. “I’ve noticed much the same. Most don’t care, but some are upset. They seem to think that if a soldier has the time to play music instead of being out on a mission, they don’t deserve the Silver Star.”
“And that’s where the military disagrees,” Nessah said. “Right now, Reya is in recovery after the mission that gave her the Silver Star. It’s the reason we’ve kept her from public eye for so long. She’s in no shape to resume her duties at the moment.”
Miarre didn’t understand. Reya had seemed perfectly fine the times that they’d met. A little timid perhaps, but nothing out of the ordinary. “She was injured during her mission?” she hedged.
“Heavily,” Nessah confirmed in a serious tone. “It’s quite honestly a miracle she survived what she did.”
Nessah’s candor took Miarre by surprise. She hadn’t expected to freely receive any information about what might be happening to the world’s hottest topic. It made her suspicious and wary. The General surely didn’t invite her to her office for a nice chat. “Her injuries were that bad?”
“Yes,” Nessah said, unwilling to expand on the topic any further. “Reya’s Silver Star represents great sacrifice in addition to her incredible service to our faction. Which is why High Command won’t tolerate anybody speaking ill of her.” She withdrew a chip from her pocket and placed it on the table before her. “This is something Reya’s produced. We’d like for you to share it through your network.”
“You think showing the world the song Reya made is going to change their opinion of her?” Miarre asked incredulously.
“We think people will very much appreciate what she’s made,” Nessah replied smoothly. “Allow me to play it for you before we continue. Perhaps you’ll change your mind afterwards.” Using her data slate, she played the song. By the time it was finished, the result was one very stunned reporter.
“By the gods, what was that?” Miarre said, sucking in a breath. “Those sounds — they’re unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. How on Verilia did Reya make such a thing?”
“Practice and dedication,” Nessah said. “Her teacher has been very diligent.”
“Her partner, right?” Miarre asked excitedly. “He can also make something like this?”
Nessah smiled inwardly. The reporter was hooked, and it would be trivial bend her to their will in a little while once she was in too deep. “Let’s see how people react to Reya’s song before releasing anything else. Now then, are you willing to be the first one to report this?”
Miarre nodded hurriedly, unable to believe the scoop that had landed on her lap. It would be easy for her to convince her network to air it and let her be the one to present it.
“Perfect,” Nessah hummed. “Here’s what you have to do.”
It was all over the news and somehow everywhere all at once. Reya didn’t know how her song had gotten out, but it was now quickly becoming one of the most played songs in history. Music simply hadn’t been a large part of a’vaarian culture and wasn’t a priority for most people. Ignored and often dismissed outright most were more than happy to scorn those who took up an instrument.
Until now.
Her song caused a stir. New sounds and melodies had many hooked on something so refreshing. It was hard for them to believe a Silver Star holder had been the one to create such a thing. It left them all with one burning question. One that had no answer as far as anybody could tell.
How?
Everything about the song was unlike anything they’d ever heard. There was no known way of creating such sounds. Some thought the song to have been created digitally, yet the theory was quickly put into question due to Reya explicitly stating she’d learned a new instrument during her interview two months prior.
It was a maddening puzzle to the general populace with no answer. Reya spent time carefully looking over social media and reports from various news outlets. Hidden away at the safe house, it was easy to miss important news. Usually, Kell was the one who spent his time informing the team of any new, important developments.
However, ever since her most recent interview, Kell had been holed up in his lab as often as Tassie was in their ship doing research. Keeping abreast of the news had fallen to the wayside.
Reya had a vague sense that her two teammates were collaborating in an attempt to reverse her transformation but had no real details on what they’d discovered. She sighed and continued her research, trying her best to figure when her song was leaked.
The earliest instance she could find was that gods damned reporter that interviewed her. Before then, there was nothing. Given that High Command were the only ones who knew of the existence of her song, she concluded that it must have been them who gave it to Miarre. A headache was forming as she thought about why the Tribunal would want that knowledge becoming public on purpose.
More troubling were the rumours and speculations about who taught her to make her music. Adrian had become a man of mystery to many, and people wanted to know who he was. An hour passed in the blink of an eye before Reya stumbled upon a hot new topic among academics.
A system for written music had been officially announced, along with a press conference that was due to go live in ten minutes. Her eyes widened as she scrambled to call Adrian and anybody who was free to listen to it with her. To her surprise, everybody showed up, including Jyn. They all watched the holoscreen together as a man walked up to a podium, ready to address the crowd of reporters and other academics that were gathered to hear the announcement.
Without delay, the man onscreen launched into an explanation of their wonderous discovery. To Adrian’s surprise, he even touched briefly upon some musical theory, information that was included in the notes he’d given to the Tribunal and should have remained with them. It came as a surprise to the entire team that High Command willingly leaked such knowledge to the world.
The academic presenting sheet music stopped his example and looked straight at the cameras. “I feel that it is important to mention that we did not invent this system ourselves. The information was disseminated to us and has far more depth than what I’m presenting here today. My team has spent months learning and assessing the validity of what we were shown. We take no credit for this discovery.”
The room broke out into clamors and shouts that a research facility was presenting findings that weren’t their own. It took the man a moment to calm the room before he continued speaking. “We are not at the liberty to disclose where we received our knowledge at this time. That said, we recognize the incredible popularity and impact of Reya Ayala’s song. We requested that our source transcribe her song into this new musical notation, only to learn that she’d already done so herself. Reya’s song not only marks the dawn of a new era for music but is also the first a’vaarian song to be properly written down in our history in a replicable manner, something previously thought to be impossible. We have reason to believe that she has learned much of the knowledge discussed here today, if not more.
“Miss Ayala has proven impossible to contact for a comment regarding her creation. While we are all very curious as to where she learned how to write music, we must respect that she has not divulged her secrets. We are sure she has her reasons, and perhaps one day she will share them with us. That is all for today. Our team strives to make our discoveries as accessible as possible in the coming days so that others may learn how to write and produce such music for all to enjoy.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
The presentation ended and the audience was bursting with questions. One by one, they were answered, although more often than not all the man speaking could give were vague references without too much detail.
Reya turned off the holoscreen once the subject matter started becoming repetitive. She looked around and her gaze landed on Jyn. “How did this happen?” she asked. There was no anger in her voice, but rather resignation. Thrust once more into public eye without warning or consultation, she was helpless in the face of the media. She knew she was nothing more than a shiny new toy for the world to see. She didn’t deserve taking credit for learning Adrian’s incredible knowledge on music. If anything, he should be the one receiving praise.
“I don’t know,” Jyn said, worried. “I wasn’t aware your song had been leaked until just now. I’m going to have to call the General to get some answers, but I don’t know how much she’ll be willing to divulge.” He glanced at Tassie. “Did you know about this?” he asked her.
Tassie shook her head. “No. Quite frankly, I don’t see the relevance of leaking Reya’s song. Unless . . .” she trailed off. “High Command wants a distraction.”
“Wants or needs a distraction?” Jyn asked. “We know you’ve been working on highly classified research. Could this be linked to something you found?”
“Probably not. We’ve made a lot of discoveries lately, but nothing that warrants diverting people’s attention away from what High Command might be up to. If anything, this puts keeping Adrian’s existence a secret in jeopardy. Somebody’s going to guess that the musical knowledge might be alien in nature.”
“Will people believe that theory?” Reya asked. She was worried Adrian would be thrust into the spotlight the same way she had been. But she knew that it would be worse for him. He was too different, yet so similar to an a’vaare that his existence would be highly controversial.
“Depends on how convincing the proponents pushing that agenda are,” Tassie replied. “This might be the Tribunal’s way of preparing the population for Adrian. Start by showing them something never before seen, then point out that it was created by an alien civilization when people get too critical of it.”
“Before, I would have said that was preposterous,” Jyn said, his brows furrowed. “What you’re saying makes sense, but that puts the entire operation at the gru’ul facility at risk of exposure. High Command has put so much effort into keeping Adrian a secret. Why reveal him now?”
“Because they can’t keep it a secret any longer,” Kell concluded. “Something’s changed and it’s causing them to act this way. Jyn, you need to find out what’s happening so we can prepare for it.”
Jyn nodded. “I’ll go contact the General right away. We should have been made aware of this development sooner than ten minutes before it went public, especially when it relates to our ability to properly protect Reya and Adrian.”
The group broke up and Jyn made straight for the bridge on the ship, where he could have a private discussion with the General.
“The planetary defense system is finally operational,” Maraz confirmed, unable to keep his exhaustion from creeping into his voice. There were dark circles under his eyes, the last-minute preparations during the last week having kept him awake most nights. It was a rush job and though the Elder felt his team could’ve done better if only they’d had more time, he was relieved that he’d met the deadline imposed on him by Kaius.
“That’s wonderful news,” Kaius said. “We now have some measure of defense against a gru’ul invasion. How powerful is it?” He knew that the gru’ul had weapons they’d never seen before, and the faction needed to be ready for anything. A surprise in the middle of the war would be catastrophic if they didn’t have contingencies already in place. They needed countermeasures, and they needed them months ago.
“We’ve accomplished something no other faction has done to date,” Maraz said confidently. “Against their weaponry, the shield is impenetrable. We won’t have to fear attacks from them anytime soon. Combined with our improved response time thanks to the new engines our fleet is equipped with, I believe us far safer from external threats than before.”
“It’s not the other factions we need to worry about,” Darros pointed out. “Their weaponry is already laughable compared to our own and their fleets too small to launch a full-scale invasion. We should only focus our efforts on defending against the gru’ul.”
“I’m aware,” Maraz said pointedly. “The new defense system is designed to handle continuous barrage around Verilia simultaneously. Our own weapons aren’t enough to penetrate it. Given that we’ve upgraded gru’ul weapons to make them even more powerful, that says a lot.”
“But will it be enough if the gru’ul bring something even more powerful to the table?” Darros asked. “We copied weaponry from their smallest ships. Surely, their bigger ships have bigger and better guns.”
“We’ve accounted for that in our design,” Maraz chided. “What we have right now is a preliminary shield. We’re going to add multiple layers to it to defend against a breach from stronger weapons. The additional layers are already under production and will be ready to deploy soon, giving us an added measure of protection.”
“Have there been any soldiers questioning our actions lately?” Cirrus asked. “We need full control over our military if we’re going to have any chance of success.” They couldn’t afford any form of strike or revolt by their soldiers. Not at such a critical time for their species’ survival. After all, that was the reason they were using Reya as a distraction. People needed to look away from their extensive preparations. Rumour mongering would only make it worse.
“Reya’s song and the dissemination of Adrian’s musical theories have taken the world by storm,” Orryn said, pleased. “Our own soldiers are obsessed with it, to the point where it’s playing everywhere on base. Nobody’s looking too closely at what we’re doing.”
“Good,” Cirrus said, breathing a sigh of relief. The clock was ticking. Soon, they would have to announce Adrian’s existence to the world, which would put into question everything they ever knew. Conspiracy theories would be everywhere and even she had to admit that the music would most likely help soften the blow now that she’d seen the impact it was having. She was skeptical at first and freely acknowledged the fact. Now, she couldn’t deny that it served as the perfect distraction. They weren’t ready to announce the war just yet, nor their findings. Adrian would serve as the primer the populace needed for when they would reveal what the gru’ul had done.
“There’s more good news,” Orryn said. “Recruitment has been through the roof. Many find Reya’s achievements inspiring, believing that they too have the chance of having the same success.” The relief in the room was palpable. They were in desperate need of new bodies, and the ability to properly train the influx of soldiers before the war started in full was exactly what they needed. The new soldiers might be the first to die, but that was a grim reality the Tribunal was forced to accept.
“Will we have enough ships for them to man?” Darros asked, concerned that their cannon fodder would remain grounded, where they would serve no purpose. It was a callous way to view the lives of those he governed, Darros knew. Yet, he had no choice.
“We’ve been producing top of the line ships and new models at an unprecedented speed,” Maraz confirmed. “It’s quite honestly astonishing, and production will only grow once we announce the war.”
“We’d better hope the populace doesn’t revolt when they learn the truth,” Cirrus said.
“If they do, we put them down,” Darros said grimly. “This is no time for compromise. Any dissidents will need to be dealt with swiftly. They pose a threat to our entire species’ survival, even if they might think otherwise.”
An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room at the Elder’s declaration.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit heavy-handed?” Orryn couldn’t help but ask, worried. “That might just cause more friction and an eventual uprising.”
“I’m not saying murder everybody who doesn’t agree with us,” Darros refuted. “Those who pose an existential threat to our species will need to be declared enemies of the faction, without the usual procedures involved.”
“The civil government won’t tolerate that,” Orryn warned. “They exist to ensure that social policies are created and enforced for the betterment of the faction. Blindly declaring enemies of the faction will have them up in arms.”
“Martial law removes the need for a civil government,” Darros said. “They’ll be the first to go if they go against our will. The War Tribunal has risen to power. It’s time we act like it.”
“The world isn’t even aware of our decree,” Orryn said. “They’re going to resist unilaterally being placed under martial law without any say.”
“We’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Kaius interjected, putting an end to the topic. “The newness of Miss Ayala’s song will wear off soon. While the new musical theories will have the attention of academics around the world, we still need another distraction before we reveal Adrian’s existence. Luckily for us, him and Reya created another song that we can release.”
“Another song?” Cirrus asked in disbelief. “That’s your plan? It worked the first time, but that’s going to have diminishing returns the more we do so. The only other songs we have are those in Adrian’s native language. We can’t release those to the world. Releasing the other song isn’t going to buy us much time.”
“It won’t” Kaius acknowledged. “But it will get the populace accustomed to Adrian’s voice. When it’s time to reveal his existence, the music he created will be perfect proof of an alien language. It’s easy to look into a camera and speak gibberish. It’s far harder to consistently make it rhyme across many songs. Linguists will confirm that it is in fact a new language and that will be all the proof we need to support our claims. Adrian’s wildly different skin colour will also help.”
“He resembles an a’vaare too much,” Cirrus refuted. “Nobody will believe our claims after listening to a few songs. They’ll consider him to be an impossibility that can’t possibly exist naturally.”
“I’m well aware,” Kaius said dryly. “We’ve had many months to analyze the evidence and discoveries we’ve made at the facility to come to our conclusion. When we announce his existence, we shall do so jointly in a press conference where all Elders are present. That should alleviate any doubts the populace might have.”
“I don’t think having us all gathered in one place is safe,” Orryn said. Perhaps we do so with holograms? Maybe only one or two of us should be present in person for such an announcement.”
Kaius pondered the proposal. “Very well, you and Cirrus will do so together, along with General Nessah. The combined presence of you three will lend the announcement the gravitas we need for people to take it seriously.”
“Don’t forget Adrian,” Maraz said. “He’s going to need to be there in person or else people will accuse us of manipulating our technology to suit our needs for a bogus claim. They need to see that he really exists.”
“This is going to be such a headache logistically to organize without anything getting out before we’re ready,” Cirrus said, massaging her temples. “We’ll need to do it from the main base, where we know we’ll be safe. Do we invite the press?”
“Yes,” Kaius said. He smiled widely. “And it just so happens we have the perfect little pawn to take all the backlash for us. Our friendly reporter will finally have a proper use. People are accustomed to seeing her announce important news regarding the military as of late. All those in favour of the plan we’ve discussed, vote now.”
Six orbs winked into existence above the Elders’ heads, the vote passing unanimously. Everyone wore sharp smiles and terrifying grins as they voiced their ideas to manipulate the populace and bend them to their needs willingly.
A little bit of diplomacy was needed before they brought out the big guns, after all.
