Date: Year 9015 (Planet Castai III)
SUCH devastation, it was like nothing the young man had ever laid his eyes on before. The entire valley before Mt. Vaseer, for miles and miles, was strewn with body after body of his warrior clan, the Barudii. The ground was a blood soaked horrorscape. Birds of prey launched skyward as he walked through the aftermath.
He had been wandering between bodies for nearly six hours. His boots were red with the blood of his people. All around him, the murderers retreated from the battlefield; the dark skinned Vorn and their vicious brute clones, the Horva. Yet they did not lay a finger to harm him-why would they? After all he was the one that had led them here; had given them the information necessary to make all of this possible. He was a villainous traitor.
"Master Kale?" asked one of the Vorn commanders, "You had better find a transport to take you back to the ship. We'll be departing soon to join the fleet."
He paused in his search. "I will be along very shortly," he said.
The dark skinned man went on about his business, rounding up the Horva for departure; their work here was finished.
Kale searched more frantically now; he had to find him, had to know if all of this was really happening or only a nightmare. Near the front lines, he saw it on the ground. The diadem was pure adomen; a costly durable alloy that bore a luster all its own. The single jewel that should have been mounted in the front was missing.
Very near, was his body; the owner of the crown and king of the Barudii. This was his father; the man whom he had betrayed into the hands of their enemies. His bloodstained expression was strangely peaceful. Kale could not take his eyes off of him. He felt frozen in place, frozen in time. Could this really have been what I wanted, he wondered? Is this my prize, my victory for the humiliation that was brought upon me?
He shut his eyes and turned away from the face, but it was still there, piercing his soul. He considered that somewhere within the city were his mother and his younger brother Tiet. How horribly had they died? His brother had only been in his eighth year; ten years the younger.
He heard the troop transports powering up and readying for take-off as the last of the combatants made their way on board. Several hundred ships to choose from, but none of them contained any friendly faces for him. He was technically on their side; but there is no honor for a traitor among any people.
He began to walk away and thought of looking back to take in one last glimpse of his father, but he couldn't do it. He didn't have to-he had a feeling that that face, its expression cast in death, would haunt him for the rest of his days.
Kale boarded one of the transport ships that carried thousands of Vorn and Horva and stood next to a view port. The massacre was less personal from the air. He was the only one who was left of his people; the only survivor, and a traitor. He felt like pulling his weapon and stabbing it into his heart, to kill the soul wrenching agony before it could begin its feast, but he didn't have the courage.
He sat on the floor against the wall of the ship's troop compartment among a hundred smelly Horva. His people had been the guardians of Castai's clans. Now they would be ripe for picking by the Vorn.