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Homeworld Return - BlackJack
:: 02/18/01 ::
Part 11: Ambushed
Hjihad was awakened by the sound of the entry chime drilling into his brain, muddled and confused. His slowly opened his eyes and awoke quickly, as he always did, realizing that he was still in his dress uniform, sitting up in the metal chair at his desk, the terminal in sleep mode in front of him. He shook his head once to clear it and then called out to the person at the door. "Come in," he said loudly even though he knew that the cabin microphone would pick up his voice and transmit it to the person outside.
He pivoted in the chair as the door opened and the Kuun-Lan's Intelligence officer, Colonel Kaalel, stepped in. The man threw a fast salute and waited for Hjihad to mirror it, then relaxed slightly, though he still appeared excited about something.
"Colonel Kaalel," he started, but stopped. "News?"
"Yes sir," Kaalel began. "We've been working on decrypting the information databases onboard the captured destroyer for the last three hours, and we've just had a major breakthrough. Most of the database that we've decoded features statistics on their vessels, and we've been picking through those entries and adding them to our information catalog, but we've also found this."
He extended a hand, palm up. Upon the surface of his hand rested a small data transfer chip.
Hjihad reached out an arm and picked up the tiny crystalline chit, examining it as if he could read its contents by holding it up to the light. "What is it?" he asked simply.
"You'll have to see it," was the reply.
He raised a quizzical eyebrow at Kaalel, who motioned toward his terminal. Still confused, he turned and activated the console, then slid the tiny disk into a port. The information came up as the disk was read - a frozen galactic map with several overlays indicating Hiigara and another point that he didn't recognize.
Puzzled at the image, he turned back toward the Colonel. "Play it," the man said simply.
"What is it?" Hjihad asked.
"Watch it," Kaalel hissed.
Fingers trembling, he reached out and tapped the play control. An ethereal voice began speaking slowly as the map became animated and faded to black through a series of images, still and moving. "Long ago," the voice said, slowly, like a titan awakened from sleep, "we were the stewards of a vast empire. Our trade routes stretched across the galaxy, our fleets patrolled the stars, keeping the peace among the myriad races under the mantle of the Council. We were the protectors, only striking down others when necessary for the good of all.
The voice picked up in anger. "Then the Taiidani came." An animated fighter, an older-looking version of the Triikor, swooped down from the upper right corner and flew towards a slowly rotating green world, other Taiidani ships following it. Then, scenes of combat, Taiidan ships brawling with Ytterbian ones of ancient design. "They smashed through all our defenses, crushed our world, and banished the survivors of the final conflict to the void.
"On a convoy of transport vessels, we fled from them, traveling through space in coldsleep for decades. Until, finally, we found another world, a glittering jewel in the depths, and we hid from the Taiidani there, safe for the time being. Gradually, we began to rebuild our empire, taking massive leaps in technology and harvesting resources, readying ourselves for another conflict with the Taiidan.
"Through all of this, there was one man who stood up for us, who argued for our protection in the Galactic Council, who led us in developing the industries that we would need. And on the day of his death, he gave a single prophesy that changed us forever.
"His name was Calor Ga'artred. His prophesy: that we would one day return to our ancestral homeworld. That we would return to Hiigara."
The screen faded to black.
Hjihad sat numb, the final words of that ghostly voice echoing in his mind. Return to Hiigara… return to Hiigara…
Kaalel was saying something. He turned to listen.
"They're Exiles too," he said softly. "And they're making their own Return."
Hjihad bounced around the notion in his mind, dashing away impossibilities until he found one that he could accept. "What about the fighter pilot?" he asked.
The Colonel looked slightly puzzled. "She's in the interrogation chamber. Why?"
"I want to see her."
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