Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
T he Tracer – Detention Cell
Roan sat on the narrow metal bench bolted to the bulkhead, his arms resting loosely on his knees. With a grunt of displeasure, Hutu had reluctantly given in to the request that he not be bound. The restraints would have been more a formality than a necessity. This wasn’t his first cell.
He rested his head against the cool metal bulkhead, forcing his breathing to slow. The Tracer’s detention cells were a vast improvement from his father’s, but they were still cages.
He flexed his fingers, rubbing at his wrists. They hadn’t bound him. That meant Hutu wanted answers, not compliance.
Smart.
He exhaled slowly, pressing his palms together and closed his eyes. His father was still alive. That knowledge coiled inside him, tightening with every breath.
Coleridge will never stop.
Roan knew his father’s mind as well as he knew his own. His father would break Julia just to watch Roan suffer. His uncle would do worse.
He opened his eyes, staring at the door.
They have no idea what they’ve started.
The sterile lighting above flickered slightly, casting faint shadows on the smooth gray bulkheads. No sharp edges, no weak spots to exploit. Efficient, well-maintained—functional. Exactly what he would expect from Hutu.
He leaned his head forward, his thoughts turning as they had frequently done over the last few days since he had arrived to Julia . He hadn’t seen her—or Sergi and La’Rue, since he was taken into custody.
He let out a slow breath, closing his eyes for a moment, though rest was impossible despite the fatigue pulling at him.
At least the pain is gone, he mused with a dry chuckle.
His fingers flexed with frustration, and his thoughts turned back to the recent battle. He had seen his father’s expression as he and La’Rue faced the man down. Hatred… and a touch of madness. That realization pressed against his mind like a weight, heavier than the bruises and scars hidden beneath his clothes.
His father wanted revenge. The other Ancients—Ash, Josh—Sergi—they were targets, but they were also soldiers who knew the rules. They had trained, fought, bled, and survived long before the Legion’s shadow reached them. They would be ready.
But Julia…
The image of her beautiful, serene face as she stared back at him in his grandfather’s garden that first day rose in vivid detail in his mind. Her light brown hair piled into a messy bun, the soft tunic that caressed her slender figure, the sharp, curious look in her dark brown eyes.
She was different.
Not because she was weak—she wasn’t. She had faced down his father without flinching, standing her ground with a fire in her eyes Roan hadn’t seen in years. That alone marked her as a threat in his father’s twisted logic.
But it was more than that.
Coleridge knew.
He knew that Roan cared.
And that makes her a threat, but also vulnerable.
Roan had witnessed first-hand what kind of threat Julia was. It wasn’t because she could defend herself. It was because she had refused to cower to Coleridge with an elegance, an almost supernatural power, that scared his father. That was why his father would try to exploit that connection between himself and Julia. His father would twist it. Use it. Then, he would kill them.
Roan’s jaw tightened. His father was brutal, but his uncle…
Andri was something infinitely worse.
Coleridge would break your body. Andri would break your soul. Jeslean was just a tiny example of that.
And Julia had done more than just stand up to Coleridge. She’d helped Roan escape. That alone would be enough to make her a target. Add to that the fact that she was one of the Ancients? Andri’s rage would burn across entire star systems if left unchecked.
Roan shifted, rubbing at his wrists again when the absence of the restraints rose like a phantom ache. He adjusted the sleeves of the fresh clothing his grandmother had supplied and tilted his head back, his eyes still closed. He hated waiting.
The door slid open with a soft hiss. Roan peeked through half-closed eyelids at the tall, impressive man who entered.
General Hutu Gomerant.
Roan’s lips curved into a smile. The rebel General’s imposing figure filled the doorway, his dark eyes sharp and calculating, scanning Roan as though he was an equation to be solved. He stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind him with an ominous finality.
“You find your detainment amusing, General Landais?” Hutu inquired.
Roan slowly opened his eyes and studied the man he would have once thought his enemy. The Torrian rebel General was a towering man with dark red skin, broad shoulders, short black hair, and a commanding presence, even when he was acting like a simple merchant on Tesla Terra.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Roan broke the silence first. “Call me Roan. General Landais sounds a little too much like my father—and I’ve had enough of him lately. You’re late, by the way. I expected you earlier.”
Hutu’s lips twitched—not quite a smile, more like the shadow of one. “I didn’t think you’d be going anywhere.”
Roan’s mouth curved again and he bowed his head in acknowledgement of Hutu’s quick wit.
“You’re not wrong.”
Hutu leaned back against the wall near the door and crossed his thick arms. “I want to know everything.”
Roan sat forward, his expression neutral. “Where do you want me to start? The part where I betrayed the Legion, or the part where I survived my father trying to kill me?”
Hutu didn’t flinch. “Why betray them now?”
Roan’s jaw tightened, his gaze dropping for a brief second before locking back on Hutu’s. “Because I’ve seen what’s coming. Jeslean was just the beginning.”
Hutu’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve all seen what your father and uncle are capable of. Are you saying you are just now realizing it is wrong?”
“No. I’m saying that I’ve done everything I can to slow them down in the position I was in, and I can’t do that any longer,” Roan snapped, his voice sharper than he’d intended. He exhaled, trying to control the simmering frustration. “You’ve seen what they’ve done. What more they’re capable of is something worse. Jeslean wasn’t just an example. It was a test run.”
Hutu tilted his head slightly, studying him. “A test for what?”
Roan hesitated, choosing his words carefully. This wasn’t about gaining sympathy. It was about getting Hutu to listen.
“They’re developing a weapon,” Roan said quietly. “One that doesn’t just destroy cities. It destroys atmospheres. It can strip the oxygen from the planet’s atmosphere, killing everything on the planet, without firing a shot.”
Hutu’s face remained stoic, but Roan saw the flicker of disbelief.
“They haven’t perfected it yet,” Roan continued, his voice low, deadly serious. “But it’s only a matter of time. And when they do—it won’t be just rebellious planets they target. It’ll be anyone who refuses to kneel.”
Hutu’s jaw clenched, but his voice was cool. “Convenient timing for your sudden loyalty shift.”
Roan met his gaze without flinching. “Like I said, I had my reasons. I’m not asking for your trust. I don’t care if you believe me. But if you think you can fight my father and Andri using the same tactics your ancestors did, you’re already dead. This isn’t about me. It’s about stopping them before there’s nothing and no one left to fight for.”
The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken doubts and bitter truths.
Hutu finally spoke, his voice quiet but sharp. “And why should I believe you?”
Roan didn’t hesitate. “Because I’m the only one who knows where the weapon is being developed—and how to stop it.”
Hutu exhaled sharply, his dark red gaze locked onto Roan’s. The gravity of the moment settled between them like the thin line of a laser beam balanced on a sword’s edge.
“You don’t have to like me,” Roan repeated, voice steady. “Hell, you can kill me after we’re done. But if you don’t listen now, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
Silence stretched—thick, electric. Hutu’s fingers drummed against his side, his mind visibly calculating the weight of Roan’s words.
Then, finally, he spoke.
“You sound like a man with nothing left to lose.”
Roan’s lips curled—part smirk, part grim truth. “That’s because I don’t.”
* * *
The door to Roan’s cell slid shut with a soft hiss, the sound echoing faintly in the sterile, metallic corridor. Hutu nodded to the guard standing outside of the cell door before he strode away, deep in thought. His footsteps and the hum from the ship were the only noise as he walked away, the dull thud of his boots against the grated floor a rhythmic counterpoint to the chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind.
Roan Landais had the calm, unshaken arrogance of a man used to commanding armies—and yet, beneath the hardened exterior was something else.
Fear? No. Not fear. Urgency .
The kind that didn’t come from self-preservation but from knowing something far worse was on the horizon.
Hutu clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as Roan’s words replayed in his head. A weapon that could strip a planet’s atmosphere, leaving it nothing more than a barren rock. It sounded insane. But if there was one thing Hutu knew about the Landais bloodline, it was that they didn’t waste time with fiction.
The corridor opened into the central deck of the Tracer. Bright lighting, cleverly concealed to illuminate the corridor without affecting the vision of those inside, cast stark reflections off the polished steel bulkheads. Exposed conduits ran along the ceiling like veins, carrying the pulse of the ship through its narrow arteries. The faint hum of the warship engines vibrated through the floor, steady and constant—a sharp contrast to the growing tension in Hutu’s chest.
He turned sharply, stepping into the officer’s planning room. The space was small but efficient—a tactical console dominated the center, its holographic display flickering softly with star charts and real-time reporting on Legion fleet positions thanks to the numerous rebel informants planted throughout the galaxy. That was how he had known the Legion was converging on Plateau. And how he knew there were more on their way—including none other than Director Andri Andronikos’s personal battalion. Roanna had assured him that Andri would find nothing but oceans when he entered the Plateau airspace and encouraged him to leave before Andronikos arrived.
“The Gallant forces are strong, but his are still greater. Now is not the time to confront him, especially with two Ancients here. You must protect them at all cost.”
Hutu knew the wise leader of the Plateauan’ s was right when he cast a sweeping glance at the bulkheads. They were lined with data screens, pulsing with streams of information. When he had tried to argue, Roanna assured him that her people were not without their own protection.
He sighed as the faint scent of recycled air and a mixture of different beverages from his earlier meeting teased his nostrils. He walked over and poured himself a strong tea before returning to the table. Slowly letting out his breath, he leaned forward and touched the console’s communicator.
“Get me Joshua Manson,” he ordered.
A moment later, the holo-projector flickered, and Josh’s face appeared, rugged as ever, his sharp blue eyes shadowed with exhaustion but still carrying that unyielding spark of defiance. Cassa de Rola was beside him, her dark hair pulled back, her expression focused, yet her expression softened slightly when she noticed Hutu.
“Hutu,” Josh greeted with a curt nod. “I was starting to think you’d fallen off the grid. Any updates?”
Hutu didn’t waste time. “We have found a woman named Julia Marksdale on Plateau.”
He gave a concise rundown—the Legion’s assault, Roan’s capture, Julia’s rescue, and the unexpected arrival of Plateauan forces turning the tide. The details were concise and efficient, but the weight behind them was undeniable.
Josh’s jaw tightened as he listened. When Hutu finished, he leaned forward slightly. “You’ve got Roan Landais in custody?”
“In the detention cell as we speak,” Hutu confirmed, his voice flat.
Josh’s brows furrowed. “And?”
Hutu hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “He told me something… unsettling.”
He relayed Roan’s warning about the weapon—the one capable of destroying entire planets’ atmospheres. As he spoke, he watched Josh’s expression shift from skepticism to cold, calculating focus. Josh frowned and shook his head.
“That’s… insane, but I don’t think he is making it up.”
“Agreed,” Hutu replied. “General Landais isn’t the type to spin wild tales. If he says it’s real, we’d be fools to ignore it.”
Josh nodded slowly. “We need to find out what the weapon is and where it is located. I’m assuming General Landais wasn’t as forthcoming with that information, was he?”
“No, but given some time in the brig, he may change his mind,” he replied.
Josh pursed his lips before his gaze softened slightly. “Julia… she’s safe?”
Hutu’s lips twitched, just slightly. “Alive, well, and bossy. I think you forgot to mention that when you told me about her. I should warn you… I think she’s developed feelings for our Legion General.”
Josh blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Well, hell. That’s going to complicate matters a little.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Of course, I don’t think that is any stranger than Ash falling for a Turbinta assassin… or Sergi shacking up with a mercenary freighter pilot.”
“Or you with me,” Cassa gently reminded Josh.
Hutu released a rough laugh rumbling from his chest. “All we’re missing now is a pirate.”
“I guess it’s Mei’s turn—if she’s still alive.” Josh’s grin faded as he glanced at Cassa, his hand resting briefly on hers—a quiet, grounding gesture. Then he looked back at Hutu. “I agree with you about keeping General Landais contained, and not underestimating him. Something tells me the man is dangerous, even without the Legion at his back.”
Hutu nodded. “I fully agree, though I think he is more than just dangerous. He’s worried. And if Roan Landais is worried… we should all be. Be safe.”
“Are you heading back to base?” Josh inquired.
“No. I believe it would be best to keep each of you separate for now. Andronikos must not be happy with his brother’s failure on Plateau. He is headed there now. I felt it best that we depart before he and his fleet of battle cruisers arrive.”
“What about Sergi? How are he and La’Rue?” Josh asked.
Hutu sighed. “Siding with Julia to have Roan released. Fortunately, La’Rue is keeping him occupied at the moment. She sustained injuries during the battle.” He raised his hand when Cassa expressed her concern. “She will recover.”
Cassa gave Hutu a stiff smile. “We’ve lost too many already.”
“Yes. Just a moment.”
Hutu frowned when an internal message flashed across his screen. His lips pursed in irritation, though he wasn’t really surprised. Reaching out, he pressed the commlink next to him.
“Did you place a tracking device in the freighter as I requested?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, but there wasn’t one in the supply shuttle,” his security responded.
“Track the freighter. I’m on my way.” He turned his attention back to the screen and released a scoffing chuckled.
“What’s wrong?” Josh asked.
“It would appear Julia Marksdale was very unhappy with my decision to detain her Legion General. She and Sergi have freed him and escaped,” Hutu said.
Josh snorted out an amused laugh. “That sounds like Julia—and Sergi.” Josh’s expression sobered. “I can guarantee she wouldn’t have done it unless she had a very good reason. She isn’t the type to put her personal feelings in front of others if it would endanger them. Neither would Sergi.”
“It would have been nice to know their plans,” Hutu pointed out.
“Would you have let Roan go if you knew about them?” Josh asked.
Hutu was silent for a moment before he shook his head. “No.”
“Then you have your answer.”
Hutu grunted in acknowledgement before he sighed when his commlink pinged again. “I will keep you posted.”
The connection cut with a soft chime, leaving the room eerily silent. Hutu leaned against the console, staring at the darkened screen. Roan’s words echoed in his mind like a shadow that wouldn’t fade.
A weapon that could strip a planet bare. And a family legacy built on blood, fear, and control.
Hutu clenched his fists, his expression hardening. They couldn’t afford to ignore this. Because if Roan was right, no planet was safe. He turned to stare out through the viewport into space. The only person who could tell us how it works and where it is has escaped.
“I hope you know what you are doing, Julia Marksdale, because if you don’t, billions of lives and a star system are at stake.”