Chapter Three
“I’m relieved to see you were unharmed,” Torz said to Governor Zuli several hours later as she floated into Torz’s formal office, her female companion trailing behind. “Are you sure you’re well enough for this meeting?”
The hubbub of the command centre faded as Torz slid the door shut behind them.
Sensing his weariness, I questioned why Torz always disregarded his own health.
He’d been the one to take the heaviest hit from the bombing this morning, yet here he was, concerned and caring about everyone else.
Thankfully, he hadn’t refused the medical assistance provided to us all, but as soon as he was cleared of injury, he had returned to work. I hadn’t left his side.
“The rest-and-recoup was a little unnecessary, Commander,” Zuli said, a chime of authority ringing in her amicable tone. “Really, I’m fine. We all are.” She gestured to the red-headed woman, who smiled sweetly at Torz as she helped the governor into one of the comfortable visitor chairs.
“Even so...” Torz inclined his head courteously, the fresh bruise on his cheek darkening with each hour that passed. Miraculously, Zuli appeared unmarked. “You are our guest. As is your full team. Your safety comes first.”
“Were there any fatalities?” Zuli asked.
“Thankfully, no. The investigation team confirmed the blast was superficial, meant to scare.”
Rolling my left shoulder, an ache stirred. I’d landed awkwardly on it. No doubt I’d wake with a bruise tomorrow. But other than a few scratches or minor concussions, everyone had come away unscathed.
“This is the sixth attack in as many weeks,” the governor muttered.
Torz took his seat opposite her. “I apologise for my naivety, but why does this keep happening?”
I remained standing in the corner beside Torz’s tidy desk. The governor’s companion mirrored me on the far wall behind Zuli’s chair, her astute eyes fixed on my commander.
“There are those who are strongly opposed to my latest debate manifesto.” Governor Zuli smoothed down her skirts, a sense of pride resonating from her. “And that is why I’m here, requesting an audience with you.”
Twitching his lips, Torz cocked his head. “I don’t follow.”
“I’m asking you for your vote, Commander.”
Confusion crossed my mind. The Debate Gala took place every two years, where the governing body—made up of the twelve governors, their shadow cabinets, and the thirty-eight sector commanders—came together to address priority political matters.
They then voted on the best proposed manifesto to help resolve the issue or issues at hand.
Judging by the attacks on Zuli and her brazen cheek towards Torz, I feared what her manifesto held.
Torz leaned back in his chair, the frown on his face mirroring the same perturbation I felt.
The governor glanced at me, then spoke to Torz. “Perhaps, we should converse in private.”
“We are in private.” The coldness in Torz’s voice cut through Zuli’s comment like a serrated knife. “This room is airtight. And if you are referring to my lieutenant, she will remain.”
Flattery warmed my stomach, but the icy look Zuli’s companion threw me abruptly froze the well of sentiment.
The room fell silent, and as the two superiors glared at each other in a battle for dominance, heat tugged at my collar.
The stiffness in Torz’s neck matched that of Zuli’s taut shoulders, both their stares passive but hard.
The tension in the air stretched to an unbearable degree, and I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, twice.
To my surprise, it was the governor who backed down first.
“If you insist,” she hissed through her teeth, revealing a far harsher disposition than I’d expected from her.
No longer did a diligent, wise woman sit before us.
Now there was a stern-faced leader. “The upcoming governmental debate is not one of standard footing. It will shape the future of the Orbital Civilisation, more so than ever before. And if you paid heed to such things, you would know that we are at a pinnacle point in our existence.”
“It’s my job to pay attention, Governor, just as it is yours.”
“So you are aware of the disturbing stats filtering back to the Board Office, yes? Stats confirming the realistic issues our whole civilisation are facing?” She analysed Torz’s face with scrutiny as a sour wave of concern punched me in the gut, and I realised: Torz had no idea what she was referring to.
“I assure you, I haven’t heard of anything detrimental.”
Zuli tutted, exchanging a disconcerting look with her companion.
“Clearly, you have some reading to catch up on, Commander. The Debate Gala is next week. Shall I summarise it for you?” The mockery of a smile fell upon her lips as the flutter of Torz’s humiliation danced across our bond.
“As we already know, the population within the Orbital Stations has increased significantly over the past century, but we’ve recently received disturbing information regarding the population on Quoram.
It’s decreasing—severely. With the Quoram-born children having to seek residency on our space stations after puberty, coinciding with the rise of rejected Damson couples, we are approaching a critical moment in our history. ”
Torz scoffed. “We have plenty of vacant homes. Gemini II has been constructed purely for that reason.”
“This is not about having enough homes!”
I was thankful I wasn’t the recipient of the glare our visitor threw Torz.
“Believe me, Commander, the number of Damson couples residing on Quoram has more than halved in the past three decades, and it is continuing to do so. It seems the fantasy of living on Quoram is no longer as desirable as we’re all led to believe, which is concerning in itself.
Without those Damson couples, the planet does not cater to our needs.
We’ve already seen a major dip in the energy field Quoram emits.
Have you forgotten how that very field protects us all? ”
Shame slammed into my chest as I absorbed her vehement statement.
Were the stats true? There was no law to force Damson couples to accept the magical bond.
It was a choice—always had been. Why couples chose rejection, I didn’t know, especially when the populus craved to live on Quoram—or so we were told.
Perhaps those rejectees already had families and didn’t want to leave them behind, or they were in love with someone else. Or maybe their situation was similar to Torz’s and mine—we’d been too young, too confused, too scared to accept it. And once rejected, the bond’s magic dissipated.
But Zuli was right. Fated Damson couples were crucial to our survival.
Whilst living on the planet, they nurtured and grew our seeds for plantation in our food labs.
They harvested the miracle healing substance known as Q, which was used in ninety percent of our medicines.
And if Zuli’s stats were true, then food, medicine, and even our power supply would slowly diminish.
Because somehow—and no scientist could explain the phenomenon—the planet and the Damsons were connected through an energy source.
Damson couples lived longer, healthier lives, while the planet fed off them to maintain balance.
In turn, it produced the magical field our civilisation depended upon—the energy to power our space stations and keep them safe from the catastrophes the void of space could throw at us.
“The number of rejected Damson couples over the past century has become a wavering problem,” Zuli continued. “There’s too much freedom—”
“We live in a democracy. Freedom is apparent.”
Zuli huffed a smile to Torz’s shrewd comment. “As you know all too well. Are you not one-half of a Damson couple who chose rejection?”
Tensing, I sensed Torz’s need to glance in my direction. Instead, he swallowed, his face remaining impassive. “That is neither here nor there. And you still haven’t told me how you’re proposing to solve this…issue.”
Zuli lifted her chin a little higher, peering down her nose at Torz with defiance.
“Several scientists have a theory that Quoram can feed off not only the energy Damsons produce, but anyone who steps foot on the planet.” Amusement flashed across Zuli’s face as she took Torz in. “You look confused, Commander.”
An incredulous chuckle rumbled in Torz’s throat. “You’re talking about The Quoram Effect, yes? Nobody other than bonded Damsons can step foot on the planet without experiencing excruciating pain.”
“Exactly.” Zuli smiled, glancing at her companion again as if she was pleased with herself.
Torz’s smile faded as nausea twisted my insides with unease. What the hell was she planning?
“I intend to utilise those our society deems expendable,” she clarified. “We’ll feed Puran outcasts to the planet.”
Fear and outrage surged across the bond from Torz, his utter disgust and shock of what this influential official was suggesting colliding with my own. The need to hold my roiling stomach was unbearable. Instead, I closed my eyes, fighting the surge’s second wave as Zuli continued.
“As well as generating the energy we need to keep our civilisation alive, my plan eradicates the outcast society we’ve been forced to tolerate.”
Swallowing down the disdain burning my throat, I blinked down at my feet.
Only three percent of the citizens of Pura Moon were criminals, locked away in the high-security prison.
The rest were outcasted for their parent’s and forefather’s sins, living in the antiquated biodomes scattered across the dusty, barren terrain.
Most were innocents, but because somewhere along their ancestry line lay a convict or two, they were deemed deplorable, beneath the rest of us. Dispensable.