me?”
“Does the name Bolormaa mean anything to you?” Irala asked.
“No, should it?”
“I would hope not.”
“What has this got to do with anything?”
“Bolormaa is a name that would strike fear into the heart of any creature, should they know who she is, or was. Bolormaa is a legend among my people. She led her armies throughout the galaxy, destroying all that stood before her.”
Jones’ interest in history sparked is imagination, and he let himself be reeled in.
“When was this?”
“Thousands of years ago. Long before I entered this life, but all of my people know of the Scourge of Bolormaa.”
“The Krys are largely ignorant of this history now, but if you delve deep enough into our history, you will find it,” added Jafar.
“Bolormaa led her people, the Morohta, in a devastating sweep throughout the galaxy. Several races were utterly obliterated by her armies, and the rest of us barely managed to survive. Many great battles were fought, but she could not be beaten,” said Irala.
“So what happened?”
“That is the greatest mystery of our existence, and the question we all seek the answer to, though have been too terrified of what we might one day discover.”
“And how is this relevant now? Why is this so important that you would both come to me?”
Irala held out his hand, and a projection appeared before him. It was the video from the Lieutenant’s camera when he fought the robotic creature about the Bulwark. It made him sick to see it for a second time in the same day.
“That thing, the object that tried to kill you, and the ship you were aboard. We have seen this before.”
Irala pointed to the projection screen that changed to a dark interior room with what looked a lot like the creature, but frozen as if in a photograph, and yet it was a video panning around the object as two Aranui experts were analysing it.
“This is an artefact that has been in our possession for a very long time, and which is documented as having come from the time of the Scourge,” said Irala.
Jones paced closer to the projection to study it more carefully. It was not an exact match to what he saw. It looked a little smaller, with more spindly legs and a shorter body. But it still bore a remarkable resemblance to what he was attacked by. It certainly looked very similar.
“You think this is the same origin?”
Jafar nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell the Council?”
“Because we do not know for certain,” Jafar answered, “And if this is true, it could spark chaos amongst the Allied nations.”
“This Scourge, how were they stopped?”
“They were not stopped,” replied Irala.
“What do you mean? You beat them, right? Or you wouldn’t be here.”
“No. Bolormaa destroyed fleets and armies one after another. Our people fought back for as long as they could, as did others. But we could not win. Then the fighting stopped. The Morohta fleets withdrew and vanished.”
“Just like that? They took you to almost complete destruction and simply stopped?”
Irala nodded.
“And neither of you has any idea why?”
“It is the great unanswered question of our history. Almost so far back that it has been forgotten.”
“There is barely one among my kind who even knows the story of Bolormaa any longer,” Jafar said.
Jones was trying to take in all that he was being told. He suddenly felt very small in the world, despite being pushed to the forefront of events.
“Why are you telling me? You can’t put this on me. It’s too important. You can’t put this on me!”
“Lieutenant Jones.”
He turned and was fixated on the alien Lord.
“I knew your ancestor well. He was a great man, a great fighter, and a great leader. I know that blood flows through your veins, and we need the man that you were born to be.”
Chapter 3
"Lieutenant Jones reporting for duty, Sir."
It was déjà vu, and not the good kind. He was once again stepping onto the bridge of a vessel that was embarking
Learning to Kill: Stories