El'Anorath (First Draft)

Chapter One

         Agent Nathalya Harms left her superior's office and breathed a sigh of relief.  In her hand she held a single piece of pristine white paper.  Though she already had an idea of what it said, she pushed her thin, black-framed glasses up higher on her nose and read and the paper quietly to herself.  It had, printed in dark ink below the Alliance letterhead, the following message:

         On this day, the 1st day of the new year, 3048, I, COLONEL DARIUS RALPHAEL, do hereby promote AGENT NATHALYA HARMS to the rank of GHOST AGENT.  In light of this promotion, the above Agent has also been transferred to EL'ANORATH and assigned to FORWARD UNIT JULIETTE beginning the 3rd day of the same year. Funding authorized, orders number: 800745XAL.

                                     Signed, COLONEL DARIUS H. RALPHAEL, Commander, Delta Fleet

         At the bottom of the paper was a handwritten personal message that said "Good luck and Godspeed.  Be careful out there!" It was signed "Cheers, Col. D," She folded the paper neatly and placed it in the breast pocket of her utility uniform.

         Nathalya felt her stomach rumble.  She had been too nervous about the meeting and now that that was finished, the nerves lessened somewhat and she realized how hungry she was.  She pushed a strip of hair behind her ear and walked in the direction of the cafeteria.  She navigated the many halls of the midsized space port, called Constable, with a familiar step.

         Once inside the cafeteria she grabbed a tray of food and swiped a small chip located in her wrist over a scanner in payment.  She sat down at a small square metal table near the back of the hall to eat.  After a few moments, two others, a young man and woman, sat at her table and greeted her. 

         "Those look good on you," said one, referring to her new insignias.

         "Thank you, Jones," she replied, and added in modesty,  "I didn't think Col. D. would sign the papers."

         "Of course he signed them, you deserve it," said another; a pale-skinned, black-haired female named Trinity Wells.  She had been a good friend of Nathalya and Jones since childhood and the three of them had served together on Pharris.

         "There is more; I'm being re-assigned," said Nathalya.  "I'm surface bound to El'Anorath the day after tomorrow."

         "Wow, that was fast.  We've only been here a few weeks.  I'm happy for you, but be careful.  I've heard they lost another six in Tango and another seventeen in Juliette," said Jones, adjusting his earpiece.

         "Any word of Foxtrot?" asked Wells. Jones shook his head.

         "Just as well.  Poor Juliette though; so many losses.  I think I'd go AWOL if I were assigned to that unit. It's too dangerous for me.  I'm not built to stand up to Stalkers and Death Squads and that sort," said Wells.

         "The Corrinites are no laughing matter, either.  They far outnumber us," said Jones.  He went on to describe, in detail, some scenes he had seen from battlefield recorders.  Nathalya listened intently, but Wells couldn't hear any more.

         "I'm glad I'll be going to Victor Unit," she said.

         "Victor is a good unit for a Technical such as yourself.  I don't think you'll run into much trouble there.  You should be a good fit, too.  I think I'm going to put in for Victor as well," said Jones.

           "So what unit are you going to, Harms?" asked Wells.  Nathalya pushed her tray forward, having lost what was left of her appetite, and looked at the clock on the wall.  It was half past six. 

         "Juliette, forward unit," she replied as she took the apple off of her tray and put it in her pocket.  The others looked frightened.  The table was silent for a few minutes before Wells spoke.

         "But you're a Ghost now!" she said.  "I didn't think they were assigning Agents to forward units.  You're not trained for that kind of heavy contact."

         Nathalya took the paper from her breast pocket and handed it to Wells.  She read it over twice then passed it to Jones. 

         "So it's true, then," said Jones, handing the paper back to Nathalya.  "They are getting desperate."

         "Desperate or stupid!" exclaimed Wells.

         "What are you going to do, Harms?" asked Jones.

         "What I have to do; I will take the assignment as I was given.  I'll be fine.  Chances are I'll be on supply delivery anyway.  I doubt I'll see much combat," said Nathalya trying to put them, and herself, at ease.  Though, she knew the latter to be true in her mind.  She looked at Jones, who lips were pressed together, unconvinced.

         "You're a good Agent, Harms," he said. "But if you do get into trouble, give us a call.  We'll be down there in an instant."

         "Thanks, Jones," Nathalya replied. "I'm going to head back to my room, I'll  see you guys later?"

         "Yeah.  See you," they replied.  They watched her exit the mess hall and then looked at each other.

         "I'm worried about her," said Wells. "She's been an excellent team lead, but this will be very different than the missions we had on Pharris."

         "As am I," said Jones.  "I can't help but think that her little tricks will serve her only so well down there."

         The two friends finished their meals in silence.

         Nathalya found herself wandering the halls and corridors of the ship.  The steel guide rails felt cold underhand. Air ducts ran overhead and she found one to follow down a particularly long corridor.  She stepped through a door that opened automatically as she approached and then closed behind her.  The air became colder as she climbed down a flight of steep, grated metal stairs.  At the bottom of the stairs she stepped through another doorway, this one was always open.  She walked over to the end of the unlit room to a large window made of a thick laminated glass. 

         She looked out of the window into the infinite space beyond.  Stars and distant planets dotted the blackness like precious jewels.  Constellations shimmered and twinkled in an endless and silent symphony.  Looking down, she saw the planet of El'Anorath. It had an odd familiarity and loneliness to it.  Not completely Earth-like, but similar.  It had vast oceans and large continents that stretched from north pole to south pole.  Ice covered most of the north and south parts of the planet, and large forests and deserts lay nearer the central line of latitude. 

         Looking at the planet from above, she thought that through the clouds she could see flashes of light against its darker sunless side.  She imagined the great battles that must be waging.  She pictured the giant war machines, crushing everything underneath as it powered through the ranks of fighters below.  On the hilltops, she could see lines of guns pointed at enemy troops below. Red lights flashed all around and explosions shook the ground underfoot.  Jets screamed overhead as they made their bombing runs, leveling buildings below with the push of a button.  Cries of pain filled the air and combat medics rushed from casualty to casualty.

         She snapped back to reality when a nearby loudspeaker crackled, a voice announcing that non-utilized wings would be closing for the night and all nonessential personnel should make their way back to the housing bays.  She looked out of the window one last time, then turned to make her way out of the room. She walked back up the stairs and through the long corridors, following the air ducts ahead back to the housing bay;  a walk she had made many times before.

         Once inside the bay, she passed others making for their own living quarters.  The housing bay was a large wing of the ship.  It had a great central corridor and several smaller corridors that branched out like fingers of a river.  Lamps hung overhead and were the only sources of light.  Nathalya walked down several blocks and then turned a corner.  At the very end of this corridor, she found her room.  She passed her wrist over the scanner to open the door and walked inside.

         The room was dim and cool, just as she left it that morning.  She grabbed a remote off of her bedside table and pushed a button.  The small overhead lights turned a dim red and then ambient music started playing from speakers placed in the corners of the room.  Nathalya walked into her bathroom and started the shower. While she waited for the water to heat up, she took off her boots and hung her uniform on a hanger in the closet.

         Nathalya made a final adjustment to the water temperature and set her glasses on the counter, then climbed into the shower.  The water was warm and soft as it rained down over her hair and face.  She tried her best to relax but found her thoughts running wild.  She now felt that her ambition had led her blindly into a dark place.  If what Jones and Wells had said in the mess hall was true, she wasn't sure she wanted to go after all.  She felt certain she was meant to go and trusted the judgment of her superiors, but she was afraid.

         The feeling grew worse as she dried off after her shower and laid down.  The music was still playing softly, but sounded distant.  The red light filling the room seemed to grow darker and darker as the night wore on.  Nathalya turned over several times before falling into an uneasy sleep.  Her dreams were dark and confusing. 

         The next morning Nathalya awoke, as she always did, at exactly seven o' clock thanks to the device in her wrist;  it sent an electrical signal through her body, waking her.  The music had stopped and her lights had turned to a pastel orange and yellow, much like the horizon during the rise of the morning sun.  She lay in bed for a few more moments, reluctant to leave her warm blankets and prepare for the day that lay ahead.  The air in the room was cold and smelled of fresh grass and dew.

         She finally roused and went about her morning routine; a quick workout followed by a cold shower.  She brushed her teeth in the bathroom mirror and fastened her dark-titian hair back in a quick pony tail, revealing a small scar just above her left temple.  Today was a casual day for her, so she dressed in baggy dark tan cargo pants tucked into a pair of green-gray suede boots and a black t-shirt over a gray long-sleeved shirt.

         Nathalya put her glasses on and scanned her wrist to leave the room.  As soon as she stepped out there came a voice calling her name from down the lane.  Wells ran up to Nathalya and smiled.  It was her day off as well and she was dressed in a pair of knee-high black gloss boots, shorts and an overly-large white sweatshirt.

         "Boy, you look like you had a rough night, Nat," said Wells, seeing the heaviness in Nathalya's eyes. 

         "Thank you for the compliment, Trin.  It took me a while to fall asleep last night.  What are you doing today?" asked Nathalya, rubbing her eyes.

         "Thought I might go shopping a bit.  You should come with me if you don't have anything better to do.  Knowing you, you could use some R&R before you have to leave us tomorrow. How long since your last day off?"

         "Some time.  And once today passes, it'll be even longer," replied Nathalya.

         "Then that settles it.  You're coming with me?"

         "Sure.  I need to pick some things up at supply anyway."

         The shopping district was only a short walk from the housing bay and Nathalya and Wells made their way easily.  Wells loaded her arms with bags of clothing.  Nathalya wasn't much for shopping, but she did enjoy the walk and looking around.  The shopping district was something of marvel.  It was made to look as much as the outside on Erath as possible.  Trees lined the sidewalks and road signs directed the occasional Alliance vehicle passing through.  Shops with neon signs and large store front windows lined the street.

         When the programmed sun was at its peak, Nathalya and Wells headed for the supply shop.  They browsed the many shelves in the dimly-lit shop and when finished, made their way to the counter. 

         "Anything I can get for you?" asked the storekeeper.  He was an older man and had a large white and gray mustache and a cigar sticking out from between his lips.  His face was scarred, but polite.

         "Yes, I need to upgrade my P.M.C," replied Nathalya.  The storekeeper nodded and motioned for her to follow him to a back room.  He pulled a machine from under a shelf, set it on a table and pulled a small disk out of a black leather case.  He pushed the disk into the machine and Nathalya placed her wrist, Personal Memory Chip facing up, under a little flashing red light.  The clerk pushed a green button.

         "Just sit tight for a few minutes while it upgrades," he said.

         "Will do," replied Nathalya.

         "So what do you need this for anyway?" he asked.

         "She's going down tomorrow," announced Wells before Nathalya could speak.  He looked confused for a moment before it clicked.

         "Oh, you mean to El'Anorath?  You must be brave.  You couldn't pay me to go down there.  Not for all the money in the Alliance would I set foot on that godforsaken planet. Although, it might be worth it to get my hands on some of them really valuable delorite stones they have," he said with his eyes squinted in thought with all the things he could do if he had a pocketful of the precious material.

         "Well, it's not like she has a choice," said Wells, pulling the clerk out of his fantasy.

         "No, I suppose she doesn't.  What unit are you going to?" he asked.

         "Juliette," replied Nathalya.

         "Oh," he said.  "Good luck and Godspeed, missy.  You're going to need it,"

         "So I've heard."

         "What do you do in the Alliance that puts you on the front lines.  Infantry?"

         "No, I'm a Ghost."

         "A Ghost?  Don't see too many of them around anymore.  The Alliance ran most of the good ones off after the Firemarsh fiasco.  All those good soldiers dead for nothing."

         "That was before my time, but I'm sure the Alliance had its reasons," said Nathalya.

         "You give the Alliance too much credit. You're young.  It's not too late for you to get out an' do something meaningful with your life.  I missed my chance.  I'd hate to see someone like you make the same mistake."

         "The same mistake?  Were you a Ghost?" asked Wells.

         "I was.  But as I said before, the Alliance ran off the good ones." He smiled and winked.

         "What happened at Firemarsh?" Nathalya asked.

         "It's a long tale, missy.  I don't think you'd want to hear it anyway, might change your mind about the Alliance.  Being a Ghost used to mean something.  Nowadays it's just a glorified way of saying you're a lookout for the real warriors."

         The machine beeped three times, signaling that the upgrade had completed.  Nathalya removed her arm and rubbed her wrist.  It had gotten hot under the light.  She pulled her sleeve down and stood up.

         "How much for everything?" she asked.

         "Three fifty, call it three twenty-five as a farewell present."

         Nathalya swiped her wrist with the newly upgraded P.M.C. across the scanner.  It beeped in approval.

         "Good, seems to be working fine.  Good luck out there again, missy.  Come back if you need anything else before you leave," he said.

         Nathalya and Wells bid him farewell and then walked out of the shop and onto the bright street.  It took a second for their eyes to adjust.

         "What now?" asked Wells.

         "I don't know, this was your idea.  I got what I needed," replied Nathalya.

         "Want to get something to eat?  I'm starving."

         "Yeah, I could eat."

         They walked down the street a little ways and found a sandwich shop.  They ordered through a window and sat down at a table outside covered in shadow by a large red and white umbrella. It wasn't hot, but Nathalya appreciated the aesthetic.

         "Do you need help packing?" asked Wells suddenly.

         "I think I can manage," Nathalya replied.  "Will you take care of my room while I'm away?"

         "I will make sure it is taken care of."

         They finished eating and disposed of their trash and what they didn't eat.  Nathalya checked the clock tower in the center of the park to see it was already three in the afternoon. Children were playing in the playground below the tower.  Their laughter echoed slightly and reminded Nathalya of simpler times when she and Wells were growing up together.

         "How did we get here?" wondered Nathalya out loud.  Wells looked at her, puzzled. 

         "We walked," she said smartly.  "Are you feeling okay?"

         Nathalya couldn't hold it back any longer.  She turned and looked meaningfully at her friend.

         "No, I mean 'here'," she said.  "When did our paths veer so far off course that we ended up joining the Alliance?  We were supposed to stay young and invincible forever. I'm about to go to one of the most dangerous planets in the system. Who knows how long they'll keep me there or if I'll even survive long enough to come back?"

         "Listen to me, Nat.  You said yourself you'll be fine.  You have to trust yourself.  If you do that, you'll make it out just fine.  Our choices were made for us; we didn't ask for your mother or my father to die.  We were young and weren't in the best state of mind.  But we have to keep moving forward, no matter what.  Besides, you aren't allowed to kick the bucket before me or at least without me dying next to you as well."

         Nathalya chuckled lightly.  She felt a little better and smiled at her friend.  They sat for a while, breathing the sweet, recycled air.  There was a slight breeze that ran down the street and ruffled Nathalya's pony tail. 

         "I should probably be heading back to pack up and rest for the night," said Nathalya after a few more minutes.

         "All right.  I'll walk back with you."

         Together they walked back to the housing bay and parted ways.  Wells promised to come to the departure terminal in the morning to see Nathalya off.  They hugged and Nathalya walked the remainder of the way to her room alone.  She swiped her wrist and stepped inside.  She turned on her music, then dressed down into her pajamas and started packing, leaving one complete uniform out to wear tomorrow.  She looked at all the things around her room she would be leaving behind and wondered, not for the last time, if she would see them or her friends again.

         Once finished packing, she made herself a quick meal out of some of the perishable food she normally kept stocked in her refrigerator.  She ate quickly then poured herself a glass of spiced rum and four ice cubes; a perfect ratio.  She lit a fragrant candle and then sat by her window.  Soon she was lost in her thoughts as she peered into the nothingness beyond her window and sipped slowly at her drink.

         The words of the shopkeeper sprang to her mind. Real warriors...,she thought.  She wracked her brain trying to remember anything of the Firemarsh mission he had mentioned, but only a quick lecture from her training came to mind.  The instructor had used it as an example while explaining anatomies of shell-shock, panic, and commanding troops in the face of inevitable defeat.

         Suddenly, there came a knock at her door that snapped her back to her senses.  She got up and walked over to the door.  She pushed a button and the door revealed a holographic representation of a man standing outside.  Quickly, she opened the door.  Standing in the door way was a tall man with dark hair.  He wore a blue, grease-stained jumpsuit and held a small box wrapped in colorful paper.

         "Father!" exclaimed a very surprised Nathalya.  She immediately wrapped her arms around the man as though she hadn't seen him in some time.  The man hugged her back tight as he dared without hurting his daughter, eyes closed.  When they separated he looked her over, smiling softly.

         "They told me about your assignment.  I couldn't let you go without first coming to see you.  I wanted to tell you in person how proud I am of you, and to give you this," he said and held the box up.

         "Thank you, father.  Please come in and have a seat," she said, motioning to an empty chair.  He did as he was bade and placed the box on the table next to the candle.  He pointed to her drink sitting there.

         "How about one for your old man?" he asked.

         "Of course!" Nathalya walked to the small kitchen area and refilled her glass, then pulled another down from the cupboard.  She prepared a second drink and brought them both to the table.  She slid one to her father and sat across from him.

         They sat and spoke together for many hours and caught up, the gift sat forgotten.

         "I've only just arrived on the Constable yesterday.  They needed some help in the engine room," said her father.  "No sooner had I disembarked that I ran into Colonel Ralphael.  He is an old friend of mine and said he would have asked me for my permission to send you to El'Anorath had I gotten here a day sooner.  I told him that he should do what he thought was best for the Alliance.  Clearly, he holds you in very high esteem to send you to a place like that."

         "Why would he need your permission?" she asked.  "He's my commanding officer."

         Nathalya looked at him with questioning eyes and he winked.

         "Well, as friends, he and I shared some personal information," he started.  "He knew your mother, too.  And you know...your mother was raised on El'Anorath.  But enough about that.  Tell me about this wonderful ship and your time spent here."

         Several more hours passed by as they talked, and for a time Nathalya forgot her troubles.  Without realizing it, nine o' clock was upon them and they had gone through several more drinks. Feeling quite well, they moved through subjects one after another until ten rolled around.  Eleven.  Nathalya yawned as the clock struck twelve.

         "My dearest daughter," he said.  "I think it's time for bed.  Tomorrow is going to be a long day and you need to be well rested."

         Nathalya drained her glass and stood up.  She wobbled slightly, chuckled, and then walked to her bed.  She climbed under the covers and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Her father stood over her for several moments stroking her brow and recited a bed time poem just as he used to when she was a little child. 

         "Sleep now my darling, the moon says it is time,

         High above your bed below, sister stars twinkle and shine,

         Let no troubles keep you up, the dream guardian stands by,

         He'll keep you safe, so take a breath and close your eyes,

         Sleep now, safe and sound in your bed,

         As the warm fire glows bright and red,

         Don't fear the morning for it brings a new day,

         Make the most of it and don't delay,

         Rest now for the morrow my little daughter,

         And forget not my love as your father."

         He blew out the candle and left the room.