No matter the means, the truth can never be hidden.

Stage 1

No matter the means, the truth can never be hidden.

Upon her return to Ephera, one of three habitable planets within the Passers Cover system, Miranda had written her incident report and delivered it to the Internal Security Section, or ISS, the same day. She reported to the Chief of Internal Security of Ephera Primus and relinquished all evidence for any pending investigation including her PSS.

Three weeks later she received a notice that her presence would be required for a special inquiry. The notice came with two specific requirements:

To be dressed in her formal dress whites. That her PSS be transferred to the Northeast ISS, still pending in lockup with the Chief of Internal Security.

As she sat waiting at ISS headquarters in the capital city of Ephera Primus, anyone passing by would notice that she was smartly clothed and fully decked in her military ensemble.

The uniform consisted of a knee length woolen skirt and a silk blouse, which was tucked in to offer a clean look. A golden wheat-colored braided rope draped over one of her shoulders, which was then secured by a board she had attached to the top of the same shoulder. On her left hand side above the breast pocket, neatly arranged in vertical standing order, were all her service related ribbons; an impressive array in both number and color. The board on her left shoulder proudly displayed her rank and insignia.

Her mind kept racing as she considered the reason for such formality. Usually, something like this was addressed in normal black and khakis or even in work blues. Her musing was interpreted by a door opening. A fully commissioned officer beckoned her to come inside.

Standing, she smoothed down her skirt and followed the young woman through the door.

The area was large, vacant and strangely absent of the sounds one would associate with a large, empty room. The nature of the echo giving off its soft dispirited sounds was unaccounted for, giving her an eerie feeling as of being held in submission. In military tradition spanning several centuries, a large dark wood table stood in front of her. A single vacant chair faced the table with the standard meter separation.

Five high ranking officers watched as she walked next to the chair and stood at attention. Three men and two women. The younger looking male officer cleared his throat.

"As part of this special inquiry, it will be noted that all present have a security clearance of Verified Compartmental, which is the clearance needed for full disclosure of your dossier. Please offer us your formal introduction."

Without any hesitation.

"I am Lieutenant Major Miranda Arrlae Grey, former commanding officer of the Planetary Orbital Defense Unit 59 orbiting Gilrich Gulch. I am a Gifted level five Stress Precognitive, with an enhancement rating level one Combat Precognitive. I've been determined to be paradoxically Gifted, though I am currently classified as D.Y.U.

There was a muttered stirring as a few of those seated opened their manila folders, Miranda heard one of them murmur, "Dangerous, Yet Unidentified."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Major, please sit down."

As instructed she sat down. She kept her eyes forward, not looking nor seeing, but adhering to strict military protocol.

"You may not know why we have called this inquiry, but the reasoning behind this examination relates to the incident that you were part of three weeks ago this day. This inquiry is to gather as much intelligence as to the manner of the explosion you witnessed, the circumstances before and after the explosion, and more importantly, the actions of Lieutenant First Class Richard De'Raegon."

Her stomach sank.

The nature of the explosion was indeed worrisome, but there was no reason why the military wouldn't want to shelf it off as accidental if the preliminary investigation offered compelling evidence. She had been keen to read everything she could pertaining to the accident. Even to the point of reading some of the more intrepid conspiracy theorists on the Grid. Theories ranged from a rogue meteorite to a complex cover-up due to hazardous material on board.

If after three weeks they were still stonewalling the media about an official reason for the accident, this only made her that much more suspicious of this inquiry's true purpose.

This must have registered on her features because one the older female officers responded.

"We understand that you and LFC Richard were rather good friends, and that he was your mentor. We aren't here to place blame on him or anyone else, but the nature of the explosion is," there was an unnecessary pause, "troubling."

She couldn't take any longer.

"Permission to speak, Commander Major."

"Permission granted, Lieutenant Major."

There was something in that woman's tone that sparked Miranda's latent paranoia.

"Commander Major, if you would explain to me what of the explosion makes you feel troubled, I might better answer your question. I filed my report, in detail, about what happened that day. If my report is lacking then I am more—"

She was cut off by the highest ranking officer on the table, a man by the rank of Commander First Class.

"Your report is adequate enough, for the scope that report is purposed for. What we would like to know is exactly how you managed to escape with a cargo bay full of people and why you didn't take your second in command's concern to evacuate as is standard protocol in a post wartime situation?"

Miranda was stunned, not only did this man cut her off with all the finesse of a machete, but there was the overbearing insinuation.

"Commander First Class, are you implying that—"

"—your comrade and mentor, Richard, warned you of the impending explosion to help boost your reputation after your previous fall from grace? Yes, I am."

Miranda was starting to lose a grip on her temper. She couldn't even fathom such a question.

"With all due respect, sir," her voice started to quake with anger, "Lieutenant First Class Richard De'Raegon was one of the finest Supply Officer Corpsman this military has ever had. He served as a Colonial Privateer, distinguished himself in service and designed our current supply chain handbook. He penned the training manual now used C.G.E wide on modern day Void-centric blockade running and counter blockade maneuvers. He trained the infamous fleet, The Hell's Wind Motley, who were then called to action when the Colonies strove for independence, which in turn allowed you to wear your uniform and rank ever so proudly."

The man's face took on a purple shade, but before he could interrupt, Miranda bashed her balled up fist on the arm of her chair and continued undaunted.

"Additionally, he was the lead commanding officer during the Paradoxical Training Corps, where he trained officers who showed promise in the paradoxical Gifted traits, of which I was one of its members. He loved his country before it was even a sovereign state and served the men and women under his command even to death, by personally dispensing with 'post wartime protocol' so that some would survive."

Her fist was balled up so tight, her fingernails were cutting into the palm of her hand. She would be damned if she was going to allow some flat-footed CFC smear the memory and service of one of the greatest military men the Colonies had ever produced.

"What you're saying is that he didn't give you advanced warning, then?"

The man had somehow managed to return to a more natural coloration and was sitting a little straighter now. But his voice was not quite as calm as before. A lesser person would have found his intense gaze troubling, but Miranda was never one to back down to a threat.

"What I'm saying sir, is that LFC Richard De'Raegon was severely injured during the explosion while talking to me through the VVC. He reaffirmed my order as a senior enlisted officer to stay as long as I could and save as many of his crew as possible, without endangering myself and those on my vessel."

Her body language could not be mistaken; she was sitting straighter as well, her other hand was now clenched and both hands were resting on her thighs. If her gaze was capable of kinetic combustion, that overstuffed clothes rack would have been turned into a smothering pile of ashes.

The youngest of the female officers, a Commander Third Class interceded. Miranda couldn't swear to it, but she caught a faint hint of amusement in her tone.

"Then we have your firm affirmation that LFC Richard De'Raegon was taken by surprise like everyone else?"

Miranda almost growled her answer.

"I swear it on my oath as a member of the Colonial Armed Services."

"Excellent, now we can move on to more pressing matters, the file that he uploaded to your PSS; we'd like to review that data."

A muffled, strangled noise came from her superior officer.

Miranda's mind stopped in its tracks. She had been so fired up about their mistreatment of Richard that it took her a moment to respond.

"The NE-ISS in charge should have it in lockup by now, ma'am."

Commander Third Class then nodded to a young woman that had answered the door when Miranda had entered and just as quietly as she had been standing there, left to retrieve said PSS.

"How did you know when to close the blast doors?"

Miranda blinked, her full attention was now focused to the woman questioning her. She took a closer look at the woman's rank and coughed.

"I'm not sure if the answer would be accepted in conventional terms, Commander Third Class."

She smiled, but there was not a hint of mirth to it.

"You've already disclosed that you are Gifted and paradoxically so. Shall we dispense with the coyness."

Miranda's eye twitched, but she continued with her explanation.

"I was able to see the events that were going to transpire while I was under duress. An advanced form of what most would call a 'gut feeling' to which, I reacted accordingly."

There was a noted and varied tone of disapproval to her answer. Everyone, including the overstuffed CFC, had a rather smug look about them. Everyone except the woman asking the question.

The Commander Third Class pulled something out of the manila folder, making a show of the fact that she was reading off the referenced page.

"Not all Gifted have within them what is collectively known as a paradoxical Gift, a term with highly nebulous meaning. Miranda Grey's Gifted trait endows her with the ability to see events before they happen, but with specific limitations. When she joined the Paradoxical Training Corps, she originally ranked as a Stress Precognitive Level I, as she is able to see events fifteen seconds in advance, but only when under duress. As her progression during her training increased she became a Stress Precognitive Level V, which allowed her to enter the enhancement portion of her regime in order to become a Combat Precognitive Level I. Only when she reached the enhancement stage did our instrumentation identify that she was also paradoxically Gifted."

The young woman with the rank of Commander Third Class continued to read, but this time from a different paper.

"The Paradoxical Training Corps was a questionable military program that determined certain human beings are born with certain innate abilities contrary to the Gifted norm, also referred to as paradoxical Gifts. This program was disbanded because of the unstable nature of its nomenclature, the paradoxical Gifted, this and the rather obscure nature of its chain of command. Its clandestine creation and classification was Ultra Top Security, and it shared rather deep ties to a covert governmental unit of a then newly reformed covert and security apparatus, to which the declassified name is Branch Cell. The unclassified operational description of this bureau is indicated as:

"The coordination and recruitment of military personnel, contingent upon the completion of 'the Training' for Colonial security assignments."

She paused and took a breath.

"Does this summary cover the nature of the Paradoxical Training Corps?" She looked up. "If so, then I am compelled to ask, why is it that your application wasn't accepted into Branch Cell?"

Miranda clenched her teeth. The question was meant to discredit her and she had to answer carefully. She took a calming breath and managed to unclench her teeth and her hands, all in an effort to add to a more neutral tone of voice.

"I was not accepted into Branch Cell because I had not finished the last required training tenant. The Paradoxical Training Corps was disbanded when my turn came due."

"I see, so you failed to meet the final Milestone," she said, looking down at the sheet of paper. "You failed to fully predict combat related precognition."

"Permission to speak, Commander Third Class."

"Permission denied, Lieutenant Major." The coolness in her command made Miranda's blood run cold. She couldn't be more than thirty years old, but the fact that she held such a high rank at such a young age was extraordinary.

Miranda would need to keep a close watch on what she said around this woman.

The door opened and the young officer returned with her PSS in hand. As she passed Miranda, she was able to get a better look and her awareness was spurred giving her that unique 'gut feeling'.

The officer was youthful and vibrant, which in and of itself wasn't unusual. What made Miranda take note was that this woman was ravishingly beautiful. So much so that as a woman, choosing the military as a career could have actually been a deterrent. Her feminine softness held a formality that was not standard military issue. There was a command to her features, a gentle sort of arrogance that lead Miranda to believe she had received a much different kind of training, an aristocratic breeding that had been formed and molded from a young age. She carried herself with quiet sort of regalness and, Miranda noted that this young woman shared her own rank.

As Miranda's eyes passed over the woman's uniform, her visual acuity then confirmed the reason for her 'gut feeling' There was a third and smaller insignia located on the left hand sides of her collar and shoulder board. As her eyes continued to follow, she adjusted her view to take in both women. She noted that the woman with the rank of CTC had the same insignia. As far as she could tell it was some form of laurel wreath, but any details escaped her. Without much ado, the strikingly beautiful young officer placed the PSS in the outstretched hand of her ranking officer.

In that moment, the ranked CTC and the young woman shared a look for the slightest of moments, and after an almost imperceptible nod she turned, returning to where she had originally been standing. Not a word was said between them but Miranda couldn't shake the feeling that something meaningful had just transpired.

With PSS in hand, the Commander Third Class inserted the device into an adapter on her desk and powered on the device. A holographic screen appeared in front of everyone. With a few deft movement of her hand on the projected image, she cued up the appropriate file. The picture changed, displaying a video. As the video started Miranda made out a desk and the smiling face of her old friend.

The emotion of seeing him again rushed through Miranda like a tidal wave. As tears started to build up in her eyes, she did her best to control her sudden emotional burst.

"Hello, my dear Miranda. If you are hearing this it's because I'm no longer able to be with you. Do not fret, because I am no longer in any danger. I'm merely in a different place now. A place where I know my purpose will have a far more reaching effect. The reason for this is twofold it's a supplement to my official will. My lawyers and my wife know of this, so the lawyers will be mailing you some items I wish to pass down to you.

"Just so you know what to expect, here is the list, just in case:

The marble chest set.

That replica Trojan horse you so loved.

A real wood mahogany jewelry chest - the one you told me you admired.

"I know you were always interested and awed by history and antiques, so I wish to impart them to you. Know that I will always love you like my own daughter; you are and always will be my best and most adept pupil, my most willing and hardest working student. Always remember,

"For shadows cast, when in reach of light, and never cast, when in dark."

Miranda was shaking. She couldn't let these vultures see in her in such a state so she clenched her teeth again and swallowed back her tears. But in the mist of these tumultuous emotions, she was concerned by what she just heard.

"Lieutenant Major." She was brought back from her reverie by a direct question. "Is this all that LFC Richard De'Raegon sent you that day?"

Breathing in, she managed to hide a telltale sniffle. "Yes, Commander Third Class. That was all he sent me."

The woman watched her with a penetrating gaze, but from what Miranda observed of her body language, she had failed to achieve what she was after. In those subtle shades, Miranda was able to discern her predicament.

"Very well. You are dismissed. Additionally, your request for leave has been granted."

Miranda stood, offered her superiors a brisk salute and turned for the door, smoothly side stepping the chair on her way out.

"Before you go, there's one final issue, Lieutenant Major Miranda."

Miranda heard the chair being pushed back and as she turned, Ms. CTC was making her way over to her. Her high heels barely made a sound as she walked up to Miranda,

"Don't forget your PSS. I'm sure you'll want to keep that video for sentimental reasons."

Miranda didn't like the woman. She was taller than Miranda, and though they both shared a small frame, Ms. CTC had a leaner, muscled physique that was characteristic of an active and athletic life. Miranda was curvier and rather proud of her more accented femininity.

By Miranda's own considerations, a fair assessment that by contrast, Ms. CTC was proud of her more muscular trim physique.

"Thank you, Commander Third Class."

"Carmen."

Miranda blinked; in some circles this would have been considered a serious breach of protocol, a sentiment obviously shared by the sudden muffled gasps from the four officers still at the table.

"Commander Third Class Carmen Zigfler, officially. But you can call me Carmen." Carmen extended her hand to Miranda.

Miranda Grey wasn't the type of woman to be stonewalled, but today marked a clear example of such an occasion. Automatic on her part; she took Carmen's offered hand and gave it a firm shake. Miranda felt something press against the palm of her hand. A gliding gesture of Carmen's fingers against her palm deposited whatever she offered in such a way that it wouldn't fall onto the floor.

"Do let us know if you intend to leave the system. We might need you again for further clarification."

There was a glint of steel in her eyes, but her voice was just as smooth as before; professional, fluid and cool.

With that, CTC Carmen made an about face and headed back to her stunned colleagues.

On cue, the woman that delivered her PSS touched her arm. "This way, Miranda."

Miranda followed, not sure what to make of what had just happened. She had no idea what was in her hand and the content of Richard's message had made a mess of her rather fragile emotional state.

Miranda recalled the events that lead to her meeting Richard. In her zeal to an ideal of a new country, Miranda had joined the revolution. She was a junior officer for the Old Imperial Republic, and had successful executed the planned system wide mutiny. Many were the sacrifices she had made when she turned traitor, the blood she and her command had shed for that new ideal.

Soon after the solidification of the Colonial Federalist government and the covert and security apparatus, she was inducted into the Paradoxical Training Corps.

Richard's last words kept swirling through her brain. The reference to history and most of all, his poetic prose:

"For shadows cast, when in reach of light, and never cast, when in dark."

A reference to an unpublished work. Written by one of his colleagues when he was still in command of the blockade runners, that highlighted the use of shadow organizations.

"Faithful are we to country, fought did we to create and protect," he would sometimes say.

So ingrained were the lessons, even Richard's sporadic quotes of that unpublished work, the essays in logic given to her so that she might crack such obscure language. Sessions that held its own righteous weight in meaning, and were no mere slip of the tongue.

This was one of Richard's favorite teaching tools, the philosophical musing between mentor and student, and he would often talk to her about the governments that wield the absolute right to destroy all trace of the shadows they create and their willingness to remove it from its collective memory.

Any mention of the shadows, for the good of a Nation and the good of Country, would be denied, in the most plausible way possible. A concept that personified the now disavowed Paradoxical Training Corps; itself a shadow birthed in darkness and destroyed in darkness, an entity that will never again cast itself against the light.

As such, she had once been inducted into that darkness, forced now to live in the light, casting her own shadow about. No way to trust anyone outside of that society, removed from all as a shadow should.

A guiding presence in the form of pressure on her forearm brought Miranda from her daydream. She found herself standing outside of the secure corridor, the young woman watching her, her gentle features beholding her in that soft, yet arrogant way,

"Will there be anything else, Miranda?"

As was the officer's tradition, if two shared the same rank they would address each other by first name. This was intended to establish a sense of comradeship between officers. As Miranda's eyes passed over the woman's rank, an automatic gesture, she could now see in far greater detail the third insignia. It was indeed a laurel wreath, wrapped around a broken arrow.

"No…thank you. That will be all. I…um…I didn't catch your name," said Miranda, her voice devoid of emotion.

Even as the young woman smiled, Miranda could feel herself getting sick to her stomach

"My name is Aerlina." Miranda noted the last name on the woman's lapel: Menoncourt.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miranda Grey." There was warmth to her speech, the sort of spoken kindness that hinted a refined upbringing

Even as Miranda offered her a nod, Aerlina continued.

"You should take a moment to visit the ladies lavatory, Miranda. You are looking rather ashen."

Miranda nodded her agreement. "Thank you, Aerlina. Don't trouble yourself; I'll make it there in one piece."

Aerlina gave her a concerned looked, but relented. She offered Miranda a nod, turned on her heel, and made her way back in the direction in which she came.

Miranda had one thing on her mind. Walking as quickly as she dared in heels, she made a dash to the closest ladies restroom, only to make it to the stall in the nick of time.

After a few minutes of agony, she managed to lift herself up and opened the stall door, dragging herself over to the sink to start the ritual washing of the mouth. As she rinsed, she opened her hand for the first time to see what CTC Carmen had forced upon her.

It was a small pin, much like the pin that Aerlina - and Carmen herself - was wearing. The only difference, was that it was a parchment scroll wrapping a broken arrow instead of a laurel wreath.

Miranda studied the pin, her trained paranoia coming back in full force, and searched for any telltale markings, any trace of electronics, or any other clues about its purpose or origin. After a few moments, she decided to get the pin checked out in a more thorough manner. She had a friend in counter-intelligence who had the equipment necessary to prove or disprove her suspicion.

Placing the pin in her pocket, she cleaned herself up a bit more and took a deep breath. She looked at herself in the mirror.

Many would say she was in the prime of life, having only recently turned twenty-nine. She was one of the few female officers to have achieved such high ranking so quickly, due in part to the most influential moment of the newly established government and military she now served.

Her service to the Colonial Armed Services began at the age of eighteen, though she had enlisted as a junior officer at sixteen with the Old Imperial Void Naval Branch. Prior to a few months back she had been one of the rising stars of the C.A.S. She considered her features in the mirror. She had what some historians would call a "classic German" look. In her mind, her features were more rounded, not quite as sharp in cheek bone, though her chin did come down to a gentle point. The freckles that were once so prominent in her youth had started to blend in with her pale skin tone, though she would never be completely rid of them. Her eyes were a shade of palest blue-green, with a myriad of colorful flecks that offset that moonlit coloring. As she touched her lips with her wet fingers, she considered them for a moment. Though never what one would call voluptuous, there was a fullness to them.

She exhaled as she watched herself. The one thing she hated about being in the military was the fact that she had to cut her long hair in favor a more manageable military style. Once upon a time she would have kept her thick, wavy strawberry colored hair down to her shoulders. That had been her small vanity, the pride and joy of her father. She could almost feel the length of it as she reached up to arrange her hair.

Miranda allowed herself this final regret. There was no point in worrying about something so trivial, not now.

She heard the door open and straightened with the pretext of tucking in her silk blouse. She adjusted her belt, returned the salute offered to her by an enlisted woman, and then stepped out into the corridor. She had work to do before her vacation could even start.

As she made her way out into the main corridor her eyes ventured up to one of the many monitors that displayed a 24-hour news stream. She couldn't believe her eyes as she read the subtitles from the muted newscaster.

"As many of our viewers know, details over the tragedy that happened in orbit over the planet of Samraum have finally been concluded. We have received an official statement from the Colonialist Federal government that, in fact, the explosion was accidental. We repeat, the explosion was accidental in nature. It was likely caused by a rogue meteorite that struck a compartment full of the depot station's liquid fuel stores…"

The Colonial NewsGrid, which covered Disolenum to Passers Cove, was buzzing within seconds. Miranda moved over to a monitor displaying the news feed of one of the major networks within the Correlated Galactic Entente. News of the update spread like wildfire as accounts from so-called experts wielding laser pointers like weapons, vied for attention in pronouncing with certainty their presumptions to an obviously eager audience.

Further details were then given, revealing that some eighty solders were able to make it out with their lives, though a full fourth of them were injured. More information started to saturate the news streams including details of how eleven ships had been docked at the time and that only three had managed to survive intact.

There was no mention of the brave pilots, but there was much fanfare about the brave and heroic actions of the Depot Supply officer in charge, Lieutenant First Class Richard De'Raegon. Though unknown to most in the civilian sector, she could hear gasps and sighs from those in the corridor where she stood. Anyone who had spent any time in the military knew of his service. There would be much sadness displayed at the local pubs later that evening.

Miranda stood mesmerized by the nature of their communications network and the power of the GENCOM v.10 system. To think that at one point, this level of communication retrieval had been all but lost to them as a species. Oh how she wished for the days of The Great Blackout, even as the darkness of her own past started to surface from her subconscious.

She pushed those emotions away, urging herself to continue onward. She still had a desk full of paperwork to finish before she could even think about leaving.