Twist of Fate

“Alas, the prayers have finally set us free. They have drowned the evil. Set our path of redemption in order. To all those who contributed, praise be to you. For all those who refused to believe, let the mercy of others be your guiding light.” – Saint Tallimer III, the Ancient Book of Redemption

 

“Space pirates on the starboard side. Looks like they are quick shooters. My guess is they are looking for silk fuel or fire plugs. Worth sending out our scramblers?” 

The cadet staffing the monitors was a fresh face, a replacement while Gold’s regular observer was on maternity leave. To Gold, it was an incredible inconvenience, but with GLAD touting its work-life balance mumbo jumbo, there wasn’t much to be done. So much for the fighting pride. Young people were more interested in being artists than helpful these days. 

“Let them pass, and the next group of small timers will be bolder. Send out the scramblers, don’t bother with any warning shots. Better to ensure they get the message loud and clear.”

Gold wasn’t in the mood for mercy. Not today, not with his life’s work hanging by a thread, swaying to the whims of public opinion. Everyone had an opinion about everything these days. The hot topic of the moment was the state of expansion and gate cities. And as always, Gold somehow found himself at the center of it. The most recent articles on the subject had their sights set on some outlandish claim swirling about his supposed involvement in ousting a native group of people from some backwoods planet that he’d barely had a memory of visiting. It was absurd, but the press and their readers didn’t care.

Less than a minute after issuing the command, six scramblers burst onto the scene surrounding the pirate vessels. Any poor souls on board those pitiful things didn’t even have a moment to pray to the god of their choice before the vaporizers hit. The only grace given was that the fools wouldn’t feel a thing on their way to the afterlife. 

Gold keyed the last log codes into the digital pad next to the navigation panel. Today’s destination was an unwelcome audience with the council, where they’d flap their jaws in synchronized outrage about his latest embarrassment. Gold would issue an apology, hallow words expected of him, only to receive orders sending him off to commit the very act they’d reprimand him for, this time on some equally forgettable planet. A vicious cycle, only marginally abbreviated by award ceremonies and discipline hearings. Reck struggled to decide which of those spectacles he loathed more. 

“Don’t disturb me until we reach headquarters,” he snapped, standing abruptly. “Unless the ship is on fire or God himself has appeared to give me my judgment” 

Stepping into the hall, Gold exhaled deeply. Maintaining the constant façade weighed on him more than the mechanical suit constricting his body. At least the suit gave him the means to maneuver like the other animals onboard. The mask he wore, however, served no purpose other than protecting him from a court martial, or worse, being assigned to mend broken peace treaties. 

He let the rhythmic clank of his metal boots smacking the railing soothe his troubled mind, transforming the panic into a translucent line of thought. Better not to think at all sometimes; it saved him from hurling himself through the sealed doors into open space. To think, there had once been a naïve boy trapped inside this same headspace who believed he had what it took to become a dominant force, not only in GLAD, but in all the known space. What a cosmic joke that turned out to be. 

Reaching his lodgings, Gold tapped in the passcode and waited for the familiar whoosh of air as the door vacuumed upward, revealing a lavish arrangement of useless furniture and décor. Technically, this all belonged to General Gold, but in reality, Gold didn’t even own himself. GLAD dictated every hoop he jumped through, every obstacle he traversed, every meeting he attended.

He waited for the door to seal shut behind him before approaching the couch, craving solitude until their arrival at headquarters. Instead, he froze at the sight of a pelican lounging comfortably, draped in what Gold could only describe as a toga. The pelican, undeterred, continued reading the paper spread across his lap.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Gold finally managed, bewildered by this unexpected guest.  There was a strong sense of unfamiliarity, considering Gold hadn’t had an unexpected, or expected for that matter, visitor since the days of his training. Not many people willingly lined up at his door. Members of GLAD upper echelon rarely enjoyed friendships. Gold barely noticed most of the time. All things considered, it kept his obligations lower, and his sanity just slightly more intact, but it also made visitors all the stranger.

The pelican leisurely licked the tip of its wing, about to turn the page before pausing slowly. Two almond eyes glanced upward, as if suddenly noticing that maybe this wasn’t their room after all. 

“Ah, yes, General Gold,” the pelican said smoothly, slipping the paper beneath a wing flap. “Just the man I was hoping to see.” 

Gold narrowed his eyes, suspicion quickly overtaking confusion. Who else could this feathered intruder possibly expect to find in his private rooms? 

“What are you doing in my quarters?” Gold asked, managing to keep his voice just restrained enough to pass for calm. 

The pelican scanned Gold with its beady eyes, as if its only mission was to make certain Gold was really who he had found here. The silent scrutiny irked Gold, and the slow boil of anger began to warm his cold blood just enough to make him forget his earlier worries. He welcomed the shift, latching onto the displeasure of finding someone unknown in his rooms. At least this problem was something he could deal with directly, something he could easily control. Something that could take his mind off GLAD. He intended to handle it so thoroughly that no one else would dare to repeat such an intrusion. 

“Never mind, I don’t care why you are here,” Gold snapped, stepping forward and puffing out his mechanical chest. “First, you will tell me how you bypassed my security system. Then, you will report to the disciplinary offices, where I will seek you out at my leisure to decide what to do with you.” 

The pelican merely gazed back, unblinking and seemingly unimpressed. It remained relaxed, almost confident, as if it knew something Gold did not. The nonchalance seemed to declare some invincibility beyond what any armor could create. 

“There is a matter of most urgency that I have been sent out to obtain aid in,” the pelican replied in an even tone. “Rumblings of your name permeate the corners of nearly every planet within this system and beyond. Some of the things may not always paint you in the most pleasant of lights, but one thing most rumors have in common is that you excel beyond all others in what you do. Though, I will say there are not too few who wish you would do better with the skills you were gifted.” 

The pelican continued scanning Gold with its permanent judgmental glare. There was a keen intelligence behind those eyes, calculating, invasive, and unfairly prepared. How much hunting had been done prior to this encounter? How many shadows had this pelican peered into before finally tracking Gold down?

“I don’t know what you want, or who you are,” Gold repeated firmly, “but my orders stand. First, the matter of security the breach and then directly to disciplinary.” 

No matter who the pelican was, he was still under the authority of GLAD and that meant Gold was the commanding officer in this exchange. Very few held rank enough to challenge him, and those who did would send a formal envoy, never stooping so low as to appear unannounced in his quarters. Not to mention, they would never have had to search for him. They knew exactly where he would be. This afternoon, they would all gather to throw their weight at him in a reminder that no matter how far he climbed in the ranks, they would always own him. 

Pretending not to have heard, or preferring to ignore Gold, the pelican continued without comment of the disciplinary attempt. He also avoided any testimony on how he had managed to simply bypass the security systems on Gold’s door. 

“There are some problems that crop up out of nowhere requiring a certain set of skills. These things can never be fully predicted, and they are oftentimes beyond the limits of mere mortals, but sometimes, things fall together in just the right way where your kind can be of great use to the grand scheme of things. Especially when the outcome beckons a certain doom for the universe should things not line up.” 

Gold tensed beneath the lining of the mechanical suit. The fact he had no appendages of his own was lost on most people due to his unwillingness to travel without his outer casing, but the fact remained he had no true fists to clench. Instead, his mechanical fingers curled into balls at his side. Normally, this would have been enough to give the hint that it was time to back into a protective corner, at least for anyone preferring to live to fight another day. Yet the pelican opted to ignore the warning, like he had all other attempts at intimidation or control.

“For my particular interest, your set of skills has been highly recommended by every wagging tongue I’ve encountered,” the pelican continued calmly. “In one way or another, you have found respect, fear, or hatred from every creature capable of coherent thought. Anyone capable of accomplishing such universal recognition must harbor a considerable amount of skill. As such, only that person could help me carry out such a delicate task.” 

The pelican paused, noting Gold’s obvious tension, every fiber clenched, as he readied to strike. A smirk curved the pelican’s beak. 

“Do not flatter yourself so highly. It would take an army of your kind to even blemish my loosest feather.” 

Gold’s reputation had always hinged on his decisive action, striking fear into hearts where others sat frozen. Feeling there would be no need for such a brash action as to kill the pelican, Gold opted to forgo pulling his laser sword or pistol. However, grabbing the pelican by its wide throat and dragging it from the room seemed appropriate. Word of that humiliation would swiftly spread, deterring future intrusions. 

Halfway to the pelican’s throat, Gold saw a white blur out of the periphery of his vision. Before he could correct himself, Gold’s armored hand closed on thin air. His mechanical fingers closed on nothing but air, his momentum propelling him clumsily forward. He collided awkwardly with the edge of the couch before he overcorrected and fell into the cushions, his suit momentarily entangled. 

By the time Gold managed to recover his dignity and scan the room, the pelican had already settled into a lazy lean on the opposite side of the room.

“I told you, there are things beyond even the greatest of your kind,” the pelican said, brushing a speck of imaginary dust from its pristine feathers. “As highly decorated as you may be in badges, reputation, and skills, there are things you have yet to see, grasp, or understand. There are still some other things that despite all your efforts, you will never be capable of understanding.” 

Slowly, the pelican removed itself from the wall and meandered toward Gold. 

“Would you like to hear my proposition? Or would you rather I tie you to the couch and then tell you? If it would soothe your ego, we can waste our time and go through the motions. To be frank, I would rather have your undivided attention now, rather than wait for you to tire out. But I have been around long enough to know how these things sometimes pan out.”

Gold slid his hand discreetly behind the couch cushion. Even though visitors had always been a rarity, precautions had been taken to prevent deadly surprises. His metal fingers brushed against the butt of a hidden pistol tucked deep into the recess of the crevice. The familiar feeling, more imagined than truly felt, restored some sense of calm within him.

Again, without hesitation, Gold whipped out the pistol and fired a shot, not bothering to aim precisely, just enough to throw off the pelican’s arrogant waltz. Yet, before he could readjust to send another volley, the pelican vanished. Suddenly, powerful wings, bearing a strength unimagined, wrapped around the back of Gold’s head, before locking around his neck like a set of iron restraints.

He struggled, wiggling and wrenching with hydraulic-powered arms strong enough to crush steel beams, yet the grip refused to loosen. The impossible strength defied logic, no one could overpower his suit, especially without augmentation themselves. While power suits were common and not always hard to come by, despite GLAD banning their use for civilians, there was no way to make them invisible or to feel any less like the hunk of metal they were. That meant there was certainly no way the pelican had hidden the suit from Gold. His vision began to swim, black dots blooming around the edges. Panic surged, then just as suddenly faded into a serene acceptance. His resistance faltered, his muscles relaxing, and a comforting numbness enveloped him like a warm embrace. For a brief moment, the universe seemed to grant him permission to let go. To be free. All his work was done. Into the sunset, he could ride. No longer did the itch for life tickle him. All motivation to resist left and Gold went limp against the pelican’s chest. 

Just as the darkness threatened to overtake him completely, the pelican abruptly released him. The air flooded Gold’s lungs instinctively, and he collapsed forward, coughing violently. He clutched his throat, chest heaving as consciousness returned in waves. It took him several moments to return his breathing back to something resembling just an out of breath pattern. With his wits partially returned, Gold scooted off the front of the couch, turned and abruptly stood, ready to attack again. Only, when he scanned the room, the pelican had vanished entirely.

 Gold spun frantically, scanning every nook and cranny, not leaving a shadow uninvestigated. Not wanting to take any chances, Gold searched through his other rooms including the bathroom. He even checked a few impossible places, logic mattered little right now. Fear replaced all reasoning. 

Gold tugged at the collar of his suit, drawing a shaky breath. Surprise had become foreign to him over the last decade. His life was based on a strict regime of organization and promptness. Things had their pattern, place, and time. But now, for the first time in a very long time, General Gold admitted to himself he was honestly scared.

***

 

Gold deeply regretted not taking the time to wash the stench of sweat and failure from his body. As he was escorted through the pristine halls toward the council chamber by a line of stone-faced attendants, anxiety twisted painfully in his gut. What began as a promise for a routine disciplinary meeting slowly shifted into overwhelming foreboding. 

After his interaction with that pelican, or whatever it had been, Gold felt little certainty about anything anymore. Could the council have sent the pelican as a message, a brutal reminder of their authority? Their scheming went far beyond him, he knew that much. GLAD had been around long before Gold. It would take an awful big change in trajectory for them not to long outlive Gold as well. He was no fool in thinking his position within the system meant anything more than another layer of costume jewelry he was privileged to wear. The real power lived somewhere far beyond his reach. Those entrenched in their high-ranking vessels would never allow someone like him to overreach. They would chop off his metaphorical arms and legs, leaving him stranded in a desert of predators far before they would allow him even a sniff of their controlling interest. Gold had told himself a long time ago he was content with the knowledge that he did their bidding with the belief they would do what was best for everyone. It didn’t mean he would always agree with their decisions, but he would act upon them with the same ferocity he did for his own passions. Yet now, ascending the opulent stairs trimmed in silver and gold, he wondered if their leniency, the rope they’d given him to roam freely through the universe, had been intentional, a setup to ensnare or even hang him.

At the magnificent chamber doors, he paused, inhaling deeply, attempting to force a calm he didn’t feel. As he slowly exhaled, he imagined his lungs contracting and the pressure squeezed into a small ball. It helped only slightly, but any reprieve was a blessing. 

“The council is expecting you and has already convened all other duties for the day in an effort to focus their time onto this matter of importance.” 

Gold had no idea who the speaker was, or what their role was meant to be. The council switched their messengers frequently, high secrecy demanded constant rotation. Gold imagined a remote river in some off-world, its currents swollen with the corpses of unlucky souls who once held this woman’s position. Soon enough, he suspected she’d join them. If his stomach gave him any insight, he may be preceding her there.

The entourage of attendants parted, leaving his path to the door handles open- handles he had used precisely twenty-seven times now. Every time he stood in this position, he noted just how clean and unblemished these doors were. How many people did it take to paint, dry, and clean these doors daily? Gold nearly chuckled bitterly. How absurd would it be for his final thoughts to be about how the council kept their halls clean. 

Without Gold making any motion toward them, the doors swung inward smoothly, unveiling a grand hall who polished glass floors stretched outward, shimmering like crystals beneath his feet. If one were to imagine the interior of a theater, their first thoughts might drift toward the meticulously arranged props, the elaborate décor, and the heavy threaded curtains concealing the stage until just the right moment. Then once those curtains parted, they would focus on the actors who would file in to fulfill their predetermined roles. This whole process only slightly differed from that. Gold stepped forward, his boots echoed sharply against the glass, amplifying the hollow sensation in his chest. He felt exactly like a puppet might, if it were suddenly aware of the strings guiding its every move. Here he was, center stage, exactly as the council had arranged. 

Surprisingly, as Gold scanned the room, he found no audience filling the outer row of seats. Only the inner circle was occupied, familiar, stern faces he knew well as the council of GLAD. None of them differentiated by name, they spoke as one, even in disagreement, they did so as a unified entity. If it was declared here in this room, then it was forever etched into the annuals of history, even if reversed seconds later. As well intentioned and all-knowing as they declared themselves to be, they were also humble enough to admit they too needed to change and adapt to the growing complexities of an ever-expanding universe. Gold, however, doubted their intentions ran that deep. More likely, their collective act was a convenient cover for their own disagreements, masking the reality that even the mighty council were not immune to dysfunction. 

He made for an outlined circle at the far-left side of the glass stage. It was here he would stand, scrutinized by the probing eyes of GLAD. Here they would decide his worthiness to continue operating under their banner, or issue punishment fitting his alleged crimes. Naturally, any mention that those supposed crimes were committed precisely at their orders would be neatly omitted. 

The moment his boots crossed into the circle, the council’s voices echoed together, perfectly synchronized. Eleven distinct tones merged as one: “General Gold, we are all pleased you could join us today.” 

Gold found the spectacle to be equal parts humorous and horrifying. They pretended as though he’d had any real choice in the matter, as if appearing before them was something he’d graciously decided to do, rather than a command he’d dare not defy. The humorous part lay in their thin pretense of humility; the horrifying part was everything else. 

“My pleasure and my will remain always in the hands of the capable council,” Gold replied, with a practiced clarity. 

Despite the anxiety gnawing relentlessly at his insides, Gold drew comfort from past experiences. He’d stood in this very spot before. He’d endured this charade many times. The familiarity of the performance steadied him, even only just enough to keep the show moving along. 

“Originally, this council was called to review and determine the extent to which your actions on Glodat were self-service. However, something far more pressing has arisen within the last two hours. As such, we are dismissing the allegations outright and, instead, this council will aim to directly resolve another matter entirely. General Gold, do you disagree with this finding?”

Gold had many labels, few were flattering, but ‘dimwitted’ had never been among them. Every action he took moved through a system of checks and balances, ensuring that even should he fail, he would do so in a way that had not been him stepping on his own toes, so to speak. Yet here, in this glass prison, his answer took less time to pass his thin lips than for light to travel an inch. 

“I agree,” Gold said without hesitation. 

There were things people who wanted to stay alive and, in their positions, did, chief among them agreed with the council. No matter how bitter the pill, anyone with a shred of sense swallowed it gladly, pretending it contained the very essence of their happiness rather than poison. Beggars had no room to be choosers. He’d come here prepared for humiliation, ready to be publicly scorned before crowds of eager onlooks ready to feast on his humility and disgrace. Instead, he’d been handed an uneasy pardon in an empty room filled with nothing but his shriveling pride and the sour faces of the council. 

“Then, we can move onto other matters of importance,” the council continued smoothly. “General Gold, it has come to our attention that a planet in sector 4,119,876 has declared themselves a free planet. Their exact statement was, “Our resources, our lands, our waters, and our peoples, if GLAD should be inclined to take them from us, then they can scrape them from the ashes we leave behind.” Or something to that accord.” 

Although council members carefully concealed their names, pure anonymity was impossible due to their strikingly distinct appearances. The speaker addressing Gold now, about a full-scale rebellion as if it were a bore, had a rounded, gray face, fuzzy ears with a tuft of white at their tips, and large, bottomless black eyes, features too distinguished to mistake or forget. Ancient text, buried deep in history’s forgotten archives, and from a planet far forgotten, spoke of snakes devouring koalas, but in this time and place, the power dynamic had undeniably reversed.

“You would have me squash the uprising?” Gold asked. Simple enough, too simple, really. Certainly not worthy of the council’s theatrics or summoning him across the universe to this glass stage. 

Something everyone knew for certain was that the council rarely convened for anything less than a spectacle. If there was no crowd here, or more accurately they had canceled the crowd, then there had to be something more than an insignificant planet declaring independence.

“We want you to reduce every living creature and every structure on that orb into small, unidentifiable bits. Then,” the delivery was morbidly calm, Gold noted, “we want you to reduce those bits to mere dust, to be certain of their erasure.” 

The grim order came from the sole reptile on the council, a slender-framed Komodo Dragon whose sheer height dominated nearly everyone in the room, save one. 

That one cleared his throat, drawing Gold’s immediate attention. His voice, deeper than the void itself, resonated within Gold’s armored chest, or at least, it felt that way from Gold’s perspective. Like every other time Gold had stood in front of the council, it was this man who towered over everyone without standing from his seat. Whether openly acknowledge or not, his word was final, absolute. Anyone foolish enough to protest soon found themselves marching quietly to the vacuum chamber at the rear of the council hall, disappearing forever into the void. Where the void went, no living soul knew or wanted to explore. Some secrets are better left alone. 

“No questions. No witnesses. No mistakes,” the gorilla stated bluntly. “This is quiet by design. The lack of audience today is intentional. Your time with us today was officially canceled due to matters beyond our control, or so it will be read in the docket. Should this trip of yours prove to be successful, all sanctions will be erased from your record. You will be granted a retirement package beyond that of any given before, and every sector in existence, and everyone yet to exist, will remember you as the greatest general to have ever embraced the idea of GLAD.”

The words stopped short of threatening Gold’s life, but the message came out crystal clear. Victory and deniability for GLAD would equal a comfortable life for Gold. A failure in any sense of the word meant Gold would be lucky to discover what lay beyond the vacuum. 

Though no direct threat accompanied these promises, the implication was crystal clear: success would equal comfort and glory, failure meant a swift journey into the unknown.

The day had begun bizarrely enough, with the pelican’s cryptic intrusion. Now the council had handed him a forced retirement scenario with only two possible outcomes: triumph or oblivion. Gold wondered bitterly what other surprises awaited him today.  

With a resigned nod, no real choice existed, after all, Gold accepted his fate. With a wave of his oversized hand, the gorilla dismissed him. Gold turned on his heel and marched from the chamber, retracing his steps through the corridors that now seemed to shrink away from him as if they feared the council’s ire too. 

Even his escorts gave him such a wide birth as to be ineffective should be make a run for it. It was as if they believed the council had dipped him in some horrible, deadly plague. 

He boarded his ship, sealed the ramp shut, and headed straight to his quarters, craving rest. When he opened the door, he expected to collapse into his bed and forget everything for a few hours. Instead, the pelican sat cross-legged on the couch, reading the same newspaper from earlier this morning. A chill ran through Gold as he glanced at his wrist, prompted by a sudden, intense wave of déjà vu. The digital time readout showed three hours prior, exactly as it had been before meeting with the council.