Lieutenant Commander Riley Delar: Further Problematic Elements
Zeph
In the basin’s center, the soil was black. Steam curled faintly where microbial heat met cooling air. Through that dark ground rose dense clusters of wild vegetation — thick growth thriving without order or cultivation.
Beyond the basin’s invisible boundary, the soil returned to the same gray exhaustion they had crossed minutes earlier.
Katsim: Hm.
Richards: Well?
Nis: Whatever’s going on here, it’s confusing …
Riley studied the gradient. Vegetation thinned the farther it spread from the mounds — a perfect bullseye of fertility surrounded by depletion. He thought back to the sap fields: orderly rows, residues cleared, nothing returned to the soil. Everything removed. Year after year.
Exported.
And here — everything discarded. Concentrated.
Riley (low): They’re starving their fields… and feeding their garbage.
Richards: Why would they even do that?
Katsim: That doesn’t make sense.
Nis: So the nutrients are depleted, but this stuff helps plant material grow, not kills it?
The land wasn’t empty. It was imbalanced.
Riley: The nutrients aren’t depleted. They’re concentrated. Which means this isn’t scarcity.
A brief pause.
Riley: If the cycle’s broken… it can be repaired.
Richards: They’ve done this to themselves…
There was a pause, pregnant and contemplative as the officers considered their surroundings for a moment. Then, Richards spoke again.Richards: Ideas?
Nis: We’ll have to figure out how to redistribute the material in a way that seems like an accident — something that doesn’t look caused by us.
Riley remained silent, considering angles and consequences in equal measure.
Katsim: They are guarding it. Someone knows this could feed the fields, but they aren’t letting it be used. Why?
It was difficult to read political intent with limited data, but the pattern was too precise to be accidental.
Nis: Sir? The Butler is out of communication range.
That was a problem. A significant one. Riley filed it away.
Bootsteps approached.
Richards: ::hushed:: Everyone get down!
Riley dropped behind the stone, pressing against its cold surface. Training he’d hoped never to need again returned without invitation — steady breath, stillness, listening.
Person: There was a noise over here, I’m sure of it.
A scrape of dirt. Cloth shifting.
Richards: ::hushed:: It’s all starting to add up.
Nis: Sir?
Riley lifted a finger to his lips.
Silence.
Valarian Guild Member: What was that? Did you hear that?!
Torchlight crept closer, a wavering circle of gold stopping just shy of the rock.
Valarian Guild Member: Over there, go check it out!
The light swung —
K’ylaria: Stop right there.
The torch snapped toward her voice.
Nis: ::hissing:: What is she doing?!
Riley shifted just enough to glimpse the scene beyond the stone — two guards closing in, the noblewoman rigid with authority.
Nis / Richards / Katsim: Response
Noblewoman: What are you doing out here?
K’ylaria: I’ve come for the same reason you have — to protect our interests here.
Noblewoman: I doubt that very much. After your behavior in the dressing chambers last Rigisday, your loyalties are obvious. Guards, seize her.
The struggle erupted — boots grinding into gravel, fabric tearing against stone.
Nis: ::whispering:: We’ve got to help her!
Riley’s jaw tightened.
Nis / Katsim / Richards: Response
Another muffled cry.
That decided it.
Riley: ::low, controlled:: Not unless we must.
He gauged distance. Positioning. Torch angle.
Two guards. Close quarters. Overconfident.
Riley: Richards — diversion. Opposite side. Make them turn.
A glance to Katsim.
Riley: If she breaks, you move. Fast.
A steady breath.
Riley: On my mark.
Richards / Katsim / Nis: Response