Markram Battles: Omens of Doom (Part II) Read Free Page A

brain, no matter how trivial, that might help me solve the puzzle of his familiarity. Unsuccessful, I decide to approach the matter differently. “Senator,” I say. “I don’t believe we have been properly introduced.”
     
    The Senator looks at me, the edges of his mouth barely curving into what I cannot interpret as anything else but a suppressed smile. “I am the new Senator of Sector 6.” My mind begins to race through the memories regarding Sector 6. The planet had a massive sandstorm five moon cycles ago, which disrupted the normal functioning of its facilities. Not only that, but several of the buildings caved in after a series of seismic activities, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of civilians, army officials, and the ruling senator in charge. “I am quite fortunate to have been in a position to attend. My consort, however, had to remain in Sector 6 to oversee several reconstruction projects. She was very disappointed to have missed the Opening Ceremony.”
     
    “She is matron of one of the units, is she not?” Senator Thirty-Two asks.
     
    Senator Six doesn’t look his way. Instead, his gaze intensifies even more, as if he wished he could tell me through this minor change of expression something of the upmost importance. “That is correct.” The tone he uses unsteadies me, making me wonder if I should know the unit he is referring to. Not that I have any way of finding out; private patronage of fighting units is a confidential matter. Only board members would have such information and even then, specific details are given the highest levels of confidentiality. Still, I cannot shake the alarming feeling that he knows something I don’t.
     
    I turn my attention to the Major General, who hasn’t spoken a single word since the representatives approached us, and find her scrutinizing something in the distance. Her black eyes are locked onto what seems to be a passive dispute between Seven and Eleven, another unit leader in my squadron. The two leaders stare at each other with loathsome expressions. Something I have grown accustomed to, since they have always seemed to find quarrel with each other.
     
    Seven’s arms tense, squeezing his fists tight, and for a second, I believe he will punch Eleven on the spot. He turns toward me, locking his eyes with mine. I take a deep breath and nod toward the representatives. “Excuse me.”
     
    “Don’t go too far, Commander,” Senator Thirty-Two’s consort says. “The main entertainment for the evening will commence at any moment.”
     
    I smile in acknowledgment before making my way toward Seven, desperation oozing out of his rigid façade in spite of his efforts to keep it concealed.
     
    “Commander,” Eleven acknowledges me.
     
    “Eleven,” I reply, inspecting his perfectly poised posture. Nothing in his stance or expression tells me there is something I should be concerned about, except for the fact that he seems too pleased with himself. I let my eyes scrutinize every detail about him, from his short, impeccably cut hair, all the way down to his polished black boots. “I don’t need to remind either of you that physical confrontations between unit leaders are completely forbidden.”
     
    “There is no need to worry, Commander. Seven and I have had enough confrontations to know we are equally matched in many respects.” He eyes Seven and the features of his face tense as if he were attempting to suppress a smile. “Besides, there are other ways to confront rivals without the use of our own fists.”
     
    Eleven bows, clearly requesting permission to be dismissed, and though I wish to inquire further, I nod. He walks away to join a group of representatives and I return my attention to Seven, whose tightly clenched fists only make his rigid posture all the more noticeable.
     
    “Seven.” He doesn’t acknowledge me. “Seven,” I repeat.
     
    His eyes find me, but his expression remains unchanged. The revulsion emanating from him takes