Something Like The Truth (Book 4) Preview



Introduction by Jernard
Council Building
East Palace Grounds, Hannaria
December 29th, 2300 Earth Time 

“Everyone else will be arriving soon,” my grandfather’s friend Acred said as he filled a glass with water and placed it on a stone table beside me. “Just state the truth, and this will be over by nightfall.

Before I could respond, a tremor developed and began to rattle the building. I grabbed my glass to keep it from falling to the floor, watching the liquid dance to the rim but not spill. Looking up, the balconies and domed roof above us swayed before returning to their original positions—a design trait of most of our newer structures.

Once everything settled, Acred paused to take a drink from his own cup that was almost the size of a pitcher. The random seismic activity was just part of a typical morning for him, but I’d never gotten used to it.

“Can you at least tell me why you’ve cut off our communications access?” I asked, but he seemed reluctant to answer. “My grandfather went to find Covey on Aliond, but I’m concerned since we haven’t heard from either of them. Have they contacted you?”

For a few seconds, he didn’t say anything—just sighed and stared at me as if he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Your family is being charged with treason, Bardin,” he replied slowly, shaking his head when I jumped from my chair. “There’s nothing you can do about it but stay here and remain calm. Rhaynan and Andrew are under guard at your suite, and your father is being held and questioned outside the city. Please understand that I’m your ally, but I can’t help you if you resist any of this process.”

I sat back down. He seemed sincere, but I still couldn’t trust him. Since he was part of the Council, it made him obligated to share anything I told him.

“Who’s behind the accusation?” I asked, growing frustrated when he went quiet again. “If this is intended for me to renounce my position, I’ll save you the hassle and do it right now! Just tell the others to leave my family out of—“

“It’s not that simple,” he interrupted, holding out his DMR to me. “Can you please explain this? We found it in Jicah’s files the morning after he disappeared. It appears to be the last thing he accessed.”

Not knowing what to expect, I looked down at the screen. It displayed a repeating video of a burning warehouse—Earth architecture—and I recognized how the flames had ignited and spread.

“I thought there might be a connection to this and the fire that nearly killed Rhaynan and me on Kydena when we were children,” I replied, which wasn’t a lie. “Jicah told me he was having similar incidents investigated, but this happened a long time ago—just before we came back from Earth the first time.”

“But you didn’t mention these attacks in any official report. Why?”

If I had said it was because we believed someone on the Council was involved—at least through funding or otherwise protecting a group of serial arsonists—the conversation would’ve ended there. If my family would be treated as prisoners either way, I at least intended to keep the deluxe accommodations for as long as possible.

“We had a lot of other problems at that time,” I replied, and he nodded for me to continue. “Andrew was sick, and I had to make deals with the scum of Earth just to get transmitter parts. That also drew a lot of unwanted attention from their legal authorities.”

“I did read that part,” he replied, and I handed him back his DMR. “Jim Bainbridge, Clint Rossetti, Karen Lyons, and Ben Harris—you went to soldiers for help instead of Earth’s leadership directly?”

He’d combined their first and last names together like ours were said, and I wasn’t sure how to relate the word ‘agent’ to him—considering Hannarian Guard soldiers often held the role.

“Rhaynan and I weren’t in a position to approach Earth’s leadership directly,” I replied, but he still looked confused. “It would’ve been like a colonist approaching you unannounced. We had to start with where we had an opportunity and make our way through proper channels.”

He nodded he understood, but then he handed the DMR back to me. This time the video displayed a Hannarian building on fire—the flames peaking blue and white. The date was three days earlier.

“My son Tyrin and his wife were in that attack,” he said, and his eyes flared blue as he glared at me. “They survived, but their recovery will be long and difficult. The group claiming responsibility are colonist radicals led by a man named Rishmag. Do you remember ever hearing that name on Earth?”

I shook my head.

“It’s not the same group who was on Earth,” I replied, but he gave me a skeptical look. “It can’t be.”

“Why not?”

I hesitated, hoping he’d mistake the lie for just a reluctance to answer.

“Because they’re dead.”





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