Purge of Prometheus bod-3

by Jon Messenger

  Adam glanced down as though noticing for the first time. “It’s nothing,” he coolly replied. “I’m more exhausted than anything else.”

  “Penchant,” she said through hitched breath, “please tell me you managed to secure us a room nearby.”

  The Lithid climbed over the rubble and joined the other two in the middle of the room. “Of course I did,” he said from behind the featureless black face. “It’s in a nice building only three blocks away.”

  Keryn and Adam exchanged exasperated looks. They both turned toward the massive sleeping form of the Oterian. Keryn had no idea how she was going to manage to drag his body for three blocks.

  CHAPTER 6:

  Yen paced impatiently by the door as the docking arm stretched toward his ship. He had chosen to dock with one of the external ports rather than waiting for the arduous docking within the internal hangar bays; he just didn’t have time to wait today. The hiss of air flooded the connecting passageway between the Revolution and his small transport and began twisting the sealing latches before the light above the doorway turned to green, verifying that the air beyond was breathable. He had left Earth in a hurry, allowing only sufficient crew to man his ship to board before they departed the planet. Though the rest of the Alliance was celebrating an unprecedented victory over the Terran Empire, he knew that their greatest threat was still to come. Yen desperately needed to pass the information gleaned from Earth on to the High Council. The fate of the universe couldn’t be gambled against soldiers celebrating their comparatively minor victory. Once the last seal released with a grinding of metal on metal, the door swung open as his ship entered zero gravity in order to match the connective tunnel between the ships. Though gravity would be reengaged once he boarded the Revolution, there was no way to pressurize the connection enough to match. Now weightless, Yen pulled himself forward, hurtling himself down the narrow passage, reaching the far door in seconds. Without waiting for the rest of his crew, Yen pulled himself inside and closed the door behind him, initiating the pressurization of the ready room.

  Once gravity was reestablished, Yen shoved open the interior door and stepped into the antechamber, surprised at how many people awaited his return. Nearly half the ship lined the sides of the room, cheering wildly at the victory over the Empire and congratulating him on successful command of such an intricate invasion. Yen tried weakly to smile, but his mind was too preoccupied to be bothered with trivial niceties. Giving only meek nods of thanks and mumbles of appreciation, he forced his way through the crowd and into the main hall of the ship. As he left the antechamber, technicians appeared at his sides. Presenting hand held screens that scrolled volumes of data, his crewmen described troop movements and casualty statistics in a tsunami of information. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, Yen brushed past them angrily, stopping them both short of the lift that would take him to the bridge. As they tried to step aboard, Yen psychically shoved them off the lift, watching with perverse pleasure as they crashed over one another into the hallway. Entering his command code for access to the bridge, he waved playfully as the doors slid shut on their stunned facial expressions.

  Yen rode the lift in silence, feeling the thrill he’d come to associate with the release of his power. It had become so simple to use his powers, not just to psychokinetically push someone off an elevator as he had done moments before, but to control someone’s mind like he had done on Earth. It became reflexive, like an extension of his own body. He took control of someone’s mind and, with a mere thought, forced them to shoot themselves in the head.

  With the memory came a wave of nausea. Yen remembered looking in the Terran’s eyes as they pulled the trigger, seeing the tears stream down their face. He didn’t know when it had begun, this perverse pleasure he got from using his powers, but it was starting to genuinely frighten him. Less and less, he felt like he was in control of the power surging through him. Much like on Earth, his power had taken the control and killed not just Dr. Solomon, but his own men as well. Now, firmly back among the Alliance, how long would it be, he wondered, before he lost control again? And would he still feel the perverse pleasure when it happened?

  As the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors slid silently open on the bridge of the Revolution. The excited celebrations of the lower decks were contrasted by the somber mood of the command deck as the Avalon Captain Hodge turned at Yen’s arrival.

  “Welcome back aboard,” she began, her voice singing the words in her high-pitched tone. “We received your report and have sent word to as many planets as we can reach with our communications array. A few have already begun filtering back to us. A few galaxies, including Protagon, have already replied. It seems that the message wasn’t just a bluff.” A little anger and stress crept into her soft voice. “If this is already happening, then we can really expect that… how many galaxies total?”

  “Thirty-two,” Yen replied, exhausted.

  “Then we can expect thirty-two galaxies to be without light or heat unless we do something soon.”

  “Ma’am,” interrupted Vangore, the Wyndgaart communications officer. “I’ve got a message coming in. It’s coded high priority.”

  “From another galaxy?” she asked.

  “Negative, Captain,” he replied. “It’s being sent from a cargo transport traveling in sector Alpha-Alpha-Two-One.”

  The members on the bridge turned to the display screen as the universe map highlighted in the designated sector and zoomed in. A dual sun galaxy appeared in the display, showing a pair of inhabitable planets.

  “What’s the message?” Captain Hodge asked without looking away from the display screen.

  Vangore paused, his head tilted to the side as he replayed the message. Straightening, he turned to the Captain with an astonished look. “The transport claims that the entire Terran Fleet just dropped out of heavy acceleration in their sector.”

  Captain Hodge sat up straight in her chair. “I thought the enemy was in orbit deep in Terran space?”

  “I’m running a scan now,” replied Merric, the Pilgrim tactical officer, as he brought up reports on his display. “Ma’am, our ships have gone in for a visual. They were decoys, ma’am, every one of them. The decoys are sending off false signals that make them look like the Fleet.”

  “And no one thought to look?” she cried, indignant. “We plan the greatest assault in Interstellar Alliance history and no one thinks to get a visual on the one element that could put our entire plan in jeopardy?” She took a deep breath as her cheeks flushed red with fury. “Don’t we have a space station in orbit at Alpha-Alpha-Two-One?”

  “Roger, ma’am,” replied Vangore, “but I can’t raise them on any of our hails.”

  They’re already dead. Yen heard the words whispered in the thoughts of all the people in the room. He felt his skull begin to ache again as his telepathic power came unwanted.

  “Then they’re already gone,” Yen stated, echoing the thoughts of all the officers on the bridge. Turning to the Captain, he continued. “Ma’am, I strongly recommend that we get the ground force back on ships immediately and give pursuit. If the Terran Fleet is already in Alliance space, then they already have the advantage. The only way to regain the upper hand is to pull heavy accelerations and get ahead of them.”

  “Squadron Commander, your opinion would be more valuable if we had some idea of their destination,” Merric replied condescendingly.

  Captain Hodge turned to Yen with an expectant expression. “Where do you think they’re going?”

  “Exactly where I’d go if I were invading Alliance space,” he replied. “I’d go straight for High Council. I’d attack Arcendor.”

  Captain Hodge nodded in agreement. “Magistrate Tylgar, set a course for Arcendor at once.” As the pilot set the course, the Captain seemed lost in thought and concern. Yen understood why. Arcendor wasn’t only the location of the Parliament, the civilian command for the entire Alliance. It was also the location of the Academy, the training ground for all new offic
ers and pilots in the Fleet. But, most importantly for Captain Hodge, Arcendor was the Avalon home world. The Terran’s most likely course of action would also destroy her estate and kill her family.

  Captain Hodge pulled the communication console closer to her and entered her command code into the panel. With the Revolution as the flagship for the invading Fleet, Captain Hodge was the only commander in orbit around Earth that had access to send out a Fleet-wide announcement, including to ground forces on the planet.

  “Attention all Alliance forces, this is the Revolution,” her voice echoed throughout every ship and communication channel used by the Alliance. “We have scored a major victory over a complex and difficult adversary today.” She paused as distant cheers were heard throughout the ship. “The Terran threat has been struck a nearly mortal blow today by the combined might of the Fleet and ground forces. However, our work is not done. Much like the hydra of mythology, we have cut off the head of the beast but have not slain its body. We could stop now, satisfied that for now the beast is defeated. But if left to rest, the body of the hydra will grow two heads where only one stood before.

  “The hydra’s body, the Terran Fleet, still threatens our survival and the well-being of the entire Alliance. Even now, the Terrans move into Alliance space in a maneuver as devious and underhanded as we have come to expect from these honorless monsters. They move against your homes, your families, and your livelihoods. They threaten to destroy all that you have and all that you love. They hydra’s head has been severed, but its body still thrashes blindly against your homes.

  “It is time we put an end to this monster, once and for all. We did not fly halfway across the known universe simply to strike the head from the beast and then limp home to await its rebirth. Today, I lead you all to battle against the rest of the Terran monster. I know you all are tired. I know that the battle for Earth has been hard fought with many losses to our brave soldiers. But I ask that you not give up now. I ask that you find strength for one more fight and help me destroy the Terran Fleet once and for all.”

  Her noble speech done, Captain Hodge began issuing commands. “All ground forces, report to transport ships for immediate lifts to your awaiting Cruisers and Frigates. Ships of the Alliance Fleet, prepare your navigation and tactical stations to receive new coordinates for immediate departure once ground forces are secured. Ladies and gentlemen, soldiers of Alliance, today marks the beginning of the end for a war that has lasted much too long. Revolution, signing off.”

  The crew on the bridge smiled warmly at her speech, feeling bolstered by her words. Only Yen still frowned. She noticed his displeasure and arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t approve of the speech?”

  “You conveniently forgot to mention that all their loved ones will die anyway, once the Deplitoxide finds their galaxies’ suns,” he said bitterly.

  “I didn’t forget,” she hissed quietly enough that only Yen and she could hear. “Some things are better not mentioned. Right now, they need to think the end is in sight. They need hope more than anything else, and telling them about what’s happening on their home worlds will rob them of that hope”

  Yen felt his headache spreading, tingling in his shoulders and arms. “Our soldiers are not to be toyed with. They are not your playthings!”

  “No,” she yelled at him, startling the rest of the crew, “but they are soldiers and they will follow orders, much like I expect you to do. Our conversation is done, Squadron Commander!”

  Yen spun and stormed off the bridge as transport ships began docking with the Cruiser. He stormed through the hall, heading toward his cabin, and shoved aside crew and workers who ran hurriedly to their stations in preparation for departure from orbit. By the time he reached his cabin, the air around him shimmered violently and the power flowed visibly from his body in pale blue tendrils of psionic power, feeding off his anger. Like parasites, the tendrils drained his own strength to fuel theirs, leaving him weak as he staggered into his cabin. He stumbled toward the table in the center of the room, his black eyes glazed and unseeing and his thin lips pressed tightly together, drained of blood. As he leaned heavily against the table, one of the tendrils lashed out and struck the chair nearby, shattering its back and twisting the metal frame.

  Closing his eyes tightly, he concentrated on reining in the power; he tried to pull the lashing tendrils back within his body. Sweat broke out across his handsome face as he strained. The force of restraining his power felt like an attempt to harness the might of a supernova and force it into his skull. The strength of his psychic power seemed too great to be contained in within his weak form. Struggling, he regulated his breathing and chanted his mantra, slowly at first as he fought for breath, soon relaxing into the familiar cadence he’d used as long as he could remember.

  Yen had once been a master of his power, his strength evolving over the past few years into a formidable might. But since overextending himself in order to defeat the Terran psychic, his ability to manage his power was running like sand through his fingers. He retained enough control to push people aside or destroy a computer screen, but the true power had grown its own sentience and no longer desired to respond to his command. A reflection of his own darkness and anger, his psionic energy had become dangerous to everyone around him.

  As he pondered this shift in domination, his power slowly receded until nothing of its uncontrolled self remained visible. Yen that stood in the room, alone and exhausted. Rushing into the bathroom, he felt the bile rush up his throat and collapsed in front of the toilet just in time to vomit violently. His abdomen clenching tightly, he emptied his stomach and he was only able to dry heave. When Yen finally felt stable enough to stand once again, he absently flushed the toilet and stood before the sink, splashing water on his face and washing out the bitter taste from his mouth. The psychic glanced at the mirror and frowned at his own appearance. His yellowed skin looked pale and sickly in the bathroom light. Bruises had spread beneath his dark, ink colored eyes, which had sunk into his face leaving the impression of a skull. Even his dark hair had lost its sheen and hung flat around his face. He looked like a broken remnant of the man who had once prided himself on his appearance.

  Disgusted, Yen left the bathroom and returned to the main room of his cabin. Unlike most crewmembers who cooked, entertained and slept in a single room Yen’s station as squadron commander afforded him a suite. His main room held a dining table and kitchen, and he had a separate sleeping room with a private bathroom. Pulling a glass from the cupboard and pouring himself something strong to drink, Yen drained his glass quickly. He enjoyed the burning sensation that washed the bile from the back of his throat. The drink sat heavily on his empty stomach, but he didn’t care as he poured himself a second. The burning alcohol temporarily washed away the concerns that began creeping into him mind once more, questions of how long he could maintain control of a power that yearned to be set free.

  Yen poured himself a third, fourth, and eventually a fifth strong glass of liquor before he realized his mind was too cloudy to consider any complex questions, much less restrain a wayward psychic power. Staggering to his bed, he collapsed into its inviting covers. He no longer cared enough about sleeping in his clothes. It was a concern that he filed away for future contemplation.

  As Yen slipped fully into sleep, he didn’t notice the last of the ships dock, nor did he notice the announcement that blared through the ship, warning of impending departure from Earth’s orbit. Solidly asleep, he groaned only slightly while shifting positions as the Revolution steadily increased gravity as it sped toward Arcendor and battle with the Terran Fleet.

  CHAPTER 7:

  Adam adjusted the thick straps that held Cardax to the metal chair, which had, in turn, been bolted to the floor to ensure no chance of the large Oterian escaping. Cardax’s head rolled limply, the smuggler still unconscious from the sedative that had been pumped through his system at the bar. Though the amount of sedative had been excessive, all three members of the strike force
were glad to have the extra time to finish preparing the room.

  Penchant opened his backpack in the corner, removing a spray can and moving toward the single small window in the room. Spraying thick foam over the window, the room was suddenly cast into darkness, save a small, exposed bulb that hung from the room’s center. Aside from blocking out the light and prying eyes, the foam was an effective sound insulator. Though Cardax was guaranteed to make an exceptional amount of noise, his yells wouldn’t carry beyond the small room.

  Keryn, meanwhile, hooked a thick cloth through Cardax’s loose jaws and tied it behind his head, forming both a gag for his impending screams and a muzzle, should he chose to try to bite a member of the team. With the gag fixed in place, she attached two soft rubber stoppers to his horns, making their tips padded and relatively harmless. Everything about Cardax was only relatively harmless; he would continue to pose a threat until he was finally killed.

  Standing again, after ensuring the leg straps were firmly attached, Adam checked the fluid bag that hung from a pole behind him. The viscous yellow liquid dripped slowly into the tubing, which Adam traced down to the large bore intravenous needle he had placed into the artery running through the Oterian’s neck.

  Satisfied that everything was prepared, she gave the signal to wake Cardax. Pulling a syringe from his small case, Adam injected a clear liquid into the fluid bag. Almost instantaneously, the smuggler’s eyes began to flutter and his head rolled from side to side. Snapping his eyes wide open, a muffled scream of surprise escaped from around the gag and he struggled, in vain, against the leather straps. Cardax felt drained and not in full control of his muscles. He tried to concentrate on his surroundings, but his thoughts seemed to flow through a sea of fog; they rose just long enough for him to grasp at coherent thought before sinking below the surface and out of reach.