Purge of Prometheus bod-3

by Jon Messenger

  Merric zoomed in again on the series of red dots on the map. “We believe from the reports we’ve received that the Terran Fleet consists of forty-four ships. That is ten ships more than what are currently in the Alliance Fleet.” Merric paused for effect, but noticed that little of the room seemed surprised by the situation. Clearing his throat, he continued. “However, we have the advantage of fighting in familiar space and we have a higher concentration of weaponry per ship than do the Terran vessels.”

  “And while we continue in pursuit of the Terran Fleet,” the young Lithid Magistrate chimed in once more, to Merric’s dismay, “are we to leave our families to die on frozen planets orbiting lifeless suns?” His question caused a stir of discontentment among the other officers around the table. Sidebar conversations broke out, with a number of Magistrates and lower ranking Prestiges agreeing with the sentiment of the Lithid.

  The noise of a dozen independent conversations rolled through Yen’s mind, rattling within the close confines of his skull. His headache slowly grew, though he was no longer sure if it was solely the result of his inebriation the night before. Reaching forward, he slammed his hand down on the table. The sound reverberated in the vaulted room and silence fell as everyone turned toward him. Looking up, his black eyes appeared as maelstroms of barely contained power.

  Yen spoke slowly and softly, letting his words carry across the crowded room. “There is a chance for those trapped on the planets. Before we invaded Earth, High Council ordered a small contingent to hunt down the source of the Deplitoxide and bring it back in order to make an antidote to its destructive effects.” Yen found his thoughts wandering, the beautiful face of the Wyndgaart pilot appeared in his vision. He lost himself in the memory of her touch, the feel of her soft skin against his, the love they shared. She had saved his life once and, more importantly, saved his soul when he thought he would be consumed by the burgeoning power.

  Focusing on the room once more, he noticed that all faces stared at him in anticipation. “If anyone can find a cure for our current dilemma,” he continued, “Keryn will.”

  “If High Council already had the foresight to send someone to find a cure,” the Captain interceded, halting any chance for a debate on the subject, “then I am content that a solution will be presented shortly. However, it doesn’t negate our own responsibility to destroy the Terran Fleet. Eminent Merric, please brief the officers on the most recent piece of information.”

  Merric stood once more and pointed at the map, indicating a number of red dots that broke away from the main collection. “As you can see, recent information indicates that half the Terran Fleet has separated themselves from the rest of their ships and is moving into an intercept position between us and Arcendor. That means that they know we’re coming to stop them. I encourage you all to spend the next few days devising a plan to overcome their blockade as quickly as possible so as to not slow our advance toward Arcendor. I will be meeting with select groups of officers shortly to begin devising a strategy. In the mean time, check and double check your assigned sections to ensure we are ready for combat. Now that the Terrans know that we are coming, it won’t be long before we’re fully engaged. The Terrans are fighting for their lives against us, but we are fighting for the survival of everything we know and love. Don’t underestimate them, but don’t expect them to underestimate us either.” Turning, he nodded to Captain Hodge and took his seat.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I stress the importance of our responsibility here,” she said. “Let’s ensure that we are forever remembered for our decisive defeat over the Terran Fleet.”

  Forever remembered, Yen thought as a chill rose up his spine. He couldn’t help but think of how close her words sounded to those of the Terran madman who started this war in the first place.

  CHAPTER 9:

  Keryn leaned against the railing outside their hotel room and breathed deeply of the warm city air. Despite the warmth, she found herself shivering. Inside, she had been close to losing control and falling back into her former self. Even despite her control, she could feel her sadistic half crawling through her mind.

  You can’t escape me, the Voice said curtly in her mind. We are one and the same, you and I.

  “Shut up,” Keryn whispered out loud. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, willing the Voice to go away.

  You can’t just want me gone and I’ll vanish, it said. I’m a part of you, now and forever.

  The whispering continued in her mind. When she had first heard the Voice as a child, she had panicked, certain that some critical synapses had burned away within her mind. Dementia, she had thought then. But then she learned the truth, not just about the Voice but about herself. And it scared her nearly to death.

  But we had been great together, the Voice said, knowing her thoughts. And, in the end, you gave in to me.

  “But I never will again,” she growled toward the bustling city. A startled man standing on his own balcony a few rooms over looked at her startled. She turned angrily. “What the hell is your problem,” she barked ferociously at the man. Surprised, he turned and disappeared quickly from view.

  You’re already so close to me, cooed the voice. It isn’t much further until you realize our potential together once again.

  Scared terribly after her first encounter with the Voice, she had taken herself off rotations for pilot duty despite being Squadron Commander, choosing instead to remain locked within her quarters on board the Revolution, keeping away from people who, like herself, would question her sanity. And though the Voice was silent for a long while, she knew it would never go away. She was a Wyndgaart, and the Voice was as natural to their physiology as the tattoos that traced her body.

  The Wyndgaarts were savage warriors and exceptional soldiers. Their skills in hand-to-hand combat were trained, to a degree, within nearly every unit within the Interstellar Alliance. But their talents were not something the Wyndgaarts trained from generation to generation. Deep within their genes, their rage and savagery was given voice, a voice that carried the combat memories and skills of generations of their predecessors. For most Wyndgaarts, they came to accept the Voice and fuse it with their own, resulting in dark personalities and great heroics on the battlefield.

  But Keryn had chosen a different path. She balked at the idea of accepting the savagery of her species and, instead, chose to attend the Academy. She had been a rarity, even in the prestigious institute that trained all military fighter pilots. But in order to train her mind for the complexities of three-dimensional space combat, she had to suppress her own Voice.

  Suppressed, but not forgotten, her Voice whispered.

  Never forgotten, Keryn thought darkly. She had given in to the Voice once before, while engaged in the complicated acrobatics of space combat. She had been close to dying, with Terran fighters chasing her through the void of space. The Voice had called out to her and, in her fear, she had given in to it. She had watched the rest of the battle as though through a fog. The had performed maneuvers that she would have never thought of alone, her ship spinning wildly and firing again and again until all her pursuers had been killed. Together with the Voice, Keryn had been unstoppable on the battlefield. But she always remembered the gleeful and childish laughter that, for the longest time, she didn’t even recognize as her own. Keryn killed hundreds, if not thousands, of Terran soldiers that day, finally bringing down a bloated Terran Destroyer by herself. But, throughout it all, there had been the laughter and, though she hated herself for it, the joy.

  Joy is a small price to pay for greatness, the Voice said playfully. We returned from that mission a hero. They couldn’t throw enough medals on you for destroying so many of the enemy.

  “But you’re not me,” Keryn said firmly. “I have managed great things without you and always, always, without the pleasure that you take in killing!”

  You didn’t seem to have so many issues with me when you were faced with your own impending death, the Voice said angrily. I made
you great. What happened after the battle? They made you the Squadron Commander. Your own Squadron to command! You never could have managed that without me!

  The Voice’s words struck a chord within Keryn. She felt her resolve strengthen and a calm smile spread across her lips. “I’ve never relied on anyone before, and I’ll never again find myself relying on you. So why don’t you just shut up for a while?”

  Looking over the balcony, Keryn drank in the sights and sounds of Miller’s Glenn, letting the merchants’ yells and the engines of flying craft drown out the Voice within. She let the mental techniques she had learned during her time together with Yen wash over her and finish pushing the Voice from her mind. Gradually, the Voice faded into the background before disappearing all together.

  She leaned against the balcony railing and sighed heavily. The Voice was persistent and dangerous, but was still under control. Reaching to her throat, Keryn activated the microphone. “Talon Base this is Talon Six, over.”

  “This is Talon Base,” Cerise replied over the shortwave radio.

  “The package has been delivered and is being… unwrapped.” She smiled, in spite of herself, at the verbiage. The smile disappeared as Keryn started to wonder if that was a result of the Voice or her own sick humor.

  “Roger,” came Cerise’s curt reply, her dialect elongating the vowels.

  Keryn dropped the military pretext before continuing. “How is everything back at the ship?”

  There was a short pause in the transmission. “We are both doing well. Things are dreadfully uneventful here.”

  Keryn caught herself nodding, quickly stopping when she realized Cerise couldn’t see the movement. “How is McLaughlin?” she asked bluntly, dropping even the codenames they normally used.

  “He’s…” The signal stopped and Keryn waiting for a reply. She had asked a difficult question, especially for Cerise, who had feelings for the Pilgrim. “He’s the same,” Cerise finally replied. “He’s stable, but all I can do is make sure he’s comfortable right now. The quicker you can get done with the package, the quicker we can bring him back to his old self.”

  Keryn smiled, still surprised by the tender emotions the Avalon showed toward someone of Terran descent. “We’ll be done shortly, Cerise, and then be back at your location. Sit tight for just a little while longer. Talon Six, out.”

  Though it was early afternoon by her account, the sun still blazed brightly in the sky. Keryn started to wonder how long a day lasted on Othus, never having time to do research on the planet before their arrival. Judging from the crowded streets and packed booths, she assumed there were still quite a few hours before the sun set on the horizon.

  The two vendors directly below her balcony vied for the attention of passers by, one selling fruit and the other exotic pottery. From her balcony, pieces of conversation reached her ears.

  “…lovely pottery, m’lady,” one yelled at a woman passing the booths. “This is the finest quality…”

  “…grown right here on Othus,” said the fruit dealer.

  The pottery dealer held up a kiln-blasted vase, its surface heavy with a dark lacquer. He smiled broadly at a young couple that stopped by to view his wares. The man and woman, decked in colorful robes, were blatant tourists new to this part of space. The merchant’s shoulders relaxed as he began his sales pitch, spinning a wild yarn about the rarity of the pottery and the uniqueness of the specific pattern painted on its surface. Keryn laughed to herself as she watched. From her high vantage point, she could see the box at the vendor’s feet, pushed under the heavy shade of the booth’s table. From the top of the box, Keryn could see at least three other vases just like the one in the vendor’s hand.

  The door behind her cracked open and she turned at the sound. Adam’s familiar blond hair and strong Terran features were all that was exposed through the thin opening of the door. Even trying to cover the rest of his body, Keryn could see a splatter of blood smeared across his cheek. As Adam stepped out of the way, she entered the cramped hotel room.

  Adam stood, his chest bare as he tried futilely to wipe away the blood that coated his muscular forearms and hands. Pointing at her own cheek, she let him know about the smear that had made its way to his face. He scrubbed furiously as Keryn looked around the rest of the room. On an end table next to the sofa, the bloody, serrated scalpel had been dropped arbitrarily as Adam passed through the room toward the front door.

  Finally wiping away the majority of the gore on his arms and face, Adam looked at her sternly. “He told us everything we wanted to know,” he said matter-of-factly. “Deplitoxide is a derivative from a plant growing in the swamps of Beracus, in the Falitan Galaxy.”

  Keryn recalled what she could of the Falitan Galaxy. It was a galaxy off the main trade routes, damning it to relative obscurity. Try as she might, she couldn’t recall anything of importance about the small galaxy except that it only had two or three planets in orbit around its tiny red sun. She had to assume that Beracus was the only inhabitable planet among the few planets in orbit. It wasn’t hard to see why it would have been unexplored before Cardax arrived and found Deplitoxide among its flora.

  “Penchant is cleaning up the room as we speak,” Adam continued flatly. He paused, the look of concern returning to his face. “He’s still alive back there, but he’s in bad shape. If you wanted to speak to him…” His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence incomplete.

  “No,” Keryn replied, shaking her head. She had no intention of giving the Voice more reason to creep back into her thoughts. “Go wash yourself while Penchant finishes in the back. I’ll head back onto the porch and make sure we’re not interrupted until everything is finished.”

  Adam stepped toward the single bathroom, but paused in mid step. “We did the right thing here,” he said, without turning around to look at her. “The ends truly do justify the means here.” When she didn’t immediately reply, he walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  “I know,” she whispered to the closed door. Turning, she went back outside and closed the door behind her. She was glad to be back outside; Keryn had always been amazed at how easy it was to feel alone when there were so many people around her. The noise surrounded her like a cocoon, enveloping her with so many sounds and distractions that they merged into a single hum of activity, each lacking distinction from the next.

  Closing her eyes, she took in the sounds and smells of Miller’s Glen. City living had always been an escape for Keryn; a world so unlike that of her home that she was easily able to forget the pressures of her race and the Voice it carried. Night after night during her time at the Academy, she and her friends had slipped away into the city, losing themselves in pulsing beats of clubs and potent drinks at the bars. It seemed fitting that she found herself in another city, losing herself once more among the sights and sounds.

  Keryn shivered as a cold wind blew over her body. She opened her violet eyes, surprised to feel a breeze on such a warm planet. Glancing at the crowd, she found that she was not the only one surprised. Many of the patrons and vendors on the street passing in front of the hotel had stopped their bartering and glanced around, confused.

  A shadow fell over Keryn and in surprise she turned to find what had blocked the sunlight from her face. Others turned as the shadow spread down the street, carrying with it a cold wind. Screams started to spread as, one by one, the citizens of Miller’s Glen looked up at the sky. Her eyes turning all the way to the sun itself, Keryn’s mouth fell open and her eyes wide in surprise. Nothing had come in between the sun and Miller’s Glen to create the shadow. The shadow had come from the sun itself. At the base of the sun’s southern hemisphere, a black spot grew over the surface of the swollen orb. Black tendrils spread across its surface, casting thick shadows onto the planet below.

  Shaking free of the spell that had befallen them all, people began running for cover. Like cattle, people on the street pushed and strained against one another as some ran inside buildings and others ran
toward the spaceport on the edge of town. Merchants fled, leaving behind piles of substandard food and trade goods that they had been selling at high prices. The streets were in chaos, punctuated time and again by sounds of gunfire and the screams of those unfortunate enough to fall and be trampled by the fleeing masses.

  Keryn lunged from the railing and threw open the door to the hotel room. “You guys need to see this,” she yelled into the room. “Now!”

  Adam, who had pulled on pants but remained barefoot dripping with water from his shower quickly joined her on the balcony. As the cold blast of air struck him, he shivered reflexively. Penchant quickly joined them as well, appearing in his natural state and still stained with Cardax’s dark blood from his clean up in the back room.

  “What the hell?” Adam asked, breathlessly, as he stared up as the vanishing sun. He shivered again in the cold air; the temperature in Miller’s Glen was dropping rapidly as the sun continued to disappear. Staring at what remained of the sun, only half the sphere was still yellow. The rest had been consumed by the inky darkness.

  As they watched, the darkness spread both on the sun’s surface and across the planet below. They stared as another quarter of the sun vanished; the planet was cast into a growing twilight. Keryn squinted against the fading light of the sun, straining to see a flicker of movement in orbit above the planet. Her eyes spreading wide, she pointed near the base of the now nearly black sun.