Purge of Prometheus bod-3

by Jon Messenger

  “Do you two see that?” she asked. Following her lead, Adam and Penchant watched as two separate concentric blue circles expanded in the sky. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Adam clenched his jaw tight as he watched the blue circles spread. “They’re plasma explosions,” he said, his voice sounding dead and in disbelief. “I think we just lost the two Interstellar Alliance Cruisers in orbit.”

  Keryn shoved at them both, trying to push them back inside the hotel room. “Get back inside. I think this is about to get a lot worse for us all.”

  Slamming the door behind them, Keryn pulled free the radio on her wrist. “Cerise, this is Keryn.”

  Static was the only reply she heard in her earpiece. Pressing the talk button, she tried to reach the Cair Ilmun again. “Cerise, this is Keryn. Respond!”

  As she released the talk button, static again leapt to life on the otherwise silent radio. Her hand shaking, she pushed the button one last time. “Cerise, please answer me,” she said weakly. Letting go of the button and hearing static one more time, Keryn turned toward the other two, tears in her eyes.

  “I think we might have lost the Cair Ilmun too.”

  CHAPTER 10:

  Placing his hand on the smooth metal of the fighter’s hull, Yen perused the line of ships in the gargantuan hangar bay. The small Duun fighters were dwarfed by the mass of the bay, holding the full complement of his Squadron’s ships. Even the Cair ships, made for transporting assault teams, seemed insignificant in the hangar.

  Though he moved from fighter to fighter, his thoughts were miles away, stuck invariably on Keryn’s face, the Wyndgaart who saved his life and with whom he had fallen in love. The thought of her smile and touch haunted him as he went about his tasks, checking fighter after fighter in his Squadron. Absently, he typed the closest ship’s serial number into his palm display, bringing up the maintenance report for the ship. It said what he already knew it would: the ship was immaculate. Yen had the best crew and pilots in the Fleet under his command, and it showed in his vessels.

  “It’s still good, you know,” a female voice called from behind him, her voice seemingly lost in the vastness of the hangar. Yen didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Among his pilots, only one had truly become his confidant and friend.

  “Warrant Morven,” Yen said, turning toward the attractive Warrant Officer. Though her blond Pilgrim hair was tussled and grease smeared on her cheek from working on her ship, he was still warmed by her smile. Iana Morven was one of the higher-ranking Warrants under Yen’s command. Though there were a number of full officers on board the Revolution, Yen was the only officer in the Squadron; all other pilots and staff were Warrants or Crewmen. The theory behind the rank dispersion was that the life expectancy of a fighter pilot was so low that it was a waste of Alliance resources to train full officers, only to have them die on their first mission. Yen, however, had always found solace in the lower ranks, finding their camaraderie more genuine and conversations more palatable.

  Yen lowered his display screen before he continued. “Sorry, I was distracted.”

  “I know,” she said, leaning against the edge of the fighter’s low wing. “That’s the third time you’ve pulled up the maintenance report on that specific fighter.”

  She crossed her arms over her ample chest, concealed poorly by a thin grey sleeveless shirt. Her maintenance coveralls had been unzipped, the top half of which hung lazily around her waist. Iana raised an eyebrow, encouraging Yen to explain. Yen scowled, knowing she already knew what was on his mind, but willing to play the game with her.

  “My heart just isn’t in the inspection today, I guess,” he explained, covering the truth with his poor explanation.

  Iana smiled smugly. “It’s interesting you mention your heart, since that’s the reason you’re not paying attention to what you’re doing,” she chided. “You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”

  “What if I am?” Yen said defensively. “Keryn is out there trying to find a cure for the latest Terran attack and all we’re doing is polishing fighters and adding fresh coats of paint. She’s doing something substantial, not to mention that we have so much riding on the success of her mission.” Yen scowled to himself, regretting his decision a few months before the invasion of Earth to tell Iana about his feelings for Keryn. Still, though obviously hurt by his rejection of her advances, Iana had still remained a close, if not brutally honest friend.

  “It’s not her mission you’re worried about,” Iana said, shaking her head and reaching out to place her hand on his arm. “It’s okay to admit that you’re worried about her. Truth be told, I’m sure she’d like to know how much you cared.” She turned her head away as she continued. “But…”

  “But?” Yen asked, suddenly feeling like he had been led into a trap.

  “But we need you to be less of a whipped puppy and more of a Squadron Commander,” Iana said harshly. “In the near future we’re going to be engaged in the greatest series of battles ever fought by the Interstellar Alliance. You are going to be a key part of that assault, leading the fighter Squadron from the Alliance flagship.” She placed a hand on each cheek, pulling his face down so he was eye level with her shorter stature. “We need… no, I need a commander who will be focused and tactically aware. I can’t have you getting distracted at the last possible moment, not when so many lives depend on the decisions you make. Focus, sir.”

  Yen placed his hands over hers and gently pulled them away from his face. “I wish it were that easy, Iana. With everything else going on, I can’t seem to get her out of my head. Every time I let my mind wander, it naturally wanders to her.”

  “Then you need something to take your mind off of her,” she said coyly, stepping close so that her firm breasts pressed against his arm. “And I don’t mean another hobby, you need something that will match the ferocity with which she got into your head the first time.”

  Yen didn’t have to be psychic to understand what she meant. It also wasn’t hard for him to see that she was offering herself as his distraction. He felt his eyes wandering past her face and toward the exposed cleavage, more pronounced by her loose sleeveless shirt hanging open in the front. Though he couldn’t deny that Iana was attractive and possessed a very well endowed body, he just didn’t feel the yearning that he expected when he looked at her so clearly throwing herself at him.

  “You’re probably right,” Yen began. “But…”

  “But,” Iana stated, smiling at the irony but appearing crestfallen nonetheless.

  “But I just don’t think I’m ready to grab a woman, especially one that I care about and have known for so long, just to appease my physical desires. I think there should be a deeper commitment.”

  “You’re a strange man, Yen,” Iana said as she turned to leave. “But I’m not wrong. You need to find someone, and soon. Overcome your need to make sex more than what it is and get it out of your system. If you can’t get your head in the game, you’re useless to us as a Squadron Commander. Just think about it.”

  Yen watched her leave, her hips swaying in an obvious taunt toward his decision. Though the thought of Iana’s ample breasts pressing against his body did cause a stirring in his loins, his ideations were quickly interrupted as his transponder crackled to life.

  “Squadron Commander Xiao,” the stern male voice stated. “This is Eminent Merric.”

  “This is Yen,” he replied as he continued to watch Iana walk away.

  “Yen, I need you to report with me to the aft weapons bay,” Merric called over the radio. “Captain Hodge has tasked us both with ensuring that all weapons bays are in perfect order during the next inspection.”

  “Roger,” Yen said curtly into the radio. Unless provoked, Yen often chose to remain in the hangar as opposed to traipsing through the stuffy halls of the ship and examining weapon systems that had no bearing on his tactics within the Squadron.

  “I will meet you there,” Merric replied, his tone as emotionless as usual. �
��Eminent Merric, out.”

  Yen collected his equipment and, buttoning the top button on his dress uniform to ensure compliance with uniform regulations on the ship, left the hangar and made his way toward the aft weapons bay. The walk was long, having to go from midship to the elevators that would take him to the upper floor where the weapon systems were housed. He used that time to think about what Iana had said. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he did need something to distract him from his thoughts of Keryn. However, Yen knew he was right to not accept Iana’s offer in the hangar bay. Building a relationship, even for only one night, with a subordinate was a recipe for disaster, especially when he was required to make decisions that toyed with the lives of all his pilots, including Iana’s. Emotions would be a hindrance in such a situation. Still, he couldn’t help but agree that a distraction would serve him well. Distracted as he was, Yen barely noticed when he arrived at the large metal doors that led into the aft weapons bay, having traversed the entire ship while lost in thought.

  As the doors slid open, Yen stepped inside the busy weapons bay. The silence of the Revolution’s corridors was quickly overwhelmed by the oppressive noise within the room. Vehicles drove across the open floor, some carrying plasma rockets delicately in their padded claws while still others bowed under the weight of tons of the dense slugs for the rail guns positioned throughout the room. In the midst of the chaos, Merric stood beside Warrant Scyant, her dark hair tied back in a professional and practical bun and her uniform immaculately maintained. As he approached, he was able to admirer her Wyndgaart features, including her body tattoos of blue and green which complimented her deep green eyes.

  Both Merric and Scyant turned as Yen approached, their conversation halting. Scyant struck a stiff salute as he reached the pair, her stern military bearing unwavering even in the course of working in the weapons bay. He returned her salute, ignoring Merric’s inquisitive looks as he expected his own salute. He cleared his throat, a nervous tick Yen had noticed whenever he felt an awkward silence spread, and returned to perusing his reports.

  “During the last exercise involving your weapons bay,” Merric continued, picking up his conversation where they had left off before Yen’s arrival, “your section did not maintain the high standards expected by the weaponeers of this ship.” He looked down, consulting the series of numbers that scrolled across his screen. “The return fire by the rail guns was inaccurate and would not have maintained a proper field of suppression against any pursuing ships.”

  Scyant’s face appeared carved from stone, only the slightly rosy patches of color on her cheeks belied the frustration she felt. “Sir, with all due respect, I explained previously that we have been waiting for the proper instruments in order to fully calibrate the rail guns, instruments that have been on order for over four months. The fault here lies with Logistics. If you would kindly ask them when I can get my instrumentation, I’ll ensure that my weapons bay is compliant next exercise.”

  Yen smiled, appreciating the fire he heard barely masked behind her calm demeanor. Though she addressed the fault as being that of the Logistics cell, Yen knew as well as Scyant did that it was Eminent Merric who oversaw that section. Her own thoughts, clearly imprinted in the front of her mind, told Yen what she really thought: any fault in the Logistics cell was a direct reflection of its piss-poor leadership. Merric, thankfully, seemed oblivious to her subtle berating, and continued his rant.

  “This ship cannot operate if everyone simply wants to point fingers at one another,” he said. “We want results, not excuses. Fix the issue before the next exercise.” Merric turned toward the missile tubes and loading racks for the rail guns, confident that the issue was at a close. He didn’t notice the glare he received as he stepped toward the first missile battery. “Now walk me through the weapon systems themselves.”

  As the trio stepped off toward the four missile batteries located in the rear of the ship, Warrant Scyant explained at great length the inner workings of the missile tubes and collections of plasma rockets. She maintained the same stoic facial expression, even while fielding numerous inane questions from Merric, who seemed eager to catch her at a fault or cause her to stumble over an answer. Yen frowned as he watched the exchange. His powers reached out toward Merric, probing as the officer talked. He could sense the concealed glee in Merric’s mind, a happiness that came at the expense of the confidence of others.

  As Yen focused once more on the conversation and less on Merric’s thoughts, he caught the tail end of a mundane description. “…furthermore, that’s exactly why it’s important to maintain good order and discipline within your missile crews. Without your leadership, this entire rear half of the ship, as well as the engines located below you, could disappear into a cloud of…”

  Yen reached out with his powers, a fine blue filament of power emerged from the gently shimmering air around Yen, striking Merric’s mind like a scorpion sting. Merric paused in mid sentence, his eyes cloudy and his jaw slack. Slowly, Merric closed his mouth and blinked heavily, turning slowly toward the ten rail guns further toward the aft of the ship.

  “Why don’t you show me the rail guns,” Merric said, his condescending tone replaced with a calmer voice. Yen reached out with the filament once more, striking Merric in the back of the skull. “If you please, Warrant Scyant,” Merric said, motioning for her to lead.

  Scyant’s cool demeanor melted as her forehead wrinkled in confusion. She looked back and forth between the two officers; Merric gestured politely toward the rail guns as Yen smiled wickedly to himself. Turning hesitantly, she led the way further into the bowels of the weapons bay.

  Yen cheered quietly to himself, proud both of his ability to save Scyant from the inconvenience of dealing with Merric and, more importantly, of so clearly controlling his powers. Though he felt pressure build behind his eyes after even the most subtle use of his powers, both the scanning of their thoughts and the suggestions he placed in Merric’s mind worked without error. He would suffer through the pain and pressure, if only he could control his powers more thoroughly.

  As Scyant led the pair toward the rail guns and the metal slugs resting a safe distance away, Merric shook his head as though trying to dislodge a bad idea. He looked left and right before finally tilting his head as though straining to hear sounds in the distance. Merric glanced over his shoulder toward Yen, who raised his eyebrows in expectation. Opening his mouth, Merric stuttered as he tried to talk, then quickly closed his mouth and hurried to catch up with Scyant. Yen felt pride swell in his chest.

  The trio stopped nearly thirty feet away from the series of rail guns. Though Yen had helped operate one of the rail guns on the Revolution once when the ship had been severely damaged by a Terran Destroyer, the simple, yet incredibly effective technology never ceased to amaze him. Ten openings spread across the rear wall of the weapons bay, representing the ten rail guns located aft on the ship. Each opening contained three long metallic poles, located in a triangular pattern around the edge of the opening. Yen knew from experience that each of these was highly magnetic, their forces enough to rip even the smallest metal object from a person’s grip like a deadly projectile. The rails’ surfaces, pocked with grooves, directed the magnetic energy toward the outside of the hull.

  When loaded with one of the heavy metal slugs, whose own magnetic field was polarized against the rails, the conflicting magnetic fields kept the slug aloft as it was propelled down the shaft and out the rear of the ship. The rail gun technology was not technical, but it was effective. Without friction in the void of space, the speed with which the slugs were launched from the ship never decreased, the slugs maintaining their velocity and momentum until striking and tearing through another object. Yen had seen the fury of a full volley of rail guns being brought to bear upon an enemy ship. The slugs weren’t explosive, but they didn’t need to be. Their velocity ripped through the thick metal hulls of enemy ships, decompressing multiple floors and creating a vacuum by which dozens of crewmen were kill
ed by just a single slug. Technical they were not, but deadly just the same.

  Merric asked few questions as he inspected the rail guns, his mind distracted by thoughts he simply couldn’t grasp or currently comprehend. Within minutes, he shook his head in frustration and turned away from Scyant and Yen.

  “This all seems…” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts through his muddled mind. “This seems to be in order. Good job, Warrant Scyant. Um, keep up the good work.”

  With his cryptic departure done, he stormed toward the exit to the weapons room, lost once again in his own confusion. Yen turned to the Warrant, smiling broadly.

  “That went better than I could have expected,” he said mischievously.

  Scyant’s face broke into a beautiful smile. She turned to Yen, her eyes twinkling; she seemed like a different person all together from the stern Warrant who had been giving the tour moments before. With her smiling, Yen could see why others found her so attractive.

  “I don’t know what you did, but I can’t thank you enough,” she said, nearly stumbling over her own words in her excitement.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yen replied, his own smile broadening to match hers.

  She leaned forward and, in a more hushed tone, continued. “You need to be careful, sir,” she said, nearly whispering. “If Merric figures out what you did, you could be in big trouble.” She straightened and smiled again. “Still, I don’t know how I can ever repay you for saving my ass.”

  Yen looked at Warrant Scyant, admiring how her tattoos traced the curves of her high cheekbones and imagined how she would look with her hair down, framing her handsome face. Iana’s advice resounded in his mind. Maybe it was time he tried a distraction.

  “I know how you can repay me,” he said confidently.

  Scyant’s eyebrow raised inquisitively, her smile never faltering. “And how would I do that?”

  “Have dinner with me tonight. My quarters.”