“We thought it was a fitting tribute,” Iana said, pointing at the newly renamed fighter.
Where previously the words Duun Nathur had been painted on the side of the black fighter, they were now replaced with bright white letters reading Duun Riddell, Keryn’s last name.
“I’m speechless,” Yen said, running his fingers along the letters of her name.
“Quit screwing around and be speechless during your pre-flight checks,” Iana replied as the two walked toward the exit to the hangar. “You’ll be late for your own suicide mission if you don’t.”
Before they reached the door, they turned around once more. “We left you another present in your computer files to watch when you get bored hanging out there in space all alone,” Gregario yelled, his deep voice carrying across the cavernous room.
As they left the room, Yen slid his helmet over his head and climbed into the cockpit, automatically closing the hatch behind him. He checked the series of lights on the display in front of him as he started up the ignition process. The smaller engines on the back of the ship pushed the fighter out of its cubicle as it taxied into the middle of the room. Turning the ship, Yen faced toward the enormous bay doors that sealed the far end of the room.
“Captain, this is Squadcom,” he said into his attached microphone. “I am in position and ready for launch.”
“Good luck, Commander,” she replied, her voice taking a digital tone through the speakers in his cockpit. “We are depressurizing the hangar now and preparing to open the bay doors. Keep in contact with us during your flight to ensure we have good communication.”
“Roger that, ma’am. Open the bay doors when ready.”
The hissing filled the room as they vented the breathable air in the room and matched the pressure of space beyond the bay doors. When the hissing stopped, Yen lifted the safeguard on his main engine ignition switch and watched the end of the runway. Slowly, the bay doors slid apart, the stars twinkling into existence in the gap between. When the doors were open slightly wider than the length of his wingspan, a green light lit up on his display and he threw the switch.
The ignition of the main rocket threw his head back against the cushioned headrest, which conformed to support his head and neck from injury during the intense acceleration. As he passed through the doors and exited into open space, Yen pulled back on the controls and circled around the Revolution, falling into place just above the rear of the ship.
“I am clear of the ship and in position,” Yen said, his message being relayed to the bridge.
“Good to hear, Commander,” the Captain replied. “Stay in contact as we approach the planet.”
CHAPTER 29:
Keryn spent the next few days bedridden in the infirmary as a cocktail of quick-healing chemicals and enzymes coursed through her system, repairing the broken rib, damaged knee, and internal injuries. Adam had been in the bed next to her on the first day as the superficial wounds on his leg healed, but by day two he was up and moving, though he still spent a significant amount of time at her bedside. He held her hand, caressing it gently and lending support as she went through the more painful stages of her rehabilitation. Though his words were comforting, it was the information he brought that was more valuable.
“Alcent has established a ruling council for the ship,” Adam explained to her on the second day as she lay in bed. Sweat beaded on her brow as the chemicals coursed through her system, setting fire to her nerves. Her body tense from the pain, she maintained a crushing grip on his hand.
“And what…” she began through clenched teeth. Her breathing was labored, making speech painful in between gasps of air. “What does he intend to do with this council?”
Adam shrugged. “The council has yet to meet because they’re waiting for you.”
“Me?” Keryn asked, surprised. “Why does he want me?”
“They want both of us,” Adam explained. “We’re seen as beacons of the hard-earned freedom from Miller’s Glen. They don’t just want diplomats on the council; people who will get bogged down in the bureaucratic double speak that everyone is already too familiar with. What they want are people of action, and they can’t think of two people who epitomize action better than you and me.”
“And I’m assuming Alcent is on the council?”
Adam nodded, knowing what she was insinuating. “Yes, he’s on the council. Yes, it’s a position of power, which is more than a little self-serving for Alcent. But I think he’s doing the right thing.”
Keryn glowered at him. “’The right thing’? Alcent doesn’t know the meaning of that phrase.”
Shrugging, Adam explained. “A lot of people have questions right now, questions that aren’t readily available. They want to know where we’re going and why. People are afraid. Just because we’ve escaped the planet doesn’t mean we’re free yet. We still don’t know how long we’ll be able to fly before we encounter another Terran Destroyer.”
Keryn squeezed her eyes shut as frustration rolled through her body. “Haven’t we started going through the computer?”
“We have,” Adam said, sighing. “We have, but what we found isn’t very promising.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “There’s a lot of information and only a few people capable of working the systems. It’ll take time to sort through all the data.”
Standing, Adam stroked her hair and gave her a warm smile. “I’ll come back and visit you later. Get feeling better.” Keryn smiled as warmly as her body would allow before Adam turned and left the infirmary. Once he was out of sight, the smile faded from her lips. Though her body would heal, she wasn’t sure she would be feeling better about their situation any time soon. Even if she chose to ignore the fact that she was taking a group of emotionally and physically defeated survivors to a planet that guaranteed further violence between them and the Terrans, she still had to worry about the devious loyalties of Alcent. The Uligart had loyalties that extended only as far as his own financial or physical well-being. Alcent had been a good ally of opportunity when she needed help on Othus, but she didn’t think him trustworthy enough to lead a council who would make decisions that would benefit an entire ship worth of survivors. Then again he was a smuggler, a profession that based its existence on deceit and lies. Maybe that made him the most qualified politician out of the entire group.
Later in the day, Keryn was able to get out of bed and move freely around the ship. She was grateful for her freedom. Though Adam’s presence was soothing, when he wasn’t around she was left only with the company of the Voice, whose lack of patience was only surpassed by her own. Too many days of bed rest resulted in sniping comments both inside her mind and directed at anyone unfortunate enough to walk by her bed. When she left the infirmary, the nursing staff was glad to see her go.
Adam walked by her side as they made their way toward the bridge. Her rib had healed as had the injured knee, but the increased gravity from the deep space travel still took its toll on her body. They paused often, usually at the base or top of stairwells, which allowed Keryn to view the damage to the ship.
The Terrans had manned the ship with only a skeleton crew, but they had put up a significant fight as the revolutionaries hunted them throughout the corridors. Holes and scars marred the once pristinely painted walls. Near the base of the closest set of stairs, the tiles were cracked and loose and the walls around were charred and black, signs of exchanged grenades between the two forces. If they intended to remain in the Ballistae, there would need to be a significant amount of work done. First and foremost would be removing the gold and blue runners that were painted along all the hallways of the ship, constant reminders of the Terran Empire.
As the pair approached the bridge, a man wearing a dirty jacket approached them both.
“Excuse me,” the man said in a stern, confident voice that belied his worn appearance. “Alcent has gathered the rest of the council in the War Room and requests your presence.”
Keryn and Adam followed the messenge
r to the War Room, a blockish room with a U-shaped table dominating the center of the room. At the base of the U, holding a position of power, sat Alcent. As the two entered, he motioned to a pair of empty chairs on his right. No sooner had she collapsed into the chair than Alcent began his rehearsed speech.
“We are a lost people,” Alcent began. “Our homes destroyed and our land forgotten, we’re wanderers in the void of space. We have no goal, no aim, no sense of direction. The longer we drift the more we lose our sense of self. We need a purpose and a goal. For that, I defer to our saviors. Of all those who fought in the Glen, two were the voice that launched a revolution. Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you Keryn Riddell and Adam Decker, the Heroes of the Revolution!”
Applause erupted in the small room as a mixture of faces and species cheered the two sitting at the head of the table. Keryn smiled sheepishly, unsure of how to react but sure that this was Alcent’s desired reaction. As the applause slowly died away, Alcent turned to Keryn.
“Please, Keryn,” he said comfortingly. “You set us free and got us a ship. Adam even gave directions on where we were going, but did not give an explanation of why. Enlighten us.”
His last statement ended without any of the compassion she had heard moments before. Keryn quickly realized that Alcent was not fond of being kept in the dark. For someone who made his wealth off information, she could understand his position quite well.
“There’s no sense in being coy,” Keryn said matter-of-factly. “We’re heading to a Terran scientific outpost.”
She was unsure of whether or not the ruling council heard the words “scientific outpost”. The mere mention of flying from one Terran stronghold straight to another sent the council members into an uproar. They spoke over themselves as they yelled to be heard so that only small amounts of conversation could be heard.
“…insanity…”
“…a suicide mission…”
“…she should be removed immediately.”
Adam slammed his fist onto the table. In surprise, the room hushed. All faces turned to the angry Pilgrim, whose face was flush red.
“We just left Miller’s Glen and you’re already squabbling like children!” Adam yelled into the quiet room. Many of the council members flinched away from his berating. “Keryn saved every one of your lives, but do you really believe that the insignificant numbers of lives in Miller’s Glen are the only ones in danger in the entire universe?”
Keryn placed a hand on Adam’s arm and the anger drained from his face. Looking slightly embarrassed, he took his seat. In his stead, Keryn stood.
“Adam, while enthusiastic, is also correct,” she began, her voice clearly carrying in the large room. “It’s great to know that everyone that survived Miller’s Glen is now safely aboard the Ballistae. You’re all safe now from a dormant star, which is no longer shining its light down upon your planet. But that’s only one sun. We’re talking about one sun in all of Alliance space. I know there’s still a lot of data to go through in the ship’s computer, but I can guarantee that what happened to us is happening throughout the universe.”
Keryn moved around the table, allowing the eyes of a dozen different council members follow her. “Every one of you made your money through smuggling and trade. Who will you trade with when everyone else is dead? I know that you all can’t be so self-serving as to believe that escaping Miller’s Glen was the end of all your problems.”
She continued to walk around the table as she continued. “The bottom line is that the Terrans created this mess and have to be the only ones with the solution to the Deplitoxide that destroyed the sun. We know that the Deplitoxide was farmed from a small swamp planet called Beracus, in the Falitan Galaxy. The Terrans have set up a scientific outpost there, which is where we’ll find the information we need to restart the dying suns throughout the universe.
Keryn stood at the open end of the tables, her arms crossed and staring at the council. She closed her eyes, letting the Voice creep into her words. “Note that I didn’t, at any time, phrase our destination or our intent in the form of a question. My mission is unchanged, regardless of the crew with whom I serve. If, at any point, you feel that you cannot be a part of this expedition, I can point you to the closest exit to the ship. In fact, I will help you through the airlock.”
The Voice receded before Keryn spoke again, this time with a soft smile on her lips. “Now, are there any questions?”
The council members departed one at a time, having no dissent for Keryn’s plan. As the last couple left, Alcent stepped in front of Keryn and Adam, begging them to wait.
“You may not agree with them,” Alcent said, “but they are influential members of this ship. Many of the soldiers who helped win all of our freedom, yours included, once worked for one of those twelve men.”
“Then maybe it’s time these soldiers made their own path,” Adam grumbled from behind Keryn.
“Maybe you’re right,” Alcent conceded. “But some of these men have known nothing else but servitude for decades. You can’t expect them to become their own men overnight. You’d both do well to not make enemies so quickly.”
“Are you saying you won’t support us?” Keryn asked dangerously.
Alcent threw up his hands defensively. “You more than convinced me that we’re doing the right thing. I’ll even talk to the others. I’m sure they’ll support you too. I’m just recommending a different tact.”
“Once you’ve talked them into the plan,” Keryn explained, “get this ship ready for combat. I don’t imagine a Terran outpost is going to be undefended.”
Keryn grew restless as the ship covered the distance to Beracus. The men on board were not soldiers and hadn’t been trained as such. Many of her recommendations went unheeded and repairs were abysmally slow. She lost her temper frequently and relied on Adam to smooth over the relationships with those onboard.
When she wasn’t pacing, Keryn spent her time alternating between inspecting the weapons bays — where she found a storehouse of Deplitoxide rockets — and working in the computer room with a brilliant teenager named Wyck. Only sixteen years old, Wyck had been serving in Miller’s Glen in the communications tower of the spaceport. His knack for computers had made him invaluable in fooling hostile passing ships into believing that Miller’s Glen was an uninhabited planet. The same brilliance that earned him a job on the planet garnered him a job on board the Ballistae as well.
Almost immediately, Wyck had pointed out the shortcomings of the Terran computer system. “The Terrans spend all their time working on genetic and biological experiments but spend so little improving their existing technological advancements,” Wyck explained one day.
“They did invent the Deplitoxide missiles and blacked out all the suns in the known universe,” Keryn countered.
“Yes,” Wyck replied slowly, “but every one of those advancements are biological and organic weapons. Take this computer system as an example. Everything in it is encoded, but they’ve applied such a childish cipher that it takes me only minutes to crack and decode any file I want.”
“So have you found anything I can use?” Keryn asked.
Wyck shrugged. “Unfortunately, no. It doesn’t take very long to decode their files, but they saved and encoded everything. I mean everything! I’m not entirely sure, but this file looks like the recipe for grandmother’s short bread pudding. It’s these tedious files that are slowing me down.”
“Keep decoding,” Keryn urged. “Somewhere in there is something important. It’s just a matter of you finding it.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’m on it.”
“Please don’t call me…”
Keryn was interrupted as the intercom sounded throughout the ship. “Keryn and Adam please report to the bridge immediately.”
“I’ve got to go, cutie,” Keryn said as she stood. She reached down and squeezed his arm. “I know you won’t let me down.”
She rushed through the halls until she reached the bridge. T
he guards on either side of the door stepped aside as she rushed in with Adam close on her heels.
“What is it?” Keryn asked breathlessly. She knew she wouldn’t have been called to the bridge unless it was important.
“We’re beginning our deceleration into the Falitan Galaxy,” Alcent explained. “We’ll reach the planet in less than fifteen minutes.”
Keryn moved over to the communications console and entered the code for the ship-wide intercom. Overhead, two tones beeped from the speaker system notifying her that the microphone was now active.
“Attention in the ship,” she called into the microphone on the console. “All personnel report to the weapons bays. This is not a drill. We expect contact with a Terran Destroyer in less than fifteen minutes.”
She took a deep breath before she continued. “I know many of you are scared right now. However, I need you to realize that the advantage here is ours. The Terrans still believe this ship is under their side’s control. We should be able to fire the first volley before they can react. If all goes well, they will never have a chance to fire back. All that hinges on you, though. Everyone report to the weapons bays and prepare to fire on my command.”
Keryn turned off the microphone and took her place next to Adam and Alcent. They watched the forward view as the Ballistae came into the galaxy, skirting behind the nearest planet. This approach seemed surprisingly familiar to Keryn, who had done the same thing when approaching Othus not so long ago. Now, though, she knew it was to block the Terran scanners for as long as possible before commencing the attack. As they neared the edge of the planet, Alcent turned toward the command console.
“This can’t be right,” he said as his fingers flew over the display.
“What’s wrong?” Adam asked, stepping over by his side and trying to peer over his shoulder.
“I’m not reading a Terran ship on the radar,” Alcent said, his concern creeping into his voice.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Adam asked.
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