Perhaps their people would do well on Nolix. Bezra still wasn’t sure. Was it in Wylen’s best interest to destroy the Founders’ worlds and start fresh? A permanent cleansing of the Founders, allowing for a rebuild from the ground up, so to speak?
“Thank you, Bezra.” Wylen glanced around his office and motioned for Bezra to take the seat across from him. The space was custom-tailored for his personal taste. He overlooked the bridge of the colony ship. He imagined the Pilia people escaping their doomed world a million years ago on this very vessel. When he meditated, their plight bled from the walls, dripping their fears and torment from the ceiling. At any other stage of his life, Wylen would have been perturbed by the occurrences, but now, with his experience and victory so close at hand, it strengthened him. Their pain became his barrier.
“Is there anything else?” Elder Bezra asked.
She’d always been loyal, but so had Elder Fayle. “Why do you think she did it?”
He didn’t need to explain the question. She was astute in reading his emotions. “Fayle is too soft.”
Wylen appraised her. Bezra was younger than the others, advanced far beyond most acolytes because of her cunning moves and impressive control of the flow. “I think Fayle blocked my view of you, Bezra.”
The simple comment caused her to shift in her seat, the stoic woman allowing a smile to creep over her face. “Thank you, High Elder.”
“Do not thank me. I have asked a lot of Fayle, and despite her apparent reservations, she did my bidding without complaint. For someone that has turned on her own people, she will still have nightmares from the atrocities she’s had to commit on our behalf. It will forever be her punishment for being a traitor to the Ugna. She’s earned my respect, but also the torment that comes with her life.”
“Will you kill her?” The question was simple, but the answer would be too complex to respond properly.
“Time will tell.” That was all he’d give Bezra today.
“Rumors about Ven Ittix have been circulating,” Bezra said.
“Is that so?” Again it came back to this Ven. From all records, he’d been an accomplished Ugna student, but never more than average. He was calm, in control of his emotions, and his curiosity had made him a good option for joining the Concord. In the end, it had been Elder Fayle’s advice Wylen had accepted in order to approve such a venture. He knew she’d been hiding something about the young man, and he would make them both pay for it. “Tell me, what are they saying?”
Bezra acted nervous, but her emotions didn’t leak out. “They say he is the most powerful Ugna ever to exist.”
Wylen frowned and spun in his chair to peer through the glass. He watched the crew of Conquest as they held their positions on the bridge, flying the giant starship toward Nolix. This means of travel was too slow for him now that he’d experienced Nek. Unfortunately, he’d wasted all of his supply on sending Keen and Prophet to Earth in order to gain their cousins’ assistance. Today, it felt like he’d made a huge mistake.
If only he’d taken his own advice and had struck Ridele with Conquest, rather than jumping to Obilina Six. He could have gained control of the capital and held it until his Tebas fleet had arrived. They would have shown up at the same time as the Concord fleet, and an epic battle would have ensued. Now they were wrongfully waiting for him at Earon, and that would have to suffice.
“And tell me, what do you think?” Wylen’s back was turned to the Elder, and he felt her stare piercing his neck.
“I think it’s unfounded, and nothing more than rumors started by Elder Fayle. She seeks to create a division among our people,” Bezra said.
“Is it working?” he asked.
Her pause was answer enough. “No, sir.”
So it was. Fayle was experienced at seeping through the cracks. She was too smart for her own good, but she was going to be tardy to the battle. Once Wylen rid the Concord of the Prime and the admirals, along with most of their fleet, including the great Constantine and Shu, there would be no one left to stop him.
He couldn’t believe he’d lost at Obilina Six. He’d expected to find their pitiful fleet of twenty and destroy them with ease. Instead, something had happened, something unforeseen and dangerous. Ven had been there. And Wylen couldn’t tell Bezra that the rumors were true.
Ven Ittix was the most powerful Ugna in existence. Wylen had faced off against him, and it was clear Fayle had broken some kind of seal. He was tapped directly into the Vastness, as Wylen was; only Ven was able to extrapolate energy on a much deeper level.
Wylen realized Bezra had been cautiously observing him five minutes later, only remembering by the sound of her inhales and exhales. “You’re dismissed,” he told her without looking.
He heard her rise from her seat. The door opening, then closing. It left High Elder Wylen alone in his office.
Eventually, he rose, catching his reflection in the screens along his office wall. Everything was dark, a reflective floor and ceiling. It helped him concentrate, meditate, and make decisions. His reflection was that of a tired old man with a stooped back, his red eyes so murky, even he was surprised by them. His time had come. He’d need a new body soon and was grateful this one had endured as long as it had.
He’d inhabit High Elder Wylen’s form until the war was completed, then he’d take another vessel, like he’d done countless times since he’d first found the mountain.
Wylen imagined his return, touching the flow, and a wave of ecstasy filled him. It vanished quickly, and all that remained was the ache in his bones, the weight of the impending assault resting on his crooked spine.
He hobbled toward the door, deciding he’d had enough for today.
Tomorrow, he’d try to determine the Protectors location, and why they’d been delayed.
Seven
By the time Lark had dragged Prophet and the other Invader into President Basher’s suite, he was covered in blood and sweat. He leaned against the wall, panting as he programmed the cleaning drones to sanitize the halls.
He pressed his ear to the door, listening as they arrived. Without looking, Lark pictured the crew of robots washing away the lifeblood of the colossal woman, removing any sign of a deadly conflict.
Lark still gripped the medical device, unsure how long Basher and Prophet would stay unconscious from the injections. They lay beside one another on the ground near the doorway, two limp forms. The only thing suggesting they were alive was the slow and gentle rising and falling of their chests.
He paced the room, wondering how in the Vastness he was going to transport Basher to the hangar and away from the Protector. The Invader was dead, and Lark tossed a blanket over her corpse. Whoever found this room tomorrow was going to have a lot of questions, and Lark was confident he’d either be gone or his own dead body would be floating in space, shot out an airlock. Either way, he wouldn’t be working with the Invaders or Ugna any longer. He’d chosen a side, and tonight, he’d stepped over the line.
“Think, Keen,” he whispered, stopping near the kitchen. He grabbed a glass of water, downing it in a second, and wiped his mouth with a sleeve. How could he get Basher to—
That’s it.
His gaze settled on the cart. Someone had brought dinner to Basher, and the cart had a white cloth draped over the edges. Lark flipped the material up, seeing empty plates underneath, and he removed them, judging the size. It was going to be difficult, but he thought Basher would fit.
The next ten minutes were spent reinforcing the lower cart, creating makeshift walls so Basher’s arms and legs wouldn’t splay out over any bumps. When Lark was satisfied it might work, he brought Basher over. The man was still out cold, with no sign of coming to.
Another five minutes and Basher was under the cloth, curled up into a ball. Lark tested his walls and found they were sturdy enough. The hangar was only five minutes away, so this didn’t have to be pretty. He draped the cloth over the cart again and added the plates to the top, making it resemble real food benea
th the lids.
With a last glance at Prophet, he nearly used her gun to end her. The woman was a trained assassin, and Lark assumed she’d come for him after his actions tonight. But Lark was done with cold-blooded killing, and he left the woman there sleeping.
He entered the hallway as the robot cleaning crew was just finishing up. The halls were sparkling and clean.
Lark took a deep breath and started pushing the cart through the corridor, finding the elevator.
The entire trip was fast, and he only encountered two people in the halls, both human, but neither gave him the time of day as they set about their tasks. He arrived at the hangar and wiped the sweat from his brow as he pulled Bruno’s clearance card, setting it near the door. It opened.
Lark glanced around the corridors, expecting resistance. Someone would come and stop him, wouldn’t they?
He peered down to where Basher lay beneath a white cover and pushed the cart into the hangar. As he’d been told, the shuttle sat in the corner, dark and cold.
Lark smiled as the dishes clanked together on top of the serving cart.
The shuttle opened with ease, and Lark was done with any pretense. He hurried now, nervously glancing at the hangar doors. Basher’s dead weight felt like an unmovable force as Lark rolled him into the ship.
He closed the shuttle’s door and ran to the pilot’s seat, turning the ship on. For a moment, he thought it might not activate, but it did, the dash lighting up brightly.
“Here goes nothing,” Lark said, using the controls to lift the craft from the hangar floor. He peered through the window, seeing space beyond. The hangar’s outer exits were only available without clearance if you were departing; otherwise, strict precautions were in place upon entering. He’d confirmed this with a crew member a few hours prior in the mess hall.
The shuttle pushed through the energy field, and an alarm echoed out from the hangar behind him. Red lights flashed, and he kicked the thrusters on full. The shuttle moved from the lifeless Protector, and Keen’s fingers quickly set a destination into the console: Nolix.
He prayed to the Vastness that Thomas Baldwin was there, because the Invaders were arriving within a couple of weeks, and they packed a punch.
Basher groaned, but he was tied up, so Lark wasn’t overly concerned. A blast struck his shields, and the ship shook violently. Knowing they wouldn’t hold up long, Lark pressed the button powering the Nek drive, praying the charge was enough.
____________
Legacy had a sufficient supply of Nek to make one last push, and Tom hoped their choice was the right decision. Ven and Fayle had landed in his hangar, leaving the rest of the fleet behind. A Tekol officer remained with one of the replica ships, and Tom had ordered Kan Shu to bring the other home. The entire fleet of Ugna now consisted of thirty-four starships, along with the two flagships led by Concord executive officers.
“We’re making the right call,” Rene assured him.
The incident with Wylen had proved to Tom how much was out of their hands. The Ugna were too powerful an opponent, but the Concord had Ven on their side. Tom couldn’t have imagined, the first time he’d met the shy, quiet, pale bald man, that the fate of the Concord might balance on his fingertips.
“The others will be at Earon. The Prime. The admirals.” Tom was on the bridge, watching the stars in the distance. The Ugna were well past them, their brightly burning thrusters sending the fleet in the direction of the Concord capital.
“Then we jump and send word. It’s the only choice we have. Someone needs to prepare Nolix. Evacuate them, if possible.” Rene was right, but Tom hated to admit how powerless he felt.
“What do you make of this mission Fayle wants to send Ven on?” Tom asked her quietly.
The bridge was fairly quiet with Kan gone. Reeve and her brother remained, along with a few fill-ins Tom couldn’t recall the full names of. Tarlen sat in the secondary helms position, staying silent and completing his tasks. It was hard to believe it was the same skinny kid they’d rescued from Greblok on his first mission. A lot had changed for all of them since that day.
“I think it’s worth a shot,” Rene said.
“But you saw what Ven was capable of. He saved our hides. If we send Ven away, who’s going to help us next time?” Tom asked. “They load up on En’or, and…” An idea sprang into his head, something critical he’d missed before. “Reeve, I know you’re not technically a scientist, but I need your help,” he said, waving the engineer over.
She came quickly, and he leaned toward her. “Find Fayle and Ven, and bring them to the meeting room. I have an idea. Tell Fayle to bring En’or.”
“Yes, sir.” Reeve ran off.
“You sure sending your executive crew off on a simple errand is a good use of their—” Rene must have seen the look on his face, because she stopped herself. “What is it?”
“En’or. We’ve been so short-sighted about it,” Tom said, darting to the door. “Tarlen, stay put. Send word if anything happens.”
“Yes, sir,” the young officer said firmly.
Rene followed him into the hall toward the meeting room, where Reeve was already approaching with Fayle and Ven behind her.
“Admiral, what is it?” High Elder Fayle asked as they stepped into the space. The lights flicked on, and Tom motioned for their group to have a seat before he spoke.
“En’or. What does it really do?” he asked.
Fayle glanced at Ven, and then returned her gaze to meet Tom’s. “En’or is a drug that allows our people to open their minds to the flow of the Vastness.”
“And without it?”
“Some can still tap in like Ven can,” she admitted.
“But most… they rely on the drug to access their telekinetic powers. Empathic abilities too. And destructive forces like what they attempted to do to us, and how they killed an entire colony ship of Vusuls, right?” Tom was the only one standing, and he circled the table as he spoke.
“That’s correct.”
Ven hadn’t said a word, but he did now. “Admiral, are you suggesting that we cut their supply of En’or? Because I don’t imagine Wylen left home without…”
“No. Have you ever heard of something called BX-29?” Tom smiled, but no one matched his enthusiasm.
“Is that a weapon?” Reeve asked.
“No. Well, perhaps in a sense it was,” Tom said. “BX-29 was a drug on Carip over four hundred years ago. It was made from an indigenous plant, used by the ancient locals to heal wounds. Over the years, the drug grew more and more potent, and eventually, nearly every single person on Carip was addicted to BX-29.”
“I think I remember hearing about this at the Academy, right?” Rene asked.
“Yes. The Muni lived there, and when a Concord representative finally visited the planet, they saw how dire the Muni’s situation was,” Reeve added.
“That’s it. Do you recall what happened then?” Tom asked, still grinning from ear to ear.
Fayle frowned and set her hands on the table. “I do not understand how this tale helps anything.”
Ven lifted a finger. “Continue, Admiral. I see where you’re going with this.”
“After some research, and much resistance from the dependent locals, the Concord found a method to extract the drug from their bodies and cure their addiction,” Tom said.
“You think we can eliminate traces of En’or from the Ugna fleet?” Fayle asked, laughing at his suggestion.
“I’m not saying we have the ability right this moment, but you’d be amazed what someone can do with a little motivation,” Tom said.
“Weren’t there serious complications with the entire process?” Rene frowned at Tom, and she was right, but he didn’t care. This could work.
“What do you mean by that, Captain?” Fayle asked Rene.
Reeve spoke first. “If I remember correctly, half of their population was crippled as a result of the experiment.”
Tom tapped a finger on the table in annoyance. “It was
n’t an experiment. The Concord saved the Muni’s lives! Without it, they would have all died. And it wasn’t half; it was somewhere around fifteen percent of the population. Only five percent were killed as a result of the treatment.”
Ven watched Tom as he spoke. “And you think that those kinds of percentages are fair when dealing with the Ugna?”
Tom was walking a tightrope here, but he didn’t want to mince words. “I do, especially considering they’re all fighting against my Concord at the moment!”
Rene set a hand on his forearm, silently urging him to calm down.
Ven nodded and glanced at High Elder Fayle. “I think he is right, High Elder. If there’s a chance to remove all traces of En’or from one’s bloodstream, we have to take it.”
“How was this administered? Injection? How could we do something to the Ugna without anyone noticing? I think the idea is creative, but the follow-through would be impossible,” Fayle said.
Reeve leaned forward, smiling at them. “It is possible. The drug was evaporated. We found a process to disintegrate the chemical from within. Most drugs change composition once incorporated into the body, so we’d need a test subject, someone to ingest En’or letting us run the tests, but I think with a tech company’s assistance, we’d be able to pull that off.”
Tom grimaced, but it had been his idea. “I may know someone that can help us.”
Rene let go of his arm, and Tom knew why. She said the name without a hint of malice, which he was grateful for. “Doctor Aimie Gaad of R-Emergence.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Reeve asked. “It’s time to set course for Ridele.”
Tom smiled, completely unsure if there was any merit to the four-hundred-year-old idea that had never been duplicated due to the devastating deaths of the Muni people.
____________
Nolix was as quiet as Treena had ever seen it. There were usually lines of incoming transport ships, waiting hours to dock, but now it was nearly devoid of all traffic.
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