The man turned to face Kylesst, lowering the knife. His other hand raked through his three-toned hair. “You would offer yourself in place for a little being who knows nothing at all? It is mortal, you know. Why would you give up eternity for it?” He seemed truly mystified.
NOT ‘IT’. SHE IS A LITTLE GIRL WITH A NAME AND A FUTURE. A FUTURE YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO STEAL.
The man smirked. “But I have the right to steal yours?”
YOU CANNOT STEAL WHAT IS GIVEN.
The other laughed. “True, my friend, though it isn’t as much fun.”
Kylesst shrugged and took a step closer. LET ME TAKE HER AWAY FROM HERE. THEN I WILL COME BACK TO TAKE HER PLACE, he promised. The child would then be safe and he would have a chance to update Eresseth on the situation. Eresseth could then help him in the future to keep an eye out for a similar circumstance.
The Ket’neiar studied him a moment before shrugging. “Very well. Come and trade places with the babe.”
Kylesst nodded and came closer to the altar. He solidified his body even more so he could pick up the child. The entire time he planned how he would keep her safe on the journey. He would make her sleep then surround her body in a kind of air bubble as he zipped her back to her home world. He also kept half an eye on the Ket’neiar. The man stood docilely a few paces back. The strange stone knife folded in his hands, blade pointed toward the floor.
Apparently, though, he should have kept both eyes on the man. In his defense, he was too focused on keeping the child calm. Eresseth would have given him the scolding of his existence for being so careless. He was scolding himself for abandoning his usual course of action. But a life had hung in the balance. One that would be doomed if he had done things his usual way.
Though, in the end, it really didn’t matter.
One moment he was gathering up the little girl, the next he knew only pain. It took him too many moments to figure out what had happened. Too many to escape. The Ket’neiar had stabbed the blade through him. Kylesst had been right in thinking that it could absorb energy. But his disorientation gave his enemy the moment he needed to ensure that Kylesst couldn’t get out for some time.
A scream that seemed to echo down eternity rang in Kylesst’s ears. Struggling to become aware of his surroundings, he found that he could see and hear everything around the blade. As if he was aware of Kylesst’s attention, the Ket’neiar laughed. “But more fun than stealing is betraying and getting what I want anyway.” And he had. Instead of trading one for the other, he had taken them both. Kylesst cried in tandem with the girl’s screams. The blade had gone through him and into the baby, pinning her to the ice altar. Her beautiful silver eyes dulled as her tiny body’s struggles died.
Her soul still screamed.
“I must thank you for coming when you did. You are the ultimate test to prove that my little soul trap works. Now what to name it?” the Ket’neiar wondered, straightening. He tilted his head in thought for a moment. “You know? I think a fitting name for it would be ‘Soul Ice,’ but different. Ah, that would be so ironic … a kind of joke.” He peered closer at the blade and the trapped Spectral. “No matter what happens, it is always a good thing to have a sense of humor. Especially when beginning a new game. But that is beside the point.” He straightened and retrieved the knife. He held the blood-stained blade toward the ceiling. “I name this blade, stained with the blood of an infant and whose core entombs the essence of a Spectral, the Lous-eci’dalb.” He let his name for the cursed blade echo down the empty halls before tossing it up in the air. The blade spun and on its way back down, the man caught it. He grinned and sheathed it.
Kylesst went blind and he railed against its hold on him. He had to get out. But no matter what he did or how much power he put behind his attempts, he could not break free. And the baby girl cried louder when he tried.
“There is no way out, Spectral,” the Ket’neiar said. “You are just going to hurt your fellow inmate. I didn’t think you wanted to hurt her.”
YOU BASTARD! FREE US BOTH! NOW!
The man laughed. “You are going to be so entertaining till I ‘lose’ this thing. Not that you have much choice,” he laughed again, “but let us go and start the fun.”
Kylesst lost count of the cycles that passed while the Ket’neiar, whom he called ‘Betrayer,’ held the Lous-eci’dalb. Betrayer kept him weak by feeding upon the energy stored in the blade. His and the little girl’s. Eventually the little girl’s essence faded away, having been consumed. But Kylesst still couldn’t escape. Other souls had been stacked on top of his. He could never escape their screams. Nor could he ever get into contact with his kindred. A bittersweet fact, he acknowledged. There was no help, but at least Betrayer hadn’t captured any of his kin.
After some time, Betrayer became bored with the Lous-eci’dalb and as he had said in the beginning, he ‘lost’ the blade. Kylesst had hoped that now he could find a way to get free. But the souls on top of him were still present. He had no way to free them. And now they had no outlet to end their suffering. Sometime after being ‘lost,’ a human found him.
His name was Trevor Mercer. Trevor didn’t know how to use the Lous-eci’dalb’s dark power of absorbing souls and energy, nor could he absorb the energy it had already collected. He did, though, know how to employ the blade otherwise. But he only killed if there was no other option. That and other quirks in his personality convinced Kylesst to try to speak to him. Over time, the two had become partners of sorts. A bond formed between them. Though the blade held him captive, Kylesst could still use his unique skills to some extent. Over the cycles, Trevor started comparing Kylesst to a creature of earth myth: a basilisk …
Chapter 3 – A Change in Command
Race
Imperial System
Spectral Empire
More than three weeks after arriving on Forestrium, Admiral Wingstar had been informed that the Hail Mary was once again space worthy. Race had been so sure that Braeden would have had the ship come to Forestrium and wait with them for Rylynn to wake up. Having known Braeden (even if that wasn’t his real name, the man’s principles hadn’t changed) for twelve years, Race would normally say the man would have done right by his duty. And now that Race knew that the girl was really Braeden’s daughter, it made sense that he would want to stay near her.
So Race had been comfortable betting with his new walking buddy, Lady Ivy, that Braeden would stay with his daughter and ignore the ship’s summons. But Braeden was unpredictable now. And Race lost the bet and fifty credits. On the shuttle back to Prima Imperium and the space docks, Race had glared at Braeden till the man became aware. “So what made you notice the real world again?” Race had asked.
Braeden had frowned at him before realization smoothed the wrinkles. His lips had twitched and his eyes had danced merrily. “I thought you had given up gambling,” he had said, raising a single brow.
Race had grumbled before deigning to look back at his friend. “It was a small wager and was supposed to be an easy win. You changed tactics. Why?’
The humor faded from Braden’s expression. “None of us can hold time hostage,” had been his cryptic reply. Braeden had remained silent after that. It worried Race. But then, the man’s daughter was stuck in a coma after having almost died.
The two senior officers walked toward the conference rooms of the newly renovated Hail Mary in silence. It was a respectable silence, though. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely comfortable for Race, but he could tell that his friend needed the quiet. Having read the update reports, Race occupied himself with spotting the changes.
Weeks had passed as the crew and dockhands worked to revive the Hail Mary. The repairs were done meticulously. Lovingly by the crew. It took three weeks for the crippled starship to be pronounced space worthy again. Not only were the current systems updated, but the ship had been beefed up with additional systems that Race had always thought they should have had for years now. He wondered if those in charge of Fleet management had finall
y figured out that things were not as peaceful as they thought out in the stars. Or perhaps it was an attempt to keep the Hail Mary from being nearly gutted again.
Whatever the reason, Race was pleased. The upgrades consisted of an SCF cannon and a state-of-the-art sensor scrambler. Having the biggest gun on your side was always a confidence booster … Race frowned. Having an SCF now-a-days didn’t mean he had the best artillery now. Not with traitors in their midst. They knew of at least two renegade ships, the Sol’s Memory and the Falcon. Race wasn’t stupid, though. Where there were two in such high standing like Captains Benson and Laric, there were probably more. Which made the second adaptation necessary and much more fun. The idea of being able to hide in plain sight to a ship’s sensors, its strongest sense, made Race grin. It would have been very nice to have had three weeks ago.
Braeden and Race entered the conference room to find the bridge crew and other senior officers waiting for them. Upon Braeden’s entrance they all stood. Braeden walked to his chair briskly, all the while waving them back to their seats. “Good, you’re all here,” he said, standing behind his chair. “I know you’re all eager to get back out there, so I’ll keep this meeting short. At least my portion of it will be.” Several of the officers traded looks and Race frowned at his friend. Braeden was up to something unpredictable again … or maybe it was so predictable as to be overlooked. Which it turned out to be.
“The Hail Mary is facing an enemy unlike any other we have faced. The whole empire is facing it: traitors among us working with the Zar’dakens. In the upcoming battles, and there can be no doubt that there will be battles, you need someone with their focus here and now. Regretfully, I can no longer do that for you.” A tense silence met his confession. Braeden grimaced slightly before continuing. “However, there is one who I know will be able to lead you well.” Braeden turned toward Race with a knowing smile on his face. “I should have done this when I became an admiral. Better late than never, I guess.
“The mantle of captain I give to you, Commander, now Captain Race Quinn,” he said before anyone could gainsay him if they had wanted to. Race stared at him, wondering if his friend had ever thought to bring this up to him. Race didn’t mind keeping the captain’s seat warm every once and a while, but this? This was sudden and not something Race had expected to have happen anytime soon. It wasn’t unusual for an admiral of the Spectral Empire to command their flagship. Only two circumstances could push an admiral to give up this command. Those were a direct order from the emperor or personal reasons that convinced the admiral to pass the command to someone else.
Race should have seen this coming. But he had thought that Braeden would have warned him of his intentions. As if aware of Race’s thoughts, Braeden shared a self-mocking smile with the rest of the officers. “Just to prove to you how unfit I am to remain in command, I forgot to inform Race of this appointment. Excuse us for a moment. Race?” He motioned the stunned man to proceed him back into the hallway.
As soon as the door swished shut, Race rounded on Braeden. “And when, exactly, did you decide to step down from being the Hail Mary’s commanding officer?”
“When it became clear that Rylynn would remain in a coma for the foreseeable future. I almost lost her permanently and I couldn’t, in good conscience, resume command of the Hail Mary. Not when I would constantly be worried for her safety.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense, Braeden,” Race replied. “She has been on a colony world for thirteen cycles. Nowhere near you. And yet, now, all of a sudden, you can’t be parted from her? And why did a single knife wound nearly kill her when a white blast didn’t touch her?”
Braeden leaned against the bulkhead with a sigh. “Before, my presence would have put her in danger. But now she is in the system, so to speak. It doesn’t matter if I am near her or not. And to be frank with you, “ he said, meeting Race’s gaze, “I have already lost thirteen cycles. I’ll not lose another one. As for why that knife did the damage it did … ? I don’t yet know. But I will.”
Race grunted, also leaning on the bulkhead. “And when were you going to tell me that you were stepping down?”
“I meant to on the shuttle. And I thought I had, I had thought about it so much.” Braeden chuckled dryly at himself as he glanced down the hallway. “I’m sorry, my friend,” he said, looking back at Race, a haunted expression lurking in his countenance.
Race snorted. “No disrespect meant, but I guess it’s a good thing I’m taking the chair, what with your memory loss.”
Braeden raised an eyebrow at him. “Indeed. No disrespect …”
Race suddenly grinned. “Oh! You don’t have to apologize anymore, Sir. I just remembered that it’s the captain’s lounge that’s equipped with this wonderful coffee machine. I won’t have to bug you to get access to it anymore.”
Braeden laughed and gestured that they should return to the conference room. “I’m glad the simple joys of life are payment enough for dumping this on you. Come, let’s settle matters.
Chapter 4 – The Search for Other Games
Betrayer
Cycle 2866
Prime World Iceron
Iceron System
Zar’daken Empire
Stars. They never seemed to change. Always there. Always constant. The one thing that never changed.
But he knew better.
Only the longest living races understood that stars were just long lived, not immortal. They had the chance of watching one ignite in a glorious birth, seeing it burn through its days on the mainstream, then witnessing its wasting away to a dim nothing or die shockingly. A death that took anything that got too close to it.
Of course, the only ones who naturally had the capability to see the full life of a star were the Spectrals and him. The rest were the short lived people. They only lasted beyond their biological body’s age limit through unnatural (technological) means.
They understood through science that stars were mortal things. But they only lived long enough to see a portion of a star’s lifecycle.
Empires were just like stars. They could stand for thousands of years. Reach long, greedy arms as far as they could. Hold it for a time. And then they crumble. Many thought it was war that destroyed them. And while he agreed that war did often play a role, it was only the final nail in the coffin. It just wasn’t the only nail. Lack of resources or ill management left their mark. But the deadliest of all causes was complacency.
Citizens became smug in their identity as part of that ‘great’ empire. They figured that no one could hurt them. Instead, they would turn to making things easy for themselves and undermine the foundation of their empire through so many tangled laws that eventually nothing could ever be done to fix the problems. They would wipe out their own identity and then wonder why their ‘great’ empire collapsed around them.
He wasn’t complaining, mind. No, he loved seeing their faces when they witnessed the terror of something they thought could never end, end. It was amusing and entertaining and never got old. Which was good, because it was pathetically easy to initiate an empire’s fall that way.
Betrayer leaned back in his chair, his dark gaze caressing the holographic images of the latest battle between the Spectral and Zar’daken empires. The expressions of the Legion Fleet when their own commonplace weapon, the Char missiles, were used against them had been comical. Long ago, Betrayer had convinced enough key people that they would never have to worry about someone else gaining control of the Char mines. It was an impossibility. And thus, they hadn’t done the smart thing. They hadn’t engineered their ships to combat their shield destroyers. Politicians were easy. Very few of them had a strong enough backbone to do what was right. They did what their supporters wanted. Crowd pleasers were always easy to manipulate. Especially when their plan was cheapest. Ah, the power of currency.
Tapping a few commands into the computer swapped the images for a 3D map of the Spectral Empire as it stood now. They had completely lost three systems to the
Zar’dakens, N’avé, Caveraira, and Iceron. And they were close to losing three more, Terress, J’Ara, and Lenti-Solum. Of course, the last one was a ticking time bomb. The Zar’dakens had better mine as much of the Char Jelly as they could because soon, that limitless amount would become very finite indeed.
Iceron had suffered heavy losses. Well, the system had. He had not. Buried as his station was in the dense clouds of the unoccupied gas giant, no one knew to look for him. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t have defenses that would put them back in their place. Though the security of his current base had almost been compromised by Sylvia with her cursed warning.
Betrayer’s expression darkened. He was absolutely disgusted that she had escaped and slapped him in the face with that message. His people had eventually managed to terminate it in time to keep anyone from finding his base. But they did know the message had emanated from the gas giant. They probably would have done a better job canvassing the planet except the Zar’dakens had chosen that moment to attack and distracted them all. If he truly cared about the station, he would have considered rewarding the Zar’dakens for their intervention. But he really didn’t care. Yes, it would have been inconvenient but Betrayer had many stations.
Besides, his prize pet was gone. He didn’t care what happened to this base now.
Sylvia was gone. Had slipped past his servants and security system. He hated that one of his possessions was out among the blasted stars again. It was an insult, one that demanded punishment. As did that annoyance of a message. But Betrayer couldn’t punish the culprit at she had escaped.
Defender of the Empire: Chaos Page 3