by D. E. Kinney
Ty had been through this before. It was one of the Queen’s intimidation tactics, and it was normally very effective. But after twenty minutes, the admiral, already displeased at being summoned, was becoming really annoyed; a dangerous emotion when near the Queen. His leg was beginning to ache, and the idea that a fleet admiral should be made to… This is outrageous, he thought, staring at his reflection in the mirrored floor, and then caught himself. Be careful of the great witch, guard your mind, Ty.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the silence of the hall was disturbed by a soft rasping noise, a noise Ty recognized immediately as the artifact’s great wings unfolding. Here we go, he thought as the gleaming wolf-like head of the great bird stirred—large red jeweled eyes flashed, and the wings slowly spread. Once fully extended, the intricately detailed wings stretched to the width of the great hall, revealing and illuminating the great Queen Darvona—seated on her majestic throne.
The admiral bowed his head even lower, saying nothing, working to clear his mind.
Rise, Admiral, the great witch would have words with you. Queen Darvona’s voice forced itself into Ty’s mind.
The admiral stood, trying to gather his wits. He would never get used to these invasions. “My Queen, forgive my—”
She raised a hand to interrupt, this time speaking. “It is of no concern, Admiral. Besides, this is a happy occasion.”
Ty stared straight ahead, focusing on the large jewel that hung at the base of her neck. He dared not look into those golden eyes.
The Queen smiled. “I have decided to make you admiral of the Imperial fleet.”
Fleet admiral… but what of Ethos? he thought before speaking. “Yes, my sovereign, thank you.”
“Grand Marshal Ethos has been reassigned,” Darvona said dryly.
Ty shifted his eyes to an area behind and to the left of the Queen, where a row of black boxes, each mounted on a dimly lit pedestal stood in stark silence.
“No, my dear Admiral.” Her left arm casually waved in the direction of the gruesome containers. “As you know, I was displeased over the Titan incident. Such a reckless disregard for operating procedures to satisfy a personal vendetta. Although,” she smiled, “I do admire his hatred.”
Ty nodded respectfully.
“He has been reduced to the rank of general and assigned to command the first Vandal Horde,” she continued.
The Order of the Vandal… Ty thought they had been disbanded.
“Quite right, Admiral, but I’ve decided to reinstate the unit,” Darvona added at once.
Ty silently cursed his weak mind.
“Your armies have grown soft, Admiral. The Tarchein have lost their savagery and have become far too dependent on alien forces. But with the addition of the Regulus—“
The Regulus, but how? The admiral forgot himself and looked into Darvona’s eyes.
Darvon smiled. “It is safe my dear Admiral; under repair and being readied for General Ethos and 20,000 of the Vandals.”
“But, my Queen, the alien technology—how”
Once again Darvona stopped the admiral, this time lifting just a few fingers of her right hand. “We are fully capable of understanding and utilizing this, alien, technology Admiral.” The queen looked up into the cathedral like ceiling, but only for a moment. “I will, however, require a commander.”
A commander! How in the world can she expect me to find the alien crew —“stop thinking,” Ty said softly.
Darvona laughed, then stood to approach the Admiral. “I only require an officer with ambition,” she said.
Ty, with head still bowed, had closed his eyes, forcing his mind to focus only on the Queen, when he felt an icy touch. Queen Darvona had come down from her throne and now stood behind him.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, letting on long fingernail tap against his chest—just above his pounding heart. “A Tarchein flag officer, someone passionate, with a thirst for glory that I myself will ensure is—shall we say, capable,” Darvona continued softly, her words pouring out like thick honey.
“Yes my Queen, it will be done,” Ty said without turning. He could not remember feeling so uncomfortable, and was therefore greatly relieved when Darvona returned to her throne.
“Once repairs on the Regulus are completed, this chosen commander, along with General Ethos and his forces will forge a new era of dominance for the Tarchein Empire,” Darvona said coolly.
Ty moved his eyes, trying to focus again on the large red ruby in an effort to keep his mind a blank, when an image of a ship departing from the damaged Regulus after the attack near Drake was pushed into his consciousness.
“The capture of the Regulus was a great triumph, and one which will not go without reward—“
Ty bowed his head in acknowledgement.
“But with the escape of the ship’s captain.” Darvona paused, unnerved by what she now felt compelled to say. “A new and terrible threat to our Empire now exist,” she continued.
Ty lifted his head. “A single alien my, Queen?”
Darvona glared at the admiral. “I assure you, Fleet Admiral Ty, this is no ordinary creature.” She paused and allowed the admiral to drop to a knee. “Seek out and destroy this alien, Admiral—whatever the coast! Is that clearly understood?”
Ty only nodded; head still bowed.
“Are we clear on the importance of this assignment, Admiral?” Darvona repeated more vigorously.
Ty lifted his head, but mesmerized by those large golden eyes, he was just barely able to reply. “Yes, my Queen, of course,” he stammered.
Queen Darvona’s lips formed a sickening sweet smiled. “I know I can count on you, Admiral,” she said and pointed toward a guard, who then moved into position behind one of the boxes.
Admiral Ty, assuming he had been dismissed and greatly relieved, bowed from the waist, turned, and started to march out of the hall, when again the Queen beckoned.
“Oh, Admiral.”
Ty stopped and reluctantly faced Darvona. “Yes, my sovereign.”
She motioned to the guard, who in turn opened one of the boxes. “Would you like to say hello to Admiral Kada? I believe you two were classmates at the Academy,” she said coldly.
Ty looked on in horror as Kada, skin sagging from his ashen face, blinked his eyes in an effort to adjust to the light. His lips curled grotesquely in an attempted scream, but of course, the bodiless admiral had no lungs—no air to force past what remained of a throat. Then, after agonizing minutes, his now-toothless mouth began to silently form words: “Kill me, kill me.”
At the sight, Darvona began to laugh. “I’m not going to kill you, Admiral Kada.”
Kada’s swollen, bloodshot eyes rolled to the right in an effort to see the Queen—to plead…
“You’re going to live, Admiral—for hundreds of years,” she continued. “Time enough to think about how disappointed I was over your very poor judgment,” she said, throwing her head back and laughing. It was a sickening cackle, one that Admiral Ty would not soon forget.
The Queen motioned for the guard to lower the box, Kada moving his head violently from side to side in protest as Darvona looked on and smiled. She waited for the hiss, a sound that confirmed Kada’s tomb had once again been sealed before turning to Ty. “We do not expect you to disappoint, Admiral.” Darvona glared, and casually waved her hand; a dismissal.
Ty bowed, the firebird’s golden wings beginning to close before he could turn, and made a hasty, albeit dignified retreat.
There are a lot of privileges that come with being the Empire’s Fleet Admiral, but as Ty gathered his staff and marched into the boarding tunnel, now being beaten with a heavy rain, he could not think of a single one…
CHAPTER THIRTY
Change of Command
“I’m not at all interested in your petty concerns, or the logistics involved with my—request, Colonel,” General Ethos said and paused to glare at the holographic projection before being interrupted by a subtle vibration of hi
s wristcomm.
“Excuse me, sir but Fleet Admiral Ty’s shuttle has just landed,” Colonel Jades, the general’s chief of staff, said over the communication device.
Ethos expression turned troubled. “Thank you, Colonel. Show him in as soon as he arrives,” he responded then, relaxing his posture, turned to the projection. “Let me again say how pleased the Empire is over your success, and it is our wish that it continue.”
“I deeply appreciate the Empire’s cooperation, but you must understand my position General—I just don’t have the resources,” the image pleaded.
Ethos sat back in his chair and took a moment to adjust his Academy ring. “I understand this puts you in a difficult position. Imagine just how difficult it would become if you were to say, suddenly lose your sponsorships.”
After a brief silence, the holographic image responded. “How can I refuse General. It will be as you have—requested.”
“Excellent my old friend. The Empire appreciates your continued loyalty. As for resources, do not trouble yourself—these perceived limitations are always subject to change,” the general said and terminated the transmission just as his hatch slid open.
“Admiral Ty,” Ethos said standing to greet the newly appointed head of Star Force.
Fleet Admiral Ty ignored the General’s oversight; just can’t bring yourself to address me as your senior, eh Ethos, he thought and graciously took a seat.
Ethos’ office, located in the towering Star Force headquarters building, was large and well lit by the ambient light of Tarchein’s twin suns pouring through huge, albeit, tinted viewing ports.
I’m sorry, Ty, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” Ethos said apologetically.
“It’s quite all right, General, my fault entirely. But I’m leaving soon, and I wanted a chance for us to speak face to face,” Ty said.
Ethos looked puzzled. “Leaving?”
“Yes, I’m having my ready room on the Vanguard modified.” Ty paused to look around the extravagantly appointed office. “I believe my place as head of Star Force is with the fleet, not locked away in an ivory tower.”
Ethos ignored the insinuation, he had led his share of battles and not from the safety of any battle cruiser. “How very austere, Admiral. It’s reassuring to know we have a real warrior leading the Force,” Ethos said with just a hint of sarcasm.
The fleet giving lessons to the Corps on leadership, Ethos thought. The very idea…
Ty smiled and nodded curtly before speaking. “These are dangerous times General and we must all do our duty to the Empire. Why look at you for instance, relocating to that dreadful planet— Seardra is it?”
Ethos nodded.
“Well if the Marked train there, I’m sure it will pose little problem for the new Order of the Vandal,” Ty continued.
“Trained there Admiral—past tense,” Ethos retorted.
Now it was Ty’s turn to look surprised.
“I issued an executive order disbanding the Marked; their personnel are to be disbursed and reassigned throughout the empire,” the general said smugly.
Ty stood abruptly, putting both hands on the large oval conference table. “Your prejudice towards our alien allies, especially Humans, is the reason that you’re no longer Grand Marshal, General,” Ty said, then took a moment to compose himself. “Can’t you see how dangerous a move like this—“
Ethos casually raised his hand. “It’s done Admiral, my last act as head of the Force. Of course you can resend the order, but I’m not sure the Queen would approve,” he gloated.
Ty sat back down. “I don’t think that will be necessary, General,” he said.
“There’s no place in Star Force for a Human only command. The Marked had grown arrogant and far too powerful, Admiral. It was a decision long overdue,” Ethos added.
Ty nodded politely, but thought, he has some nerve speaking to me of arrogance. Enjoy yourself General, we’ll see how high and mighty you are after a few months on that hellish planet.
“Besides, with the capabilities of the Regulus, manned by my Horde—what need of aliens to defend and expand our great empire?” Ethos continued.
“The Regulus represents a significant leap forward, but it’s still only one ship,” Ty said.
Ethos leaned back in his beautifully upholstered chair. “Yes, but soon we will have a fleet of Regulus class warships.”
Ty looked about the office nervously. “That information is classified General, and should not—“
“Please. Who do you think put the project into motion—Fleet Admiral Ty?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
On the Beach
Tommy pulled the jumpsuit’s zippered tab down to his waist and adjusted his head against the makeshift recliner propped into the white sand. The warmth of the Terran star mixed with a cool offshore breeze, and a stand of nearby palm trees, which provided shade for the shirtless mechanics laboring with an outdated shuttle, made these long waits between flights more than tolerable.
“It’s going to be another hour, Thorn,” the mechanic yelled while waving a tool of some sort.
Tommy didn’t move, nor adjust his dark glasses, but merely raised a hand as a sign of disconcerted acknowledgment. No matter, the mech was back at work as soon as he made the announcement, and Tommy was back to his thoughts, interrupted only by the occasional banging followed by some derogatory information about the airworthiness of the old, oil-stained transporter.
The shuttle was indeed old, but Tommy was happy to find any work as a pilot, even if it was hauling fish herders back and forth to their offshore farms. Replicators could and did make a nice protein facsimile of a fish, but for Humans who could afford it, well, as most of the galaxy said, Humans loved to eat flesh.
It had been several months since the trial and Gary’s… He could not even bring himself to think it, so vivid and hurtful were the memories. Since early on in flight school, he had been trained to control his emotions, a skill that had been finely tuned with the Marked. But even now, Tommy could not put the haunting memory of Gary’s face out of his mind, an image that continued to fuel his hatred. I will never forget, nor forgive, he thought, completely unaware of an approaching shuttle, at least until he heard its gear drop just moments before touching down on a vacant beachside landing pad.
Tommy moved his head down, just enough, to see the corporate shuttle’s hatch open and a very spry older man exit. It had been a long while since he had seen such a beautifully maintained ship. COOPER RACING, Tommy took note of the name displayed on the side of the white hover transport. Where do I know that name?
“Looking for Thomas Thorn,” the silver-haired man said while trudging through the sand.
“I’m Thorn,” Tommy said, keeping his relaxed posture.
Tommy’s sweat-stained ball cap and dark glasses did little to hide the five-day-old growth of beard, somehow not what the older man expected.
“Mr. Thorn, my name is Mitch Cooper from Cooper Racing,” Mitch said, letting his shadow fall over Tommy.
Mitch paused, but got no reaction from Tommy. “I'm here to offer you a job,” he continued.
Tommy threw his thumb back over his shoulder toward the broken-down shuttle and a pair of ill-kept control buildings. “Got a job.”
Mitch looked around at the scene on the beach. “Yes, I can see that. Not sure flying fish keepers back and forth is much of a job for a former fighter pilot.”
Tommy slowly removed his glasses and looked directly at Mitch. “Look Mr.—”
“Mitch Cooper,” Mitch said, smiling.
“Well, Mitch Cooper, I'm not sure how you found me or what you’re selling, but I'm not interested.”
Mitch kneeled down in the sand next to Tommy. “All pilots still need to register—especially former Star Force officers. You weren't hard to find,” he said.
Tommy used a single finger to slide his glasses back into position and resumed his apathetic posture. “Okay, you found me. Still not interested.”
<
br /> “Look, I think I can help us both get what we want,” Mitch said, looking more than a little out of place in his expensively tailored suit.
“You don't know anything about me or what I want,” Tommy said without looking at Mitch.
“I know all about you, Mr. Thorn. First, you’re an only child—”
“Are you kidding? Name two Humans that were allowed to have more than one child. We're all first and last born,” Tommy interrupted.
“When you were thirteen, both your parents died in an accident on an ore freighter called the Jolly Roger. You were then adopted by a Tarchein diplomat.”
Still no reaction from Tommy.
“After two years on Tarchein; you were accepted into the Star Force Academy. Four years in studies, another two years to earn your pilot’s badge…” Mitch paused.
“You flew combat for about a year and a half, and then you spent another twelve months in training.” Mitch moved his face a bit closer to Tommy, still completely apathetic, and spoke quietly. “For the Mark,” he continued.
Tommy took off the glasses, sat up, and looked straight at Mitch. “What do you want Mister?”
“I want to get you off this beach. I want to give you a shot at something one in million Humans could even come close to doing.”
Tommy reached into the portable cooling station and pulled out a cool drink with his still-bandaged right hand.
“I want you to pilot a mag for my race team, Mr. Thorn.”
“A magpie, me? Why?” Tommy asked, not offering the now-sweating Mitch a drink.
“Because I believe you could be the best on the Terran circuit, maybe in the galaxy. And because I want to make sure my team gets to Tarchein for a chance at the Imperial Cup.”
“Well, good luck with that Mr. Cooper, but like I said—I got a job,” Tommy said.