PURGE OF PROMETHEUS
Brink of Distinction Book 3
Jon Messenger
Brink of Distinction Series:
Burden of Sisyphus
Fall of Icarus
Purge of Prometheus
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CHAPTER 1:
Yen Xiao stood among the wreckage of the laboratory. Spikes of pain roared through his head as he wobbled unsteadily on his feet, his mind drained after his uncontrolled outburst of psychic energy. He clenched his eyes tightly shut, squeezing free tears from the corners of his eyes as he ran shaking hands through his long dark hair. Around him, the room lay in waste. Tables were overturned and twisted, pushed to the far walls from where Yen stood; the area around him stood clear of rubble, his own body clearly the epicenter of the destruction. Beakers lay smashed on the floor and noxious fumes flooded the room. Yen hardly noticed, his own pulse seeming to burn his veins as it coursed through his temples.
As he opened his eyes, Yen’s focus fell on the mangled corpse near his feet, the body illuminated by the large screen hanging on the wall; the one surviving piece of technology within the room flickered its blue image lazily throughout the decimated room. The face of the corpse was mangled, the once proud Terran features no longer recognizable amongst the dangling strips of muscle and tissue. Flesh was stripped from both arms where the Terran had attempted, unsuccessfully, to shield himself from the blast. The body had once belonged to the Terran geneticist Doctor Solomon, a man who Yen had been ordered to bring back alive.
Doctor Solomon was the lead scientist for the Terran Empire and had been responsible for controlled genetic mutations that had led to thousands of deaths on Alliance planets throughout known space. It was on his orders that the Terran Fleet invaded Interstellar Alliance space a few months before, resulting in the first major conflict between the two forces since the Taisa Accord nearly one hundred and fifty years ago. In retaliation, the Alliance sent their fleet on an invasion of their own, directly to the Terran home world: Earth. Using untested warp technology to bypass the Terran orbiting defenses, the Alliance landed their forces on the planet’s surface where, led by the psychic warrior Yen Xiao, they cut a swath through the surprised Terran defense forces. It had been during a conflict with one of Doctor Solomon’s genetic creations, a Terran modified with his own psychic powers, that Yen had pushed his own abilities beyond their capacity. Though he had killed the Terran psychic, Yen felt the control of his own powers slipping away until, finally confronted by the doctor, his energy lashed out on its own accord, destroying the lab and killing not just the doctor but Yen’s own squadron.
His power mostly spent now, Yen still struggled to maintain control. He clenched his hands into tight fists, reveling in the pain it caused as his fingernails scored deep cuts into his yellowed skin. The pain and endorphins his body released in response seemed to settle his mind and corral his mental focus. Nostrils flaring, he breathed deep the intermixed fumes of the laboratory and brought his visible shaking under control. He had failed his mission of bringing back the scientist alive, but he survived. Right now, that seemed to matter more to Yen than anything else.
The spikes along his spine bristled as he heard another noise in the room. Spinning, he glared at the Alliance soldiers entering the laboratory. They halted, alternating their surprise between the carnage of the room and Yen who stood unscathed but haggard in its center. The torn bodies of a dozen Alliance special operations soldiers littered the room, their remains tossed haphazardly amongst the broken tables and equipment along the room’s walls.
The first soldier into the room, identified as a Magistrate by the rank on his lapel, pulled his assault helmet free from his head. Yen didn’t recognize the Uligart soldier, but he wasn’t surprised. The assault had consisted of more than one million soldiers, who landed throughout Earth’s surface.
“What the hell happened here?” the Magistrate demanded, his privileged officer mannerisms apparent in his behavior.
His words ran like razors along Yen’s spine. The tone rang in disharmony to the silence of the room and sent more spikes of pain spreading through his mind. Yen tilted his head away as though physically struck.
“The good doctor,” he said, indicating the body on the floor, “must have set up a trap for us.” The lie rolled off his tongue fluidly. “When we entered, he set off an explosion that killed himself and all my men.”
“And you are somehow unscathed?” the Magistrate asked disparagingly.
Yen’s eyes shot open once more and he glared at the Uligart, who backed away in shock. “Do you have any idea who I am, you little pissant?” Yen demanded, his voice taking a dangerous edge. “I am Yen Xiao! I have crushed the Terran forces beneath me as I strode confidently through their meager ranks! And I should crush you beneath my heel for even insinuating wrongdoing on my part!”
The Magistrate cleared his through and stammered an apology. “Forgive me, sir. I was not aware of who you were. It was dark in the room when we arrived and we were overcome with…”
Yen interrupted him with a wave of his hand. His angry outburst had sent his powers spiraling away from his control once more, and he feared completely losing his grip on his energy once again. He breathed in a slow cadence in order to allow his body and mind time to relax, regardless of the rest of the Alliance soldiers watching him in silence. If his powers were so easily slipping away from him now, how long would he be able to maintain control before he endangered everyone around him? What if he lost control while onboard a ship? His powers had the ability to tear through the hull and suck his lifeless body into the vacuum of space. Yen shuddered at the thought before taking another deep breath.
“Forget about it, Magistrate,” Yen began softly. “Get your men together and prepare to evacuate the planet. Our mission here is already done.”
As the Magistrate began barking orders to his soldiers, the blue screen behind Yen flickered to life. The lazy blue glow was replaced by an oversized face of the recently deceased Doctor Solomon. The face stared into the destroyed room, a look of somber sobriety cast over the doctor’s features. As he spoke, his voice was amplified by hidden speakers along the walls.
“My name is Doctor David Solomon. If you are watching this video, it means that I am already dead.”
Yen flinched at the loud sound, but stood entranced as the video continued. The other Alliance soldiers slowly entered the room, drawn by the sound of the Terran’s voice.
“Five years ago,” the doctor continued, “I inherited the Terran Mutation Project which was created nearly one hundred years ago as a safeguard against invasion by the Interstellar Alliance. However, in all that time, the Alliance and the Empire have both stoically remained fastidious about the terms of the Taisa Accord. Both sides remained loyal to the non-invasion agreement and obeyed a no-fly zone through the approved Demilitarized Zone.
“Though both sides strictly obeyed the precepts of the Accord publicly, our spies sent back information to the Lords’ Senate that the Alliance planned military operations against Terran outposts. I was approached, following this discovery, to turn the Terran Mutation Project from a defensive to offensive weapon. My results were spectacular! My shining accomplishment with the Project came with the modification of the Seque, a domicile load-bearing creature native to a galaxy within Alliance occupied space.”
Yen frowned deeply. He clearly remembered his encounter with the Seques, having been part of the Alliance strike force that investigated the loss of communication with one of the largest cities within the galaxy
to which the doctor was referring. What they had found troubled Yen: blood and obvious signs of conflict littered the city, but no bodies were found, the inhabitants of the city replaced by the Seques who roamed freely through the streets. It was what happened next, though, that haunted Yen ever since. The Seques had risen up with deadly intellect and decimated the nearly one hundred person assault team. Their sharp horns and jagged teeth tore through the thick body armor of the Alliance soldiers, leaving piles of dead littering the streets. Of the one hundred that landed on the planet’s surface, only four escaped, finding a small shuttle concealed within a military outpost on the outskirts of the city.
“…lavished with praise by the Lords’ Senate,” Doctor Solomon’s message continued as Yen remembered his haunting encounter. “It was truly the highlight of my career. At least, it was, until a chance encounter with an Oterian smuggler flying through the Demilitarized Zone. After being taken captive, the Oterian revealed his cargo, a strange substance that was later designated as Deplitoxide. The disenfranchised smuggler agreed to provide more of the chemical to us, which we weaponized for rocket attacks against Alliance ships. Armed with the new weapons, I ordered the fleet into Alliance space.
“Initial tests were very promising, until the small fleet was destroyed by an Alliance counterattack. The rest, as they say, is history.”
The image of the doctor sat silently on the screen. Yen, lost in his own thoughts, turned away in disgust and prepared to leave, but froze when the doctor continued.
“Well, it would have been history, except that I wasn’t done with my research. Deplitoxide had too many uses outside of ship to ship engagements to be content with our results. The chemical’s ability to transmute heat and energy had far reaching implications, many of which the universe will experience now that I’m dead.”
Yen turned back to the screen as the image changed. Where the face had stood before, it was now replaced with a computer representation of a star system, the sun glowing brightly in the center of the concentric circle orbits of the planets. A small green disk appeared near the sun as the narrative continued.
“The Lords’ Senate had approved one last bit of research, knowing that a strike by the Alliance was highly probably after we invaded their space. The research was as intriguing as it was revealing. The thesis of our research was simple: if the Deplitoxide had the ability to transform the engine fuel of ships into a black tar, then the effects on a burning sun would be catastrophic.”
The excitement in Doctor Solomon’s voice was barely concealed as the diagram began moving. The green disk lowered gently toward the glowing representation of the sun. As it struck the sun’s surface, the screen flashed brightly before the glowing orb rapidly darkened and cooled, leaving behind a black husk where the sun had previously stood.
“To that end, the Terran Empire pre-positioned canisters of Deplitoxide in orbit around forty-three different suns in thirty-two star systems. As this message is playing, signals are being sent to these canisters. If we can’t defeat the Alliance by force, then we’ll simply have to kill them where they live.”
The image transformed back to that of the doctor, who was smiling broadly. “While I know I will always be remembered for this brazen scientific gambit, I can only hope my research is continued by those who would not live under the yoke of Alliance domination. I was known in life; let me be immortalized in death.”
With the message finished, the doctor’s face froze on the screen before the message began replaying once more.
“My name is Doctor David Solomon. If you are watching this video, it means that I am already dead.”
Yen shook his head in disbelief. Trillions of people lived through Alliance space, many of whom would now be in jeopardy if what Doctor Solomon was saying was correct.
“…the Alliance and the Empire have both stoically remained fastidious about the terms of the Taisa Accord…”
Without suns to grant life-giving warmth to the planets, they would be damned to unnatural winters. Crops would die in the fields. People would freeze to death as temperatures plummeted. Millions, if not billions, would die of exposure and starvation.
“…disenfranchised smuggler agreed to provide more of the chemical to us, which we weaponized for rocket attacks…”
Yen knew that there had to be a way to stop the signal before it was sent. He rushed over to the computer console and tried to access the control prompt. Every combination of codes he tried, however, resulted in a small red phrase flashing across the screen as the message continued. “Access Denied,” it read over and over again as Yen tried to hack into the Terran system.
“…we can’t defeat the Alliance by force, then we’ll simply have to kill them where they live…”
Yen slammed his fist into the computer console and gasped for breath as the power surged through his system. His nerves burned as his combined rage and frustration poured adrenaline into his blood. The air wavered before his eyes and bile burned in his throat.
“…I was known in life; let me be immortalized in death…”
“My name is Doctor David Solomon…”
With an angry flick of his hand, the screen exploded into a shower of plastic and glass. The room was suddenly cast into a soothing silence and the power, having found a release, slowly subsided. Yen turned to the soldiers, both mortified and furious.
“Gather your men,” he said, “and get ready for an immediate evacuation. We need to get back to the Fleet now!”
CHAPTER 2:
Keryn Riddell cut the heavy gravity acceleration as she entered the Orthorius Galaxy and began her decent toward Othus, the only inhabitable planet in a galaxy dominated by a burning, swollen yellow sphere. The eighth planet in the system, the atmosphere around Othus had evolved to repel the heavy radiation that poured from its large sun. As a result, the sky above the planet held a sickly, radioactive green hue. Despite being located so far away from the sun, the planet’s atmospheric temperature was significantly higher than most inhabited planets in the known universe. Keryn, who had already been suffering during the long voyage to Othus, was not looking forward to further discomfort added to that which she had already endured.
Twisting the latch that held her harness closed, Keryn stretched her stiff muscles as much as the cramped cabin would allow. Though the inhibitors on board her ship, the Cair Ilmun, greatly reduced the pressure of the increased gravities a craft would encounter during long transits between galaxies, the technology wasn’t able to transform the intense accelerations into a single gravity. As a result, a crew traveled for months at a time feeling as though a foot constantly pressed against their chest. They struggled for breath and moved as though they carried an extra thirty percent of their body weight.
Keryn clicked the microphone strapped to her throat, engaging the intercom that ran through the small vessel.
“Regular gravity restored,” she announced in a voice that seemed strained and tired. Though faint through the heavy metal door that separated the cabin from the crew quarters, she could hear the cheers from a relieved crew.
It was good to hear them cheer, she thought. The last time she had heard them cheer so exuberantly was when the entire team of seven first descended on Pteraxis, the last known location of Cardax and his black market organization. She remembered that their cheers were short lived. Their attempt to capture Cardax then had resulted in disaster, with two members of her team killed and McLaughlin, who was still in what passed for the ship’s the sick bay, only stabilized after being wounded severely when a grenade landed near by.
The door to the cabin slid open and Adam Decker, one of the only two Pilgrims that had volunteered for this mission, entered into the cramped cabin. His shaggy blond hair brushed the transparent ceiling as he stooped, his muscular upper body bent forward in the confined space. Keryn turned to the best of her ability and flashed him a warming smile, glad to finally have company on the bridge of the ship. The Pilgrims were an odd ally in the war. Born Terran
s, they had turned against the Empire’s teachings, siding instead with the Interstellar Alliance.
“How are you doing up here?” he asked, rubbing his left shoulder in an attempt to work out the stiffness that can only be experienced by prolonged exposure to heavy gravity.
“I’m tired and extremely sore,” she replied. She turned back toward the front of the ship, focusing on the telemetry bringing them into the galaxy.
“Are we still following his trail?” Adam asked sternly, he masked his contempt behind a cool composure and level voice, but she knew it was there, festering.
Keryn looked down at the computer screen, watching their path perfectly follow a trail marked on the digital readout.
“We’re no more than a day or two behind him,” she replied, freely showing signs of the same anger that Adam subdued. “We’ll catch back up to him soon enough.”
The pair flew on in silence, watching the galaxy reveal itself as they skirted along the dark side of one of the super-heated planets orbiting the swollen sun. It wasn’t so long ago, Keryn thought with surprise, that she had never heard of the name Cardax. Though a successful smuggler, Cardax had flown under the radar of Interstellar Alliance, doing jobs on the outer rim galaxies and not causing too great a disruption to commerce in the universe. That changed just over a year ago, when Cardax stumbled upon an organic compound called Deplitoxide. Deplitoxide was composed of single-celled organisms that rapidly reproduce when exposed to extreme heat. Their outer membranes absorbed intense volumes of heat and converted the remaining matter into a viscous black byproduct. Cardax turned the organisms into a weapon, capable of completely disabling ships once missiles with Deplitoxide warheads were launched into their engines. The organisms fed on the superheated fuel that all ships used for interstellar transport, leaving behind a thick, black tar that ruined engines.
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