“Then they are…” Yen left the question hanging as he looked at the soldiers wearing full Terran regalia.
Maxlar looked behind him at the soldiers still standing at attention. “They are your strike force,” he replied. “The High Council wanted to send the absolute best to ensure the mission was a success.”
“They doubt my abilities?” Yen asked angrily.
“They doubt everyone,” Maxlar calmly replied. “That’s why they’re still alive.” He turned back toward Yen, an eyebrow arched in curiosity. “Do you have a room nearby where we can all discuss tactics?”
Yen nodded, his eyes still on the soldiers. Wordlessly, he turned and led the Oterian and his soldiers to one of the strategy rooms traditionally used by the Squadron. The soldiers marched in behind Maxlar and took their seats. Yen scanned the soldiers, trying to read malicious thoughts. To his surprise, every one of them seemed robotic in their thoughts. Their dominant thought was impatience at having to wait so long to begin the meeting. Soldiers to the end, Yen surmised. Knowing that none harbored a hidden agenda, Yen turned back to Maxlar.
“Shall we begin?” he prompted.
Maxlar reached into his jacket and removed a disk that was dwarfed in his giant furred hand. He loaded the disk into the console and a map of a planet’s surface appeared above the table. As the image magnified, Yen was able to make out a large bunker concealed in the midst of a reddish desert planet. Over the building, a blueprint of the inner layout appeared.
“The world we’ll be landing on has three suns in its atmosphere. Since the galaxy is supposed to be uninhabited, the Terrans didn’t black out any of the suns during their initial assault. The fact that this planet still had sun and was so deep in Alliance space made it the perfect hiding place for a Terran Premier and his rabid pack of nobles.”
Stepping away from the console, Maxlar picked up a laser pointer and began marking items on the map. Immediately, a small red dot appeared near the bottom of the display.
“You will be landing here at sunrise,” Maxlar explained, his deep voice rumbling throughout the room. The map magnified more, enlarging the building until it dominated the screen. “In the center of the bunker, there is a central meeting chamber. We believe this to be the War Room from which the Premier has been directing the battle. He and his Generals should all be present in this room. If not, you will have to clear the adjacent rooms until you locate him.”
“We’re just going march into a heavily fortified Terran bunker and kill the Premier?” Yen asked doubtfully.
“Yes,” the Oterian replied. “More or less.”
Reaching behind the table, Maxlar pulled out the heavy plastic case. Opening the locks around its exterior, he revealed a dozen small metallic bracelets, each accentuated by a single red button. Yen gingerly picked on up, flipping it over and examining its relative lack of complexity.
“And these are?” Yen asked.
“Based off the Lithid method of transformation, the bracelets allow a single individual to alter their physical appearance,” Maxlar explained. “Both the Terran and Alliance spy networks have used them extensively. In this case, all these bracelets have been modified to make you all appear as Terrans of noble birth.”
Seeing that Yen was still hesitant, Maxlar took the bracelet back from Yen and placed it in his hand. As soon as he pushed the red button, his skin began to shimmer and bubble. His thick fur disappeared, replaced by soft pink flesh while his body shrunk to a more manageable height. His muscular frame thinned substantially, leaving a Terran soldier standing where the Oterian once had.
“You won’t get a better presentation than that,” Maxlar said, his deep voice unchanged, as he hit the button again and started the transformation back to the massive Oterian.
Suspicion ran deep in Yen. Reaching into the case, he chose a bracelet at random.
“This will turn me into a Terran?” he asked.
“A perfect disguise for infiltration,” Maxlar confirmed.
Yen strapped the bracelet to his wrist and pressed the button. He watched in amazement, as he yellow skin lost its amber luster at turned pink. Along his back, he felt, rather than saw, the spines slowly disappear into the fabric of his uniform. Within seconds, he was transformed into a Terran. With Maxlar watching on, he tested the system repeatedly, switching back and forth between Terran and his former self. Finally satisfied, Yen unbuckled the bracelet and handed it back to the Oterian.
“And that is why your strike force is dressed like Terrans?” Yen asked as he tried to smile disarmingly.
“A uniform will be provided for you onboard your transport,” Maxlar rumbled.
“You seem to have thought of everything,” Yen said. “When do we leave?”
“We don’t,” Maxlar explained. “This is where we go our separate ways. However, if everything I’ve heard about you is correct, then the High Council will have nothing to worry about.”
Yen stuck out his hand, which Maxlar ignored. Turning, the Oterian left the conference room, leaving Yen and the soldiers alone. Placing his hands on his hips, Yen perused his new soldiers.
“I’m not big on speeches,” Yen said sternly. “I don’t need to tell you the importance of this mission, especially since every one of you looks ready for combat. Get your things, and I’ll meet you on the ship.”
Yen left the room ahead of the others and walked to his quarters. Grabbing just enough supplies for the brief time that he would be away, Yen hurried back to the hangar bay. By the time he arrived, the rest of the soldiers were already onboard and seated. Nodding appreciatively, Yen took his seat near the front of the ship.
Leaning forward, he patted the pilot on the shoulder. “Get us out of here.”
As the small ship departed the Revolution, Yen noticed the Ballistae leaving the galaxy at a quick speed. He allowed himself a smile, knowing that Keryn was cursing his name even now. At least he knew that it would be a long time before he had to deal with either Keryn or Iana again.
Maxlar sat in the observation deck of the hangar bay, watching Yen’s ship slide from its berth and prepare for its departure. Reaching into the inside pocket of his uniform, he pulled out a sealed envelope. Pausing only momentarily to observe the High Council emblem emblazoned upon the seal, Maxlar quickly opened the letter.
The directions within were simple: Activate the blue switch.
Opening his brief case once more, Maxlar reached to the upper right corner of the case’s interior and moved an unassuming blue button to the “on” position. A red light flickered from a bulb directly above the switch.
Maxlar shook his head, unsure what any of his actions meant, but confident that he was following the High Council’s orders without fail. Satisfied, the Oterian stood and left the room.
CHAPTER 42:
The ship skimmed the red surface of the planet, tracing the rises and falls of the shifting sand dunes. The planet was desolate and uninhabitable, save the one bunker located nearly a hundred miles still ahead. Yen hated the jostling of the ship as it flew so close to the ground, but knew it was necessary to avoid the Terran radars. His soldiers, however, took the abuse in silence; most of the men barely seemed to move at all as the ship tilted to avoid another outcropping of sand or rock.
Yen donned the lightly armored costume that he would wear, one that resembled a Terran General. The outfit clung to his body, feeling awkward and confining against the spines on his back. Once he transformed, he knew the uniform would fit better, but Yen grew nauseas at the thought of wearing a Terran’s skin for any longer than necessary. Instead, he tilted the General’s hat over his yellowed forehead and let his black hair cascade down his back.
As the team made their initial approach, the ship slowed and set down behind a large dune. The back door cracked, letting waves of stifling dry heat into the interior of the ship. Yen stood and nodded to the rearmost soldier. Unbuckling himself, the soldier reached into the storage area above him and removed his high-powered sniper rifle.
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“I’m not expecting any Terrans to escape alive,” Yen yelled to be heard over the howling wind, “but you’re our failsafe if any do. We don’t need any prisoners, so shoot to kill.”
“Yes sir,” was all the soldier said before slipping off the back of the ship and trudging through the thick red sand.
Yen pressed the button and the rear of the ship sealed shut once more. Rocking slightly, the ship lifted off and gained some altitude before approaching the Terran bunker. The flight from the drop off point to the bunker was relatively short. Yen had only just gotten settled into his seat when the intercom crackled to life.
“We’re being flagged by the Terran bunker,” the pilot called back. “We’re being ordered to set down outside the front entrance. It appears that we are going to have a rather large welcoming party.”
Yen began flashing hand and arm signals, notifying the soldiers to activate their transformation bracelets. One by one, the different races melted and boiled away, leaving behind strong-jawed Terran soldiers. Content that everything was ready, Yen unwillingly activated his own. Yen’s long hair receded and turned white, stopping when it was a close-cropped military cut. His smooth yellow skin darkened and tanned. Stubble erupted from his cheeks and chin, giving the impression of a long journey to reach this remote outpost. Looking down at his hands, Yen was disgusted by the soft pink flesh and roughly callused palms.
In front of the ship, the bunker came into view, rising out of the sands like a half-buried giant. The once white stone walls had been weathered and coated with the red sand, making the structure nearly invisible from the sky. At the front of the building, a small overhang jutted from the stone walls. Recessed under the overhang, a large pair of double doors hissed as they slid open and a dozen armed Terrans rushed out.
Following the directions of an internal communications array, Yen’s ship set down in the red sand in front of the bunker, kicking up clouds of concealing red dust. Yen moved to the middle of his team as the door slid open on the back of the ship. In his uniform, the heat was oppressive and, even at sunrise, the light was blinding. Terran soldiers outside the rear of the craft motioned for Yen’s team to exit the craft. His soldiers filed off and took up positions on each side of the gangplank leading to the red ground. As Yen exited the craft, they all snapped to the position of attention. Terran soldiers, unsure of how to respond, hesitated as they observed the formalities.
One of the Terrans approached Yen, his head slightly lowered in a sign of respect for the General’s rank. Yen read his epaulettes before addressing the Terran.
“Lieutenant,” Yen barked at the lower ranking officer, “I have been traveling a long time to get here. Alliance soldiers overran my entire position. The Premier needs to be appraised of the intelligence I carry immediately!”
“Yes, sir,” the Lieutenant responded nervously, “but I will need to scan your identification before we can proceed.”
Yen gave him a look that he hoped showed his obvious displeasure and disdain. Angrily, Yen unclipped the identification badge that Maxlar had prepared for him and shoved it into the Lieutenant’s hand. Pulling out a small scanner, the Lieutenant swiped the badge. Lines of code flickered over the screen.
Yen felt sweat roll down his back. He didn’t entirely believe that it was from the heat. Though he was confident in his ability to kill the dozen guards outside, a premature attack might allow the Premier and his staff time to evacuate the building. He couldn’t allow them to escape and, potentially, drag this war on for years to come.
To his relief, the Lieutenant handed the badge back to Yen before snapping to attention. The other Terran guards followed suit. “A thousand apologies, General. We had to verify your identify before proceeding. I’m sure you understand our precautions.”
“Of course,” Yen said with condescension. He found that maintaining a guise of open hostility toward Terrans was easier than he would have guessed.
The Lieutenant led the General and his entourage into the cool shade of the building. Inside, the halls felt cluttered with collections of Terran equipment salvaged from a number of quickly evacuated worlds. A number of Terran guards, some bandaged from previous war wounds, sat within the small rooms that jutted from the main hall. A couple members of Yen’s guard force dropped back as they moved toward the central conference hall. Yen’s soldiers mingled with the Terrans, asking them questions and, simultaneously, positioning themselves to take out the guards closest to the main door to the building. Smiling, Yen continued to follow the Lieutenant.
When they reached a second set of heavy double doors, the Lieutenant entered an access code and scanned his thumbprint before the light above the door turned from red to green. Like breaking open a long-forgotten vault, the air hissed as the door slid open. The room beyond seemed dark after being exposed to the intense sunlight outdoors. Guards and technicians lined the walls, working on maps and tactical displays that seemed to track most of the known universe. A large circular table dominated the center of the room. Nearly a dozen Generals sat around the table, many in different stages of standing at the surprising intrusion. Across from Yen stood the Premier, who had already climbed to his feet.
The Premier was unmistakable to Yen, who had grown up watching propaganda films about the atrocities committed by the Terrans in that man’s name. Though he was still clothed in full military uniform, overburdened with superfluous medals and decorations, and bedecked with a flowing violet cape, the man before Yen looked significantly older than the one that had appeared in the videos. His cheeks seemed fuller, but his skin sagged from the bone. The once dark, wavy hair had become intermixed with grey and looked wild as thought it had not been brushed in quite some time. The Premier, from what Yen could tell, had aged terribly since the start of the war.
The Lieutenant rushed into the room ahead of Yen in order to announce his presence. “His Royal Premier, may I present to you General Vance, commanding General of Ravalos.”
The Premier eyed Yen warily. “I don’t have a General Vance in my cabinet,” he said, his voice still strong.
“No,” Yen said, “you don’t.”
Yen’s first bullet slammed into the side of the Lieutenant’s head, spraying blood and gore over the General sitting beyond him. Dropping his pistol, Yen felt a rush of energy. As Yen raised his hands, the world around him was encompassed in violent psychic winds as the large table flipped upward. It came crashing down on the left side of the room, crushing three of the Generals who were unfortunate enough to sit on that side. Weapons appeared in the hands of Yen’s soldiers, who opened fire with immaculate accuracy. Terran guards and technicians collapsed in bloody heaps around the room as they tried to run for cover. As Yen advanced confidently into the room, he heard roaring gunfire from the hallway as his soldiers cut down the complacent guards near the bunker’s entrance.
A few of the remaining Terrans returned quick bursts of gunfire, as they dove for cover. One Yen’s men collapsed as a round caught him in the chest. The soldier’s wrist slammed into the ground as he fell, shattering the casing of his bracelet. In a whirlwind of melting flesh, his body shifted back into that of an Uligart.
One of the Generals saw the transformation and yelled orders to his men. “They’re not Terrans! Kill them all! Kill them…”
Tired of hearing his yelling, Yen slashed through the air. Blue light coalesced into a blade at his fingertips, cutting cleanly through the General’s neck. The stunned look still on his face, the Terran’s head bounced across the floor.
Tossing aside Generals as though they were bothersome insects, Yen continued his advance toward the Premier. Though his Generals cowered behind any cover they could find, the Premier stood defiantly in front of his chair, staring at Yen as he walked casually through the room. Stepping over the body of one of the officers, Yen stopped only a few feet away from the Terran ruler.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” Yen said as the din of combat slowly faded in the room. Most of the Te
rrans lay dead, matched by a handful of Yen’s soldiers sprawled near the doorway.
The Premier smiled. “Congratulations. You have caught me. So what now? Do I got and stand trial? Do you make a public spectacle of my capture?”
Yen returned his smile. “You completely misunderstand, Premier. You’re never going to leave this room.”
The Premier’s face dropped as his voice took on a hard edge. “Kill me if you wish, but realize that killing me won’t put an end to this war. There will always be another Terran willing to lead our people to freedom. The Terran Empire will never bow down to the will of the Alliance.”
“There’s no one left,” Yen said, shaking his head. “Earth is destroyed. Your Fleet has been defeated. The rest of the Terrans will be led like animals to the slaughter. There is no more Empire left to defend. With your death, so dies the Empire.”
“Then do your worst,” the Premier spat.
“Oh, I intend to.”
Yen lifted the Premier off his feet, dragging him higher until he hovered nearly twenty feet off the floor. The Premier squirmed against Yen’s psychic grasp, but was helpless as he was turned in the air until his body floated parallel to the ground. Yen ensured the Premier faced downward so that he could watch Yen’s preparations. Reaching over, his hand sheathed in blue energy, Yen broke free one of the massive table legs, leaving one end a jagged metal spear. Turning the leg so that its point jutted upward, Yen positioned it directly below the Premier’s floating form.
“So dies the Empire,” Yen said again before releasing the Premier. The Terran, to Yen’s amazement, didn’t utter a word as he fell. His body slammed into the metal table leg. The spear point tore through his ribs, shredding the organs underneath, until finally severing his spine as it exited through his back. With a gurgle, the Premier’s head dropped forward as blood spilled from his lips. Yen crouched down beside the Terran, savoring the look in the dead man’s eyes.
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