by C. C. Ekeke
“Which you won’t be getting,” Habraum’s voice stayed firm. “After Star Brigade’s charter is reactivated, you’ll have outlived your usefulness. But I know the Bicameral will want some spokespuppet checking in on us, so I’d prefer someone we’ve already been…exposed to.”
Greystone opened his mouth but nothing came out, still shaking his head.
“You should be grateful,” Habraum said dryly. “Sam wanted you punted out completely.”
“I’ll accept your terms for now,” Greystone sulkily tromped toward the door. He pivoted just before leaving, glowering at them from afar. “But this isn’t over. I’ll fight this.”
Sam snorted. “Is that supposed to be your ‘big boy’ look?”
Greystone turned purple with rage and stomped out of the room.
“Well…” Habraum put an arm around Jeremy.
“We’re back!” Sam was grinned from ear to ear with mischievous glee.
Only until Star Brigade’s back on its feet, the Cerc almost said. Habraum had already decided this the moment he agreed to return. Star Brigade could no longer be his life in the long-term, not with Jeremy needing a reliable parent. But now was not the time to reveal that. Besides, Star Brigade couldn’t need that much help. “You actually buggered that squit?” Habraum frowned, changing the subject.
Sam’s smile became a wince. “It was before I knew what a subhuman he really is. End of story.”
Habraum smirked playfully, “Took me a heartbeat to see that, Sam. What was your excuse?”
“Lots and lots and lots of liquor,” she deadpanned.
“Daddy,” Jeremy asked.
“Yeah, sprout?” Habraum looked down at his son.
“Does that mean we get to live on the starbase you and Auntie Sammie work at again?”
Habraum stiffened. With that one question, a stream of worries blitzed his brain. Moving to Hollus Maddrone starbase, finally facing Honaa Ishliba after so long, and managing Jeremy’s transport to school among the other goings-on in his son’s life…
“That’s right, Jerm,” Sam answered, catching her friend’s unease but politely covering for him.
“Excuse me.” The croaky voice of a Galdorian orderly brought everyone’s attention to the recovery room door. The eye-stalked being looked less than delighted. “The M-230 assigned to this room was all but slagged. Where is the party accountable for the medimech’s damage?”
Both Habraum and Jeremy turned to Sam. Seeing all eyes on her, she faced the Galdorian with an unapologetic shrug. “What can I say? It wouldn’t give me a lollipop.”
8.
[So this is how it feels to have Mindspeak.] Vantor smiled. Once he and his Korvenite counterparts had their restraining bolts removed, Maelstrom helped them access their abilities. It felt as if Vantor had just been given his sight after a lifetime of blindness. A week had passed since he and the other Korvenites had been rescued from the prison transport and life in an internment camp. Yet freedom was still so new for him.
Maelstrom’s followers already onboard his ship had provided Vantor with velvety red robes after he took a marathon-length hydrobath. More notably, for his breakfast Vantor had damn near gorged himself on hard-boiled Tarkathian firebird eggs with spicy kurokoos sausages and several frosted goldberry cakes. These simple things—a full meal, actual clothes, a bath that didn’t consist in him getting knocked over by a hard water spray—had been denied to him on the Kumakiri Colony internment camps.
For the first time in his life Vantor felt safe. Currently, he sat cross-legged in a hard light hologram or HLHG replication of the aromatic longrass plains near Terra Sollus’s city-state Kercheval from what he’d been told. A deep orange sunset burned fiery pastels in the sky. The false plains were littered with squat gnarled trees, each adorned in dazzling ruby blossoms. The scene captivated him with its beauty. Sharing this scene with him were other Korvenites from that fateful transport seven days back, everyone seated in a circle. Rouma, sitting at Vantor’s right, looked refreshed and surprisingly happy. Cymae, at his left, also looked to be in high spirits. Vantor had just stretched out his mind, feeling both Rouma and Cymae on either side of him. Then his senses jumped sentient to sentient, and he could feel where everyone was in the circle.
Despite this being a fairly basic exercise for Mindspeak novices, the sensation was magnificent…staggering to Vantor. Like a blind sentient gazing up at the sky for the first time. All the psyches around him gushed forth rivers of emotion and verve, constantly churning.
All, but Khasos. For some reason he was more paranoid than Vantor had ever seen him. He barely felt Khasos in their link. But Vantor didn’t press the point. Like himself, Khasos had never known true freedom until now. In time, he would ease up.
[Mindspeak is never an easy ability to master, but you are all adept enough, strong enough to do so.]
Vantor sprang up in shock and saw him, standing a metrid away from the circle. Psychic murmurs of joy and pleasant surprise rippled throughout circle. Maelstrom, his long violet curls tied in a half-knot, was not wearing the armor and flowing cloak that amazed Vantor at their first meeting.
He donned only a simple dark crew shirt and slacks, which took away none of Maelstrom’s regal luster. In fact, when watching him through Mindspeak, the Korvenite leader had a luminescence that rolled off him in waves. Everyone stood up in reverence. However, Khasos hung behind, cowering.
“[I have something to show you,]” Maelstrom spoke out loud as he strolled forward. His gaze swept over the group, cutting through them like a knife. “[Come,]” Maelstrom’s eyes turned black as pitch.
Before Vantor could even say anything, he felt Maelstrom touch his mind, melding with his thoughts. The next thing Vantor knew, the holographic remake of Terra Sollus was gone. He was floating once more in the obsidian sea of space. His fellow Korvenites sensed the same impression.
“[Korvan protects us, my brethren. And through Him you will witness the supremacy of our race as we embrace our destiny.]” Those were the words Maelstrom offered them, just enough to increase their courage. Vantor clung to Maelstrom’s psyche as he ascended into the heavens, pulling all of the Korvenites with him. They saw all that the llyriac saw as they flew past; new stars birthed by dark roiling nebulae, whole planets wiped out of existence as their stars went supernova, dazzling galaxies far away swirling endlessly. Worlds flashed past, each too quickly for Vantor to marvel at.
Finally the journey began slowing down. They approached what looked like a small, fading star. Maelstrom took them closer. Vantor gasped. Not a star, but a planet!
Its surface was partially veiled under thick billows of ash. Below that were stretches of rocky terrain disfigured by countless craters and spidery chasms, each one spewing out fiery jets of lava. ‘Hommodus’ was what Maelstrom called it. Vantor gawked, unable to fathom how anyone could live here.
Korvan’s Anointed took them past the volcano world, to the farthest of its eight moons. A flicker of malevolence brushed against all their minds, and then the Korvenites, with Maelstrom, saw its source.
The journey then took them under the moon’s surface, through dank and badly lit caverns, finally halting in the middle of a gruesome skirmish. A large cadre of sentients, each sheathed in shiny golden armor, tore through various non-Korvenites. Blood sprayed, bones broke; the Korvenites fired off blast after blast of psionic energy from their chestplates, pounding the stunned non-Korvenites into lifeless pulps. Their lust of revenge, their faith in Korvan’s Way pulsated like heartbeats in each blow they struck, each energy beam they fired off. Vantor had to slap himself and realize that these soldiers weren’t right in front of him, but light-years away. Behind this wall of Korvan’s soldiers were hundreds of unarmed Korvenites, all withered, scarred and cowardly—just like Vantor was a week ago!
[These are Korvan’s soldiers—His Retributionaries.] Maelstrom turned his brethren’s attention to the armored sentients. [Through them, I free our fellow Korvenites, adding to our army.
]
Vantor wanted to stay longer, but Maelstrom zoomed them away, Hommodus now a bright dot of reddish light. The worlds they visited blurred past in streaks. An instant later, Vantor was back in the holographic plains.
“[You just tasted our truest tapestry of Korvenite minds.]” Maelstrom thrust his fist into the soil and gathered up its salt, then extended his hand. In it was a cloud of dirt, swirling and twisting telekinetically into a small globe—Maelstrom’s simulacrum of Terra Sollus. “[Even though the Retributionaries are light-years away, I can see and call them. That is the power of the Unilink.]”
“[Lord Maelstrom?]”
Maelstrom turned his hand over, dumping the dirt back on the ground. “[Yes, Kurkyra?]”
The lanky female moved to the front. “[Why did you fail to recapture our world four years ago?]”
A stony hush swept over the group. “[Kyra! Show some respect—!]” Cymae scolded.
Maelstrom’s eyes flashed gold. “[That’s alright, Cymae.]” He turned to the young Korvenite who asked. “[I was arrogant, more sure of myself than in Korvan, so blinded by the injustice wrought by the humans that I made foolish mistakes. I felt that the Korvenites were alone in our crusade, but that was unwise. Countless Korvenites died because of my follies when the Union finally overran us then.]” The Korvenite stared at the ground wistfully, seeming vulnerable for the first time. “[But that was then.]”
Kurkyra scratched her wispy indigo hair. “[But what will make this time different?]”
“[Unadulterated faith in Korvan and because we are superior,]” Maelstrom’s face darkened. He walked up to Kurkyra, so close that she had to crane her head up to look at him. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “[Korvan made us superior in every facet. We only need our minds to achieve any goal, while humans are completely reliant on their non-human puppets and weapons to fend off any threat. They are the bottom-feeders of this galaxy and we are the gods that will grind them beneath our heel. Never think any differently.]”
Kurkyra looked like one about to swoon. Vantor sensed her awe, her overwhelming desire for the llyriac. No doubt Korvan’s Anointed likewise sensed these emotions; he was just too gracious to acknowledge them. Maelstrom backed up slowly, his voice rising slightly. The Korvenite’s face brightened in the false dusk. “[And don’t underestimate the enemies that humans have accrued in their quest for power.]” He spread his arms wide. “[Those looking to engineer humanity’s fall are copious! How else would I have acquired this ship? How have I been able to extract you and our brethren from the Union slave pits with ease?]
“[But don’t let your hearts fret on such matters. Trust in me, trust in Korvan and continue to hone your talents. The day will soon come when the holographic plains you stand on now will be genuine. That will be the mark of true freedom for our species, my brethren.]”
Maelstrom turned and headed for the plain’s horizon where an egress in the hologram slid opened. Right after he exited and the door closed, the Korvenites finally started breathing again. Then the exclamations spilled out.
“[Sweet Korvan! That was even more amazing than in space.]” Cymae gasped.
“[He’s so…so overwhelming. But in a good way!]”
“[I’d follow him to death…]”
Vantor blinked, his eyes never left the area where Maelstrom exited. And no one heard when Maelstrom reached out to him alone before leaving.
[You inspire those around you, youngling. That is the quality I see in a future leader.]
Vantor felt his eyes begin to water from the compliment.
Almost ten macroms later, Maelstrom stood in another room of his vast space vessel. Unlike the HLHG suite, it had real amenities; couches, lofty walls splashed in eye-catching Korvenite symbols and a viewport that displayed Retributionaries in training. The llyriac’s personal attendant Thrace and three other Korvenites stood waiting for Maelstrom; his inner circle.
“[What news?]” Maelstrom faced the viewport of his ready room, arms crossed behind his back.
“[The raid on the Hommodus moon Hllojjo was successful, just as I foresaw,]” answered a short bald Korvenite named Oreis. He was the only other fully ordained llyriac among Maelstrom’s advisors and very skilled at the clairvoyant ability Mindsee. “[Our Retributionaries got in, took out the security regiment, rescued all our brethren and escaped before any other Union forces were alerted. They’ll rendezvous with us on Bimnorii. The new Korvenites will add another five hundred into our ranks.]”
That put the total of Korvenites Maelstrom had freed at more than 3,000. Not nearly enough given the many internment camps sprinkled all over Union Space. Maelstrom glanced over his shoulder, affording his subordinate a faint smile. “[Good. Atanos?]”
Atanos, who handled the ship’s operations, was everything Oreis wasn’t: tall, strapping and handsome by Korvenite standards. He also had a rare talent among his peers for Mindshift, but thought far too highly of himself due to those attributes. “[We’re making good time in our trip to Bimnorii, and should be there within the next five days.]”
“[Any worry from probes or scans?]”
Atanos shook his head, jostling the lazy ringlets of lilac hair falling past his shoulders. “[None, Lord Maelstrom. The Libremancer’s sensory shroud remains stable, even with the growing number of Union patrol ships searching for us.]”
When Maelstrom finally turned from the viewport, he looked upon the last of the trio. “[Isar?]”
The chief technician for the Korvenite Independence Front cleared his throat before speaking. “[There are still some kinks in the Union technology we’ve ‘acquired’. We’re working to correct that, but right now I wouldn’t feel safe testing it on our brethren, even if they’re in Retributionary armor.]”
Maelstrom frowned, sending his displeasure in empathic ripples among the Korvenites before him. “[I expected faster progress, Isar. What about those Union blueprints?]”
Isar gulped. “[Our spies will transfer them to me within a week.]”
“[Good. I want to be informed the moment you get them. Analyze every microstructure on those blueprints. Make sure we know this new Union weapon inside and out.]” Maelstrom grinned wide enough to let his subordinates know he was pleased with most of their progress so far. He sensed their unwavering belief in Korvan’s Way, but praising subordinates was only good in small doses. Thrace, his attendant, stood like a shadow near the exit. Because of her ability to psionically record what she saw in flawless clarity, Maelstrom had her in these meetings if he needed to recall exact details.
“[We’re getting there my brethren, step by step. With Korvan on our side and three years of planning, we will take our planet back.]” The llyriac beheld the other Korvenites in the room with pride.
Maelstrom felt at ease among this group. Most of his other followers all but deified him. While there was no question that he, Korvan’s Anointed emissary, deserved their obedience, it felt wrong that some saw him as the deity instead of Korvan. His inner circle respected him and followed his lead, but because they believed in his dream of a free Korvenite race living on Sollus again. They were what kept Maelstrom focused. Something peculiar flickered against his mind, so brief he almost missed it. The Korvenite narrowed his eyes and glared at its source. “[Have something to say, Atanos?]”
The tall Korvenite looked shocked, and shook his head. “[It’s not important Lord Maelstrom—.]”
“[If not, then why does it trouble you?]” Maelstrom asked with dangerous softness, eyes gleaming.
A nervous silence followed his words. Everyone looked toward Atanos. The Korvenite tossed back his hair, steeling himself before speaking. “[I just see no point in wasting time to get to Bimnorii. Its almost two weeks away, even at top FTL speed. And the scant amount of our brethren on that arid wasteland is not worth leaving Union Space with so much to still do here.]”
Maelstrom sensed Atanos bracing for a reprimand. “[A bold statement,]” was all the llyriac said while rubbing his chin. Atan
os visibly relaxed and sighed, dropping his guard.
And Maelstrom lashed out.
Atanos yelped as Korvan’s Anointed violently yanked him forward with Mindshift, catching him by the throat. Maelstrom’s fingers tightened. Atanos choked. The Korvenite leader held him high off the ground. Oreis, Isar and even Thrace darted forward. A surge of shock rippled through the three.
“[Lord Maelstrom, please! He meant no ill will!]” Isar pleaded.
Maelstrom ignored him and all other pleas for mercy. His black eyes reflected no light.
“[So the lives of Bimnorii’s Korvenites are of no consequence? That they don’t matter?]” Maelstrom whispered with icy venom. Atanos’ lack of concern for his fellow brethren was appalling—unacceptable.
Atanos frantically clutched at Maelstrom’s arm, coughing and sputtering. Aside from his inner circle, the llyriac shielded the rest of the Unilink from this. No need to expose others to one fool’s weakness.
“[He made a genuine mistake, Lord,]” Oreis pleaded, his hands raised beseechingly. “[Let him go!]”
But Maelstrom stayed fixated on Atanos, fury ruling him. “[The moment you deem but one Korvenite life worthless is the moment you forsake your place at my side,]” snarled the llyriac. “[May Korvan have mercy on your lack of conviction.]” Maelstrom’s rage ripped through the room, flooding the minds of all. Thrace was howling, Isar begging. And Atanos’ frantic struggles soon grew weaker, his eyes becoming glassy.
[Isydryas!]
The voice boomed in Maelstrom’s head, and only his. He turned to see Oreis looking back. The older llyriac’s eyes were black as night, calm yet cutting, finally reaching the Korvenite leader.
Maelstrom shot a glance at Thrace and Isar. Both looked terrified. That same fear echoed throughout their minds. He felt no sorrow for what he did, but as clarity returned, the llyriac knew he did not want to kill Atanos. Maelstrom lowered his hand and dropped the Korvenite. Atanos lay in a heap at Maelstrom’s feet coughing violently as he gasped in as much nitrogen as his lungs would allow. Maelstrom dropped to one knee at Atanos’ side.