Purge of Prometheus (40 page)

“We’re beginning our deceleration into the Falitan Galaxy,” Alcent explained.
 
“We’ll reach the planet in less than fifteen minutes.”

Keryn moved over to the communications console and entered the code for the ship-wide intercom.
 
Overhead, two tones beeped from the speaker system notifying her that the microphone was now active.

“Attention in the ship,” she called into the microphone on the console.
 
“All personnel report to the weapons bays.
 
This is not a drill.
 
We expect contact with a Terran Destroyer in less than fifteen minutes.”

She took a deep breath before she continued.
 
“I know many of you are scared right now.
 
However, I need you to realize that the advantage here is ours.
 
The Terrans still believe this ship is under their side’s control.
 
We should be able to fire the first volley before they can react.
 
If all goes well, they will never have a chance to fire back.
 
All that hinges on you, though.
 
Everyone report to the weapons bays and prepare to fire on my command.”

Keryn turned off the microphone and took her place next to Adam and Alcent.
 
They watched the forward view as the
Ballistae
came into the galaxy, skirting behind the nearest planet.
 
This approach seemed surprisingly familiar to Keryn, who had done the same thing when approaching Othus not so long ago.
 
Now, though, she knew it was to block the Terran scanners for as long as possible before commencing the attack.
 
As they neared the edge of the planet, Alcent turned toward the command console.

“This can’t be right,” he said as his fingers flew over the display.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked, stepping over by his side and trying to peer over his shoulder.

“I’m not reading a Terran ship on the radar,” Alcent said, his concern creeping into his voice.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Adam asked.

“Yes, because we won’t have to fight one.
 
But it doesn’t make sense why there wouldn’t be one guarding such an important outpost.”

“Guys,” Keryn said, the words catching in her throat as her heart leapt.
 
“I think I know why there isn’t a ship in orbit.”

They all turned toward the forward window as the
Ballistae
moved around the planet and got its first view of the galaxy.
 
Directly before them, hanging dead in space, was a large black sun.
 
Keryn clenched her fist so tightly that blood seeped from beneath her fingernails.
 
To the left of the dark sun, Beracus floated in the unnatural darkness.
 
Even from their distance, Keryn could see that the once vibrant swamp planet was covered in feet of white, powdery snow.

Keryn trudged through the waist deep snow, keeping her sight on the abandoned Terran outpost still half a mile away.
 
Under foot, buried beneath the white powder, the once marshy ground had turned into frozen tundra.
 
Around her, the crew who had accompanied her and Adam to the planet’s surface, broke through the thick drifts in search of any surviving plant life.
 
Unfortunately, their results were all the same.
 
Beracus was a dead world.

“They’re all withered,” one of the men yelled as Keryn leaned into the biting arctic wind.
 
The man, barely visible through the blowing snow, held up a limp brown plant that he had torn from the ground.
 
“Should I bring it with us?”

Keryn scowled and continued pushing forward.
 
Tears welled in her eyes as she stared intently at the ghost of a building in the distance.
 
She wanted to believe that the tears were from the driving snow which blew constantly into her face, stinging her skin and turning her cheeks bright red, a stark contract to her blue and purple tattoos.
 
But she knew that a large part of the tears was brought on by the realization that her mission had been for nothing.
 
Good soldiers had died on Pteraxis while she hunted Cardax for nothing more than this planet’s name.
 
Penchant and hundreds more sacrificed their lives so that she could escape Othus with the location of this outpost.
 
To arrive and find nothing but a lifeless husk left an ache in her chest that she wasn’t sure would heal any time soon.
 
Instead of letting the sadness overwhelm her, however, Keryn pressed ever forward, hoping beyond hope that the blockish grey building in the distance would offer redemption for this abysmal failure.

Struggling to keep up with her feverish pace, Adam and Wyck walked side by side behind Keryn.
 
They had spotted the facility on their initial approach and had been tempted to land closer.
 
Those on board, however, had insisted on taking the opportunity to search for the mythical plant that created Deplitoxide.
 
After stepping off the craft and sinking into the snow, Adam instantly regretted that decision.
 
The mood of the walk, already dour and hostile, did not improve as they moved through the landscape.
 
The densely packed trees had died under the frigid assault.
 
Long icicles drooped from the hanging branches like ominous claws.
 
The light refracting from their flashlights cast stark shadows, which danced in between the trees, and reflected harshly on the white snow.

After closing the distance to the facility, the grey building loomed before the trio.
 
They scanned its façade with their flashlights, but the narrow beams seemed insignificant as the passed along the outside of the three-story structure.
 
All along the front of the building, windows were smashed, leaving jagged shards of glass protruding from their sockets.
 
To Keryn, it seemed uncertain whether the damage had been done by the Terrans before they left or by a native creature searching refuge from the plummeting temperatures.
 
Turning away from the windows, Keryn located the closest door that, to her surprise, stood partially ajar.

The trio moved toward it and, with Adam putting his shoulder against it, forced the door open enough for them to enter.
 
The interior was dark, penetrated only by their lights.
 
Just past the door, a snow bank sat piled where it had blown through the cracked doorway.
 
Beyond, among the twisting maze of hallways and laboratories, silence stretched like a blanket over the facility.

“Why did they do it?” Wyck asked quietly, fearing to intrude on the thick silence.

“Why’d they do what?” Adam asked, pushing his boot through the refuse that lay buried beneath the snowdrift.
 
He couldn’t be certain whether the pile of trash had been naturally carried on the winds or had been placed as a nest.
 
He hoped for the former.

“Why destroy their own world?” Wyck explained.
 
“They owned this planet and everything in this entire galaxy.
 
They had the means to produce infinite amounts of Deplitoxide and the laboratories to refine it.
 
But, instead, the planet’s dead and the outpost abandoned.
 
It just doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Adam said darkly.
 
“They had enough Deplitoxide to cripple the entire Alliance.
 
I’m also willing to bet they found an antidote for it.
 
By destroying Beracus, they made sure we never got our hands on any of it.”

“And by destroying the lab,” Keryn said as she pushed past them both and proceeded down the hallway, “they ensured that they were the only ones to hold the cure.
 
They had both the instrument of our destruction and the cure at their disposal.”
 
Without slowing, Keryn walked down the hall until all that remained was a slight silhouette and the clicking of her boots on the tiled floor.

Adam and Wyck exchanged glances and sped off to catch her.
 
The winding passages within the outpost looked to be in little better condition than the exterior.
 
Large panes of glass that once separated the halls from the individual labs had been destroyed.
 
The glass had shattered into the labs, lending itself to Keryn’s theory that the damage to the building happened intentionally as the Terrans were evacuating the planet.
 
The trio stopped at a number of the laboratories, searching through the toppled vials and destroyed centrifuges, but found nothing of value.

Keryn threw the test tube in her hands, shattering it against the far wall.
 
“Why are we even here!” she yelled into the destroyed laboratory.

Adam motioned for Wyck to wait outside while he moved over to her side.
 
He placed an arm around her shoulder and held her close, even as she tensed at his touch.
 
Alone with Adam in the lab, the tears she had held back outside now flowed freely.

“It’s not fair,” she cried into Adam’s shoulder.
 
“We’ve worked so hard.
 
We’ve been through so much.
 
I can’t accept that this is how our mission ends.”

Adam stroked her hair as she buried her face in his chest.
 
“It’s not over yet,” Adam said, consoling.
 
“We didn’t come this far just to reach a dead end now.”
 

“Shut up, Adam,” she said between sobs.
 
“Quit being my savior and just hold me until I get this out of my system.”

They stood in silence, wrapped in each other’s embrace, until Keryn’s shoulders finally quit shaking.
 
As she pulled away, she wiped the streaks of tears from her face and looked him in the eyes.

“Tell me we can do this,” she demanded.

“We can do this,” he said confidently.
 
“If there’s a computer left in this outpost, Wyck will find it.
 
I figured that’s why you brought him along.”

“That’s exactly why,” she confessed.
 
“I wish he could search the
Ballistae
computer files from here instead of wasting his time walking around with the two of us.”

“Tora will do fine on the ship.
 
Wyck is needed here.”
 
Tora was an Avalon who had shown some impressive computer proficiency, but nowhere near the same brilliance that Wyck had demonstrated.
 
Still, they were both sure that Tora would do fine sorting through the multitude of files.

“Let’s get out of here before I have another episode,” Keryn said, dejected.
 
“My Voice is already calling me names.”

Adam laughed out loud as he followed her into the hall where Wyck waited, looking surprised at the sudden laughter.
 
Placing his hand on Wyck’s shoulder, Adam pushed him deeper into the labyrinth of the Terran facility.

The trio lost track of time in the dark, winding passages.
 
Occasionally, they passed a destroyed window, the dark glow from the outside shining only slightly brighter than the inky gloom within the building.
 
Twice, they went up sets of stairs, following Wyck’s guidance.
 
He explained as they walked that the computer system would be closest to the center of the building, which was the direction they moved.
 
However, the humidity and indigenous creatures that would have roamed a marshy planet like Beracus precluded the computer systems from being stored on the first floor.
 
After an eternity of walking, Wyck’s intuition paid off when they found the main control room.

Keryn’s mood did not improve as they viewed the decimated remains of the room.
 
The large monitor that dominated the far wall was shattered, appearing to have suffered from multiple gunshots before the screen cracked and crumbled.
 
Wyck moved to one of the imbedded computer towers in the room, shaking his head as he stuck his fingers into the holes blasted into the side of its alloy casing.

“They shot it,” he said, irritated.
 
“It looks like they shot everything in here!”

“Focus, Wyck,” Keryn said calmly, suppressing the frustration she shared with the young genius.
 
“Search all of them.
 
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that soldiers firmly believe that if you shoot something, it’s no longer an issue.
 
They often fail to understand the intricacies of aiming at a specific part of the computer tower.
 
Find me a computer tower where they didn’t hit the specific part we need.”

As Wyck went to work examining the computers, Keryn left the room and activated her microphone.
 
“
Ballistae
, this is Talon,” she said, keeping the call sign she had used with the
Cair Ilmun
.

“This is
Ballistae
,” the static-filled voice replied as the signal broke through the blizzard swirling across the planet.