Purge of Prometheus (42 page)

For a while, Yen examined the constellations, finding shapes in their fixed patterns in space.
 
After a while, however, he grew bored.
 
Opening the computer files, Yen searched for the one stored by Iana and Gregario, figuring their message would help pass the time.
 
Smiling, he found the file labeled “daft” and opened it.
 
As the forward display switched to an image of Iana and Gregario standing amidst a group of the Squadron members, Yen squinted against the suddenly bright glow of the screen.

“Are we on?” Gregario asked in a hushed whisper.

“Is there a red light?” someone replied condescendingly from the back of the room.
 
“Then yes, we are on.”

Gregario turned to the camera, a broad smile splitting his face.
 
“Hey you daft bugger!
 
We figured we couldn’t send you off to your death without a heartfelt ‘wish you were here’.”

“We debated doing a mock funeral,” said one of the Warrants beside Pelasi, “since you would never get to truly appreciate your own.
 
But we figured that was morbid.”

Warrant Yulee, one of the female pilots, pushed her way to the front.
 
“So instead, we decided to throw a party in your honor!
 
Sure, you can’t be here to enjoy your own party, but just think about how much fun we’re having in memory of you.”

“The point is,” Iana said, taking control of the camera, “only important people get parties to celebrate their life.
 
You’re important to this Squadron and all of our success…”

“Most of our success,” someone corrected from behind her.

Iana laughed.
 
“… most of our success would not have been possible without you.”
 
She carried the camera away from the others, who teased her incessantly from a distance as she walked away.
 
“I don’t know what possessed you to volunteer for this mission, but I know better than anyone that there won’t be any way to talk you out of it.
 
So, instead, I only ask that you come back to us.
 
We need you for the fight ahead, so don’t go doing something heroic.
 
After all, some of us actually care enough to want you back.”
 
Iana leaned forward and planted a kiss on the camera screen.
 
With the screen now smeared with lipstick, the others started yelling.

“That’s enough of that crap,” Yen heard them yell.
 
“Give us back the camera!”

As someone took the camera from Iana, the image suddenly disappeared.
 
The cockpit lights shifted to red as a warning sounded.
 
The forward display switched to the galaxy map, where Yen saw nearly two-dozen large red blips appear on the map.

“They’re here!” Yen yelled into his microphone.

On the display, thin lines streaked from the larger Terran Destroyers.
 
The lines spread toward the four spotters as the Terran Fleet continued its acceleration into the galaxy.

“They’ve fired on me,” Yen said as he began receiving radio chatter from the Cruisers concealed within the planet.

Dropping the forward display, Yen could now see the flares from the tails of the missiles with his naked eye.
 
Taking control of his fighter, Yen began evasive maneuvers as he let the psychic charge build in his ship.
 
Opening fire with the forward machine guns, he watched the tracers leap from his ship and blossoms of fire erupt as missiles detonated prematurely.
 
The small tactical screen by his left hand displayed at least three-dozen missiles still flying toward him along with numerous metal slugs.

Yen twisted the controls, spiraling to the left as metal slugs narrowly missed the wings of his ships.
 
As a dozen missiles approached, he lashed out with the psychic energy, sending the rockets pin wheeling away from his fighter where they detonated harmlessly in space.
 
He watched as the other red lines on the tactical display impacted the three other spotters, their green dots disappearing from the screen.

Feeling the loss of the other three pilots was only temporary as he focused back on the two-dozen rockets that still bore down on his position.
 
Yen reached out with his mind, wrapping his psychic fingers around the outer rockets.
 
Clenching his hands together, he drove the outer rockets into those toward the center.
 
The resulting detonation erupted in space in brilliant flecks of blue and purple plasma.
 
Yen smiled confidently to himself as the last of the missiles were destroyed.

“The Terrans are in position,” Yen said breathlessly.
 
“Deploy the Fleet.”

Yen watched as rockets leapt first from the planets, salvos of hundreds of rockets streaking toward the Terran Fleet as the massive Cruisers broke through the cloud cover.
 
The smaller fighters shot from the planet, trailing the reddish smoke behind them as they entered open space.
 
Thousands of the fighters emerged like insects swarming from a hive.
 
Yen smiled at the sheer might of the fighting force and began accelerating toward the Fleet to reform with his Squadron.

As he pulled away from his position, however, the warning siren sounded again.
 
Yen looked down at his tactical display and saw another thin red line hurtling toward his position, approaching from above his craft.
 
From the display, he knew he didn’t have much time before it impacted his fighter.
 
Pulling hard on the controls, Yen began a wide turn, hoping to avoid the incoming missile.
 
Unable to see the rocket but knowing it was getting close, Yen lashed out blindly toward the rocket with psychic energy.
 
As the psychic energy impacted the rocket, the missile exploded less than a hundred feet away from the
Duun Riddell,
jarring Yen in his seat.
 

Yen struggled to maintain control as the plasma burst disrupted the computer controls.
 
The warning claxons erupted all around him as key systems were affected by the explosion.
 
The display turned to red as the engine shorted out and, with a weak sputter, shut down completely.
 
The blast had rocked the small ship, damaging one of the wings and starting it spiraling.
 
Without the engines to correct the spin, Yen felt the centrifugal forces building within the ship, threatening to knock him unconscious.
 
The last thing he saw as darkness crept into the corners of his vision was a warning light signifying that he was descending toward the planet’s atmosphere.

CHAPTER 31:

Yen opened his eyes and watched the blue velvet roll over his body.
 
He floated freely in a sea of mist, unable to discern direction or distance.
 
Though he stood on firm footing, Yen couldn’t find the ground when he reached for it.
 
He was his own island, adrift and alone.
 
Pushing his way forward, Yen tried to find his ship.
 
He remembered the missile chasing him and the explosion rocking his body to its core.
 
If he had landed within the planet, then the wreckage of his ship would have to be nearby.
 
But search as he might, he was unable to find even the smallest piece of debris.

Reaching toward his microphone, he realized that his helmet was gone, along with his only hope of contacting the
Revolution
.
 
Yen panicked, fearing being forgotten and being left alone.
 
He cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled for anyone who could hear.
 
Calling out for help, though, Yen’s words disappeared, their noise drowned out by a sudden low rumble in the distance.
 
The rumbling, like distant and continuous thunder, did not stop, instead growing louder the more he yelled.
 
He covered his ears as the sound grew unbearably loud.

Yen spun where he stood, straining to see through the thick mist.
 
All around him, the folds of the velvety mist belied movement and shapes.
 
He saw faces peering at him in his peripheral vision, only to have them vanish as he turned towards them.
 
Yen could feel the sweat beading on his brow and rolling between the spines on his back, soaking through the flight suit he still wore.
 
His breathing grew shallow and quick as panic crept unwanted into his mind.

With his hands still over his ears, blocking out the now roaring thunder, Yen ran.
 
The ground on which he ran but could not see remained perfectly flat and infinite.
 
The mist clung to him like hands pulling him ever backward, slowing his flight.
 
He screamed, but the sound was lost once more to the thunder.
 
Crying, Yen stumbled and fell to his knees, his legs still finding purchase on the invisible terrain.
 
As the sobs wracked his body, the thunder stopped, leaving his ears ringing and casting the mist into haunting silence.

Yen lowered his hands, unfolding from the fetal position in which he found himself.
 
In the distance, just on the edge of his vision, the silhouette of a shapely woman stood, beckoning him to follow.
 
Her voice, though wordless, carried like a siren’s song, luring him forward.
 
Yen stood and stumbled after her, increasing to a run as she remained just on the edge of his sight.
 
Though he couldn’t tell her features through the blue mist, he knew who had come to rescue him.

“Keryn,” he whispered into the dark.
 
Running harder, he yelled after the retreating silhouette.
 
“Keryn!”

Lightning flashed, igniting the mist in blinding brilliance.
 
Yen fell backwards, collapsing onto the ground and covering his eyes from the intensity of the light.
 
As his vision cleared, he peered forward in awe as the mist coalesced into a beautiful face.
 
The mist formed the red and purple tattoos running the length of her face and flowed like locks of hair from her head.
 
The kind visage stared down at Yen’s prone form.

“Keryn,” he said, his heart pounding in his chest.

Suddenly, the faces features darkened.
 
The eyes narrowed angrily and the lips curled into a startling sneer.
 
It opened its mouth, the words echoing through the fog.

“Yen…,” it said angrily, the voice sounding nothing like the woman Yen loved.

“You’re not real,” he said in disbelief, scrambling to escape the widening mouth as the gaping maw advanced toward him.

“Yen…” it said louder, shaking the ground on which he sat.

“Get away from me,” he cried into the darkening mist.
 
“Stay away!”

“Yen!” a different voice sounded, from within his ear.
 
“Answer me!”

Yen sat upright in his cockpit, his heart racing, sweat soaked completely through his flight suit.
 
Around the ship, blue mist swirled, distant flashes of lightning accentuating the colors.
 
On the display screen of his craft, red lights flashed chaotically as warnings for failing systems.

“Commander, tell me you’re there,” Iana begged over the radio.

Groaning, Yen activated the microphone.
 
“I’m alive,” he croaked through a tight throat.

The cheers from the other end of the radio startled him.
 
“We weren’t sure if you were still alive after you plummeted into the planet’s atmosphere,” Gregario interjected.
 
“Sensors say your engine and computer systems are still offline.”

“Roger that,” Yen replied, assessing the damage to his ship.
 
“I think I can reboot the system to get everything back online.
 
It seems like the rocket just shorted everything out without doing any permanent damage.
 
Give me five minutes, then I’ll let you know if these heap of crap will fly.”

“That’s affirmative, sir,” Iana said.
 
“Glad to hear you’re alive.
 
Team Six is standing by, waiting for you.”

Yen turned off the speaker but couldn’t shake the memory of Keryn’s face angrily staring down at him and screaming her rage.
  
Flipping a series of switches, he heard the engine whine as it tried to restart.

“Come on, you piece of crap,” Yen said angrily as he flipped the switches again.
 
Again, the engines sputtered, but didn’t start.

“Start!” Yen yelled, his power rolling over the ship and igniting the fuel in the engines.
 
With the engine running, the computer systems reactivated, giving him data about the ship’s systems.
 
According to the radar, he had sunk nearly halfway through the gas giant’s atmosphere before waking.
 
The thick clouds had slowed his descent and halted his wild spin, effectively saving his life.