Purge of Prometheus (47 page)

“She’s dead,” Yen replied, his voice almost a whisper.
 
“She was killed in the fall.
 
I need a medical team down to Level Fourteen immediately to retrieve her body.”

“Yes…” Tylgar paused, stunned at the news.
 
“Yes, sir, right away.”

“One more thing, Tylgar,” Yen said into the radio, not wanting the navigator to turn off the channel before Yen was finished.
 
“I need to know the whereabouts of Horace.
 
He’s the security chief and should be apprised of the situation.”

“I’m not sure, sir,” Tylgar said.
 
“The debris knocked out our internal sensors.
 
His last known location was in the brig, guarding the prisoner.”

Yen turned off his radio and smiled to himself.
 
“Perfect.”

The smile remained on his face until he arrived at the door outside the prison.
 
The thought of Captain Hodge lying at the bottom of the stairs was pushed from his thoughts as he traveled through the series of lifts and hallways.
 
Instead, he focused solely on the next inevitable stage of his plan: eliminating any loyalists to the former Captain.
 
Closing his eyes, Yen stood outside the door and let his power build.
 
Blue tendrils spread from his back, sculpting and shaping into a series of scalpels and hooks at the ends of his psychic chains.
 
Snarling, Yen reached out and activated the door.

As it slid open, Horace turned, seeing Yen standing silhouetted in the doorway.
 
The large Oterian took a step backward as he saw the demented expression on Yen’s face, the sadistic smile accentuated by the blue glow of the whirling hooks and blades and the shifting and shimmering aura surrounding him.
 
Yen stepped forward threateningly as Horace tried to speak.

“Commander, what are you…” Horace never finished his sentence as the barbs and knives of Yen’s psychic power plunged into his body.
 
Hooks tore through his flesh, pulling his arms and legs wide until Horace was stretched, suspended a few feet above the ground.
 
Yen generated and sent more and more of the hooks into Horace’s body, ignoring the cries of pain as the barbs pierced his cheeks, abdomen, and groin.
 
With his body stretched and blood spilling freely on the ground, Yen sent the scalpels flying at Horace.
 
Ignoring the surgical precision one might expect from his small blades, Yen struck the Oterian’s body over and over with the knives, leaving ragged cuts and torn flesh as the blades pierced his thick hide.
 
The hooks in his cheeks and lips leaving him unable to speak, Horace gurgled as organs ruptured under the assault.
 
Withdrawing all the scalpels at once, Yen formed his hands into claws with his fingers pointed at Horace’s suspended form.
 
As he moved his fingers, the ten dancing blades responded in like.
 
Thrusting his arms forward, all ten scalpels drove forward, piercing straight through the Security Officer’s chest and erupting from his back.
 
Horace stopped struggling and hung limply in the air.
 
Satisfied, Yen dismissed all his psychic power, the hooks and blades dissipating into the air and allowing the Oterian body to collapse to the floor.

As Yen turned away, he heard a soft whimper from the brig cell.
 
“Vangore, I had almost forgotten all about you,” Yen said without turning toward the Wyndgaart prisoner.

“I don’t want to die,” Vangore said weakly as he pulled his knees tighter to his chest while huddling in the far corner of his cell.
 
“Please don’t kill me.”

“Hush, now,” Yen said sharply.
 
“It’s not you, you have to understand.
 
You had a purpose before.
 
You were going to expose a great conspiracy that would have brought down Captain Hodge, Horace, and numerous others.
 
That would have allowed me to take over as Captain of the
Revolution
.”
 
Yen leaned against the bars separating the two and reached his right hand through the bars.
 
He held his hand palm up as he continued speaking.
 
“But now I decided to take matters into my own hands.
 
You’re just not needed any more.”

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” Vangore pleaded.
 
“Just, Gods, don’t kill me.”

“Believe me when I tell you that the Gods will be the only one to hear your story,” Yen said as a blue ball of energy started forming in his hand.
 
The psychic energy swirled angrily as the ball grew in size.
 
When it nearly consumed the whole palm of his hand, Yen tossed it across the cell where it affixed to the far wall.
 
Vangore cringed, flattening himself against the floor.

“Goodbye, Vangore,” Yen said passively as he walked out of the brig, sealing the doorway behind him.
 
As he walked away, a muffled explosion rocked the brig and blue light flared in the window behind Yen.
 
The explosion tore through the wall and the thick hull, exposing the entire brig to the vacuum of space.
 
The violent decompression sucked Vangore into the vacuum only moments before it ripped the metal bars from their sockets before blasting them into space as well.
 
As an afterthought, Horace’s limp body was drug out through the hole as well, to be consumed by the void.

“Bridge, this is Commander Xiao,” he called into his transponder as he walked casually to the bank of elevators.

“Sir, this is the bridge,” Tylgar rough voice responded.

“It appears that the debris punctured the brig as well.
 
Both the Security Officer and the prisoner were jettisoned into space.”

“Are you sure?” Tylgar responded.

“I’m always sure,” Yen said condescendingly.
 
“Open a Fleet-wide channel, linked to my transponder.”

“Yes, sir,” Tylgar replied quickly, sensing the dangerous tone in Yen’s words.
 
“The channel is open, sir.”

“All ships within the Alliance Fleet, this is Yen Xiao.
 
Due to an unfortunate accident aboard the
Revolution
, Captain Hodge has been killed.
 
As the second in command of the flagship, I am assuming command of both the
Revolution
and the Fleet.
 
From this point on, I have been promoted to the rank of Captain.
 
All previous orders are still in effect.
 
Captains, I will still expect your presence for a battle planning conference on board the
Revolution
, beginning within the hour.
 
Make necessary arrangements.
 
Captain Xiao, out.”

With the unfortunate business of murder behind him, Yen allowed the stressors of the day to escape his body.
 
He knew that Iana had no way off the ship, which meant that it wouldn’t be long until he caught and disposed of her.
 
More importantly, he had less than an hour to prepare for the arrival of the other Captains.
 
He hoped he had enough time to clean up before Keryn arrived.

CHAPTER 34:

Keryn fired the last maneuvering rocket then cut the engines as her ship drifted into the hangar bay of the
Revolution
.
 
Sitting next to her, Alcent looked uncomfortable as they landed.
 
She understood his discomfort.
 
Alcent was used to avoiding both the Terrans and the Alliance as he managed an encompassing smuggling operation.
 
To willingly fly into the flagship of the Alliance Fleet set him on edge.

When the hangar was once again filled with breathable air, Keryn opened the back hatch and stepped out of the ship, her boots clinking on the hard floor.
 
Being on board, Keryn felt her own nervousness growing.
 
She knew a lot of work needed to be done before engaging the second half of the Terran Fleet, and she wasn’t sure they had enough time.
 
If they lost their next battle, then the research she had gained on the Deplitoxide would be a waste and those stranded on the frozen planets would surely die.
 
Keryn wished Adam was by her side, standing stoically as her pillar of strength.
 
Unfortunately, he had remained on board the
Ballistae
as the Captain in absentia.
 
Whatever evils she and Alcent would face on the flagship, they would face alone.

As Alcent took his place at her side, the door to the hangar opened and a welcoming entourage entered.
 
They flooded toward the Terran personnel carrier, which stood starkly out of place amidst the Alliance fighters.
 
The ships flat body and large wingspan, painted in the royal Empire colors, became a beacon around which the welcoming party huddled.
 
Keryn shook hands with numerous dignitaries, the names of which she instantly forgot.
 
Scanning the crowd, she recognized no one, which just deepened her disinterest in the formal greetings.

Halfway through one of the many introductions, Keryn held up her hand, stopping the unknown woman in mid sentence.
 
“I am really in a hurry,” Keryn said calmly, though her frustration was causing internal turmoil.
 
“I have important information that must be passed on to the other Captains.
 
Can you please lead me to the conference?”

Though appearing dejected, the woman nodded and gestured for the pair to follow.
 
As they walked, Alcent fell into step beside Keryn.

“I almost didn’t recognize you there,” he said, jokingly.
 
“I’m used to the woman screaming on the battlefield and shooting people with deadly accuracy.
 
That, in the hangar, was almost diplomatic.”

“Shut it, Alcent,” Keryn sneered, “or I’ll shoot you in the face.”

“Ah,” Alcent replied, smiling.
 
“There’s the Keryn I’ve come to know and love.”

As they were led through a myriad of passages and lifts, they walked in relative silence.
 
Both newcomers spent their walk alternating between being lost in thought and scanning the faces of the Crewmen they passed.
 
For Keryn, she yearned to find a familiar face, but found only strangers staring back.
 
The approach to the War Room was punctuated by raucous laughter and loud voices climbing over one another in an attempt to be heard.
 
They paused at the door as their guide went in ahead to announce them.
 
Alcent stole a glance and reached out, gently squeezing Keryn’s arm.

“You’re looking awfully pale,” he whispered.

“That’s because we don’t belong here,” Keryn replied, her voice raspy and dry.
 
“These are high ranking officers who clawed their way up through the ranks.
 
They know politics and how to play the diplomatic games.
 
What are we?”

“Murderers, smugglers, and thieves,” Alcent replied.
 
“That makes us ten times better people and one hundred times a better crew.
 
They will stab you in the back, but we’ll always have the decency to stab you in your face.”

“You’re joking, but I’m not,” she said.

“I never said I was joking,” Alcent responded.
 
“I would rather fly with our crew any day of the year than serve under the stiff-necked, thin-lipped, tight-asses that lead the Alliance.”

As their guide announced the co-Captains of the
Ballistae
, Alcent’s words stuck in Keryn’s mind.
 
She had been away from the Alliance for a long time, serving with her special operations crew.
 
Their attitudes had always been relaxed and casual, avoiding any reference to rank.
 
Just identifying herself as Magistrate Riddell had made the words feel thick in her mouth and hard to pronounce.
 
Now, being onboard an Alliance Cruiser, the changes she had experienced were never more apparent.
 
All around her, soldiers walked by in high-necked uniforms, immaculately pressed and glistening with cleanliness.
 
She and Alcent, in contrast, wore the loose fitting clothing they had worn upon their escape from Othus: leather pants with loose fitting shirts and long jackets.
 
Keryn was glad that they had parted ways with the more traditional methods of issuing demerits and extra work hours to those who did not keep either themselves or their work areas clean by the appropriate governing regulations.
 
While she had gladly bought into the idea when she was a pilot in the Alliance, she now found the system antiquated and overly cumbersome.

With a tug on her sleeve, Alcent stepped into the War Room with Keryn close behind.
 
The dark uniforms of the Captains hung burdened with gleaming metal decorations on their chests.
 
Conversations had died as the unlikely duo entered the room.
 
More than a couple Captains, people under whom Keryn had once served as a pilot, looked disapprovingly over their attire.
 
One person, however, did not share their disdain.
 
From the far end of the table, Yen watched the pair enter.