Angrily, Iana bit her lip to stave off the weariness that she felt. Struggling, she reached out for the controls, fighting against the pressure on her limbs. As her fingers closed around the controls, she battled with the ship, slowly stopping the spinning and haphazard flight until, eventually, she regained a small semblance of control.
Alone, gasping for breath and moaning against the pain she felt throughout her body, Iana fell heavily into the pilot’s chair. Her controls were still sporadic at best and radar was not functioning. Her trip had taken her most of the way around the gas giant, meaning that she had been expelled somewhere close to where the Terran forces now lay in wait. Shaking her head slowly, Iana wondered why she had bothered. Her ship was now severely damaged and she had no idea the scope of her own injuries. And, throughout all of her pain and suffering, she had wound up almost directly back where she had started, staring down a Terran assault group.
Through the cockpit window, Iana could see some of the Terran fighters breaking away from the main pack and moving in her direction. Judging from their movements, she assumed that they knew where the danger areas were around the gas giant and were quick to avoid them. The fighters moved to intercept her, leading Iana to believe that she had been tossed completely clear of the magnetic interference. A small smile spread across her face, a mirth that didn’t reach her eyes. Though she appreciated the irony, she didn’t find the humor in realizing that the gas giant had only thrown her free of its grasp after completely disabling her ship. In essence, it had left her debilitated but left the dirty work of killing her to the Terran pilots.
Letting go of the controls, she crossed her arms across her chest and stared at the approaching pilots. Stoic to the end, Iana refused to look away from her executioners. Rapidly, the Terran fighters closed the distance until she was sure that they were within range of their deadly missiles. Frowning, she stared straight ahead, a sense of dread filling her chest and making it hard to swallow.
To her surprise, the closest fighters erupted in flames; obliterated within seconds from an unseen enemy. The rest of the Terran fighters turned quickly and tried to speed away from Iana’s Duun. As they fled, dark projectiles shot through the air from somewhere beyond Iana’s view, striking the Terran ships and tearing unceremoniously through their thick hulls.
In the distance, the swarm of Terran ships scattered and tried to flee. Blue and purple plasma filled Iana’s vision as the entire universe in front of her erupted into flames. Small fighters, silhouetted in the explosion, sped away only to be consumed by the rolling shockwave as rocket after rocket exploded in the empty space.
As Iana stared in awe at the devastating firepower, a dark shadow passed over her ship. Looking upward, Iana stared into the dark underbelly of an Alliance Cruiser as it passed overhead, still raining down its rail gun slugs and large yield plasma rockets on the surprised Terran forces. In its wake, another Cruiser passed followed by yet another. From around the far side of the gas giant, dozens more Cruisers entered the solar system and destroyed the fleeing fighters.
All around her, walls of metal appeared as her Duun fighter was swallowed by an open Cruiser hangar bay. In front of her, the large hangar doors slid shut and her Duun set down heavily on the metallic floor. Alliance soldiers hurried to her ship to render aid. Iana smiled as they cut away on the cockpit, trying to free the trapped pilot within. Her salvation had come not in some carefully devised plan by her and the other members of the Squadron. It had come instead from an Alliance Fleet who was willing to fly at such incredible speeds that they arrived ahead of schedule.
Finally, after all she had been through, Iana allowed tears to stream down her face. The Fleet had arrived. In her heart, she knew the fall of the Empire was now inevitable.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Yen’s lungs screamed for air as he was suspended in the air above the rectangular, manmade pond. Achilles’ psychic, vice-like grip tightened around his throat, choking out what little oxygen remained in his body. Though Yen struggled against the Terran’s power, he was helplessly trapped. There was no physical hand crushing the life from his body against which he could break free. And with a lack of air clouding his mind, Yen couldn’t find the mental clarity to concentrate on severing Achilles’ psychic control. Instead, Yen felt his limbs growing heavy as darkness crept into the corners of his vision. His legs slowly stopped kicking in the cool, damp breeze. His arms clawed weakly at his throat before flopping, limply to his side. The muscles on the sides of his neck tightened until it caused Yen physical pain, but he was unable to find the smallest iota of breathable air.
Through the haze of his vision, Yen could see the mocking smile of Achilles, staring up from his place on top of the water. Though Yen could see the Terran’s lips move first as if forming words and then laughing heartily, the sounds never penetrated Yen’s ears. All he heard was the pounding of his fading pulse rushing through his head, sounding like the beating drums of a war party on the march, moving off toward a distant kill. Yen hated Achilles; he hated everything the Terran was. An abomination, a scientific experiment, unnatural. To a pure born psychic, the fact that Yen would soon be killed at the hands of a freak of nature was abysmal. Even though he neared death, a furious rage still burned through Yen’s body. If he could only find a way to break free, Yen would exact a most painful and permanent revenge on his Terran counterpart.
Even as Yen’s consciousness faded away and the beating in his ears retreated even further, a single gunshot split through the rain-soaked air. Achilles staggered as blood sprayed from his shoulder. The shot had only been glancing, barely grazing Achilles; a much less impressive shot than Yen had hoped for. Achilles’ reaction to the gunshot, however, was remarkable. His concentration broken, the Terran sank into the water, finally coming to rest with the pond lapping above his knees. Turning, Achilles was able to raise his psychic shield before a volley of gunfire erupted from the tree line to Yen’s left. The rounds ricocheted off the wavering red shield in front of the Terran as Achilles threw his arms up protectively in front of his face.
To Yen’s surprise, the pressure on his chest and neck began to lessen. Cold air slipped down his throat and burned his lungs, which cried out for more. In hitched breaths, Yen drew the moist air into his lungs and coughed painfully, feeling each breath burn painfully in his throat. As the psychic grip slackened on his body, so did the height at which Yen was being held. Slowly, Yen drifted back down into the frigid waters of the pond.
Gripping his chest tightly, Yen turned and watched as Achilles regained his composure. Stepping toward the Alliance gunmen, Yen’s own soldiers who had accompanied him into the park, Achilles rose out of the water until once again he glided across the surface. The Alliance bullets continued to ricochet harmlessly away, none able to find a weakness in Achilles’ defenses. Reaching out with both hands, Achilles closed his eyes as his outstretched fingers angled toward the trees behind which the soldiers hid. Quickly closing his hands into tight fists, the trees exploded one by one, the bark and splintered wood becoming deadly projectiles which flew into the faces and exposed flesh of the Alliance soldiers. Skin shredded under the assault, spraying the grass behind each of the men with gore. Only the soldiers’ torsos, protected by the dense body armor, escaped the great punishment that the rest of their bodies endured. Collapsing to the ground, hardly recognizable as the once distinct soldiers they had been, Yen could only hear the weak mewling of the dying men from where he sat in the water.