Merric zoomed in again on the series of red dots on the map. “We believe from the reports we’ve received that the Terran Fleet consists of forty-four ships. That is ten ships more than what are currently in the Alliance Fleet.” Merric paused for effect, but noticed that little of the room seemed surprised by the situation. Clearing his throat, he continued. “However, we have the advantage of fighting in familiar space and we have a higher concentration of weaponry per ship than do the Terran vessels.”
“And while we continue in pursuit of the Terran Fleet,” the young Lithid Magistrate chimed in once more, to Merric’s dismay, “are we to leave our families to die on frozen planets orbiting lifeless suns?” His question caused a stir of discontentment among the other officers around the table. Sidebar conversations broke out, with a number of Magistrates and lower ranking Prestiges agreeing with the sentiment of the Lithid.
The noise of a dozen independent conversations rolled through Yen’s mind, rattling within the close confines of his skull. His headache slowly grew, though he was no longer sure if it was solely the result of his inebriation the night before. Reaching forward, he slammed his hand down on the table. The sound reverberated in the vaulted room and silence fell as everyone turned toward him. Looking up, his black eyes appeared as maelstroms of barely contained power.
Yen spoke slowly and softly, letting his words carry across the crowded room. “There is a chance for those trapped on the planets. Before we invaded Earth, High Council ordered a small contingent to hunt down the source of the Deplitoxide and bring it back in order to make an antidote to its destructive effects.” Yen found his thoughts wandering, the beautiful face of the Wyndgaart pilot appeared in his vision. He lost himself in the memory of her touch, the feel of her soft skin against his, the love they shared. She had saved his life once and, more importantly, saved his soul when he thought he would be consumed by the burgeoning power.
Focusing on the room once more, he noticed that all faces stared at him in anticipation. “If anyone can find a cure for our current dilemma,” he continued, “Keryn will.”
“If High Council already had the foresight to send someone to find a cure,” the Captain interceded, halting any chance for a debate on the subject, “then I am content that a solution will be presented shortly. However, it doesn’t negate our own responsibility to destroy the Terran Fleet. Eminent Merric, please brief the officers on the most recent piece of information.”
Merric stood once more and pointed at the map, indicating a number of red dots that broke away from the main collection. “As you can see, recent information indicates that half the Terran Fleet has separated themselves from the rest of their ships and is moving into an intercept position between us and Arcendor. That means that they know we’re coming to stop them. I encourage you all to spend the next few days devising a plan to overcome their blockade as quickly as possible so as to not slow our advance toward Arcendor. I will be meeting with select groups of officers shortly to begin devising a strategy. In the mean time, check and double check your assigned sections to ensure we are ready for combat. Now that the Terrans know that we are coming, it won’t be long before we’re fully engaged. The Terrans are fighting for their lives against us, but we are fighting for the survival of everything we know and love. Don’t underestimate them, but don’t expect them to underestimate us either.” Turning, he nodded to Captain Hodge and took his seat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I stress the importance of our responsibility here,” she said. “Let’s ensure that we are forever remembered for our decisive defeat over the Terran Fleet.”
Forever remembered, Yen thought as a chill rose up his spine. He couldn’t help but think of how close her words sounded to those of the Terran madman who started this war in the first place.
CHAPTER 9:
Keryn leaned against the railing outside their hotel room and breathed deeply of the warm city air. Despite the warmth, she found herself shivering. Inside, she had been close to losing control and falling back into her former self. Even despite her control, she could feel her sadistic half crawling through her mind.
You can’t escape me, the Voice said curtly in her mind. We are one and the same, you and I.
“Shut up,” Keryn whispered out loud. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, willing the Voice to go away.
You can’t just want me gone and I’ll vanish, it said. I’m a part of you, now and forever.
The whispering continued in her mind. When she had first heard the Voice as a child, she had panicked, certain that some critical synapses had burned away within her mind. Dementia, she had thought then. But then she learned the truth, not just about the Voice but about herself. And it scared her nearly to death.
But we had been great together, the Voice said, knowing her thoughts. And, in the end, you gave in to me.
“But I never will again,” she growled toward the bustling city. A startled man standing on his own balcony a few rooms over looked at her startled. She turned angrily. “What the hell is your problem,” she barked ferociously at the man. Surprised, he turned and disappeared quickly from view.
You’re already so close to me, cooed the voice. It isn’t much further until you realize our potential together once again.
Scared terribly after her first encounter with the Voice, she had taken herself off rotations for pilot duty despite being Squadron Commander, choosing instead to remain locked within her quarters on board the Revolution, keeping away from people who, like herself, would question her sanity. And though the Voice was silent for a long while, she knew it would never go away. She was a Wyndgaart, and the Voice was as natural to their physiology as the tattoos that traced her body.
The Wyndgaarts were savage warriors and exceptional soldiers. Their skills in hand-to-hand combat were trained, to a degree, within nearly every unit within the Interstellar Alliance. But their talents were not something the Wyndgaarts trained from generation to generation. Deep within their genes, their rage and savagery was given voice, a voice that carried the combat memories and skills of generations of their predecessors. For most Wyndgaarts, they came to accept the Voice and fuse it with their own, resulting in dark personalities and great heroics on the battlefield.
But Keryn had chosen a different path. She balked at the idea of accepting the savagery of her species and, instead, chose to attend the Academy. She had been a rarity, even in the prestigious institute that trained all military fighter pilots. But in order to train her mind for the complexities of three-dimensional space combat, she had to suppress her own Voice.
Suppressed, but not forgotten, her Voice whispered.
Never forgotten, Keryn thought darkly. She had given in to the Voice once before, while engaged in the complicated acrobatics of space combat. She had been close to dying, with Terran fighters chasing her through the void of space. The Voice had called out to her and, in her fear, she had given in to it. She had watched the rest of the battle as though through a fog. The had performed maneuvers that she would have never thought of alone, her ship spinning wildly and firing again and again until all her pursuers had been killed. Together with the Voice, Keryn had been unstoppable on the battlefield. But she always remembered the gleeful and childish laughter that, for the longest time, she didn’t even recognize as her own. Keryn killed hundreds, if not thousands, of Terran soldiers that day, finally bringing down a bloated Terran Destroyer by herself. But, throughout it all, there had been the laughter and, though she hated herself for it, the joy.