A shadow fell over Keryn and in surprise she turned to find what had blocked the sunlight from her face. Others turned as the shadow spread down the street, carrying with it a cold wind. Screams started to spread as, one by one, the citizens of Miller’s Glen looked up at the sky. Her eyes turning all the way to the sun itself, Keryn’s mouth fell open and her eyes wide in surprise. Nothing had come in between the sun and Miller’s Glen to create the shadow. The shadow had come from the sun itself. At the base of the sun’s southern hemisphere, a black spot grew over the surface of the swollen orb. Black tendrils spread across its surface, casting thick shadows onto the planet below.
Shaking free of the spell that had befallen them all, people began running for cover. Like cattle, people on the street pushed and strained against one another as some ran inside buildings and others ran toward the spaceport on the edge of town. Merchants fled, leaving behind piles of substandard food and trade goods that they had been selling at high prices. The streets were in chaos, punctuated time and again by sounds of gunfire and the screams of those unfortunate enough to fall and be trampled by the fleeing masses.
Keryn lunged from the railing and threw open the door to the hotel room. “You guys need to see this,” she yelled into the room. “Now!”
Adam, who had pulled on pants but remained barefoot dripping with water from his shower quickly joined her on the balcony. As the cold blast of air struck him, he shivered reflexively. Penchant quickly joined them as well, appearing in his natural state and still stained with Cardax’s dark blood from his clean up in the back room.
“What the hell?” Adam asked, breathlessly, as he stared up as the vanishing sun. He shivered again in the cold air; the temperature in Miller’s Glen was dropping rapidly as the sun continued to disappear. Staring at what remained of the sun, only half the sphere was still yellow. The rest had been consumed by the inky darkness.
As they watched, the darkness spread both on the sun’s surface and across the planet below. They stared as another quarter of the sun vanished; the planet was cast into a growing twilight. Keryn squinted against the fading light of the sun, straining to see a flicker of movement in orbit above the planet. Her eyes spreading wide, she pointed near the base of the now nearly black sun.
“Do you two see that?” she asked. Following her lead, Adam and Penchant watched as two separate concentric blue circles expanded in the sky. “Is that what I think it is?”
Adam clenched his jaw tight as he watched the blue circles spread. “They’re plasma explosions,” he said, his voice sounding dead and in disbelief. “I think we just lost the two Interstellar Alliance Cruisers in orbit.”
Keryn shoved at them both, trying to push them back inside the hotel room. “Get back inside. I think this is about to get a lot worse for us all.”
Slamming the door behind them, Keryn pulled free the radio on her wrist. “Cerise, this is Keryn.”
Static was the only reply she heard in her earpiece. Pressing the talk button, she tried to reach the Cair Ilmun again. “Cerise, this is Keryn. Respond!”
As she released the talk button, static again leapt to life on the otherwise silent radio. Her hand shaking, she pushed the button one last time. “Cerise, please answer me,” she said weakly. Letting go of the button and hearing static one more time, Keryn turned toward the other two, tears in her eyes.
“I think we might have lost the Cair Ilmun too.”
CHAPTER 10:
Placing his hand on the smooth metal of the fighter’s hull, Yen perused the line of ships in the gargantuan hangar bay. The small Duun fighters were dwarfed by the mass of the bay, holding the full complement of his Squadron’s ships. Even the Cair ships, made for transporting assault teams, seemed insignificant in the hangar.
Though he moved from fighter to fighter, his thoughts were miles away, stuck invariably on Keryn’s face, the Wyndgaart who saved his life and with whom he had fallen in love. The thought of her smile and touch haunted him as he went about his tasks, checking fighter after fighter in his Squadron. Absently, he typed the closest ship’s serial number into his palm display, bringing up the maintenance report for the ship. It said what he already knew it would: the ship was immaculate. Yen had the best crew and pilots in the Fleet under his command, and it showed in his vessels.
“It’s still good, you know,” a female voice called from behind him, her voice seemingly lost in the vastness of the hangar. Yen didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Among his pilots, only one had truly become his confidant and friend.
“Warrant Morven,” Yen said, turning toward the attractive Warrant Officer. Though her blond Pilgrim hair was tussled and grease smeared on her cheek from working on her ship, he was still warmed by her smile. Iana Morven was one of the higher-ranking Warrants under Yen’s command. Though there were a number of full officers on board the Revolution, Yen was the only officer in the Squadron; all other pilots and staff were Warrants or Crewmen. The theory behind the rank dispersion was that the life expectancy of a fighter pilot was so low that it was a waste of Alliance resources to train full officers, only to have them die on their first mission. Yen, however, had always found solace in the lower ranks, finding their camaraderie more genuine and conversations more palatable.
Yen lowered his display screen before he continued. “Sorry, I was distracted.”
“I know,” she said, leaning against the edge of the fighter’s low wing. “That’s the third time you’ve pulled up the maintenance report on that specific fighter.”
She crossed her arms over her ample chest, concealed poorly by a thin grey sleeveless shirt. Her maintenance coveralls had been unzipped, the top half of which hung lazily around her waist. Iana raised an eyebrow, encouraging Yen to explain. Yen scowled, knowing she already knew what was on his mind, but willing to play the game with her.
“My heart just isn’t in the inspection today, I guess,” he explained, covering the truth with his poor explanation.
Iana smiled smugly. “It’s interesting you mention your heart, since that’s the reason you’re not paying attention to what you’re doing,” she chided. “You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”
“What if I am?” Yen said defensively. “Keryn is out there trying to find a cure for the latest Terran attack and all we’re doing is polishing fighters and adding fresh coats of paint. She’s doing something substantial, not to mention that we have so much riding on the success of her mission.” Yen scowled to himself, regretting his decision a few months before the invasion of Earth to tell Iana about his feelings for Keryn. Still, though obviously hurt by his rejection of her advances, Iana had still remained a close, if not brutally honest friend.
“It’s not her mission you’re worried about,” Iana said, shaking her head and reaching out to place her hand on his arm. “It’s okay to admit that you’re worried about her. Truth be told, I’m sure she’d like to know how much you cared.” She turned her head away as she continued. “But…”
“But?” Yen asked, suddenly feeling like he had been led into a trap.
“But we need you to be less of a whipped puppy and more of a Squadron Commander,” Iana said harshly. “In the near future we’re going to be engaged in the greatest series of battles ever fought by the Interstellar Alliance. You are going to be a key part of that assault, leading the fighter Squadron from the Alliance flagship.” She placed a hand on each cheek, pulling his face down so he was eye level with her shorter stature. “We need… no, I need a commander who will be focused and tactically aware. I can’t have you getting distracted at the last possible moment, not when so many lives depend on the decisions you make. Focus, sir.”