Jon Messenger

Burden of Sisyphus

CHAPTER ONE

Private Hicks’ heartbeat pounded like a hammer as he glanced around the corner of the crumbled concrete wall. Seeing nothing across the open field of powdered red clay, he felt the first relief flooding through his system in the past twenty minutes.

Allowing himself a moment to unwind taut muscles, Hicks ejected the magazine from his rifle and counted his ammunition. Realizing there were only ten bullets left, he cringed. It wasn’t enough to stop any of the enemies pursuing him. Taking another glance around the broken wall and seeing nothing behind him, he quickly surveyed the rest of the area.

All around stood the bombed-out remains of a once-prosperous town, reduced to the destroyed one-story remnants of their foundations. Flowing like water between the broken walls was the red, clay-like sand that covered the planet’s surface.

He squinted against the bright suns shining down on the dry, desolate planet. He scanned his surroundings until he saw the rising plateau. Buried in its midst was the shimmering silhouette of a tower-the tip of a communications array that marked the Terran outpost. It stood enclosed within a crevice that cut into the side of the plateau, with a defensive wall between the Terran building and the rest of the harsh planet. All that remained between him and the wall was a maze of ruined structures and a hill he must cross yet dreaded reaching.

Around him, sand shifted constantly, covering even the deep tracks he left as he ran for cover. The planet was nothing like the Terran home world of Earth. Meager scrub grasses grew twisted and sickly, leaving little to hinder the gusty wind. Wiping sweat from his eyes, he thought again how he didn’t want to die on such a miserable planet.

Doing the calculations in his mind, he chose one of the closer structures, judging the time and distance it would take to reach its walls. Not wanting to stay exposed for too long, he chose the closest wall.

He pulled his rifle tight to his shoulder and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Exhaling slowly with leg muscles coiled, he sprinted forward. Counting seconds in his head, he covered the last few meters in a dash before dropping to his knees and sliding behind the wall, a cloud of acrid red dust rising in his wake.

Breathing heavily again, he strained to hear a cry of alarm or indication that he’d been spotted. Hearing none, he picked his way through the buildings, always staying low to avoid detection. Red sand pulled at his feet, threatening to drag him down if he stayed in one place too long. His legs already ached from running across the shifting ground, but he drove forward until he finally reached the last foundation. Before him loomed the hillside. Just beyond was the freedom he feared he’d never see.

He rubbed his burning calves, helping his body break down the lactic acid cramping his muscles. Stealing one last backward glance, he broke from cover and charged up the red hill. Sand gave way underfoot, shifting with his body weight. For every two steps forward, he slid one step back.

Struggling, he clawed at the loose ground with his hands, pulling himself closer to the top, while behind, an avalanche of sand poured down the hill. Finally, panting wildly, he reached the top and dropped to his stomach, sliding down the short backside.

His body screamed in protest, as he tried to stand. His muscles ached, and his lungs burned in the planet’s thin, dust-filled air. Under his dark armor, sweat soaked through his uniform. Raising his head, he saw the looming plateau. Nuzzled within the wedge of the plateau’s facade, there was the Terran’s dark, stone, defensive wall. Relief flooded through him. Being able to see the bristling antiaircraft weapon platforms mounted atop the wall meant his destination was finally within reach.

Scrambling to his feet despite resistant muscles, he ran the rest of the way to the wall. He didn’t dare hope to make it that far without being spotted by his enemies, but the reprieve gave him time to close the final twenty meters to the outpost. Legs cramping, he limped the rest of the way to the wall. Ignoring the large, arched vehicle entrance, whose heavy doors led straight to the courtyard between the wall and the building set into the plateau, he staggered to the reinforced personnel entrance to one side. Shuffling past a set of thick windows, he watched Terran soldiers within the wall move toward the door.

Sliding in the red sand, he stopped in front of the door and pounded it with his open hand. “Open the door!” he yelled, his voice raspy and dry.

When nothing happened, he banged again, glancing over his shoulder in fear and frustration.

“Open the damn door!” he screamed, as much as his raw throat allowed, hitting the door repeatedly.

Finally, hesitantly, it opened.

A blast of cool air struck him, as he was pulled into the comforting darkness. The room was cast in deep shadows, and he was momentarily blinded in the dim lighting. He shivered, as someone helped him to the far side of the narrow room, the cool air a stark contrast to the scorching heat outside. Sliding down against the wall, he exhaled a loud, raspy breath.

“Hicks,” the closest soldier said.

His head swam with exhaustion.

“What happened out there?”

He peered through the gloom, barely able to make out the man’s rank and name. “Alliance mercenaries. They hit us while we were on patrol.”

A third soldier pushed past the others and bent over Hicks, who saw the officer epaulettes on his shoulder. “Where’s the rest of your team, Private?”

He shook his head. “They’re all dead, Sir.”

“All of them?” the lieutenant asked in disbelief. “How did one group of Alliance mercenaries take out an entire patrol?”

A soft sound echoed through the room before Hicks could reply. The thumping reverberated softly, as he clambered to his feet. Slowly, the others heard it, and the room fell to hushed silence. It was a series of soft thumps, as if something struck the compound’s outer wall repeatedly.

“What the hell is that noise?” Lieutenant Hill asked, looking toward the thick, outer walls.

The sound continued unabated.

“Sir, I’ve got a visual,” a private said, watching from the window.

The lieutenant rushed to the window, pulling free the binoculars on his hip. In the distance, a single massive form stood at the crest of the hill. Thick, dark fur covered its body, which ended in an elongated snout. Sharp horns jutted from its temples, curving wickedly forward.

Lowering his binoculars, the lieutenant turned toward the rest of the soldiers. “It looks like the Alliance found our outpost! Let’s move, people!” As he walked back to the middle of the room, the soldiers exploded into action.

“On your feet, soldiers!” Lieutenant Hill yelled over the din of muttered conversation. “Grab some ammo and find a wall to stand behind.” Turning back toward the sturdy window, he glared across the red field. “If they want to bring their fight here, they won’t even know what hit them.”

“How true,” Hicks rasped, as a barbed tail erupted from under the back of his shirt. Lashing out, the tail struck the base of Lieutenant Hill’s neck and erupted from his throat, nearly decapitating the officer.

Hicks extended his left hand, and the fingers elongated into razor-sharp points, which he drove into a nearby soldier’s abdomen. The soldier stared in disbelief, as the skin on Hicks’ face melted like wax, first running down toward his chin before being absorbed into his oily-black skin. The face disappeared, leaving behind a featureless black oval. Slowly, the rest of his skin melted away until all that remained was thick, black hide.

The creature that impersonated Hicks swished its spiked tail back and forth and turned toward the three remaining soldiers in the room. Eyes wide with fright, one swung his rifle toward the creature and squeezed the trigger.

The window exploded inward, as the first round tore through the thick glass and struck the soldier’s temple. His scalp peeled away on the far side of his head, as the high-velocity round passed through and struck the far wall, spraying the back of the room with blood.

A second report shook the room, as another round struck the soldier closest to the window in the chest, lifting him from his feet and tossing his body farther into the narrow room.

The remaining soldier ran through the back door, deeper into the steel-and-concrete complex.

The dark creature surveyed the grizzly scene and flicked its tail, splashing more droplets of blood against the wall. A clawed hand reached to its throat and pressed a small button embedded in its neck.

“Sir, we have a runner,” it said into its throat mike.

Two miles away, three camouflaged figures watched the events unfold through high-powered scopes. A figure fully cloaked in red robes and scarves reached under the scarf around its throat and keyed his own microphone.

“Roger that, Ixibas.” The red-robed figure turned toward two prone figures on his right. “Ainj and Yen are tracking his progress now.”

Ainj pulled a massive sniper rifle tighter against an anemic-looking frame with surprising strength. His pale skin seemed ill fitted for this world’s harsh desert climate, but he pulled his feathered wings over his body to keep the sun away from his sharp eyes. Staring through the scope, he panned right from the window to the communications tower, following the soldier’s movements through the two-foot-thick concrete walls.

Yen Xiao crouched quietly beside Ainj, his eyes closed and fingers intertwined. His yellow skin glistened with sweat, as he concentrated, and the elongated spines running down his back flexed and relaxed with the rhythm of his calming breaths. The air around him shimmered faintly, as if heat radiated from him. His features danced, as the shimmering increased in pace with his deepening concentration. In a tranquil voice, he called out commands to Ainj.

‘Right twenty meters, up one.” His dark brows furrowed, as he focused.

Ainj followed his direction, tracing a path along the featureless concrete wall.

“He’s gone up a floor and is heading back. Left five meters, up another three.”

Ainj angled the tip of the massive sniper rifle left, pausing only briefly, as his sights passed over a female creature scaling the side of the building, heading directly toward the antiaircraft weapons lining the roof of the communications center. Bony protrusions along her hands and feet dug into the building’s thick stonework, as she climbed higher. A large spear, strapped to her back, bounced as she moved.

“Left two more meters,” Yen said, “and you have him.”

The sniper rifle followed the directions flawlessly. Ainj, focusing on the location, squeezed the trigger.

The wall near Nova Tirana exploded, showering her with small rocks and a cloud of white dust. She shook her hair free, and debris showered twenty feet to the red sand below.

“The last interior guard is down,” the red-robed man called over the radio. “Nova, you’re up. Watch the timeline.”

“Roger.” She pulled the bony protrusions around her knuckles free of the wall and began climbing again. As she slammed the white-bone ridges around her hands and feet into the wall, a loud thump echoed, as she scrambled for purchase. Sweat rolled around the boney ridges along her cheeks and jawline, which she shook free with a toss of her head.

Cresting the top of the wall, Nova pulled the long spear off her back, as she climbed to her feet. Antiaircraft weapons sat on either side of her, their barrels pointed skyward. A pair of Terran soldiers manned each weapon. At the sight of the female Uligart climbing the lip of the wall, they reached for their weapons.

Nova spun the spear artfully, slicing off both hands of the closest Terran, as he reached for his rifle. Screaming, he stumbled backward. Using his momentum against him, she drove the butt of the spear unto his gut, lifting him off his feet and tossing him off the roof. Completing the spin of her spear, she drove the tip cleanly through the Terran in the gunner’s chair. Gurgling, he fell limply to the rooftop, as she turned toward the other antiaircraft platform.

Turning, she pressed a button on the spear’s haft. The bladed tip snapped free and spun at the end of a chain. She whipped the spear tip toward the first of the guards before he could fire his weapon. The blade punctured his body armor, shattering bone and muscle, as it tore through his back. Lifted from his feet by the impact, he crashed into the barrel of the antiaircraft weapon.

Nova tugged the haft, but the chain and blade were lodged too tightly to the Terran’s body. She danced aside, as the last soldier fired. Bullets sheared flakes of stone from the rooftop near her right foot.

Dropping the spear, her hand moved in a blur. She freed her pistol and fired, the round catching the side of the Terran’s neck. He spun, firing a few more shots reflexively before collapsing onto the stone roof. As he gurgled painfully, blood sprayed weakly from his severed artery, slicking the rooftop with gore.

Reaching to her neck, Nova activated her throat mike. “The rooftop’s clear. We’re ready to proceed with phases three and four.”

Looking down sympathetically at the frightened Terran, she frowned before raising her pistol and shooting him between the eyes.

“That’s a good copy, Nova,” the red-robed figure replied. “Tusque and Eza, you’re both a go for your phase. Ainj is airborne. Yen and I will be there shortly.”

Ainj picked up his sniper rifle and pushed off from the ground. Beating his powerful wings, he gained altitude and flew toward the Terran outpost. As he departed, the red-robed figure and Yen picked up the remaining supplies and ran toward the distant plateau.

At the top of the hill near the wall, the eight-foot, furry Oterian huffed loudly, as he looked over his shoulder. Behind him, a smaller, deeply tanned man stood, absently spinning a curved hand ax through the air. The man’s golden hair was pulled back from his face in a ponytail. On either side of his face, tracing his strong jawline, red and white tattoos swirled across his skin.

“Ready?” Tusque rumbled.

“Always,” Eza Riddell replied, before sprinting beside the Oterian across the red sand toward the towering vehicle entrance doors.

Tusque, who began running shortly before Eza, moved like a locomotive. Though he wasn’t nearly as fast as Eza, his powerful strides built up great momentum, as he charged the outpost. His breath coming in deep huffs, Tusque lowered his head, as he moved toward the metallic alloy door.

When he crashed into it, it resounded like a thunderclap. The vehicle entrance exploded inward, scattering the Terran guards posted inside.

As the first Terran regained his footing, a smaller form tumbled through the destroyed archway. Rolling to his feet, Eza slashed to the side with his curved ax. The blade bit deep into the Terran’s hamstrings, severing both muscles, as red blood mixed with the colored sand. Before the soldier fell, Eza pulled out his pistol and shot the next-closest Terran. The round struck his abdomen, eviscerating him. Clutching intestines that threatened to spill to the ground, he collapsed onto his back.

Eza swung down his ax, splitting the hamstrung Terran’s skull and spilling chunks of gray matter to the ground.

Tusque lifted one of the fallen Terrans in his massive hands, tossing him into a wall. His body crumpled upon impact, and, flopping involuntarily as he fell, he collapsed to the ground. The fourth soldier climbed to his feet and fired, the bullet catching the Oterian’s shoulder.

Tusque looked at the deep gunshot wound, letting thick, black blood seep, and growled deeply. He swung his huge fist backhand, catching the surprised Terran on the side of the face. His head twisted awkwardly over his shoulder with a sickening snap from the base of his neck. He fell limply to the ground.

Eza cleared his throat to get Tusque’s attention. His arms covered in blood, he pointed into the open-air courtyard beyond the narrow overhang, where Terran soldiers moved into position behind quickly erected barricades. Staring down dozens of gun barrels, Tusque smiled and pointed skyward.

A faint, birdlike shadow spread over the Terran soldiers, as Ainj glided over the defensive wall and began dropping high explosives from the bandoleer around his chest.

The makeshift bunkers turned into pillars of blazing infernos, as the explosives rocked the compound. Dusty red sand melted in the heat, turning to glass. Terran soldiers collapsed into the molten sand, their bodies consumed by the fire and shredded from shrapnel. Within both buildings, lights flickered, as the generator struggled against the barrage of concussive blasts.

As the fires slowly died, seven figures emerged from the smoky remains of soldiers and barricades. In the center, the red-robed man called them to halt before the main outpost doors. Though the building’s facade was damaged by Ainj’s explosive barrage, the sturdy doors held.

“Tusque,” the heavily robed man said, “please open the doors for us. Everyone else, expect resistance once we’re inside. Remember our priority-recover the data disk. Get it, get out, and then we’ll take care of the base.”

Nodding to the robed man, the large Oterian reached forward, prying his fingers between the solid doors. With a heave, the strong doors screeched, as metal locks tore and broke free. With a last lurch, Tusque pulled the doors from their hinges and let the stone slabs fall to the ground.

Weapons drawn, the group entered the outpost’s cool darkness. The central foyer split left and right, leading deeper into the plateau’s hollowed rock.

“Split into teams of two,” the robed man ordered. “Yen and Eza, take the right wing. Nova and Ixibas, the left. Tusque and I will hold the central corridor. Ainj, you’re on the roof to cover our escape. Remember, we’re on the clock. Our transport off this rock won’t wait if we’re late. Move out.”

Yen and Eza moved to the right, winding through dark passages lit only by emergency lights. As they approached the first closed door, the pair stopped. Air shimmered around Yen, as if his skin smoldered. Slowly, it receded, and he sighed.

“There’s no one inside,” Yen said. “Let’s keep moving.”

They performed the routine before three more doors, moving deeper into the plateau. The passages were disturbingly devoid of Terran soldiers, though neither Yen nor Eza believed all had been killed in the courtyard.

After following several winding passages, the pair finally stood outside a large metal door blocking their way. A number pad was embedded to the right of the door, with a bright red light glowing above it.

“We’re locked out,” Eza said. “We could use Nova right now.”

“Our computer wizard left, unfortunately.” The air wavered around him.

“There’s another way.” Eza smiled and pulled a block of explosives from his bag.

Yen held up his hand to silence Eza, sensing five distinct life forms in the room. Their thoughts, though unclear, gave him vague impressions of ambush and defense.

“This is it,” he told Eza. “I’ll see if I can get us through the door without bringing down the roof on us.”

Eza frowned in disappointment. “Fine. Have it your way.”

Reaching out, Yen contacted the closest mind and pushed his way past the muddled fog of fear and nervousness to reach a cache of recent memories. Smiling, he retreated from the mind and rejoined his body.

“Got it,” Yen said, walking to the number pad. “You ready?”

Eza slid both his curved ax and handgun from his belt. Breathing deeply, he let his mind settle and the nervous energy drain from his body. In the back of his mind, a soft Voice began whispering, filling him with confidence. He spun the ax effortlessly, as he began weaving back and forth on the balls of his feet.

We’re ready, the Voice whispered.

“I’m ready,” Eza echoed into the gloomy hallway.

Nodding, Yen entered the door code. The light above the panel changed from bright red to vibrant green, and the metal door slid open with a hiss.

Time slowed for Eza, as he entered the room, his eyes scanning overturned tables and stacked steel chairs to create impromptu barricades. To the left and right, stairs led to raised platforms where two Terran soldiers moved as if through fog, training their weapons on the Wyndgaart fighter. In front of him, three more Terrans took cover behind their fortified positions.

Eza was already running up the left stairs before the slow pounding of automatic fire began. The soldier on the platform swung his rifle to aim at the fast-moving target, but Eza dropped to the ground and slid, kicking a metal chair into the Terran’s legs.

Flipping headfirst to the ground, the Terran’s face slammed into the raised platform, shattering his nose and sending teeth and blood skittering across the floor. Regaining his feet, Eza brought down his ax on the back of the fallen soldier’s head, slicing cleanly through the dense skull. The top of the Terran’s head slid across the ground, as blood poured from the gaping maw of his brain cavity. Eza slid behind a nearby table for cover, as bullets struck the wall behind him.

When the Terrans’ attention was distracted, Yen stepped into the doorway and fired at the soldier on the raised right side of the room. His rounds caught the unsuspecting Terran in the shoulder and side of the knee. Screaming in pain, he collapsed to the ground, his rifle slipping from his fingers and sliding out of reach. Yen lunged back behind the wall, as the Terrans on the ground floor returned fire.

Their team rehearsed tactics like these many times. As the enemy shifted attention back and forth between the two targets, Eza and Yen took advantage of the openings. With the Terrans firing at Yen, Eza leaped from the raised platform. He threw his ax while in mid-flip, catching the closest Terran in the chest and lifting him from his feet. Soldier and ax, tumbling over nearby furniture, splayed onto the ground.

Eza landed and rolled, coming to his feet inches from the second Terran. The soldier tried to bring his rifle to bear, but Eza easily knocked it aside with his open hand. He raised his pistol with his free hand and fired multiple shots into the soldier’s abdomen. Gurgling, blood pooling around his groin and running freely down his legs, he slid to the ground and died.

The final Terran aimed at Eza, as the dead soldier slid to the floor. Before he could pull the trigger, his face went slack, and his eyes filled with perplexity. A single shot echoed in the room, as Yen shot the man in the back. The air around him wavered, as he released the Terran’s nervous system. The soldier, no longer paralyzed, exhaled a final breath.

Wordlessly, Eza collected his ax and stalked to the wounded Terran on the right landing. He tried to drag himself to his rifle, but explosions of pain shot through his shattered knee. Eza stepped up behind him, straddling the crawling soldier, and swung his arm in an arc, bringing it down repeatedly on the injured man.

Satisfied the soldier was dead, Eza, covered in blood, turned to Yen. “You couldn’t have killed him instead of just winging him?” He stared at the dismembered soldier lying before him, the look of intense concentration leaving his face.

His shoulders slumped, as the Voice released control of his body. Almost disgustedly, he looked at the arterial sprays of blood covering his clothing and arms.

“I’m a psychic, not a gunslinger,” Yen replied, stepping over a dead soldier. “Be happy I hit him at all.”

On the far side of the room, a bank of dark computer screens glowered at the intruders. Yen approached the consoles and sorted through the collection of data disks sitting haphazardly on a narrow counter. Tossing the more-mundane ones over his shoulder, he paused when he found a red disk.

“I’ve got it!” He turned to catch Eza’s eyes, as the Wyndgaart tried to clean the blood staining his tanned skin.

“Good,” Eza said, disgruntled. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Yen smiled mischievously. “Don’t you want to know what’s on it?”

“Yes,” Eza sighed, “but the first order we received was to collect the disk and bring it back. At no time were we….”

“…to open it. I’m perfectly aware of what they told us, but how will they know? It’s just the two of us in here.” He spun the disk between his fingers, letting it catch the light hypnotically.

“No, Yen. This is exactly why we can’t stay out of trouble. You always have some great idea that winds up earning us extra duty. Not this time.”

“Your loss.” He pulled out his handheld console. “All I’m saying is, we’re on a secret mission attacking a Terran outpost on the outskirts of Alliance-occupied space. The fact that there’s an outpost here at all intrigues the hell out of me. If you aren’t interested, I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

He inserted the disk, and the console flickered. Data poured across the screen. Yen’s face glowed with pale blue light from his monitor, as he perused the files. His eyes slowly widened in surprised, as he continued reading.

Eza, noticing, came closer. “What did you find?” he asked, disgusted by his own curiosity.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Yen said breathlessly.

More intrigued, Eza moved beside his friend to read the screen. Words flew past his eyes, allowing him to catch only snippets of sentences. “What am I looking at?” He couldn’t make sense of it.

Yen didn’t speak for a moment, responding only when Eza drove a well-placed elbow into his ribs.

Cringing, Yen said, “Let’s see. There are science plans for genetic experimentation, biological research into a new chemical weapon, Fleet plans for assault into Alliance-occupied space….”

“Wait a second. Assaults into Alliance space? We need to let someone know.”

“And admit we looked at the disk we were forbidden to open?”

Before Eza could answer, their radios crackled.

“Eza, Yen, give me an update.”

The pair shared a knowing look, as Yen slid the data disk free of his console. “Sire, we retrieved the disk and are returning to your position.”

“Double-time it,” the red-robed man said. “We’re still on the clock and are quickly running out of time.” He activated his throat mike. “Halo, this is ground team. We’re heading to the landing zone now.”

“Move quickly,” a soft, feminine voice said. “You’re already running late, and the transport won’t wait forever.”

“Roger that, Halo. You heard the lady, Team. Meet me back in the main chamber ASAP.”

The pair met the rest of the team in the main foyer and handed the disk to the man in red. Together, the seven-member team hurried from the outpost, arriving at the pickup zone moments before the Alliance troopship landed. They turned their faces away from the billowing dust, as the ship touched down on the planet’s surface, and a side door slid open. It shut behind the team, as they found their seats, then they were pressed into them, as the transport accelerated from the atmosphere.

The man in red activated his microphone again. “Halo, this is Magistrate Michael Vance. We’re clear of the planet and ready to begin bombardment.”

“Roger that,” Halo’s soft, feminine voice replied. “We’re proceeding with our bombing run.”

Vance leaned back in his padded chair, as blue and purple plasma explosions engulfed the red planet’s surface.

CHAPTER TWO

Nova stepped in front of Ainj, as he tried to enter the barracks room onboard the Goliath and punched his arm hard. She pointed a menacing finger at him and scowled.

“What the hell was that for?” Ainj asked, his tone rising and falling like soft singing.

“You nearly shot me!” she sneered at the Avalon sniper.

“Nearly. I still missed.”

“Do it again, and I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”

“You tease.” He slid against her, his tone belying the typical Avalon personality, which was known throughout the universe as arrogant and condescending.

Nova’s frown softened, and she laughed despite herself.

Eza leaned past Ainj’s outstretched wing and cleared his throat loudly. “If you two lovebirds are quite done, the rest of us would like to get into the barracks.”

“He’s right, you know,” Nova told Ainj. “We should get a room.” She coyly tilted her head toward the rows of beds.

“Oh, absolutely.” Ainj winked. “We should get a room.” He placed his hands on her hips, pushing her out of the doorway.

The other team members moved into the room, stripping off soiled clothing and hanging assorted weaponry on the ends of their respective bunks. The air around Yen grew hazy, as his equipment slid off him and floated to a hamper beside his bed.

“Showoff,” Eza said, walking past and stripping off his clothing. The Wyndgaart paused long enough to toss Yen the set of ID tags he slipped over his head.

Yen absently caught them and tossed a similar set back to Eza. Dropping his freshly returned tags onto the bed, Eza unbuttoned his bloody pants and was already heading toward the showers when Vance entered the room.

“Listen up, all of you,” Vance said, his voice still muffled from his thick, red lips, “before I lose you to the four corners of the ship.” He looked at the two already lying on their bunks. “Some of you to your own personal game of Who’s in my Mouth. I want to tell you that was great work down on the planet.”

Yen performed an exaggerated bow. “We live to serve the Alliance.”

“Cut the crap, Yen,” Vance growled.

“He’s just playing around.” Eza stood naked near the shower rooms, the red and white tattoos tracing the course of his muscular chest and strong abs. “Which brings up a good point, Vance. You should try relaxing and unwinding with us sometime. You can’t be our stoic leader all the time.”

Vance unwound the thick scarves covering his face. Tilting his head forward, he pulled the turban from his head, finally freeing his face to the ship’s cool air. “I’d love to, but someone has to make sure you children stay out of trouble, especially around the rest of the crew.” He ran a hand over his neatly trimmed black beard. “How about this? When you get Ixibas to take part in your version of relaxation, I’ll be there to join in.”

The group turned toward the expressionless face of the Lithid shape changer. His dark, featureless, black, oval face revealed nothing.

“I’m always relaxed,” Ixibas replied, his voice rumbling like two boulders grinding together. Without another word, he turned and began unloading equipment from his bag. The others unwilling to relinquish the conversation so easily, continued joking with the stern Lithid.

Vance smiled and ran a hand through his hair, letting his fingers run back down over his hard Terran features. Though Pilgrims had been widely accepted in Alliance society for over 150 years, Vance always felt nervous leading the team against a Terran outpost.

When Earth invented interstellar travel and began colonizing known space, a special breed of explorers volunteered to settle the outskirts of the known universe. Detached from the rest of the Terran Empire, the far settlers, nicknamed Pilgrims in reference to an old Terran story, established lasting trade relations and friendships with the Uligarts, the first alien race the Terrans encountered during their exploration.

Steadily, the Empire met more and more alien races, each with differing levels of technology. The Terrans seemed intent on establishing peaceful negotiations with the races until explorers unknowingly invaded Lithid space. The black-skinned, featureless assassins destroyed the Empire’s ships, killing thousands of scientists, settlers, and soldiers.

In response, the Empire declared war on the Lithids and enforced martial law on all colonies. The Pilgrims, who settled in close relations with the Uligarts, resisted the Empire’s military jurisdiction, finally severing themselves from the Terran Empire and siding with the newly formed Interstellar Alliance. Vance was one of thousands of Pilgrims serving in the Alliance military, though their features always betrayed them as being of Terran origin.

“All right,” Vance said, knowing their attention wouldn’t last much longer. “I’ll brief the captain and will let you know when we have our next mission. Take time to relax. Believe me, you earned it.”

“This coming from a man who’s both older and wiser than all of us,” Nova told the others.

“Well, he’s wiser.” Ainj glanced at the still-naked Wyndgaart standing at the shower room door.

“And definitely older.” Eza waved his hand and his manhood at the retreating Pilgrim.

Shaking his head in disgust, Vance left and closed the door behind him.

“We’ll miss you.” Nova giggled, as Ainj kissed the crook of her neck.

Eza disappeared into the shower room while the others began unpacking their gear and changing into more-comfortable clothing. Unlacing his boots, Yen looked at the massive Tusque, whose reinforced bed still sagged under his weight.

“You’ve been awfully quiet.” Yen removed the first boot.

“I came out of the infantry before joining this group,” he rumbled, his voice sounding like rolling thunder. The bed creaked under him, as he shifted his bulk on the sturdy mattress. “Officers still make me nervous.”

“Did I just hear that right?” Ainj slid off the bed and walked over. “Something actually makes you nervous?”

Nova sauntered over, resting her head on Ainj’s shoulder and sighing. “Since it seems like hanging out with the boys is more important than spending time with me….”

A loud knock interrupted the joking. Eza rushed from the shower, naked and dripping water on the floor.

“Was that someone at the door?” he asked excitedly. “I’m expecting mail from home.”

He made it a few steps from the shower room before a spiny black hand was placed against his chest.

“Pants,” the Lithid ordered. “Now.”

Eza, looking dejected, frowned at him. “I don’t think I like you anymore.”

“You don’t have to like me, but you do have to put on pants.”

His frown deepening, Eza retreated to the shower room, while Nova went to the door. It slid open, revealing a Crewman First Class, holding a bag defensively in front of him.

“Mail delivery.” He held out the bag. “We’ve been collecting it since your team departed.”

Nova took the bag, offering the crewman a warm smile, which he confidently returned. In response, she shut the door in his face.

“Mail delivery,” she said.

The entire team, save Ixibas, hurried to the central table, as Nova carried the bag over and carelessly dumped it before the eager group. A multitude of packages spilled out and were quickly divided among them. Eza ran from the shower room wearing only pants, water dripping from his golden hair.

Foodstuffs were passed around, as each member shared the contents of the boxes. Many items, such as disks full of local news and boxes of clothing, were discarded into a growing pile of trash. As Nova opened her box, thin mist poured from the punctured sides. Lifting the lid, she tossed the box onto the table in revulsion.

The team leaned over the opened box. From the mist, six bulbous insects appeared. On their backs, skewered into the packaging, the cooked larvae produced a rancid odor. Yen turned away, dry heaving from the scent.

“Why do your parents insist on sending you those?” Ainj asked in disgust.

“They mean well.” She covered her nose, her eyes watering from the smell.

“Those insects are actually a delicacy on her planet,” Ixibas said, joining the team.

“And deep-fried fetuses are a delicacy among the Oterians,” Tusque rumbled. “It doesn’t mean I have any interest in trying one.”

Ixibas ran a closed hand over the top of the nearest insect. “So it’s safe to assume no one has any objections to my taking these?”

“That’s disgusting!” Tusque said, clearly nauseous. “How can you eat those?”

“I love them.”

“No, I think he means it literally,” Yen said, while the others laughed. “You don’t have a mouth.”

The black hide on the face oozed peach-colored liquid. Flowing like water, the ooze congealed and formed two full lips. They were out of place on the rest of his still-black face, as he smiled, revealing two rows of razor-sharp teeth. He picked up an insect and popped it into his mouth. The larvae crunched loudly, as his sharp teeth tore through the hard exoskeleton.

“Delicious.” Ixibas scooped up the box of insects.

“It’s only because he doesn’t have a sense of smell or taste,” Nova muttered, her brow furrowed in horror.

“Nothing for you this time, Yen?” Tusque asked, looking at the remaining packages.

“No family,” Yen explained. “There really isn’t anyone to send me care packages.”

“You’re more than welcome to any food my parents send,” Nova said dramatically. “My treat.”

Eza waved his hand in front of his face to get rid of the smell, as he came closer to the table. “Any packages for me?”

Ainj pushed through the last packages, pulling out a small box with Eza’s name on it in feminine script. “There is, and it’s from a woman!”

“Give that to me.” Eza’s hand snaked out in a blur, cleanly snatching the package from Ainj’s grasp. Moving away from the group, he went to his bedside with the others following. Knowing he couldn’t escape them, he opened the box and pulled out a letter and a picture of a beautiful, young, silver-haired Wyndgaart.

“Oh, she’s cute,” Ainj said, drawing an angry punch from Nova.

“Don’t even think about it,” Eza replied angrily. “She’s my sister.”

“Sister?” Yen groomed himself. “Have you told her about me yet?”

“She’s not your type,” Ainj teased.

“But she’s yours?” Yen asked.

“I’m everyone’s type.” He unfurled his wings.

“Enough,” Eza said in agitation. “I’m serious. This is my little sister you’re talking about.”

“All right,” Tusque told the group. “Enough teasing.” The massive Oterian nodded to Eza. “Tell us about her, since you so casually forgot to mention her before.”

Eza turned to face the intrigued team. “Keryn is a brilliant little girl. Well, I guess she’s a woman now. It’s hard to believe we’ve been gone long enough that she’s a woman. She’s already old enough that she’s getting ready to graduate from the schoolhouse.”

“Is she getting ready for Initiation, then?” Nova asked.

“No. She’s….” He looked slightly embarrassed. “She’s not going through Initiation.”

“I thought that was mandatory.” Ainj sidled up to Nova. “I thought the Voice forced Wyndgaarts to go through the ritual at a certain age.”

“How much do you know about the Voice?” Seeing only a few sheepish shrugs, he tried to explain. “All Wyndgaarts are born with the Voice already part of their genetic programming. Held within that complex genetic code are the memories of centuries of warriors who came before us. For most Wyndgaarts, it’s an honor to merge with your Voice and accept the memories of your ancestors, but the merge changes a person.

“Suddenly, the weight and responsibility of hundreds of years rests solely within the confines of our mind. As much as it’s a badge of honor to most, it’s not a requirement among us. For those who are willing to pursue different courses in life, you can find loopholes in one’s predisposition, means by which a Wyndgaart can break from his genetic coding and enact his own version of free will.”

“You make it sound like your race is held hostage by the Voice,” Yen said. “I thought it was an honor to go through Initiation.”

“It is for those who are willing. There has never been a greater experience for me than Initiation and finally fusing with my Voice, but that path isn’t for people like Keryn. They have too much potential to wind up like me, a gunslinger fighting on the front lines. She deserves more from life. If all goes well, she’ll never be exposed to the kind of danger we see every day.”

CHAPTER THREE

‘Will you slow down?” Bellini yelled, as Keryn passed within inches of a coral pillar.

In response, she accelerated, driving the hovercraft wildly between the coral pillars that jutted in rising spires from the surface of the cool, blue water. Tossing her head back and letting the wind whip through her flowing silver hair, she laughed and decelerated. As the hovercraft drifted onto the pearly beach, she cut the engine and let it settle gently to the sand.

“You’re insane!” Bellini’s heart pounded in her chest.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy yourself,” Keryn teased, sliding off the side of the hovercraft and smiling as gritty sand crunched underfoot. Closing her eyes, she tipped back her head to let warm sun soak into the red and purple tattoos tracing her barely concealed body.

“If I ever join the military”, Bellini said, disrupting Keryn’s sunning, “I hope I never wind up with you as my pilot. I can only imagine what you’ll do to a spaceship.”

“That much power at my fingertips.” Keryn ran her index finger along her best friend’s blue-and-green tattooed arm. “That’s exciting.”

Bellini knocked away her hand and smiled. “I’ll miss you, Keryn. I know it’s corny and childish, but you’re actually leaving the planet, so I may never see you again.”

Keryn looked at her friend sympathetically. “You’re right. That’s really corny.”

Bellini shoved her playfully, as they began their long walk up the stairwell to the houses built precariously atop the coral rise.

“I know you leave tomorrow, and you still have to pack,” Bellini said, as they climbed the winding stairs, “but promise me….”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be there tonight. Just because I’m not going through it doesn’t mean I won’t be there to witness your Initiation.”

Bellini smiled despite herself before rushing ahead. “I have a ton to do before tonight. See you there.”

“See you tonight!” Keryn called, as Bellini disappeared over the crest of the stairs and hurried home.

Keryn didn’t want to admit it, but she truly would miss her friend. They’d been friends nearly since birth. Both families were deeply involved in off-world trade negotiations, which resulted in the children traveling in similar social circles. For sixteen years, Keryn grew comfortable with the familiar surroundings of Lagurica, the Wyndgaart home world. The thought of leaving for the Fleet Academy on Arcendor simultaneously excited and terrified her. She traveled off world only once with her parents but never left their galaxy. She hated to admit it, but she didn’t know what she was getting into.

Pondering her future, Keryn strolled the rest of the way home and went in to change clothes for the evening and to pack for the rest of her life.

Religious figures carved from the pink and pale-blue coral that encompassed the staircase encircled Keryn, as she climbed the last few stairs to the shrine’s flattened plateau. Male and female figure sat entwined, their legs wrapped around one another while their hands held the typical martial weapons of Wyndgaart warriors-knives, axes, and spears. Keryn looked away from the carvings, disturbed by their perverse amalgamation of sex and war. Their imagery reminded her of the Initiation to come, and a lump of fear swelled in her bosom.

As she neared the rise, a pounding beat reverberated through her, and wild drums kept a steady rhythm in the clearing beyond. Though the moon was covered by clouds threatening rain, a soft glow was cast upon her face, and she finally entered the shrine. The glow, reflecting off two sets of elevated seats that stretched left and right, came from hundreds of small wax candles placed along the waist-high wall surrounding the open-air amphitheater.

Keryn stepped beyond the elevated seats until she reached a set of stairs that wound through the audience and would take her to her place among the already-burgeoning crowd. Her hand resting on the railing, she paused at the base of the stairs. Beyond the short wall, the shrine dropped off to crashing waves below. Candlelight illuminated a sandy stage, where a row of annual Initiates stood. Keryn caught Bellini’s eyes, as she looked over the Initiates, each clothed only in white wrappings wound repeatedly and tightly around their bodies.

Pulling up the end of the silky dress she wore for the occasion, Keryn climbed the steep stairs and found a seat among the throng of spectators. Though respectful silence blanketed the shrine, Keryn saw her own concern mirrored in many of the gathered faces.

There’s no reason for you to hide in the stands, a soft Voice whispered in the back of her mind. Take your place of honor among the other Initiates.

Keryn smoothed her soft lavender dress and acted as if the Voice didn’t exist. Ignoring the whispers in her mind, she found her eyes trained on the pathway across from her, through which the Schoolmaster would soon enter. Part of her yearned to cast off her feminine dress and join her friends in the ritual circle, but she knew that a large part of those desires came not from her own wants but from those of the Voice.

Keryn struggled since puberty to identify and separate her own emotions from those of the Voice, to make her own path instead of having it dictated by an invasive presence within her mind. It was a constant battle, one she hoped she could continue to win, as she attended the Fleet Academy.

The drums built to a crashing crescendo. Keryn’s heart beat in rhythm with the pulsing drums, as an elderly Wyndgaart emerged from the pathway opposite the raised seats. As the Schoolmaster raised his weathered hands, the drums ceased pounding, and the shrine was cast into silence, save for the thunderous crashing of waves below.

“May the sun strengthen your body, as the waves strengthen your soul,” he began in traditional prayer.

“There’s power in the Voice,” the audience replied in unison.

Keryn mouthed the words without speaking them, knowing it was better to remain silent than blaspheme within the Shrine of Initiation. She never followed the organized religion of her people as blindly as most expected of the younger generation. Her voiced dissent was one of the primary reasons she found herself sitting among the spectators instead of taking her place as an Initiate.

Two priests emerged from the pathway carrying heavy bundles. The objects were swaddled heavily on coarse, brown fabric, obscuring their shape. Pulling incense sticks from within his robes, the old man lit them in a candle. Thick, blue smoke poured from the incense, and the weathered man waved the sticks back and forth over the bundles, muttering soft prayers. Turning, he walked down the row of Initiates, waving the incense stick in intricate patterns above each candidate.

Returning to the center of the stage, he spoke to the audience, giving a speech that was not only well-rehearsed but repeated each year to a similar crowd. “The annual Initiation has been a time-honored tradition among the Wyndgaart for hundreds of years. The ritual is an important step for our youth on their way to adulthood, but this ritual is more than just a stepping stone in puberty. It’s a significant statement to the dedication and commitment of these Initiates.

“Behind me stands the potential future for our civilization. These future leaders, generals, and honored warriors will guide the path of our society for generations. This is a heavy burden, but one that I can personally guarantee each is ready and willing to accept.”

The Schoolmaster stepped aside, allowing the audience full view of the gathered Initiates. “Each of these Initiates has trained diligently under the combined tutelage of the school’s priests and instructors. They’ve been taught social skills, studied histories of dozens of modern and historic cultures, and trained in fighting styles passed down and improved over hundreds of years of open warfare. They’re prepared in mind, body, and soul to go through the Initiation.

“Only one step remains in their training-the Initiation. Every year, half our students can’t overcome the rigors of Initiation. They’re rejected by their Voice and cast aside as failures. This is a laborious ritual that requires each Initiated to find his internal strength. For some, the sense of family drives them to succeed. For others, they find a previously untapped reserve of dedication that pushes them beyond and above their peers.”

Keryn swallowed hard, a knot forming in her stomach. Bellini was a talented, brilliant warrior, but still, Keryn feared for her safety during the dangerous ritual.

“We gather today to welcome those who complete the Initiation into the fold of the warrior caste. This is also a ritual to honor those who don’t succeed. We honor their memories and the loss each family feels, as their son or daughter falls within the Warrior’s Circle.”

The Schoolmaster gestured to the priests standing to either side of the Initiates, straddling their heavy bundles. In unison, they dropped to one knee and untied the thick cord holding the bundles closed. They unfurled the bundles with great reverence, revealing row after row of metal weapons that glistened in the dim candlelight.”

“Initiates,” the Schoolmaster called without turning toward the nervous students, “choose your weapons carefully. Your decision at this juncture could very well determine your fate.”

The students split into two groups and walked toward their respective bundles. In the organized chaos, Initiates pulled free swords, knives, axes, and spears, arming themselves with the weapons with which they felt most comfortable. Keryn watched Bellini’s lithe form bend to gather a spear and dagger from the pile. She tested the spear’s balance and swung it slowly in an arc. Satisfied, though her expression betrayed no emotion, she rejoined her fellow Initiates in their line, armed with dangerously sharp weapons.

She was never as good at hand-to-hand combat as you were, the Voice mocked. Join her and show her how it’s done.

Keryn frowned, growing annoyed at the Voice for its intrusion and at herself for know it was right. Bellini, a talented warrior, had the potential to excel in the Initiation, but she paled in comparison to Keryn’s skill with a long and short knife.

Even without me, the Voice continued, you were exceptional. Just think of how much better we’d be together.

“Silence,” she hissed quietly, though her outburst drew concerned looks from those nearby.

Keryn turned her attention to the stage, as the Schoolmaster stopped in the center of the sandy circle and prepared to speak again. As the crowd grew silent, a drum beat a slow, rhythmic pace.

“We’ve gathered to welcome those into the fold and honor those who fall tonight.”

The drum began building to a maddening crescendo.

“It’s time to identify our first two Initiates.”

The drum pounded wildly, as two priests approached from the wings, carrying wooden bowls. They stopped on either side of the Schoolmaster, holding the bowls out. As he reached into their curved interiors, the drum stopped, casting the audience into an eerily charged silence.

The Schoolmaster took a slip of paper from each bowl and held them before his eyes to read the names. “Yusef,” he said loudly.

A strong, male Wyndgaart stepped forward with a loincloth around his waist, carrying a curved ax in each hand.

Dropping the first piece of paper, the Schoolmaster read the second name. “Bellini.”

The thin blonde stepped forward, bowing slightly to the crowd. The rest of the Initiates stepped back until they stood against the far wall, where they took seats. Perched precariously on the edge of the cliff, they watched the chosen pair take places on either end of the Warrior’s Circle. Facing each other, Bellini and Yusef took practice swings with their weapons, stretching their muscles in anticipation of the battle.

Keryn felt a knot tighten in her stomach and reflexively let her hand run over the thin, silky fabric covering her. Yusef was a superb warrior who stood with unwavering confidence, flipping the axes in a dizzying display. His hands were unbelievably quick, as he tossed one ax, then the other.

“Initiates,” the Schoolmaster called, his frail voice carrying over the quiet crowd. “I don’t need to explain the rules to you. You’ve trained all your lives for this moment. Fight with honor.” Turning, the withered old man walked from the circle, clearing the way for the two combatants. Stopping just outside the circle, he looked back. “Begin!”

Bellini and Yusef circled each other, a sheen of sweat on their bodies reflecting the candlelight. Testing each other’s defenses, they took turns snapping their weapons forward. Bellini’s spear was deflected wide. Yusef’s ax was turned aside by her flashing dagger. Content the fight wouldn’t end quickly, both settled into offensive stances before charging.

Spinning aside, Bellini dodged both axes, as they came toward her in an over-handed chop. Yusef tilted his head aside at the last moment, letting her spear slip inches wide, as she jabbed at his face. Reaching up with an ax, he hooked the curved bottom of the blade around the spear shaft and pulled down, trapping the wood against his shoulder, and drove his other ax forward in an unexpected thrust.

Bellini was barely able to get her dagger in the way and stop the ax’s forward momentum. Locked together, they stared at each other. Yusef set his right foot behind him and pushed, trying to use his superior weight and strength to his advantage. Though her arm strained against the pressure, his ax pushed her dagger back, dipping the blade closer and closer toward her exposed neck.

With a final surge, he threw his weight forward. Breaking free of their locked position, Bellini leaped backward but was slower than Yusef. She cried out in pain, as the tip of the ax slashed her upper right arm. Though it wasn’t a deep wound, her eyes showed surprise.

“First blood has been claimed by Yusef,” the Schoolmaster called.

Settling back into their stances, Yusef began stalking Bellini again. Her blood still marked the end of his ax, a reminder that even the slightest misstep could be fatal in the Warrior’s Circle. As he stepped forward, Bellini swung her spear in a high arc.

Too late, she saw his feint. Dropping to one knee, he dodged her swinging weapon and closed the distance, trying to get inside her spear’s longer range. Bellini worked her dagger furiously, trying to parry his blurring barrage of ax swings. Inevitably, she staggered back holding her stomach, after an ax grazed her hard abdominal muscles. Dark blood seeped between her fingers, and her face contracted in pain.

She’s fighting the Voice, Keryn’s Voice warned. If that were you down there, this fight would already be over. You always were the better warrior. Instead, Bellini will continue to fight it and will die.

“Come on, Bellini,” she whispered, hearing the wisdom of her Voice’s words. A void opened in her chest, leaving behind only a dull ache of concern for her friend. “Give in to the Voice. Fight back.”

Still grimacing, Bellini shook free of the mantle of pain that settled over her and searched for her composure again. Yusef waited only a moment before pressing his advantage. Her slashed arm and stomach left her weak, with her movements slow. After another quick series of attacks, she had a grazing cut on her leg, too.

He has already won, the Voice whispered to Keryn. He’s just toying with her now.

“Don’t count her out yet,” she muttered, not speaking loud enough to break the sanctity of the ceremony. “Let’s go, Bellini. Don’t prove me wrong.”

Yusef stepped forward again, his face locked in a stoic countenance, as he prepared to end his round of combat in the Initiation. As he swung downward with both axes on his injured foe, Bellini moved impossibly fast, sidestepping his swings and catching the crook of both axes with her dagger.

Yusef’s eyes widened in surprise, as she smiled softly. Striking with her short spear, she left a pair of deep cuts across his chest. As he stepped backward in disbelief, she jerked forward with her dagger, stripping one ax from his hand. It flew harmlessly aside, landing outside the circle at the feet of the front row of the audience.

It’s done, the Voice said. She has accepted her destiny.

Keryn fought conflicting emotions. Having merged with the Voice, Bellini stood a chance to win the fight. Simultaneously, it meant part of Bellini was gone, replaced by the ever-present Voice.

Backpedaling, Yusef put distance between himself and his confident opponent. Bellini allowed him a decent amount of ground before moving forward like a serpent, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Yusef moved his ax back and forth protectively, trying to follow her movements. Her hand shot out, as she launched her spear at his head. He tipped his head aside and brought up his ax, knocking the spear harmlessly aside.

Glancing up at the interlocked weapons, he realized the diversion too late. With his ax out of the way, he left himself exposed without a weapon to bring to bear. Appearing before him, Bellini drove her dagger into his exposed side, digging through the muscles and slipping into his right lung before penetrating his heart.

Yusef gurgled, and Bellini wrapped her free arm around his back, lowering him to the ground. She sat over him, watching him sympathetically, as his last breath escaped his lips. Pulling her dagger free, blood dripping from its tip, she stood to face the audience.

“Bellini is the victor of her Initiation,” the Schoolmaster exclaimed. “Congratulate our newest member of the warrior caste!”

The audience cheered, while the two priests lifted Yusef’s body and pulled it into the stage’s darkened wings. Still bleeding from her wounds, Bellini bowed respectfully to the audience, then the Schoolmaster, before taking her place against the low back wall.

Two at a time, the Initiates faced one another, always with one surviving and the other dead. Those were the rules of Initiation, by which Keryn couldn’t abide. Before the ceremony ended, she stood and walked down to the middle path through which she entered the temple. She caught Bellini’s eye, as she prepared to leave, but she said nothing.

Keryn had no interest in sticking around until the end of the ceremony to congratulate her friend. The Bellini she knew was gone, replaced, at least in part, by the Voice. She would rather not condone her transformation into the savage warrior she became.

Walking slowly, crying softly, she returned home and prepared the last of her belongings before her departure the following day for the academy on Arcendor.

CHAPTER FOUR

Michael Vance walked down the brightly lit corridors of the Goliath, drinking in the sights. Raised and trained as an infantry soldier, where dirt and grime where as much a part of one’s uniform as the pants and jacket, he found it strange to be onboard a ship kept so immaculately clean. The light-gray walls glistened from the thick lacquer spread evenly over the paint. Colored lines of yellow, black, red, and blue traced the hall, splitting toward different directions, guiding crewmen toward unseen objectives. The infantry was fond of teasing the Fleet, accusing them of needing color-coded walls to avoid getting lost.

Watching the faces of the crew and officers he passed, their uniforms pressed and creased to perfection, he suddenly became aware of his appearance. Still clothed in thick boots and dusty red robe, cinched at the waist by a tattered leather belt, he trailed red clay and dust from the planet’s surface to be ground into the carpet, as he walked toward one of the ship’s many classrooms. He heard a rumor that the Fleet actually had a job for watercraft operators, which hadn’t been used by the Fleet in more than 150 years. He wondered if they also had a job for carpet cleaners.

A loud guffaw escaped his lips, drawing the attention of nearby crewmen. He could only imagine a crewman cursing loudly, as he shampooed and vacuumed the halls, tracking Vance’s movements throughout the ship. It would be easy to locate him if the crewman really wanted to find the source of the persistent red clay. The special operations officer was so obviously different from the rest of the crew aboard the Goliath. Dirty and sweaty, he still carried his large rifle slung across his back. The barrel bounced harmlessly against the back of his calf, as he walked. He was so accustomed to the weapon, he hardly noticed.

Nearing the first of many elevators he must take to reach the classroom, he tapped his foot impatiently, as he waited. A rush of recycled air brought a sour smell to him. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he looked around in surprise before realizing he was the source of the rancid scent.

“No wonder they were looking at me so weird,” he mumbled to the closed doors. He laughed despite himself at the great divisions between the Fleet and infantry. He couldn’t imagine what a crewman would do if forced to sleep in the mud.

The light above the door turned from red to green, acknowledging the arrival of the elevator. The doors parted with a soft hiss, revealing a spacious chamber with a single unfortunate warrant inside. Despite his broad shoulders and Terran heritage, Vance moved gracefully, as he slid past the closing doors and took a place against the back wall.

Eying him warily, the warrant politely lifted the back of his hand to his nose, trying to block the smell. Running his own hand across his thick, black beard, Vance flashed bright, white teeth at the trapped warrant. Returning the smile weakly, he gave a subtle nod.

Two floors later, obviously uncomfortable about being in such an enclosed space with Vance, the warrant pressed a floor button at random. When the doors slid open, he quickly left the elevator.

Finally alone in the lift, Vance stretched his arms wide and relaxed, as the elevator took him the rest of the way up through the ship’s numerous floors.

After catching another set of lifts and walking nearly the length of the ship, Vance found himself before an open door leading into the rear of a tiered classroom. At a podium at the bottom of the steppes, gesturing wildly toward a holographic projection of a battle, a Pilgrim officer taught historical battle scenarios to a group of enthralled, young pilots. Slipping into the room unnoticed, Vance sat in the rear and listened.

“When the newly formed Alliance first faced off against the Terran Empire’s Fleet, the crew of those Alliance ships weren’t much older than the faces I see in this audience,” the audience said. “They were inexperienced but brave. They fought valiantly against an aggressive, dangerous enemy.”

The instructor removed his glasses and set them gently on the podium. “Don’t smile. They were summarily wiped out by the superior Terran Fleet.”

Stepping away from the podium, the Pilgrim ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. He smiled gingerly at the captive audience, his face breaking into a spiderweb of wrinkles. “My concern is that I see the same youthful bravado in your pilots and crewmen. You have the urge to prove yourself. You want your name to go down in history. The problem is, there’s no place for attitudes like those among the crew of this ship. In this atmosphere, you either work as a team, or you die alone and forgotten.”

He stopped pacing and stared at the defiant faces of the pilots and crewmen. “How many of you think that the war between the Alliance and the Empire is over? Give me a show of hands.”

Seeing no one move, he continued, “Good. The Taisa Accord, signed nearly 150 years ago, was just a mutual agreement between both sides to end open hostilities. The key word is open hostilities. Under the radar of the populace of both the Alliance and the Empire, there’s still a war being fought. Outposts are being built in enemy territory. Platoons of infantry are facing off in bloody battles which history will never record. Notes of condolence are being sent to families who’ll never know how their loved one died.

“The fighting between the Alliance and the Empire will never truly end until one or the other is completely destroyed. The Goliath has been tasked to uphold the illusion of peace throughout the Alliance. That’s what the citizens of the Alliance want-to be told and lulled into believing that an uneasy truce still exists. To reach that goal, we’ve been outfitted with not only a superior array of weapons, but this ship has been integrated with a Halo system. Our mission will always be to hunt down and destroy any Terran elements that try to establish a foothold in Alliance space.”

Vance frowned at the mention of the Halo system. Its installation in the ship was still a sore spot for him.

“Welcome to the world of covert operations, Ladies and Gentlemen. No matter how good you were in your old job, no one will ever congratulate you on a job well done. If you do well, no one should know you did anything at all. If you don’t do a good job, you’ll be dead. It’s the job you signed up for.”

He returned to his podium and retrieved his glasses. “Are there any questions? No? Then good luck to you all. This concludes your welcome brief.”

All the audience members standing in unison braced in a firm salute, which the instructor brusquely returned. Vance waited until the room cleared, and the officer was collecting his paperwork, before he stood and walked down the stairs.

“I don’t remember ever looking that scared when I left one of your briefs, Sir.” He cleared the last step and stood before the Pilgrim instructor.

The Pilgrim turned with a broad smile. “Believe me, Michael, you were always that scared around me.”

Vance snapped to attention and saluted. “Captain Young, it’s a pleasure to see you again, Sir.”

The captain dismissed the formalities with a flippant wave of his hand. “I make the new recruits do that, because it reminds them we’re a military at war. I served with your father too long to have you stand at attention in front of me.” He motioned Vance to sit and pulled over his own chair. “Speaking of which, how is your father?”

“Yes, Sir, our mission went exceptionally well. Thank you for your concern.”

The captain rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong with a little small talk? I’ve known your family for years. You were away on your mission for only two weeks. My relationship with your family takes seniority.”

“Last I talked to him,” Vance conceded, “he was doing quite well.”

“How long ago was that?”

Vance shifted uneasily. Though his father was one of the commanding generals in charge of the Alliance Infantry, father and son didn’t always see eye to eye. “Is it OK if we talk about something other than my father?”

“Fine. How’s your love life these days?”

Vance laughed. “No, believe me. I’d really prefer we didn’t start getting into my love life.” He knocked his boot against the chair leg, jarring caked red sand from the tread.

“Someone will have to clean that up, you know.” Captain Young pointed at the growing pile of dirt under the lip of Vance’s seat.

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d quit sending us to dustbowls on our missions. I’m still not entirely sure why the Terrans continue picking such horrid places on which to establish outposts. Whatever happened to outposts on tropical islands full of bikini-clad women?”

“If that were the case, I wouldn’t have any problem keeping my finest soldiers in boots. Well, next-to-finest soldiers. Your group is still the best.” He paused. “I assume they are.”

Vance reached under his robe and retrieved a data disk earmarked as Terran property. “We haven’t failed you yet, Sir. We’re still the best in the Alliance.”

Captain Young carried the disk to her personal computer console on the podium. He slid in the disk and waited for Alliance technology to decode the complex Terran encryption.

After less than a minute, a flood of data poured across the monitor. His eyes flicked back and forth across the screen, trying to take in the information. Hands tapping on the screen, he scrolled through file after file of Terran plans and operations. In the bottom right corner of the screen, a red light flashed persistently.

“Anything of importance?” Vance asked, feeling awkward at being ignored while the captain ran through the data.

He grunted in confirmation. “Quite a bit, actually.” He mechanically chewed his nails. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can share with you until High Council sees this.”

Vance nodded. It would be weeks or more before he and his men saw any results from their mission. “Sir, if it’s going to be awhile until we get anything out of the disk, and, I’m guessing, before our next mission, I’d like to request leave for me and my men. We’re a little tired and could use the downtime.”

Captain Young smiled, wrinkles extending from the corners of his eyes. “Let me guess-somewhere tropical with bikini-clad women?”

“Something like that.” Vance laughed.

“I think you and your men have earned a break. We’re stopping at Fatutu IV for resupply and refueling. It doesn’t have a lot in the way of bikini-clad women, but it offers a great stretch of beach. It’ll be a bit of a trip to get there, but your men will manage. When we’re done here, I’ll get the paperwork together to put all of you on leave once we arrive.” He turned away from the screen, his steely gray eyes on Vance. “Are you taking leave with them?”

Vance shrugged, telling the captain what he needed to know.

“You really need to take some time for yourself,” he said compassionately.

“Spending time with her is like taking time off for me.”

“I meant away from the ship. I’ll order you to leave if I have to.”

“It won’t do you any good. I’m as stubborn as my father.”

“I never met a more stubborn Seque of a man than him.” The captain laughed. “Fine. You win. Don’t spend your entire time cooped up in that room with her, either. At least make it up to some of the observation decks. The view of Fatutu IV’s surface from space is truly remarkable. You should check it out.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Vance said halfheartedly.

“I’ll take that as a solid no. Suit yourself, but don’t say this old man didn’t try.”

As the captain rose from his chair, Vance stood, knowing the meeting was over.

“As always, Captain, it’s been a pleasure.” Vance saluted.

“Get out of here before I throw you out.”

Vance collected his things and started climbing the steps.

As Vance neared the door, Captain Young called, “I’ll let you know when we’re approaching the planet. Until then, keep your kids out of trouble.”

“We’ll be waiting impatiently,” Vance called over his shoulder, as he left the room.

Once Vance was gone, the smile faded from the captain’s lips. His eyes went to the blinking red light in the bottom corner, and his frown deepened, as he looked toward the recently departed Pilgrim.

“You really shouldn’t have opened the disk, Vance.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The large civilian transport dipped through the wispy clouds over Arcendus and skimmed over the tips of the tall mountain range. As snow-capped mountains gave way to gently rolling foothills, Keryn watched the city of Arcendor rise from the artificially flattened plain. Resting in a valley, surrounded on all sides by towering mountain ranges, it sat like an oasis on an otherwise mountainous planet. Sitting between the sparkling blue waters of the city’s namesake lake, the city was the architectural equivalent of the Avalons’ soaring majesty.

Large, flowing spires rose sharply from the sunlit streets, supporting a litany of twisting turrets of smooth, white stone. Banners crackled above domed roofs on the spires, caught continually in the cool breeze pouring from the nearby mountains. Between the buildings, interlocking like an intricate web of capillaries spreading across the city’s majestic body, pedestrian walkways linked the spires’ peaks and wound down their length.

As Keryn watched, Avalons launched from the topmost balconies of the spires, spreading their wings and gliding from building to building on the warm updrafts generated from the streets below. Between catwalks buzzing with foot traffic and soaring Avalons in the air, the city seemed alive, like a constantly shifting, writhing organism. The Avalon home world was everything she expected.

Watching through the narrow portcullis of the civilian transport, she saw the tall spires drop away, as they approached the edge of the lake, giving way to luscious green grass. The edges of the green lawns were traced by ground-level sidewalks that led to a massive, four-story brick structure that covered nearly a half-mile of property along the shore. To the building’s periphery sat enormous hangar bays, their retractable roofs glistening in the warm air.

The civilian transport passed over the green fields and angled toward a flat section of poured concrete marked with alternating blue and yellow lights that chased each other around the perimeter of the square landing zone. Firing its maneuvering rockets, the transport changed trajectory one last time before settling smoothly to the ground.

The few other students onboard stood and collected their gear. Keryn nervously tugged on her light gray cadet’s uniform, as she wanted for the crowd to thin before standing and pulling her duffel bag free from the overhead compartment. Many other students struck up friendly conversations with each other and joked about the long journey to Arcendor. Occasionally, they gave Keryn an odd look, obviously surprised to see a Wyndgaart at the Academy. Feeling surprisingly exposed and out of place, she readjusted her confining uniform jacket one last time before falling into line with the exiting cadets.

Squinting against the bright light, she savored the warmth of the Arcendus sun, as she stepped off the cramped transport. The trip was cold, made doubly so by the Oterian sitting nearby, who insisted on keeping cool air on his furry body at all times. Keryn couldn’t remember the last time she felt so cold, having spent her entire life enjoying the constant temperatures of the Wyndgaart home world. Still, she knew she was in for a new series of experiences and adventures, as she began pilot training.

Having no guidance from the transport crew, the cadets gathered outside the ship. Breaking into cliques often separated by race, they talked and gossiped among themselves. More than once, Keryn saw a finger point at her. Frowning, she walked around the side of the ship, leaned against its heated metal exterior, and soaked in the sun’s rays.

After resting for less than a minute, she heard a commotion stop at the back of the plane, as the group fell into harsh silence. Sticking her head around the rear of the ship, she watched a pale-skinned Avalon garbed in a black uniform, step before the gaggle of cadets.

“Cadets!” she shouted. “Fall in!”

Hurrying to join the others, Keryn stood in the rear of four rows, as the cadets jostled for position in the lines.

“Let me be the first to welcome you all to the Alliance Fleet Academy,” the Avalon said. “My name is Magistrate Victoria, but you may call me Ma’am. I’ll be one of your primary instructors for the first year. Some of your faces are familiar to me, your families having long-standing legacies here at the Academy. For some in this crowd, your families have as many as eight generations of previous graduates from this institution.”

A smug Avalon female one row ahead of Keryn smiled confidently. Nudging the Uligart female beside her, she winked.

“Let me explain something right away,” Victoria said sternly. “I don't care who your family is or how well you did in school before your acceptance to the Academy.”

The smile on the Avalon student’s face disappeared.

“As far as I’m concerned, every one of you is inept and inexperienced. My job is to take your shapeless putty and mold you into a group of talented pilots who’ll do the Fleet proud. Perform well, and you’ll be rewarded. Perform poorly, and I’ll kick you from this program no matter who your mommy or daddy is. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” a few students muttered.

The others stared in stunned silence. For many, it was the first time, though certainly not the last, they were talked down to as if they were insignificant.

“I didn't hear you!” Victoria shouted.

“Yes, Ma’am!” they replied.

“Good. Everyone follow me inside for your official welcome and orientation to our grounds.” She walked away.

Slowly, the first few ranks broke loose and followed, leading the way for the others to hurry after them. Keryn smiled, as she jogged to catch up to the pack. Though still nervous, she at least found someone she could respect in Magistrate Victoria.

Victoria led them past the central monument on the campus, a larger-than-life bronze statue of a muscular Avalon holding a tall spear. A bronze banner ran from the spear, fluttering in the never-ending wind. Inscribed on it were words written in the flowing Avalon home dialect.

“Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas,” Keryn read aloud. Turning to the cadet beside her, a broad-shouldered Oterian, she asked, “What does it mean?”

With little more than a grunt, the Oterian shrugged and increased his pace, leaving her behind. Looking over her shoulder, she glanced back at the statue once more, memorizing the words to ask about later.

Passing through vaulting double doors trimmed in intricately carved avian figures, the cadets entered the Academy’s main hall. They dropped their duffel bags in a growing pile beside the door before moving deeper into the hall. The expansive foyer was framed on either side by a tall staircase leading to a second floor. From the second-floor landing, clusters of older cadets watched the newcomers enter. They called out to friends and joked about the looks of others.

Lowering her head and letting her silver hair cascade over her telling tattoos, Keryn hid herself in the midst of the clustered cadets, as they cleared the foyer. Through a second set of doors, they entered the rear of an auditorium.

Plush purple cushions lined the rows of theater seats that looked down on a distal podium flanked on either side by large screens projecting the image of the empty stage. Dozens of other students already filled the auditorium. Keryn’s flight was one of the last to arrive.

Her group spilt off, joining friends and family around the room. Uninterested in finding kindred spirits and knowing there was no chance of seeing another Wyndgaart at the Academy in her year group, she settled for searching for an empty seat. Most of the rows were full of cadets, their tailored gray uniforms hugging the curves of their figures. Keryn cursed herself for not knowing to get her uniform fitted. The ill-fitting jacket and pants hung baggy on her thin, athletic frame, filling out only at her bosom.

Spotting an empty seat on the left side of the theater, Keryn forced her way past the clustered cadets who malingered in the aisles. Brushing past the outstretched white wings of an Avalon, she stopped before the row that led to the empty seat. Before she could enter, she felt a thin hand press against her chest. Following the offending hand, she found herself face-to-face with the smug Avalon female from outside. Behind her, a cadre of chattering females exuded pompous arrogance.

“Can I help you?” the Avalon asked.

“Not really,” Keryn replied, “unless you’ll help me to my seat.”

“My name is Sasha Pythril.” When Keryn gave her a blank stare, she said, “Of the family Pythril? And you are?”

“Keryn Riddell.” Already tired of the conversation, she tried to step past Sasha and enter the row, but Sasha’s hand touched her chest firmly.

“That seat’s saved for someone.”

“Who?”

The bluntness of the question caught Sasha off guard. “Listen here, Freak,” she replied, her face flushed with anger. “Let me explain how the pecking order at the Academy works. You’re on the bottom, and I’m on the top. My family has been top graduates from the Academy for over one hundred years, and I intend to follow in their footsteps. I don’t even know how a Wyndgaart got in here. They must be lowering their standards.”

Punch her in the face, the Voice offered, while Keryn sought a proper response. If you break her jaw, she won’t run her mouth so much.

As much as Keryn hated the Voice, she felt her hands clench into fists.

“Excuse me,” a new female voice called behind Sasha. “Is this yours? It looks like you might be molting.”

Sasha turned to look at a short Pilgrim standing behind her. The Pilgrim’s long, blonde hair hung over her eyes, partially concealing a mischievous smile. In her outstretched hand was a single white feather.

Surprised, Sasha snatched the feather from her hand and compared it to her wings. Seeing the colors didn’t match, she sneered angrily at the newcomer.

“Come on,” the Pilgrim offered to Keryn. “I’ve got an empty chair on the other side of the room.” Taking Keryn’s arm, the short Pilgrim led her away from the pending confrontation.

“It figures that freaks would hang out together,” Sasha called after them. “Who else but a Pilgrim would hang out with a savage?”

“Let it go,” the girl muttered softly. Raising her voice, she called back, “You might want to take care of that molting problem. It’s becoming obscene.”

They both laughed, as they listened to the profanity that followed, as they walked away. Though angry before, Keryn felt her tension flood away, as they took seats on the right side of the auditorium.

As they collapsed into their chairs, the Pilgrim extended her hand. “Iana Morven,” she said with a disarming smile.

“Keryn Riddell.” She accepted the hand. “Thanks for the save back there.”

“Somehow, I didn’t think you were in that much danger.”

Keryn shrugged. “I don’t get it. What’s their problem?”

“They’re elitists. Every member of that group comes from money. Sasha’s the worst of the bunch. I heard horror stories about her before my transport even landed.”

“Lucky us,” Keryn said dryly. “How’d we manage the one class full of such winners?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count us lucky. There’s a group of divas in every class. You have to remember the Academy is an institution created for the best of the best. They earned their way in, like we did, but they don’t see it that way. All they manage to see through their blinders is a Wyndgaart and a Pilgrim, both outcast races in their eyes.”

“I can’t believe I’ll have to put up with this for the next two years.”

“You won’t have to if you just kill her.” Iana winked.

The room fell into hushed silence, as a dour-looking male Avalon walked to the podium. Instead of wearing the black uniforms of the other instructors, who positioned themselves around the side walls of the theater, he was swaddled in a loose robe, which, left open in the front, exposed his well-defined chest and abdominal muscles. His unusually dark hair fell over his shoulders, framing a pale face. Screens on either side projected his magnified image and amplified his voice.

“Students,” he said, his voice deeper than most Avalons but still carrying singing undercurrents, “let me welcome you to the Alliance Fleet Academy. If you’re present in this room, you’ve proven yourself time and time again through a battery of cognitive and reflexive tests. You earned the right to be here.

“My name is Tyrus Brothius, and I’m the dean of this institution of higher learning. Over the next two years, you’ll be put through a grueling series of classroom instruction, simulation training, tactics training, and actual flight time in all manner of ship platforms. Though this room is full now, when it’s time for graduation, one-third to one-half of you will have failed. This will be a much-transformed auditorium at the end of two years.”

Keryn glanced around the room at the myriad of races present. All the major races had representatives among her class. Large Oterians were sprinkled throughout the room, their massive bulk and long horns blocking the view of the unfortunate students behind them. Sharp, bony protrusions of the Uligart mixed side-by-side with groups of void-faced Lithid. Folded Avalonian wings were tucked tightly against bodies, as the avian race filled the majority of the room. Their flight ability made them naturals as pilots, since they already grasped the complexities of aerial combat. Across the room, Keryn caught Sasha’s eye, as the Avalon looked in her direction. Scowling, Sasha turned back toward the front of the room.

“For those of you who succeed and survive the next two years, the stars become your playground. You’ll direct your ship on journeys the likes of which you only heard about in childhood stories. In two years, you’ll finally have the chance to truly live.”

The audience erupted in cheers. That was what they came for-the opportunity to become pilots in the Alliance. Keryn’s heart swelled at the thought of piloting one of the small Duun fighters or the larger Cair transports into combat. Looking over, she saw the same excitement reflected in Iana’s eyes. For both girls, it was an opportunity to break free from the confining limitations of their species. Everyone else in the room simply wanted to fly, but Keryn and Iana had something to prove.

“Over the next few weeks,” the dean continued, once the cheers died, “every one of you will be introduced to the available craft within the Alliance. You’ll be exposed to everything from the smallest Duun fighter to the inner workings of the massive Alliance cruisers. At some point during this year, your heart will cry out, as you pilot one of those craft, and you’ll know you found your calling. Your ship of choice is one of the things you’ll compete for against your peers.

“If you work hard enough, you’ll be rewarded with your ship of choice. However, more recompense will be yours if you not only graduate but succeed in becoming top of your class. The top graduates in each class are promoted into the office ranks as a magistrate, rather than being commissioned as warrants. Believe me when I tell you that this is a lofty position, one highly sought after and respected among the Fleet.”

He scanned the crowd, his eyes seeming to fall on every individual, as he perused the new class. Keryn felt his gaze linger on her as he scanned, a slight flicker of surprise passing over his face at the sight of her bronzed skin and brightly colored tattoos. Moments later, his gaze moved on, and she was left wondering if his stern appraisal was nothing more than her imagination.

“I wish you all the best during your tenure at the Academy,” he said after the long pause. “Around the room, you’ll see your future instructors. They are rigid and intent on teaching you everything you need to know, not only as a pilot but as a soldier. Each of you has much to learn. Don’t take the berating personally. All your counterparts will receive the same poor treatment.”

His comments invoked a round of nervous laughter, as the students tried to determine if that was a joke.

“Learn from them. Study hard. In two years, I’ll see you again as graduates and proud members of the Alliance Fleet.”

Stepping from the podium, he turned to walk off stage. An Oterian instructor, stuffed into a broad-shouldered black uniform, stepped forward from the line of instructors against the right wall.

“On your feet!” he shouted, his deep voice rumbling throughout the vaulted room. “You always stand whenever the dean or an instructor enters or leaves the room. Am I understood?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” the students replied.

“Then you’re dismissed,” he said, as the dean disappeared behind the curtains lining the stage. “Find your assigned rooms and get settled. Classes and physical training begin first thing tomorrow morning.”

The students funneled out through the auditorium’s large rear doors. Once outside, second-year-students were there to welcome the new cadets and give them their room assignments. Iana and Keryn traced their fingers down the list in front of a second-year Lithid, who assisted them. Their names were written side-by-side.

With a broad smile, Iana turned to Keryn. “Let’s go find our room, Roomie!”

CHAPTER SIX

The long journey to Fatutu IV was punctuated by a few fights among members of the Goliath’s crew and Vance’s covert operations team. The team’s mood was sour, and even their tolerance of each other was low. Most of Vance’s time was spent apologizing to the captain and different officers throughout the ship instead of getting any relaxation time. When the captain finally announced they were arriving, Vance was relieved.

He accompanied his team to the hangar, eager to be on one of the first transports leaving the ship. Their uniforms were traded in for loose shirts and knee-length shorts. Even their disgruntled moods were replaced by smiles and friendly jests.

Loud laughter preceded the team’s entrance to the hangar. Ainj threw his arm comfortably around Nova’s shoulders. Yen and Eza joked like lost brothers, followed by the ever-stoic Ixibas and the stooped Tusque, bending low to pass under the doorframe. Vance came behind them but didn’t approach the transport.

“We wish you’d come with us,” Yen called.

“Is there any way we can convince you to join us?” Eza asked.

Vance shook his head. “No. I have promises to keep. You have fun. Above all, keep out of trouble.”

“I don’t understand why he worries about us.” Ainj’s voice sang in typical Avalon style. “It’s almost as if he doesn’t trust us.”

“Or he actually knows us,” Tusque added, his deep voice carrying easily through the open hangar.

“If you aren’t coming with us,” Nova said, slipping free of Ainj’s arm, “at least try your best to enjoy yourself.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Vance replied, as Ainj caught Nova’s hand, pulling her toward the transport.

“Say hello to Halo for us!” she yelled, as she was dragged away.

Vance waved, as the ship’s door sealed. Warning lights spun above all the doorways, telling him it was time to clear the hangar. As he left the vaulted bay, the doors slid shut behind him, so decompression of the chamber could begin. Vance didn’t wait for confirmation his team was away before he walked toward the depths of the ship.

With the Goliath in the process of establishing a steady orbit around Fatutu IV, Vance knew Halo would be busy with a multitude of minute adjustments in speed and altitude. Instead of bothering her, he paced the length of the long, cylindrical warship.

Taking the captain’s advice, he wandered to the front most observation deck. To the captain’s credit, the view was spectacular. The deep purple of indigenous plant life mixed beautifully into the soft pinks and reds of the lapping oceans. Even the polar icecaps had a faint pastel hue, absorbing color from the water and the soft ultraviolet light filtering through the atmosphere.

Ever the soldier, his eyes quickly moved to a closer view-Goliath. Missile ports and rail-gun launch tubes jutted from the long, glossy black hull. The Goliath, converted from a regular cruiser to a warship when the Alliance reallocated the ship for use by covert operations, contained a myriad of weaponry far superior to any other ship in the Fleet.

From his vantage point, the vessel of destruction clashed violently with the serene beauty of the planet below. In his own mind, Vance was very much the flesh-and-blood version of the Goliath, constantly clashing with the beauty of the world around him. Over his past seven years in command of the team, he went to many beautiful planets like the one below-always with malicious intent, including assassination, destruction of Terran outposts, and kidnapping. His team spilt red blood across the sparkling white sands of dozens of worlds.

As he watched, another transport launched from the Goliath, heading toward the planet’s surface. He smiled at his most-recent iteration of soldiers. Eza Riddell, the Wyndgaart warrior, was the eldest team member, having served with Vance for two years. All the others were recent additions within the past six months. Already, they coalesced into a dangerous, proficient team, but they were still young and vivacious.

Vance, however, began feeling his age. Though still in his thirties, seven years of command took their toll on his body and spirit.

A series of faces slashed through his mind, images of former soldiers who served under him. His heart ached, as he realized that nearly half of them were killed in the line of duty. Vance was a fluke of the system, lasting long past the three-year life expectancy for covert operations soldiers. Though he knew his current unit was one of the best ever, he still missed the days of having more-mature soldiers under his command.

With a pang, he realized he missed mature soldiers like Aleiz.

Looking down at his watch, he realized nearly two hours had passed since his team departed for the planet’s surface. Calculations and coordination with planet-side supply crews should have been completed, which meant Halo’s attention could be undividedly his. Though, he conceded, splitting her attention until she was overloaded with tasks was nearly impossible.

Stepping off the lift at one of the central floors, he walked to the heart of the ship, following a single silver line of paint on the wall. He walked those corridors so many times, he no longer needed a guide, but still he ran his fingers over the silver trail while he walked. Turning onto a side hall, the line ended at a doorway with the words, High Altitude Logistical Operations (HALO).

As he reached to knock, the door slid open. Standing awkwardly in the hall with his hand still raised, he shook his head. Halo always knew what he was thinking before he could verbalize it. Stepping into the room’s cold darkness, he let his eyes adjust, while his breath formed clouds of condensation.

“Hello, Michael,” a soft, feminine voice said, her words amplified by the speakers lining the walls. “I wondered what was taking you so long on the observation deck.”

“Does the fact that you were watching me mean you care?” he asked the darkness.

Halo replied with a soft laugh, the tone slightly lost by the mechanical undertones from the speakers. “Come and sit with me.”

The lights in the room glowed softly, adding gentle mood lighting to the still-shadowed room. In the dimness, he walked to the single chair that dominated the otherwise-empty room.

Halo reclined in the chair, her body conforming to the seat’s thick cushions. Her barely discernable female form was naked, though all sense of modesty was lost among the thick, black cables snaking from her body. From her eye sockets, permanently open mouth, breasts, arms, and snaking from her genitals, ribbed black tubes carried her consciousness to the giant computer console before her prostrate form. Though unseen, within those tubes was a multitude of wires that created a direct connection between Halo’s brain and Goliath’s higher mechanical functions. Those wires kept her bodily functions performing normally, including removal of waste. For the lithe female in the chair, it was months since she volunteered for the Halo program and was fully integrated with the system. Though she was aware the ship could function without her, she had become Goliath.

Vance reached the side of the chair, his jacket pulled tightly around his body, his breath escaping in clouds. Though the room was frigid to ensure no damage was done to the computer system, Halo seemed unaffected. She didn’t move, though he noticed a series of video cameras around the room tracking his movements.

“I didn’t want to interrupt in case you were busy,” he said.

“You could’ve come at any time.” Her voice came eerily from eight separate speakers around the room, an effect that strengthened her integration with the ship. “No matter what I was doing, you wouldn’t have been a bother. My lower brain functions can run the ship for years while I talk with you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He placed his hand on her arm, feeling her skin icy to the touch, and quickly changed the subject. “You look healthy.”

“Healthy?” She laughed sweetly. “We’ve been together for five years, and all you can say is I look healthy?”

He smiled and ran his hand over her clean-shaven scalp. “Well, you looked a lot better with hair.” Personal grooming was the only thing the computer couldn’t maintain for her. To ensure her body remained as sterile as possible, all Halo’s body hair was removed every day by an assigned crewman.

“I’m surprised you didn’t join the rest of the team for some much-deserved vacation time.” She changed the subject almost as artfully as he did. “You would’ve enjoyed Fatutu IV.”

“This is relaxation for me.” He gently squeezed her hand. “We don’t get to spend a lot of time together anymore unless it’s between missions. I miss that time.”

“What would you like to do?”

“Oh there are so many choices. I can sit and watch you not move, or I could guess which speaker you’re talking through. I don’t know where to begin.”

“You really are a jerk.” She laughed.

“I wish I could take you out of here,” he said seriously. “From everything I can see, you would’ve enjoyed this planet.”

“I know I would have. Michael, I know you still aren’t comfortable with what I’ve become.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You forget I have six video cameras watching and analyzing every facial expression you make.”

“It’s not that I don’t like what you’ve become.” He ran his fingers over her arm, gingerly avoiding the black tube attached to the veins at the crook of her elbow. “I know this was the opportunity of a lifetime, being one of the first volunteers for the Halo program. I just miss the time we used to spend together. I love Halo, but I miss Aleiz. Does that make sense?”

“After five years, I still wouldn’t have pegged you for a softie. Shall I have a crewman bring you a tissue?”

“Oh, you’re full of jokes today. Fine. No more sweet talk. What would you like to do today?”

“Well, there’s sit and watch me not move….”

After a few days’ vacation time, Vance was again in deep conversation with Halo when his transponder chirped.

“Magistrate Vance, this is Captain Young.”

Vance raised an eyebrow. He didn’t expect to hear from the captain for at least another week. “This is Vance.”

“Sorry to do this to you, Michael, but we’ve had a change of plans. I have a new mission coming down the pipe for you and your team.”

Vance turned off the radio before turning to Halo. “Do you know anything about this?”

“No, but judging from the amount of radio chatter, it’ll be a fairly large operation. Aside from recalling your team, the captain has activated four platoons of infantry.”

“When have we ever needed that many soldiers for a mission?” he asked arrogantly. Pressing the transmit button, he said, “Sir, I hear my team is already in transit from the planet?”

“Yes. They’re on their way.” The captain chuckled.

“When and where do you need us?”

“They’ll be onboard within two hours. I’ll give everyone another hour to get back into uniform before you and your team report to the briefing room. You’ll be joined by the four sets of platoon leaders for your support units.”

“Sir,” he said slowly, not wishing to insult his mentor, “my team has never needed such a large support staff.”

“I’ll fill you in when you arrive. Get your things in order and meet me in the briefing room. Captain Young, out.”

Vance lowered his radio and shrugged to Halo, knowing she was still watching, though she was processing thousands of radio communications and ship requests. She could answer him if he asked her a question, but she was beginning to lose herself in the intricacies of the ship.

“Well, Lover,” he said, leaning over her still form, “it seems like we’re both about to get a lot busier. Take care. I’ll stop by before we leave for the mission.”

“Be safe,” she replied, though her electronic voice sounded distant and distracted. “If I hear anything before you do, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Vance leaned over to kiss her cold forehead. Wordlessly, he turned and left the sealed room, shedding his jacket after he left the arctic chill. He turned away from his team’s cabins, knowing he had one more responsibility before the team returned from leave.

Like he did on every mission before, Vance went through a maze of halls to stop before a sealed door with a code panel on one side. Entering his commander’s code, he opened the door. Lights above came on automatically, as he entered the expansive armory his team used.

Ignoring the multitude of pistols, rifles, explosives, and Ainj’s series of sniper rifles, he stopped before a two-foot-by-two-foot safe. After receiving his commander’s code and processing his thumbprint, tumblers clicked into place with a resounding thump. Opening the safe door, Vance removed a six-inch-diameter black sphere. The seamless, glossy surface glistened in the halogen lighting, as he turned the nondescript orb in his hand.

Satisfied, he carefully slid the black sphere into the assault pack on his belt before leaving the armory, letting the door slide closed and seal behind him.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Keryn’s body screamed in protest, as she awoke and threw back the blankets, exposing herself to the cold morning air. Though it was warm outside, a perpetual chill permeated the barracks in which the cadets slept, leaving her shivering, as she sat up. Her back arched, as she leaned down to put on her slippers, and the broad bruise on her shoulder glowed angry purple. Pouting, she stood and stretched, feeling new pain spread through her body.

For the past week, the instructors put the cadets through a rigorous physical-training program designed to identify each student’s physical strengths and weaknesses. Finding something at which she excelled, she pushed her body to its limits. Having undergone years of warrior training during her definitive school years, Keryn was more adaptive and possessed far more endurance than most, especially the frail Avalons. She was quickly identified as a front-runner in the class, a position that held both praise from her instructors and scorn from her fellow students. If Keryn learned anything from her previous training, it was that the person in front became an easy target to be stabbed in the back.

To her surprise, Iana also performed impressively. Though shorter than Keryn, her bright personality betrayed an impressive inner strength and belied her thin, muscular frame. To Keryn’s chagrin, however, the Pilgrim seemed more adaptable and rebounded quicker from injuries. While Keryn still nursed an injured shoulder, Iana showed no wounds from the painful training.

“Good morning,” Iana called from the bathroom, when Keryn reached the door. Her nauseating morning enthusiasm proved her resilience. “I was starting to worry you’d oversleep.”

Keryn, yawning, leaned heavily against the doorframe. Iana, already showered and dressed, stood before the mirror to pull her long, blonde hair into a tight bun. By contrast, Keryn caught her own reflection and saw that the bruise on her shoulder extended slightly to her neck. It was a wound, she realized, that would be visible even when wearing the high-collared gray uniforms. Her eyes were still red from lack of sleep, and her fine silver hair was disheveled and flattened against the right side of her head.

“I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to,” she mumbled, pulling her loose shirt over her head. “You were singing in the shower again. No one can sleep through that.”

Her hands still caught in the folds of her shirt, Keryn was still able to deflect the playfully thrown brush. Laughing, Iana moved out of the way, so Keryn could examine herself closer in the mirror. Standing topless, she lifted her arm to look at a second bruise spreading across her ribs.

“That Oterian got you pretty good,” Iana remarked, admiring the colors of the bruise, as it faded from purple to green to yellow near the center.

Grumbling, Keryn slid free of her loose shorts and tossed them toward the hamper in the corner. Naked, she stepped into the shower and turned on the water jets. Steam poured from the enclosed shower, as hot water from the faucets drove off the morning chill.

Moving inside the shower, she gasped in surprise, as hot water washed over her cold skin. Gooseflesh spread across her, as the warmth soaked into tense muscles and aching joints. Tilting back her head, she let the hot water cascade through her long hair and run down her face, tracing the line of her neck before spilling over the curves of her body. She sighed, feeling relaxed and rejuvenated.

“Don’t take too long in there, or you’ll be late,” Iana said, leaving the bathroom.

Tipping her head forward, Keryn realized her roommate’s sweet voice and blunt reminder shattered the sanctity of her morning shower. Lathering and rinsing quickly, she frowned.

Turning off the water, she dried quickly and dressed, skipping most of the primping Iana favored. Finally ready, her hair dripping slightly, she left the bathroom to join her roommate, who waited patiently by the door.

The halls were full of cadets moving between classes. The first-year students they passed contained a collective enthusiasm that was hard to ignore. Even Keryn, who considered herself far from a morning person, found herself swept up in the excitement. Their first class for the day was a new one for Keryn and Iana. Piloting was considered the single most-important class at the Academy, since it involved more of the hands-on pilot training than any other section on campus.

Since it was their first class, first-year cadets had the chance to place initial requests on the type of ship they wanted to pilot on graduation. For Keryn, the choices were still too numerous. Still, her heart pounded by the time they entered the doorway to the classroom and took their seats.

An anticipatory hush fell over the room. Keryn sat up straighter, trying to see over the male Uligart sitting in front of her. Finally, the teacher’s door opened, and a familiar Avalon appeared.

“Welcome to the most-important course you’re ever take,” Victoria said, setting down her personal console and connecting it to the room’s electronic network. Screens on each desk flickered, reflecting the image projected from her computer.

“Today, you’ll all be going through a crash course on piloting.”

Soft laughter came from the students.

“I intend to fill your minds with all the classroom instruction you can manage today, because tomorrow, I’ll be putting you through the steps in a hands-on block of instruction. Study hard today, and tomorrow will be a breeze. Struggle with concepts today….” She paused and smiled wickedly. “Well, luckily, we have a medical team on site to treat your wounds.

“Before I can abuse your bodies, however, I intend to abuse your minds. If you look in front of you, we’ll start reviewing the major ships of the Fleet, starting with the smallest.”

The screen before Keryn shifted its image, projecting the three-dimensional image of a small, dart-like fighter. Its sleek body design left room for only a single pilot. Rotating the image, Keryn examined rows of missiles and machine guns affixed to the ship’s underbelly.

“The Duun fighter,” Victoria stated, “the personal fighters of the Alliance Fleet. Quick and maneuverable, the Duun is the main choice of most pilots who graduate from the Academy. Their heavy arsenal is capable of raining destruction down on any squadron of Terran fighters.

“However, the small ships also serve a second purpose. The Duun is capable of electronically controlling up to two large-bore plasma missiles fired from one of the cruisers. Once a missile falls under a fighter’s control, the rocket remains in orbit around your ship until fired using your ship’s internal targeting system. A single Duun carrying two plasma missiles can bring down an uninjured Terran destroyer if struck in the correct locations.”

The image flickered, and the small fighter enlarged. The hull elongated, widened, and flattened, granting space for more crewmembers. Long wings extended from each side, adding stability to the larger ship.

“The Cair transport,” Victoria said. “The Cair is a vital part of the Fleet’s arsenal. Aside from being the main transport for personnel moving from orbit to a planet’s surface, the Cair is also used during combat to deliver an assault team to a disabled enemy ship. The pilot of the Cair ship becomes more than just an aloof loner, instead being fully integrated into a team. You become more than a faceless individual sitting in the cockpit. You’re a vital member of a strike force, infiltrating and clearing enemy vessels. Though not as heavily armed as the Duun fighter, the Cair….”

Though Victoria continued talking, her singing voice drifted into the background, as Keryn stared at the Cair image rotating before her. The Voice inside her grew exited at the prospect of flying a Duun, but Keryn knew its desire was derived more from the Wyndgaart mentality, in which a warrior relied on no one but himself.

Keryn, though, always found a deeper passion being part of something greater than herself. The Duun appealed to her baser instincts, but she yearned to be part of a team. She didn’t want to just be part of a squadron, like a series of fighters, but to be an integral member of an assault force. Her heart ached for the camaraderie her brother, Eza, described in his letters. Though a warrior, he spoke highly of his teammates and the bond they shared.

Keryn would give anything to find that herself, especially the longer she spent as an outcast in the Academy. The constant mocking of Sasha and her friends was unbearable. Every day, it was a challenge not to drive her fist through the fragile Avalon’s face. Putting that behind her and being part of a greater good was just the escape Keryn wanted.

She continued admiring the Cair even as Victoria went on to describe the weapons platform, a bulky contraption that consisted of little more than a cockpit, a single pilot, and a dozen massive plasma missile tubes ready to launch a devastating barrage against any Terran vessel unfortunate enough to get within range. Idly, Keryn switched her image back to the Cair ship, rotating it, drinking in the ship from all angles.

“Finally,” Victoria said, finishing her talk about the weapons platform, “what most of you with real ambition truly desire-I give you the Alliance cruiser.”

The image of the Cair faded from Keryn’s console, replaced by a dominating image of one of the Fleet’s main battleships. Zoomed out as it was, Keryn could hardly make out any details. Still, the cylindrical ship bristled with forward and aft missile ports and rail gun openings.

“The Alliance cruiser serves every major purpose within the Fleet. Transport between galaxies, berth for squadrons, or devastating weapon system, the cruiser offers endless possibilities. Regardless of the ship you’re assigned, every one of you who graduates from this program will be assigned to a cruiser, either as a crewmember or part of the onboard squadron.

“However, for those of you with the ambition to advance far within the Fleet, you’ll want assignment as part of a cruiser’s crew. The openings onboard a cruiser are nearly limitless for young pilots. In most instances, you’ll begin service as one of the navigation officers, piloting the unwieldy vessels. Eventual promotions include communications officer, tactical officer, and, eventually, captain of your own ship.”

Victoria fell silent, as the class examined the cruiser, magnifying different aspects of the ship. Keryn spun it once absently, as she sought the hangar bay doors on the cruiser’s belly. Though she heard Victoria’s advice about the best advancement being through assignment on an Alliance cruiser, Keryn found the magnitude a bit daunting. Since she was from the small communities spread throughout the Wyndgaart home world, it was hard to imagine being responsible for so many lives.

No, she thought. My comfort lies more within the confines of a team.

If she had her way, she’d be a member of the squadron, her ship docked among the dozens of others within the hangar on the belly of the ship. Flipping back through the images, she once again let a Cair transport drift before her eyes.

“All right.” Victoria’s voice broke the silence. “I want everyone to take a ten-minute break. Take this time to clear your mind of all the nonsense about specific ship assignments. When you return to this room, I’ll teach you the basics of three-dimensional combat. If your class is smart enough to pick up the basics, I’ll run you through a practical exercise before we end for the day. Be back here in ten minutes.”

The students filed out the back, many excited conversations erupting long before they left the room. Feeling a tap on her shoulder, Keryn found Iana behind her, her pale face flushed with barely concealed enthusiasm.

“I’m going to be a Duun pilot,” she said bluntly. “To have that much power in my hands….” She gave an exhilarated sigh. “What about you? I have you pegged for cruiser all the way.”

“I’m actually thinking of requesting a Cair assignment.”

Iana was surprised. “Cair? Are you serious? Why not just ask for the weapons platform and be completely boring?”

Keryn laughed. “There’s something indescribable about the thought of flying a Cair, to be part of a team, something that important.”

“I’d start thinking a little smaller,” a familiar, annoying Avalon voice said.

Both turned to find Sasha and her entourage eavesdropping. On Sasha’s arm, a muscular Uligart snickered.

“Then again, I don’t really know if it’s possible to request to be a washout. Oh, well. The result will be the same.”

Keryn scowled.

Just one good punch, the Voice begged.

“Get lost, Sasha.” Keryn’s enthusiasm quickly drained in the face of the arrogant Avalon.

“Or what? You’ll prove that you really are a savage?”

Iana tugged on Keryn’s sleeve. “She isn’t worth it, Keryn. Come on. Our ten minutes are almost up, anyway.”

Frowning, her previous excitement replaced by irritation, Keryn entered the room and took her seat. Biting back tears of frustration, she blindly turned off the image of the Cair ship.

“All right, Class,” Victoria said, as the others took their seats. “Now let’s talk tactics.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The team sat in the front row of the horseshoe-shaped set of chairs, searching for answers Vance didn’t have.

“Sir, what the hell’s going on?” Yen asked. “You pulled us off leave right when we were getting settled on the beach.”

“Four platoons?” Eza asked. “When have we ever had a mission that required so many supporting infantry?”

“I’d love to give you the answers, Guys,” Vance replied, pacing before the seated team, “but I don’t know.”

“Can’t you ask someone?” Nova asked, jerking her head toward the door behind her.

“I know what you’re eluding to, Queen of Stealth, but Halo doesn’t know anymore than I do. She’s hearing a lot of chatter and a mobilizations of different units right now, but she can’t pinpoint a mission or destination.”

“It’s something big,” Ainj said. “They wouldn’t have the whole warship up in arms otherwise.”

“Just as long as we aren’t second fiddle to another unit.” Yen slouched farther into his padded chair. “I won’t serve as lackey to any door-kicking grunt.”

Eza leaned over and said quietly, “We’re door-kicking grunts, Yen.”

“You know what I mean!” Yen sat upright.

“Settle down, all of you!” Vance yelled over the burgeoning argument between the two friends. “We’ll get answers soon enough once the infantry leadership and the captain arrive. Until then, keep yourselves occupied.”

Eza leaned forward to see around Ainj, Nova, and the furry Tusque. Ixibas sat quietly near the end of the row. Without eyes, Eza couldn’t tell where he was looking.

“Ixibas,” he hissed, trying to get the Lithid’s attention.

When the featureless oval face turned toward him, he tried again.

“Ixibas.”

“What?”

“Do you want to…?”

“No.” His gravelly voice echoed in the small room.

“You didn’t let me finish. All I wanted to know was….”

“No. I won’t give you the chance to finish whatever asinine idea you had, since it would only end up with all of us in trouble, standing before the captain, so, no.”

“You really are a bore.” Eza sat back in a huff. “All I wanted to know is….”

The back door opened, and nine infantry soldiers entered the room, deep in their own conversation. They wore pressed uniforms and highly shined boots that sparkled under the weak ceiling lights. Their appearance was immaculate compared to the more-slovenly covert operations team, many of whom wore personal modifications to their uniforms.

The massive Oterian had long ago removed his sleeves, complaining that his muscular arms were too restricted by the fabric. Ixibas wore no uniform at all, settling for a single slash over his black exoskeleton.

“Infantry,” Yen muttered. “Are they absolutely necessary for this mission? Word in the halls is that this is just a search, not even a smash-and-grab.”

“Such animosity,” Eza whispered beside Yen.

“I just don’t see why we need them working with us.” He continued to glower at the soldiers, as they walked down the aisle.

“Need I remind you,” the Oterian’s voice rumbled behind Yen, “that every one of us was infantry before switching over to join the team?”

“And every one of us got better,” Yen said coldly.

Seeing the already-seated team, the infantry soldiers quieted and took their seats across the aisle. A couple of them remained standing and went to shake hands with Vance.

“Magistrate Vance, it’s a pleasure to be working with you again,” said the only officer, a Uligart, extending his hand.

Vance shook it firmly. “Magistrate Dallis. Are you in charge of the whole company now?”

He looked over his shoulder at the four platoon leaders behind him. “Yes. The 2nd Infantry, 5th Fleet is my command. The Black Talons are the best, and I’m proud to be leading them.”

“Second best.” Eza pointed at himself.

“Sit down, Eza!” Vance snapped.

Eza reluctantly took his seat, glowering at Dallis.

“Who are your platoon leaders?” Vance asked.

The four warrants surged forward, eager to meet the Pilgrim team leader. Though infantry and covert operations openly disliked each other, Vance’s team earned a reputation for being the best.

Dallis introduced all four platoon leaders. “This is Warrant Harkund of First Platoon, Warrant Blythe of Second, Warrant Onclav of Third, and Warrant Decker of Fourth.”

Vance was surprised to see that the fourth platoon leader was a fellow Pilgrim. The strong, muscular jawline, bright-blue eyes, and close-cropped blond hair showed obvious Terran lineage, but Warrant Decker carried himself with confidence among the other races.

“Captain on deck!” an infantry soldier shouted, snapping to attention.

Everyone copied him, clambering to their feet and standing at attention, as Captain Young walked down the center aisle.

“Take your seats, Everyone.”

The infantry sat as one, while the team members fell lazily back into their cushioned seats.

“I’m sorry I had to call you back to the ship on short notice,” the captain began. “I received a message from High Council a few hours ago, giving us our next mission. This will be a large operation, requiring most of the assets onboard this ship.”

Vance frowned. The High Council became involved only when the mission was of more political worth than tactical use. Chaired by senior military representatives from each of the major races-Avalon, Uligart, Wyndgaart, Pilgrim, Lithid, and Oterian-the High Council served as the commanding generals for the entire Alliance Infantry Force and Fleet. Cloaked in secrecy, the meeting hall of the command was unknown to anyone outside the group and their immediate assistants. Though some of the greatest technological advancements came from research conducted by the High Council, Vance distrusted any organization that worked so deep within the shadows and so far outside the boundaries of regular society.

“Three days ago,” Captain Young continued, “the Alliance lost contact with its military outpost on Purseus II, built on the outskirts of the planet’s capital city. To date, we haven’t been able to reestablish contact with anyone within the city.”

Turning, he activated the screen behind him. Images taken from orbit flickered across the screen, as he continued, “These were taken by an Alliance satellite in orbit around Purseus II. As you can see, the city seems completely intact, as does the military base beyond.”

“I don’t see any people,” Vance said, pointing at the images passing by. “Vehicles still line the streets, but I don’t see a single person. They’re just empty.”

“Anytime we lose contact with an entire city, it puts this command on edge,” Captain Young said. “I’m forced to wonder if the Terrans have gained access to a new biological or chemical weapon capable of decimating an entire city without causing major damage to the structures. That’s why I’m activating all of you for this mission.”

He pulled the image back until the entire city was visible. Pressing a series of buttons on his console, he brought up blue pyramids south of the city, followed by a large blue arrow indicating the avenue of approach.

“You’ll be dropped off outside the city. Your initial pass over it will allow you to detect any anomalies in the air that would cause us to lose contact. Once you’re ensured the atmosphere hasn’t been compromised, you’ll land here before entering the city along the main roadway.”

He pointed to the blue triangles before tracing his finger along the blue arrow. “Magistrate Vance and his team will have the lead, as your units enter the city, supported by Magistrate Dallis and his four platoons.”

“Sir.” Warrant Decker raised his hand. When recognized, he stood and said, “Warrant Adam Decker, Fourth Platoon leader. What can we expect on the planet? Are there any indigenous plant or animal life that could be a threat?”

“The plants have all been categorized as deciduous. None of the plant life should pose a threat, though I don’t recommend ingesting anything you may find along the way. Animal life is minimal, though Purseus II has widely imported Seques for use in rural areas. As beasts of burden, they’re of little consequence.”

“Natural population, Sir?” Eza asked from his seat. “Any people of note?”

“None. Purseus II is little more than a stopover between well-established galaxies. The population is an amalgamation of all the major races. Its proximity to the Demilitarized Zone is the only thing that makes it of interest for a military outpost and causes our concern over losing contact.”

Captain Young scanned the crowd. “If there are no more questions, this concludes our briefing. We’ll arrive within the week, so ensure your units are prepared. Thank you all.”

As he stepped away from the podium, all the soldiers snapped to attention.

“Carry on.” He walked out.

Once the door closed firmly behind the captain, Eza swung his head around to look at Vance. “So, basically, we don’t know a damn thing, and they’d really appreciate it if we could tell them all about the planet once we get there.”

“When is that any different from any other mission we’ve been on?” Yen, pushing past Eza, walked toward the door.

“He actually told us that Seques might be encountered on the planet,” Ainj said, exasperated. “Seques are on every planet.”

“You all complain more than anyone else I ever met,” Ixibas hissed, walking toward the door.

The infantry soldiers intermingled with the team, as they filed from the room. Vance stayed behind to gather the last of his possessions. When the room was empty, he turned on the screen again and let the images of the city flicker across the display.

“What do you think?” he asked the apparently empty room.

“It doesn’t seem any more dangerous than any other mission you’ve been on,” Halo replied from the corner speakers. “No solid intelligence on the planet and no reason for lost communications, though, always makes me nervous.”

“Did you know anything about the High Council messages the captain referred to?”

Halo paused for a quick scan of transmission files. “There’s nothing logged from the High Council, but that doesn’t mean anything. As secretive as they are, they probably have a way to send a message straight to the captain while bypassing my security systems.”

Vance remained silent, as more images scrolled by. “My gut tells me there’s more to this mission than meets the eye.”

“I agree, and you have a visitor.”

Vance turned to find Warrant Decker standing near the front row of seats.

“Sorry to interrupt you, Sir,” Decker said. “I can return later, if you need more privacy.”

“Nonsense.” He motioned Decker to join him near the screen.

As they stood side-by-side, they studied each image, as it passed.

“I take it you aren’t satisfied with the intelligence brief, either?” Vance asked.

“I wouldn't say that. I just can’t help feeling there’s more to the mission.”

“I know the feeling, Kid.”

They watched in silence, their sharp eyes drinking in the black-and-white photos of the cityscape. Many satellite pictures went by, as they sat without speaking.

After nearly two dozen went by, Decker pointed. “There. Stop the image.” His index finger traced minute details of the city’s main avenue. “Halo, can you zoom in on the area I’m indicating?”

“Of course.”

The image magnified. Blockish buildings took shape. The glass-and-girder constructions grew into clearer definition. Decker’s eyes remained on the street.

“Get us down to street level if you can,” Vance said, noticing what Decker saw.

Eventually, the street image dominated the screen. Both Pilgrims stepped back to take in the full picture. Frowns etched on both faces, as they became worried.

Along both sides of the street, a pixilated image showed a line of cars, all of which were damaged. Their roofs caved inward. Hoods buckled under a smashing force. Along the twisted hoods of many, dark-black smears spread from the car onto the ground in front of the hood.

On the sidewalks, shattered glass twinkled in the picture, having been blown outward from the storefronts lining the street. Panning forward, they followed the line of parked cars, all of which were destroyed, and many of which held dark smears of what appeared to be blood.

“Why would the High Council have missed such a telltale sign of danger?” Decker asked.

“They wouldn’t.” Vance continued frowning. “Somehow, I think there’s more to this mission than what we’ve been briefed.”

CHAPTER NINE

The display on the desk before Keryn shifted, enlarging and expanding until a two-foot-wide sphere hovered above the table’s flat display. Lines of latitude and longitude encased the hollow sphere, crisscrossing like a fine gossamer web. Within the sphere, small pyramids appeared one in front of the other, hovering in eager anticipation of commands from the class’ instructor, as if frozen in never-ending pursuit.

Victoria stood in the front of the room, a long, pen-shaped apparatus held in her hand. When she pressed a button on its side, a fine laser emerged, penetrating the identical sphere projected above the teacher’s desk. As the laser entered the sphere, it struck the front-most pyramid. With that under her control, she moved it slowly away from the focus of the sphere, drifting it toward the orb’s outer edge. In response, the rear pyramid gave chase, keeping an equal distance behind.

She said loudly, working with the pyramids, “Most of you have difficulty grasping combat outside a two-dimensional plane. All combat exists on a single flat sheet. Two opponents maneuver and drift around one another in a tactical, artful dance, until one finds an opening and strikes. Even when you take into account the use of high ground, you’re still altering only the level of the two-dimensional plane to a twenty-, thirty-, or forty-five-degree angle to account for the elevation. Still, however, your combat exists only within that stifling plane.

“For those of you to whom that description applied, you’ll find the shift to three-dimensional combat difficult. You’ve mastered the art of preparing for an enemy in front of you, to the side, or behind, but taking into account an enemy simultaneously below and above you, too, you’ll be forced to expand your thinking.”

Victoria returned to the sphere. Keryn watched her own display, seeing the pyramids move without the distraction of Victoria and her laser moving objects like a marionette.

“Some of the skills you’ve learned in ground training, such as leading a target when firing at a moving object, still apply to space combat. However, even those are modified. Distances in space are distorting to the eye. On a planet, the atmosphere masks great distances. The same can be said for the shape of the planet itself. Objects disappear into a distant horizon when they get far enough away. Therefore, your mind can interpret distance easier due to the planet’s slope.

“In space, however, there’s no horizon to use as a marker, and the size of the ships themselves is misleading. The smallest Duun fighter is still massive compared to normal targets on the ground. Spotting a distant ship during a space battle might mean that it’s literally thousands of feet away, far beyond effective engagement distance. Until you learn the fact that, in space, there are no reference points for distance, you’ll struggle with this crucial part of the learning process. In this classroom, I’ll teach you the basics, but your experience in the cockpit will truly teach you to be a pilot.”

Victoria turned back to the sphere, finally making reference to the pyramids she’d been moving in a dizzying dance. “Most of three-dimensional combat is an incorporation of both mathematical concepts and basic physics. The most basic of these concepts is the simple triangle. Take, for example, the banking ship.”

Using her laser, she turned the front pyramid into a steep climb. Behind it, a fine blue line appeared in the sphere, tracing the path it took on its upward flight. As the front ship pulled away from its pursuer, Victoria paused the demonstration.

“What you’re seeing is the first establishment of a triangle.”

On the screen, the ship’s gradual climb elongated until the single sloping blue line became two lines intersecting at a ninety-degree angle. “Though this wasn’t the exact course the lead pilot took, we can see that the front ship has established two legs of the triangle during its evasion of its pursuer. However, it leaves itself open for attack. How?”

Sasha raised her hand confidently from the back of the room. “Because everyone knows that the hypotenuse of a right triangle is a shorter distance than the sum of the other two legs. Therefore, the pursuing pilot simply has to increase the elevation of his own climb to cut off his fleeing adversary.”

In response to her words, a thin red line was drawn from the two exposed ends of the legs, completing the triangle. Victoria continued the lecture with a faint nod to the proud Avalon student. “The gravitational inhibitors on every Alliance ship mean that you can pull off maneuvers like the one I just demonstrated without fear of crushing gravitational forces during an intense climb. Cast aside your preconceived notions about combat. In space, within an Alliance ship, nearly anything you can imagine is possible.”

Keryn sat entranced, as Victoria lectured for hours on different techniques for assault and evasion during space combat. Pyramids danced throughout the sphere in wild firefights that she struggled to follow. Slowly, Victoria added more and more pyramids to the demonstration, until nearly the whole sphere was filled with a combination of mock ships and weapon fire.

By the end of the instruction, Keryn’s eyes watered from strain, and her head ached. She tried to retain all Victoria taught, but she felt the fabric of her understanding unraveling. The concepts were foreign and complex, leaving her concerned about how to apply ideas she barely understood to real-life aerial combat.

Frowning, she replayed the most-recent demonstration, squinting hard to track the individual movements of dozens of small fighters, as they wove through one another’s machine gun and rocket fire to maneuver close enough for a kill. She already knew how the battle ended and marked the winning ship. Still, she couldn't see what it did that was so remarkable that it defeated so many opponents.

During her training as a warrior, Keryn always kept aces up her sleeve in every confrontation. She watched her opponent’s subtle body language and facial expression, learning his strengths and weaknesses. Choosing from a vast repertoire of battle techniques, she always found one that exploited her opponent’s weaknesses and left her victorious.

In the cold alloy of a spaceship, however, she couldn't see her opponent’s face. She could only see the darting ship and its bristling arsenal. Could the ship’s movements reveal insight into the pilot’s weaknesses? If not, what chance did she have to overcome the damning firepower of those she would face not only in the Academy but some day in a real confrontation with the Terran Fleet?

“I want the class to split in two,” Victoria ordered from the front of the room. “Half of you move to my right, half to my left.”

To Keryn’s relief, she saw Iana move to her side, while Sasha and her cronies went to the other.

“For the next few hours, I’ll place all of you in direct conflict with your classmates. Each of you will have a uniquely colored pyramid representing your ship. The defensive values of all your ships will be the same, as well as maneuverability and weapon systems. The only thing that sets you apart from your peers is your imagination and what you learned from this class. Take a second to study your ship schematics and select a color. We begin shortly.”

Each of the displays before Keryn’s group had the same sphere. As students chose their colors-Keryn settling on a vibrant red that matched her tattoos-she took a second to read the cadets’ expressions. Some showed faint traces of fear, revealing concern over their inadequacies. For others, confidence and bravado were proudly displayed, though Keryn wondered how much of that was for show and how much was genuine ability.

Frowning, she noticed that Zalide, Sasha’s Uligart boyfriend, was among the members of her group. Somehow, she couldn’t help wondering if he was sent by the Avalon to judge the abilities of the cadets on her side of the room to get an edge on them. She couldn’t escape the feeling, though, that his bravado was warranted.

Keryn exchanged worried glances with Iana shortly before Victoria broke the silence.

“Begin!”

The pyramids being held in suspended animation began moving under the control of the dozen cadets in her group. Ships dodged and wove through one another’s fields of fire, seeking vulnerable targets. Keryn tilted hers into a spiral, barely avoiding a barrage of missile fire from a passing ship. She returned fire weakly on a distant target, which maneuvered easily out of range and avoided her rockets.

Spotting a deep-blue pyramid drifting slowly through the sphere, she sensed easy prey and moved closer to attack. Flashing across the broad sphere, she quickly closed the distance on what she assumed was a damaged opponent.

To her surprise, the ship banked quickly at the last second, looping behind her to open fire. The hull integrity of her ship dropped rapidly on her display, as machine gun fire tore through her flimsy ship. Shortly thereafter, her bright-red pyramid exploded in a shower of sparks. Keryn was dead, the first one of her group to be eliminated.

She cursed herself, as she leaned back in her seat, biting back tears of frustration. Wallowing in self-pity, she barely noticed the figure standing behind her. Turning in her chair, she saw the instructor’s black uniform.

“Never, ever, underestimate an opponent,” Victoria whispered, while the other students continued their competition. “Underestimating anyone will lead to your death.”

“How am I supposed to know which one’s the easy prey?” Keryn asked hoarsely. “I attacked the one that seemed like the easiest kill, and it backfired on me.”

“First of all, treat every opponent as if they’re still alive and fighting strongly, so you can’t be surprised by their withheld firepower.” She leaned forward and hissed the next words into Keryn’s ear. “Second, I’m not training a coward who attacks only the weak and lame. I want pilots with the fortitude to fight straight for the strongest enemy on the battlefield. Always remember that.”

Keryn’s face flushed with surprise and shame, as Victoria stood and walked away. Looking back at the sphere, Keryn saw only three pyramids still remained, the dark blue among them. Scanning her group, only a Lithid, an unfamiliar Avalon, and Sasha’s boyfriend remained.

Within minutes, the dark-blue pyramid performed amazing acrobatics and destroyed the other two opponents. As quickly as it began, Zalide and his dark-blue pyramid were declared the victors. Sasha’s boyfriend set her up to take a fall from the beginning. Keryn was ready for a second chance.

Victoria ran them through the exercise six more times before giving them a break for dinner. Over the next six battles, Keryn wound up in last place two more times. Her best finish was sixth of the twelve students. Zalide finished first every time.

By the time the group broke for dinner, Keryn was emotionally exhausted and ready for a meal and bed. Victoria gave them little hope of rest.

“Eat well and relax,” Victoria said. “Talk among yourselves to figure out where you went wrong during the competitions. Learn from your mistakes. I offer you that advice, because your night is far from over. Once you finish eating, I expect you back in your seats, ready to continue. The next part of your training will test your abilities in the air and find out how much you learned during classroom instruction.”

Keryn, crestfallen, knew the major concepts of three-dimensional combat still eluded her.

“When you return, we’ll put you in the cockpit and see how well you do behind the controls of a simulation.”

CHAPTER TEN

Tucking her arms under her head, Keryn stared up at the plain white ceiling above her bunk. Though her muscles still ached from physical training, her brain felt like a ball of lead. All day, her class learned tactics, applied them to mock battles within the spheres, and ended the day in a virtual cockpit. Pitting new cadets against computer-simulated targets enabled Keryn to experience the nuances of controlling a fighter during combat simulations, trying to grow accustomed to three-dimensional battles in space. She failed miserably.

The cockpit felt constricting throughout the exercise. Her throat tightened, as silvery digital threads created the full cockpit from the blank computer program. As the metallic alloy closed around her like a coffin, she felt her heart race from claustrophobia. Growing up on the Wyndgaart home world, with its wide-open spaces and freedom, the simulation made her incredibly uneasy.

Throughout the simulated battle, she never shook the feeling of confinement and captivity. Her piloting skills suffered, resulting in her ship’s being destroyed all five times she ran the program. She’d been so confident at the start of the day. As the sun set, and she unwound in the room she shared with Iana, Keryn felt defeated. Doubt crept into her mind. For the first time since arriving, she wondered if she was cut out to be a pilot.

I could help, the Voice whispered in her mind. I’m capable of more than just making you a warrior. Let me help.

Keryn rolled on her side to face the bare wall. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any.”

Spare me, the Voice said harshly. Do you honestly believe I like seeing you like this?

Keryn wiped away tears that threatened to spill down her face. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she told the empty room, “especially not with you.”

Someday, you’ll realize that I’m very much a part of you. You can’t turn me off like throwing a switch. The embarrassment you feel right now-believe me, I know you’re swimming in a pool of self-pity-is something I feel, too.

“Like you actually care.”

I do, Keryn. I have only one purpose, and that’s to turn you into the greatest possible warrior. Right now, we’re both failures, and it’s mainly because you’re so adamant about fighting me. I could offer assistance and make you great. Instead, you wallow near the bottom of your class, because you can’t grasp the nuances of space combat. Let me help you!

“No,” she growled. “I got here without you. I’ll graduate without you, too.”

Fat chance. Not the way you’re going.

A knock at the door interrupted her before she could offer a harsh retort. Keryn rolled over, rubbing away as much of the puffiness around her eyes as she could.

“Come in,” she called hoarsely, her voice thick with emotion.

The door opened, and Iana stuck her head in to scan the room. Seeing no one but Keryn, she opened the door the rest of the way and walked in, looking perplexed.

“Why’d you knock?” Keryn asked.

“I thought you might’ve brought someone home with you. I heard you talking when I came to the door. I would’ve felt terrible if I barged in while you were with someone.”

Keryn couldn’t suppress a laugh. Mourning her own failures, spending time with a man, especially a fellow cadet, was the furthest thing from her mind. Seeing Iana’s hurt expression, she quickly regained her composure.

“Believe me, Iana. I was definitely not with anyone.”

“Then maybe you should be. You’ve been cooped up in the room crying into your pillow since class ended. You need to get up and out. Let’s get a drink at the Academy’s bar. A change of scenery will do you good.”

Keryn shook her head. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I’d rather sit in the dark.”

“Come on. You need to get over today. It was one day. You’ll get better.”

“And if I don’t?” She voiced the question that plagued her ever since class ended in disaster.

“You will.” Iana sat beside her on the bed. “Everyone struggles in the beginning.”

“Not everyone,” Keryn replied, thinking darkly of Sasha and Zalide.

As if reading her mind, Iana said, “Forget Sasha for one night. Forget the Academy, too. Tomorrow is a whole new day.”

“Tomorrow,” Keryn replied in mock exasperation, collapsing backward onto the bed and covering her face with her hands. “I don’t even know what the hell Victoria meant by aerial jousting, but I already have to do it tomorrow.”

Laughing, Iana tugged Keryn’s shoulders, trying to make her sit up again. “It can’t be all that bad. Who knows? Maybe joust is code for delicious desserts.”

Giggling with her, Keryn shoved her playfully off the bed. She was glad to have Iana around. Even at her darkest, her Pilgrim roommate was capable of making her laugh.

“See?” Iana stood. “Now you’re laughing. Since you’re in such a good mood, there’s no excuse why you can’t join me at the bar for a few drinks.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Keryn said, still smiling, “but I really think I’ll pass tonight.” She stopped Iana with a raised hand. “Just give me one night of wallowing, then I’ll go to the bar with you.”

Iana narrowed her eyes and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “Fine. Enjoy your pity party. I’m still going out. I’ll look so ravishing, all the guys will forget I’m a Pilgrim and will line up at the bar to buy me a drink or take me home. Unfortunately, I’ll have to tell them they can’t come home with me, because my roommate’s too busy feeling sorry for herself.”

“Oh, get going!” She threw a pillow at her. “Have a good time tonight. I mean it.”

“Wish you were coming with me. We’re damn near unstoppable together.”

Both laughed, as the door closed behind Iana. Still smiling, Keryn lay back on the bed, tucking her arms under her head and returning to staring at the ceiling.

Part of her longed to leave the room and join the others, but a deeper ache of shame burned in her chest. The Wyndgaarts were a proud race, but Keryn had done little of which she could feel proud.

Closing her eyes, she ran through her combats and subsequent defeats repeatedly, remembering every painful maneuver with crystal clarity. She sought the one revelation that would help her succeed tomorrow, and, with hope, during the rest of her time at the Academy. No matter how many times she replayed the day’s events, however, she couldn’t figure out what she did wrong, or what Zalide did that was special enough to result in his repeated victories.

As she grew tired and irritated by the thought of her failures, she considered the coming day’s training. Before the end of class, Victoria stood at the front of the room with a deep frown. Keryn wasn’t the only one who performed dismally during training, and the Avalon instructor was disappointed.

“Spend tonight thinking about your failures,” Victoria said, visibly upset. “Tomorrow, take the lessons from today and apply them in combat. You won’t have the safety net of knowing your losses are only in a simulation. Tomorrow, your combat will be real, your losses painful. For your first time this year, but far from the last, you’ll have the opportunity to experience the aerial joust.”

Keryn tried to imagine what an aerial joust might be without success. Nothing she read or heard before arriving mentioned such an event, but Victoria spoke the words as if they were capitalized and were important enough to warrant blatant emphasis. How did one prepare for something, when one didn’t know what it was?

You could always get off your lazy ass and try to find out, the Voice chided.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Keryn said angrily. “Unless you have some insight into the joust, shut up.”

Sorry, Keryn, the Voice said with disdain. You’re the first Academy student in our genetic history. I never had much of a need to learn about what happens in this…school. The Voice’s disapproval was evident.

Silence stretched between the two, as Keryn stared unseeing toward the ceiling. Frustration with the Voice flooded her thoughts, which she knew the Voice shared. The knowledge that it knew her displeasure gave her some degree of happiness.

As minutes dragged by, she looked away from the ceiling and around her rather barren room. Aside from two beds, two tall wall lockers dominated the wall space at the foot of each bed frame. Near her head, butted against the wall opposite the door, two desks sat side-by-side, allowing each student to read, study, and run exercises on a personal console.

She sat upright, staring at the desks. Over the past week, she completed a series of reports on the Academy’s history, using her console as a reference to sort through the hundreds of documents stored in its database. It was feasible the console held information about the aerial joust, too.

Excited, she slid from bed and pulled out her chair, flicking the power switch on the side of the console’s monitor. A cold, blue glow filled the otherwise darkened room, as a query screen appeared. Blinking against the bright glow, she entered her request and submitted a query to the system.

Leaning back in her chair, she waited, as the console processed her request. Shortly, it filled the screen with a scrolled list of positive results. Starting at the top, she perused the files, passing by a multitude of text files. After completing research projects and preparing for demanding classes, she had no heart for more reading.

Near the bottom of the first page, she found what she wanted-a video result. Smiling, she accessed it and leaned back, as the air above her console shimmered.

The darkness vanished, as the video played. A warm sun over Arcendor appeared, casting a brilliant reflection off the lake behind the Academy. Keryn almost felt the warm breeze blowing over the water, as she watched ripples move across the lake.

From the periphery of the projection, figures dressed in black flew into view. The group of cadets dived around and through one another in an obvious battle, with pistols and strange, glowing knives in their hands. The air was soon filled with laser fire, as cadets spun in graceful arcs and turned into intense dives to gain a tactical advantage on their adversaries.

Slowly, one at a time, cadets were struck by their peers’ laser fire or slashing knives. Stiffening, they plummeted from view, diving stiffly toward the lake.

Keryn watched the stunning acrobatic dance above the lake for nearly thirty minutes until only three students remained, their flights becoming little more than a blur. Not needing to see any more, she flicked off the console, and the room was again enveloped in the dark gloom of night.

Though temporarily blinded, she remained seated at her desk.

“I am so screwed,” she said into the darkness.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“We’ve established a steady orbit around Purseus II,” the pilot called back to the crew cabin of the transport ship.

“Roger that,” Vance yelled back, trying to be heard over the low din of the humming engines. Looking out the open back bay, he watched two other Cair class transports starting their engines and activated his radio before continuing. “Halo, are you online?”

“I’m here, Michael,” she said, transferring her voice communications to the covert operation team’s channel. “I’m bringing satellite tracking online now.”

“Let me know when you have a visual for our descent,” he said into the microphone hanging before his face. Like the rest of the soldiers crammed into the rear of the transport ship, Vance wore the dark-plated armor more typical of infantry than covert operations. It sat uncomfortably on his shoulders, as it did the rest of his team. Still having a bad feeling about the mission, he wasn’t willing to take any chances. Though it was uncomfortable, body armor was capable of stopping a direct shot from most Terran weapon systems.

“Imagery is now online,” Halo finally said. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Roger that, Halo.” Vance pulled the mike away from his mouth to yell to the seated soldiers, “We’re starting our drop in five minutes. Make sure you’re securely locked into your seats. It’ll be a bumpy ride through the atmosphere. Check your buddy, too. I need all of you healthy when we hit the ground.”

He motioned Dallis and Decker to join him near the cockpit. “Are your men ready to go?”

“The Black Talons were born ready,” Dallis said with a smile.

“I’ve double-checked their equipment and basic loads myself,” Decker said flatly, sharing a knowing glance with Vance. Neither Pilgrim felt confident since the mission briefing. “We have enough ammunition onboard to stop a small army.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Vance patted their shoulders and moved toward the cockpit. “Looks like we’re ready to start our drop,” he told the pilot. “Let me know when we break through the atmosphere. I want to get eyes on the city before we land.”

“Yes, Sir,” both pilots replied.

Vance went back to strap himself into a webbed seat.

The meager light flooding through the rear door of the transport ship began to disappear, as the heavy door slowly slid closed. With the last sliver of light finally gone, the interior of the ship rumbled, as it lifted off the floor of the hangar bay. Sitting sideways, all the soldiers were thrown against each other, as the ship accelerated quickly to launch free of the Goliath. The ship settled in the frictionless space, and the noise died to a low hum. Vance was able to unlatch from his seat and stand to address the soldiers.

“Listen up!” he called. “You’ve all received the intelligence brief containing everything we know. As you’re aware, that’s very little. That means I expect every one of you to be vigilant once we’re on the ground. Take nothing for granted. If it seems wrong, it probably is, and there’s a chance it’ll kill you. Everyone onboard this ship will be located with my team, which means I’m relying on you to watch our backs. Do you understand me?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” they called.

Vance smiled, having forgotten the rigid discipline enforced among the infantry. It was very different from his own team’s behavior, many of whom ignored his speech.

“We’ve got just under an hour until we hit the atmosphere around Purseus II. Take this time to do one final check of all your gear and ammunition. We won’t have time for combat checks once we’re on the surface.”

Vance sat and closed his eyes, beginning the ritual he started years earlier. He slowed his breathing, letting himself drift into a meditative state. His heart rate slowed, and the nervousness he felt fled. On the planet, no one needed a commander too stressed or worried to make timely, correct decisions. Lives hung in the delicate balance based on the decisions he made during the mission. He wouldn’t let people die, because he made the wrong one.

A few seats down, Yen started intently at his open palm on his knee. The heat within the cabin grew, as the air shimmered. In his open palm, blue light coalesced, illuminating the dark cabin. Yen’s eyes narrowed, as the blue light grew, elongating from a single point into a blue tendril that waved in the recirculated air. Sweat beaded his forehead, as he tried to maintain control over the manifestation of his psychic energy, but the tendril wavered unsteadily while they watched. Though he strained to keep it together, it quickly broke apart, dissipating like sand in a strong wind.

Once again, the cabin was cast into gloom. Yen cursed, as Eza leaned toward him.

“Close, Yen,” Eza said, his eyes readjusting to the darkness.

“What was that?” a voice called from across the narrow aisle.

They looked up and saw an infantry soldier watching, his face hidden behind a thick, black helmet.

“Just trying an experiment,” Yen replied, looking at his empty palm. “One that really isn’t working out too well so far.”

“You’re the psychic, right?”

Yen cocked an eyebrow at him. “And you are?”

“Roberts. I’d shake your hand, but I’m kind of strapped in place right now.” He reached up to remove his helmet, letting his flowing silver hair cascade around his face. Yellow and green Wyndgaart tattoos glistened against his sweaty skin-a drawback of wearing so much protective equipment.

“Look, Eza.” Yen elbowed his friend. “It’s another one of you.”

Eza smiled at Roberts. “There’s no one else like me.”

Roberts, to his credit, changed the subject. “So what were you trying to do?”

Yen shrugged. “I’m trying to do more with my abilities than minor telepathy and telekinesis. I’m trying to manifest my powers as a physical weapon.”

“He’s jealous,” Eza chided, “that he doesn’t get to get physical with the Terrans like I do.”

Yen elbowed him harder. “Maybe it’s true, but, if I get it to work, I’ll have a weapon at my command any time I require one. Imagine carrying a psychic whip capable of passing through armor and disrupting a Terran’s nervous system when it strikes. Think about how much stronger I’d be if I could wield that!”

Roberts recognized the lust in Yen’s eyes. That look was very familiar to the savage warriors of Wyndgaart. “Sounds impressive, but it’ll never replace the cold steel of a strong knife.” He unsheathed an eighteen-inch blade from his hip, flipping the well-balanced metal in his hand.

“A knife?” Eza asked. “Why carry a knife when you can carry a man’s weapon?” He pulled a curved ax from its sheath on his leg. “This is what a real man carries.”

Eza’s ribbing began a litany of arguments between the two Wyndgaarts about the benefits of their respective weapons. The conversation eventually turned to discussion of their home world and the lives they left behind when they joined the Alliance military. Their talk filled the rest of the house until the intercom sounded, notifying them that they were preparing to enter the atmosphere of Purseus II.

“If you aren’t already strapped in,” the pilot said, “you may want to do so now. The onboard inhibitors will be able to absorb only part of the shock when we hit friction.”

Yen turned to Eza. “Give them up.” He held out his hand.

Grumbling, Eza struggled to pull his ID tags over his head. He begrudgingly dropped his set into Yen’s hand, while Yen handed his own tags to Eza.

“This is a stupid ritual.” Eza slid Yen’s tags over his head.

“It’s tradition. Break it, and it’s bad luck. Quit complaining and hold on tight.”

The transport’s tip glowed gentle red, as the ship dipped into the planet’s thick atmosphere. As the rest of the craft immersed itself, fire enveloped the bottom, flaring brightly past the cockpit window. The pilot threw a switch to make the front glass darken, blacking out the blinding flames, as he flew on instruments.

Within the crew cabin, the transport shook violently. Soldiers grabbed their harnesses and clung tightly, as they were tossed from side-to-side, while the ship skipped along the surface of the atmosphere. The temperature became sweltering, as the hull heated from the friction. Sweat beaded on foreheads or spilled unhindered from under thick, oppressive helmets.

Vance gritted his teeth against the shaking, feeling his stomach dance and twist, as he was jostled back and forth. Bile rose in his throat, and he blanched. Pulling tighter against his harness, he planted his feet firmly and lowered his head, trying to get it as close to his knees as possible, knowing that was one of the only positions he could manage while strapped in that helped alleviate the threatening nausea. After seven years of covert operations and eight before then in the infantry, he never became accustomed to entry into a planet’s atmosphere.

“Your vital signs are spiking, Michael,” Halo cooed in his ear.

Aside from monitoring their descent via satellites, she recorded their vital signs to track their health during the chaos of battle. “You never were very good at this.”

“Not right now, Aleiz,” he growled between clenched teeth.

In a lot of ways, her transformation into the Goliath’s Halo was a blessing in disguise. His leaves were taken aboard ship instead of traveling back and forth through atmospheric turbulence.

Though it felt like eternity to Vance, the transport eventually broke through the worst of the turbulence, and the ride evened out. As soon as he was sure he could move without feeling lightheaded, he unstrapped from the webbed seat and walked to the cockpit. His arrival coincided with the pilot lowering the darkened blast shield from the windows, allowing vibrant sunlight to flood the small cabin.

Stooped in the low-ceilinged cockpit, Vance had his first good view of the planet, as the transport broke through the high-altitude cloud cover. A sparkling lake stretched out below the ship, as it sped over the surface. Green trees jutted from the far shoreline in small groves, isolated by large fields of tilled earth and budding vegetation. Though he was unfamiliar with the vegetable life on Purseus II, many of the plants looked similar to a variety of maize. Vance scanned the fields and occasional farmhouses, as they passed over fertile rural land, but he saw neither work animals in the fields nor people wandering around the homes.

“What’s the local time?” he asked the copilot.

He checked a dial on the dashboard. “Should be early afternoon here, Sir.”

Vance frowned. Early afternoon when the crops were just starting to grow would have been an optimum time for farmers to be nurturing their fields. If nothing else, they would’ve been tending to the livestock that also seemed disturbingly absent. Much like the images of the city, the farmland around the military outpost was devoid of life.

“Sir,” the pilot said, interrupting his musing, “we’re approaching the city. It should come into view in ten seconds.”

Vance, peering through the thin layer of soot on the windows, struggled to see the city, as it slowly materialized on the horizon. Built in a traditional style of the Alliance, a series of tall buildings stood like the tip of a spear in the center of the city, spreading outward and downward until the city leveled out in single- and double-story shops and residential neighborhoods. From a distance, with the sun high in the sky, light sparkled from windows on tall office buildings.

“The landing zone is approaching shortly, Sir, and I don’t detect any anomalies in the air.” The pilot marked their location on the console.

“Fly past the landing zone on this approach. Take us on a slow pass over the city. I want to see what we’re walking into before we touch the ground.”

“Yes, Sir.” He adjusted their approach, so the three transport ships would fly over the main city road before looping back to their designated landing zone.

“Anything worthwhile?”

Vance turned to see Decker’s broad, smiling face behind him.

“We’re about to pass over the city. Why don’t you join us?”

Adam squeezed his bulk into the already-cramped cockpit. His broad shoulders pressed firmly against Vance’s, leaving little space for much more than observation.

“Where’s Dallis?” Vance asked.

“He’s still strapped in his seat.” Decker nodded toward the rear of the ship. “He gets a little motion sick when we hit turbulence. Want me to get him for you?”

Vance thought about it, then shook his head. “No. Let him stay where he is. Somehow, I think you’ll appreciate this more than he will.”

The Cair transport slowed, as it began its flight over the city. The initial areas, though empty and without signs of life, seemed mostly unharmed. Vance noticed the destroyed vehicles, a trend that continued the deeper they flew into the city. Vance confirmed they wouldn’t find any chemical or biological weapons being used, since the vehicles seemed systematically destroyed, as if someone tried to keep the residents from fleeing the city. That meant whatever caused the Alliance to lose contact with the city was probably still inside. Vance felt unseen eyes on their ships, waiting for them to land.

The heart of the city, where the tall towers of wealth and privilege stood, showed the most damage. The glass windows Vance saw sparkling from a distance proved to be only partially intact. Up and down each facade, windows were smashed haphazardly, without any apparent pattern. The gaping holes on the still-windowed exteriors looked like a broken code, dotting and dashing its way from building to building in an undecipherable message.

Or, Vance thought darkly, not like a code at all.

Instead, it looked like eyes watching the intruders, as they passed into a forbidden zone.

“Tip the nose,” Vance said quietly, breaking the silence in the cockpit. “I want a better view of the street.”

As the wings tipped, the transport hovered over a vacant street. Trash swirled under the powerful exhaust, dancing and slipping across the street, piling up in already-cluttered gutters. Rows of smashed cars, their roofs collapsed and sparkles of shattered glass lying on the streets around them, sat like silent ghosts of the prosperous city.

The first-floor windows on both sides of the street were shattered outward, panes of glass jutting like daggers from the sidewalks. Though piles of debris shifted along the street, prodded forward by the exhaust from the transports, nothing moved. No animals roamed the street. No people peered hesitantly from behind cover or within the buildings.

The only signs of life where what Decker and Vance saw on the satellite images. Smeared across a number of cars and peppered throughout the shattered glass on the street, large droplets of bright blood painted the street scene in a macabre undertone, telling a tale of death and suffering for which the victims had yet to be found.

“Take us out of here,” Vance said soberly. “Get us back to the landing zone.”

Vance and Decker slipped from the cockpit and back into the stifling heat of the crew cabin. Two dozen faces turned to the pair of Pilgrims, as they finally stood upright, their expressions serious.

“Everything good to go, Sir?” Ainj asked, pulling his sniper rifle against his body.

“As good as we’ve ever had it.” He didn’t look at the Avalon. Still look forward, he called loudly, “Lock and load, Everyone! We’ll hit the landing zone in two minutes.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

The soldiers dismounted from the Cair transports and spread out across the landscape, a sea of black-garbed figures moving forward toward the distant city. At the center of the line, Vance and his team directed search parties to inspect and clear every farmhouse along the route. As Vance feared, no people were found, though signs of a struggle were everywhere. They found signs of slaughter-bloodstains on chairs, walls, and floors throughout the many houses.

Since the Alliance was first notified of losing contact with their outpost, enough time passed that the crops were allowed to grow wild in the fields. Vegetable stalks were crowned with heavy blooms that normally would’ve been trimmed to avoid nutrients being drained from the edible parts of the plants. Holes perforated the landscape, a result of an underground rodent population left unchecked. Whatever happened to that part of the planet, it was awhile ago and left no possibility of taming the wild landscape.

As soldiers trudged through muddy creeks and climbed fences in various stages of disrepair, the city’s outskirts neared. Vance keyed the transmit button on his headset.

“Platoon One, this is Command,” he said softly, not wanting to betray the heavy silence in the air. That silence startled him, as they moved through the countryside. No birds chirped in the trees, and, even in deep grasses, the scurry of small wildlife was missing. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath for fear of retribution.

“This is Platoon One,” Warrant Harkund replied.

“Platoon One, I want you to cover the main highway leading into the city. You’ve got our six once we’re inside.”

“Roger that, Sir.” He cut transmission. A moment later, one quarter of the black-armored soldiers left the main group, falling in behind them, preparing to hold the entrance to the city.

“Platoons Two and Three,” Vance said.

“Yes, Sir,” Warrants Blythe and Onclav answered.

“I want you to spread out. Two, you take the west. Three, move east. Move over approximately six blocks, then move north into the city paralleling the main thoroughfare. You copy?”

“That’s a good copy, Sir,” Blythe said.

“Wilco,” Onclav replied.

Vance kept his radio on a channel that covered all internal platoon chatter. He listened to the commands that moved half the strike force in different directions, fanning out to cover as many southern entrances to the city as possible. With only one-quarter of the soldiers remaining, plus his own team, Vance gave hand and arm signals for Dallis and Decker to join him in the center of the column.

When they arrived, Vance held an impromptu huddle to ensure they were fully aware of the plan.

“We don’t have the personnel to do a house-by-house sweep,” he explained. “We have to stay vigilant while entering the heart of the city. Our objective remains the military outpost on the far side. Any records of what happened will be kept at that facility. If we run into trouble, that will also be our fallback position, since it’s the most defensible with its external defense system.”

He turned to Decker, who lifted his helmet’s dark visor to confirm eye contact. Vance was quickly learning to like the knowledgeable, charismatic Pilgrim. “Decker, I need two or your personnel on point a minimum of three blocks ahead at all times. The business district was the most heavily damaged. Once we reach it, I need your point men scanning every alley and building. I don’t want any surprises, like snipers ambushing us, when we’re trapped between skyscrapers.

“No problem, Sir.” He activated his microphone. “Roberts and Gythrun, rally on my position.”

Since all the soldiers’ helmets had a forward display built into the visor that showed the leaders’ position at all times, a command like Decker’s was easy to follow. The Wyndgaart infantry soldier and an armored Avalon soon joined them.

Decker quickly explained their responsibilities. Both nodded wordlessly before unslinging their weapons and moving to the front line of troops.

“They’re two of my finest,” Decker explained. “They’ll be safe on their own up front.”

“Let’s hope so,” Vance said, unconvinced. “I’d prefer not to bring anyone home in a body bag.”

With the point men in position, the group closed the rest of the distance to the edge of the city. The point men clambered over an improvised barricade at the edge of town. The barrier, built from destroyed street carts and piled furniture, had been burned in the distant past. Only the charred remains of the furniture’s framework remained, marking one piece of debris as a sofa as opposed to the round frame of what had once been a dining room table.

Fire damage extended to several squat residential buildings, too. Entire walls had collapsed in flames, leaving exposed, blackened stonework and allowing glimpses into the abandoned, simple lives of those who once occupied the homes. Roberts and Gythrun checked doors on different sides of the street, remarking that most were still locked despite the severe damage the buildings sustained.

Though the fires had long since cooled, the thick smell of ash hung in the air, as Vance and the rest of the team cleared the barricade. Tusque moved up to Vance while they walked, his large snout sniffing thoughtfully in the air.

“I got a bad feeling, Boss,” the Oterian rumbled.

“Why’s that?” Vance knew better than to second-guess the gut feelings of one of his team. “Because of the ash in the air?”

“It’s not the ash.” A distant look of concentration came to his eyes. “It’s what’s below the ash, more subtle but still there.”

Vance didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “What do you smell that I can’t?”

“Death,” he said matter-of-factly. “Burned and cooked flesh. Something a little more animalistic hanging in the air, like wet fur. An evil smell has settled over the city, Boss.”

“I didn’t peg you as the superstitious type, Tusque.” Vance tried to ease a rising sense of precognitive dread.

“It’s not superstition. It’s a statement of fact.” He turned to the much-shorter Pilgrim. “I know I can’t talk you out of going into the heart of the city, Boss, but I don’t think this is a simple reconnaissance mission.”

“Neither do I.”

Without replying, Tusque returned to his position, scanning the short buildings for any sign of movement. Decker, who watched the conversation from a distance, slid to Vance’s side, as they marched toward the tall buildings in the business district.

“What did he have to say?” Decker asked.

“The same thing we’ve been saying all along, that this mission has more layers than we were led to believe.” He turned to the younger Pilgrim, a sober look in his eyes. “Do me a favor, Decker. Keep your people overly vigilant. Don’t let them take anything for granted. Even if they accidentally spot one of the platoons paralleling us six blocks away, I want them to report it.”

“Will do, Sir. I already took the liberty of letting the point men know about our concerns.”

“Probably a good call.”

They walked past the first of the destroyed cars. The roof was caved inward, and it drooped down enough that its weight crushed the headrests on both front seats. The hood suffered a similar blow, bowing up around the blunt trauma in its center.

Something destroyed all the cars on the street in a similar manner, but it was the subtleties that he hadn’t seen from the air that concerned him. Across the hoods, paint was scraped away in even lines, like something was dragged across the metallic surfaces, peeling away paint. To Vance, it seemed like claws.

“Halo, this is Vance.” He switched to his personal command net.

“Go ahead, Michael,” Halo’s sweet voice replied.

“Are you tracking any movement or heat signatures ahead of us?”

“Negative. The coast looks clear all the way to the outpost on the far side of town.”

“Roger.” He hoped to hear that hundreds of enemies were closing in. He hoped to hear something was trying to kill him already. Having nothing out there scared him. Something obviously killed the city’s inhabitants and destroyed the cars. The missing citizens built barricades to try to stop the unknown enemies from either entering or leaving the city. The fact that they failed meant the enemies were intelligent and deadly.

“Keep watching for anything on the radar and let me know the second you find something.”

“You know I will, Michael. Halo, out.”

The main group moved toward the business district, the buildings looming over them like gaunt giants. With the sun just past its zenith, the buildings cast harsh shadows on the ground, leaving sections of the city blanketed in thick darkness.

Vance’s unease grew, as he watched the point men disappear into the shadows and begin searching the streets, surrounded by tall buildings.

“Sir, we’re beginning our search,” Roberts said over the radio. “We recommend you hold up the main force until we have a chance to verify that the area is clear.”

“Good copy,” Decker said.

Vance ordered his group to stand fast. They established a hasty defensive perimeter at their location.

Roberts and Gythrun slipped into deep shadows, their weapons ready. Around them, empty storefronts stared back with shattered eyes. The glass from the display windows lay scattered across the street as if smashed out with great force. The faces of the buildings were marked by dark, glassless windows. Like voids in an otherwise serene, reflective surface, each shattered window loomed like a potential ambush.

Roberts stooped and picked up a shard of glass. The surface was marred by a splatter of brown. Dried blood coated not just the piece of glass in his hand but also speckled the ground and vehicles lining the road. Placing the glass down again, he and Gythrun moved deeper into the city.

Their weapons always at the ready, they walked on opposite sides of the street, constantly scanning darkened alleys and alcoves of storefronts, using the flashlights attached to their weapons to push back the shadows. After clearing four city blocks of skyscrapers, Roberts gestured Gythrun to join him.

“The whole city’s dead.” His eyes scanned the area, as he spoke. “I can’t seem to find a single sign of a body, just blood everywhere.”

Gythrun held up his fist and opened it to reveal a severed finger. The end that would’ve been attached to a knuckle was shredded, as if torn from the hand by great strength.

“This is all I was able to find so far, and it’s not that promising.”

“What the hell’s going on here?”

“I don’t know, but I recommend we hurry and finish our sweep, so we can all get to the outpost. Regardless of what did this, it won’t get past the outpost’s automated defenses. Sitting here, searching alleyway after alleyway in a dead city, is a huge waste of time.”

Foot-long shards of glass fell from a nearby skyscraper, shattering on the ground. Both soldiers raised their weapons but didn’t see any movement. Tracing the fallen glass upward, Roberts saw a broken window three floors up. As he watched, another glass shard tumbled from inside the room and smashed against the sidewalk.

“Could’ve been gravity,” Gythrun said reasonably. “Constant wear and tear. It could’ve fallen on its own.”

“Or it could’ve been pushed, either by accident or on purpose to get our attention. Either way, we need to check it out.”

Gythrun frowned, as Roberts activated his radio.

“Command, this is Roberts.”

“This is Command,” Vance replied.

“We’re moving into one of the buildings to check a noise. We’ll be out of visual range once we’re inside.”

“Do you need backup?” Decker asked.

“Negative, Sir.” He shared a knowing look with Gythrun. “We think it was just loose glass breaking free. The whole place is littered with the stuff, but we want to double-check, just to be sure.”

“Roger that,” Vance said, “but stay in radio contact. If you run into trouble, don’t wait. Call for us.”

“That’s a good copy. Roberts, out.”

Turning off his radio, Roberts gestured Gythrun to follow him to the building’s front entrance.

A worn placard beside the tall double doors announced the building was an office for a financial firm. Though the hammered metal boxes around the once-glass doors still stood, glass shards were strewn across the sidewalk. Broken glass crunched underfoot, as the pair took positions on either side of the doors. Leading with a strong beam from his flashlight, Roberts entered the foyer.

It had obviously been established to make a customer or client feel at home. On either side of the entrance, just inside the room, two living room sets of furniture sat canted at angles. The fabric covering the sofa and lounge chairs was high quality, imported from off world. None of the furniture survived the assault.

The thickly carpeted area around the sofa was littered with white fluff, the innards of the highly stuffed furniture. Large tears marred the seats and backs of the chairs, one of which lay on its back. Moving into the foyer, the pair slid past a set of pillars and crouched low behind two large pots that once held vibrant plants, but the lack of care left them dead and withered. Tall leaves hung limply over the sides of the clay pots.

Ahead, a semicircular receptionist’s table rested against the far wall. The pair moved forward, their footsteps muted and silent on the carpeted floor. A thin layer of dust coated the darkly lacquered surface. Peering over the top, Roberts noted a splash of blood against a display screen, but there was no sign of the receptionist or anyone else.

A bank of elevators sat in an alcove left of the receptionist’s desk, but the lack of power left the elevators frozen and impotent. Though the light was out above the elevator, a sign above a nearby doorway read Stairs.

“Looks like we’re walking,” Roberts whispered, his soft voice carrying in the vaulted foyer.

He opened the door, while Gythrun slipped inside, his large wings folded tightly against his armored back. Their flashlights barely lit the pitch-black stairwell, casting light only four or five floors up the silo-like internal staircase.

They moved cautiously. One went to the next landing while the other remained below, his weapon trained on the stairs. After moving up two flights, they stopped before a door marked with a large 3.

Breathing deeply, they opened the door and cast their lights down a narrow hallway. A second hall ran to the left, leading deeper into the building’s core. Gythrun glanced at it, but Roberts shook his head. The room they wanted was ahead and to the right, its windows facing the main street.

The hall had two doors set against the right side before it ended in a large door that probably held a meeting room or large office.

They entered the hall, glad once again their footfalls were muffled on carpet. Still, Roberts’ adrenalin coursed through his veins. He tried to calm himself, as they reached the first door, but it was no use. His heart pounded in his chest like a hammer trying to crack his protective armor.

Gythrun nodded, letting him know he was ready. Roberts’ hand closed on the door handle. Unlocked, it turned easily. With a shove, he slid it open.

Both held their weapons ready to fire, but they looked into an empty office. The still-intact window looked down on the street, allowing fading sunlight to filter through installed blinds. Moving to the second room, they found it similarly furnished and had another intact window.

Turning to the end of the hall, they moved quietly to the large door. Roberts reached down, feeling comforted, as his hand closed over the knife sheathed at his side. Under his helmet, sweat matted his silver hair and ran trails over his tattoos. He heard Gythrun’s labored breathing and felt his nervousness.

He turned the handle and let the door slide open. Their flashlights focused shafts of light into a large meeting room. Three sets of windows dominated the far wall, the middle one broken, allowing a cool breeze to blow into the building. Dim sunlight, cascading into the room in ambient waves from the setting sun, fell a few feet inside, but the light diffused farther into deeper parts of the large room until, by the far wall, the room was dark and filled with shadows.

Against the far wall, a large conference table had been carelessly pushed against the wall, breaking one of the far legs and leaving the table slanted slightly away from the main doorway.

Roberts entered and walked toward the broken window, checking for any sign the falling glass was anything but an accident. Though he found nothing, he peered out the window onto the shadowy street below.

The Avalon moved toward the back wall, drawn by a second door that appeared, as his flashlight passed over the darkened area. He glanced over his shoulder, as Roberts finished his examination of the broken window. Catching the Wyndgaart’s eye, Gythrun gestured toward the back door.

Turning back, the Avalon’s flashlight passed over a dark stain in the carpet. Examining it closer, he followed the bloody smear from the center of the conference room to the back door, where it disappeared. Reaching out, he opened the door.

His flashlight followed the trail of blood to a half-eaten body discarded in a deep storage closet. Half the skull and both legs had been torn away. Congealed blood coated the ground around the corpse, and flecks of shredded muscle and sinew lay strewn around the front of the closet. The remaining eye in the bloated body stared at him, as if angered by the intrusion of light into its black sanctum. Gythrun flinched at the smell of rotted meat, the body having already swelled and split, releasing its gases.

Movement behind the corpse startled him. He brought his light to bear, illuminating the closet a little deeper. His light fell upon a single, bloodstained, clawed arm that scratched eagerly at the carpet. Flipping the flashlight beam higher, light reflected off an open maw of razor-sharp teeth.

Gythrun tried to step back, as the creature emitted a guttural, savage growl. A clawed hand flashed out, catching the Avalon at the base of the abdomen, eviscerating the unsuspecting soldier. The force of the blow lifted him off his feet and dropped him unceremoniously atop the canted conference table in a spray of blood and organs.

Roberts, only halfway across the room, stood stupefied, as arterial blood splashed against the near wall. The creature forced its way from the storage closet. It’s enormous size and broad shoulders made it stoop low in its attempt to get free.

The Wyndgaart raised his rifle and fired three times. The rounds slammed into the creature’s gray hide, as it angrily broke free of the doorway, shattering the wooden frame. It didn’t seem to notice the gunshot wounds, as it howled in rage and eyed the soldier across the room.

Turning away, Roberts sprinted toward the window. His bullets ineffective, he knew there was a better chance of survival from a thirty-foot drop to the street than to remain in the conference room. Though he was fast, the beast moved with surprising speed, closing the distance quickly, running on both back feet and knuckles.

Roberts was nearly at the window when the creature caught him, its mouth open wide in a display of foot-long, protruding teeth. It closed its mouth over Roberts’ shoulder with dagger-like teeth, crushing bones and penetrating his heart. Momentum sent his legs flying out before him, while his upper body was held by the monster’s mandibles.

Life faded from the Wyndgaart’s eyes, and he hung limply, suspended in midair. When the beast released the body, it collapsed a few feet from the open window and safety. Reaching out with a clawed hand, it grabbed Roberts’ leg and dragged him away from the window.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Early morning light glistened off the lake on the outskirts of Arcendor. Striking the water’s surface, the sunlight refracted, glinting thousands of sparkles across the glassy plane. Keryn yawned from exhaustion. The water gently lapping against the shore soothed her.

Sleep eluded her for most of the night. Her mind was a whirling mass of thoughts, as she worried about the aerial joust she watched the previous night. The knot in her stomach worsened, leaving her weak and nauseated.

Trying to ignore her queasiness, she stared at the same thing she examined a dozen times since arriving at the lake-the giant, shining, metal pylon dominating the shoreline. Another one stood a few miles away down the shoreline, while a second pair stood like silent guardians on the far shore. Together, they created the four corners of a square around the lake stretching nearly three miles on a side. Concerning their use, she could only wonder.

Despite the black, form-fitting suit she wore, she still shivered against the arctic breeze blowing down from the distant, snow-capped peaks. The other cadets in her class, all similarly dressed, huddled near each other in a meager attempt to warm themselves. The only ones unfazed by the chill were the instructors, who wore heavy coats to block the wind.

Keryn and the others were awakened early that morning by a siren that blasted down the dormitory hall. The sun hadn’t even lit the horizon by the time she dressed in her uniform and hurried outside to join the other bleary-eyed cadets. With little instruction, they were ushered into buses and driven away from town. The shocks on the buses seemed nonexistent, and the constant jostling stole any chance to catch a nap, as they drove down ill-paved roads leading to the lake.

Her black rubber suit was issued once she left the bus. One size fits most, she realized, squeezing into her suit and trying to pull the zipper past the swell of her breasts. It clung uncomfortably tight in the groin and around the chest and seemed an impractical way to fight, especially for someone accustomed to training and fighting in flowing shirts and loose pants. Her only pleasure came in seeing Sasha struggling, as her suit constricted tightly against her wings. Even short Iana picked crudely at the crotch of her own suit, trying to pull it away, as it crept uninvited into areas she preferred it not to visit.

Keryn checked the firearm strapped to her right leg and strange dagger strapped to her left. Pulling the blade from its sheath, she stared at the one-inch nub of blade protruding from the dark rubber hilt. When she pressed a button near the thumb grip, the air around the short blade crackled, as blue light sprang from the hand guard. Nearly one-foot long, the blue blade wavered unsteadily in the air, as if it lacked consistency.

“Is that thing really going to do any damage?” Iana asked, fidgeting with her suit.

“Only one way to find out.” Keryn agilely twisted the knife in her hand. Extending her left arm, she turned her palm upward. The suit reached all the way to her wrist and connected firmly to a pair of lightweight gloves. She lowered the knife until the blade hovered a few inches above her exposed arm.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Iana asked.

“One thing I learned from all my schooling is that you can’t be confident that your weapon will harm an opponent until you know what it’s capable of. Give me a stick, and I can defend myself, but the first time I see the damage it can cause against an unprotected enemy, I’ll finally appreciate it as a weapon.”

She pressed the knife down. The blue blade shimmered, as it passed unhindered through her sleeve. Instantly, the suit contracted, starting at the elbow and all the way down to her fingertips, until it pressed painfully against her skin and constricted blood flow. Her muscles pulled tightly, Keryn’s fingers curled back until her hand was nearly a fist. Groaning with pain and surprise, she was unable to move her arm from the elbow down.

“Congratulations to Cadet Riddell,” Victoria called from the front of the group, watching students experiment with the limits of their suits. “She was the first to learn exactly how your suits operate.”

She waited for conversations to die away and attention be focused on her. “For those of you who aren’t as eager as our young Wyndgaart, let me explain how the suits operate. Within every inch of fabric is sewn hundreds of feet of electrical wiring connected to a series of flexible rods. The rods only minimally limit your movement. Mostly, they just cause discomfort, as I’m sure you’ve already discovered.

“However, when an electrical current is introduced to a specific section of the suit, the rods stiffen and are pulled into alignment. They seize the part of the suit that’s been struck, leaving the individual immobile. You can ask Cadet Riddell just how painful that can be.

“Get struck in a leg, and that leg is useless. Get struck in an arm, and you lose the use of the arm. Get struck in the torso, chest, or neck, and your entire suit seizes up, leaving you immobile until an instructor releases the current coursing through the suit.”

She pressed a button on a remote, and Keryn’s arm relaxed. Pins and needles exploded along her forearm and hand, as blood flow was reestablished.

“Getting used to the suits takes time,” Victoria said.

Many watched Keryn recuperate.

“That’s why you’ll train on the ground for the time being until I feel confident about putting you in the air.”

Instructors on either side cast off their heavy coats, revealing identical black rubber suits. Kicking off from the ground, both launched into the air. Small backpacks fired, launching them higher, as they spun in choreographed maneuvers. The cadets watched in awe and envy.

“Split into groups of four.” Victoria’s voice broke through their enthrallment. “I want to see you sparring against each other until you’re comfortable in your suits and confident with your weapons.”

Slowly, the throng of cadets separated into groups of four. An unfamiliar Oterian and sly Lithid joined Iana and Keryn. The groups spread out from each other, allowing ample space for movement and combat. Keryn shrugged one shoulder after the other, as she walked, trying to loosen the constrictive suit. She would’ve preferred to strip it off and fight naked, since the thick rubber hindered her agile movements. Still, she drew her knife again and activated the blade. The other three copied her and loosened the catch on their holsters. Though pistols would be harder to use in a small space, a good fighter was prepared for any eventuality.

As Keryn stood at one corner of their squared fighting space, she heard grunts of pain and surprise, as other groups began combat. She looked at her three competitors, the frustration of the past day’s failure brewing just beneath the surface of her calm demeanor.

She returned to her element. Regardless of the constraints of the suit, her feet were firmly planted on solid ground, and weapons rested comfortably in her hands. That morning, she would wash away her failures and reestablish herself at the top of her class.

The Oterian was the first to move, rumbling forward with a cry. Rolling left, Keryn dodged his clumsy swing. Iana, dropping to one knee beside the off-balance Oterian, slashed his knee. The suit seized up, and he hobbled forward two steps more before Iana drove her knife into his back. A ripple went up his back, and the entire suit from neck to toes seized up until it was a solid-rubber sarcophagus. Unable to move, he pitched forward and fell painfully on the end of his snout.

Meanwhile, Keryn faced the lither Lithid female. They circled each other, swinging halfheartedly, testing each other’s defenses. Like a blur, the Lithid drove forward, slashing downward with her transparent knife, her blade glowing bright yellow. Keryn brought her knife up to block and shifted her weight, preparing for a counterstrike.

To her surprise, the Lithid’s knife passed unhindered through hers and struck Keryn painfully on the upper arm. The entire limb dropped stiffly to her side. Sliding backward, she cursed herself for her clumsiness. Having seen the blade pass through her arm, she shouldn’t have been so naive as to assume it would parry an attack.

Pressing her advantage, the Lithid female slid forward with a basic forward thrust. Though her arm was growing painful at her side, Keryn spun gracefully out of the way and moved toward her opponent. Her hip knocked the Lithid’s outstretched arm wide, and, finishing the spin, she stopped behind her surprised enemy. Without turning to face her, Keryn shifted the knife in her hand and drove the blade behind her, striking the Lithid between the shoulderblades. Like the Oterian, she fell helplessly to the ground.

Keryn turned to face Iana. The Pilgrim’s eyes grew wide at facing such a confident opponent. She shifted the knife back and forth in her hand, and Keryn easily identified the numerous weaknesses in her defense. Smiling, she stalked toward Iana. Within moments, Iana joined the other two, lying on her back and glowering at her Wyndgaart roommate.

“Well done, Cadet Riddell,” Victoria said, perusing the battlefield. She activated the remote, and Keryn’s arm relaxed, as did the suits of the three on the ground. Catching their breaths, all three remained where they were, as blood flowed back through their bodies.

Victoria led Keryn to one side, as the others struggled to stand. “You show incredible potential on the ground, Keryn.”

Keryn was surprised at the use of her first name, something she wasn’t sure Victoria knew until that moment.

“Being in the air is a different world,” Victoria continued. “You need to shed your preconceived notions about aerial combat and lose yourself in the moment. Whatever drives you when fighting on the ground can be used up there, as well.”

Keryn looked skyward at the cloudless blue above. Only tall pylons broke the otherwise seamless vision.

“I still see fear in your eyes when you look up there,” Victoria said. “That fear will be your downfall. Until you overcome your lack of confidence, you’ll never succeed in the Academy.”

Keryn tested the weight of the small pack strapped to her back. With short bursts of power, she lifted gently off the ground. The exhaust from the small, combustion-free jetpack blew warm air across the backs of her legs.

Tilting left, then overcompensating and tilting right, she struggled to stay upright while hovering only a few feet off the ground. Frowning, she knew Victoria was right. Teetering, she had little confidence in her ability to maneuver once fully in the air.

Other cadets struggled as she did. One top-heavy Oterian flipped completely upside down before the jetpack drove him straight into the ground. He showed much greater hesitation on his second attempt.

Across the field, Sasha, her Uligart boyfriend, and the rest of her clique flew comfortably in circles. With her wings outstretched, Sasha was the epitome of grace, as she glided across the practice field.

Though the students rehearsed their aerial acrobatics close to the ground, Keryn remembered the footage from the video she saw. Those cadets flew high above the ground and plummeted off the screen whenever struck by an opponent. Dreading what was to come, she could think of only one place where they’d have so much open area to joust, and her eyes went to the lake and the strange pylons framing its shores.

The ground underfoot shook, as power coursed through the large pylon. Light yellow lines traced intricate patterns up its exterior, as energy moved toward the pinnacle, where light danced within a transparent crystal. The energy continued to build until the crystal glowed so brightly, she was forced to look away.

As the crystal reached its maximum capacity, the energy was released in a violent shockwave. Keryn staggered back a few steps with the wind knocked from her lungs. Above her, the crystal’s light dimmed. From her vantage point, she watched the energy-infused shockwave roll across the open air among the four pylons, the others having already released a similar wave. The four waves rolled toward each other like tsunamis.

Keryn heard the thunderclap of raw power, as the shockwaves struck, intermixing their energy and rolling onward. The waves overlapped, creating a crossed web of polarized energy stretching from one shore of the lake to the other among the four pylons. After the energy waves expended themselves on the far shores, all that remained was a gossamer net forty feet above the water.

“Today’s combat will be held high in the air above Lake Arcendor,” Victoria shouted to the crowd, confirming Keryn’s sinking suspicion. “You won’t be split into groups today. Instead, your entire class will fight each other, striving for the right to be the sole survivor of today’s exercises. Win, and you automatically become the top student in your class. Fail, and you’ll plummet to the safety net, where you’ll remain paralyzed until an instructor sees fit to grace you with release from your suit’s prison.”

She walked through the crowd, carrying the suit controls in her hand. “This is only the first of many competitions to be held above the lake. Failure today won’t remove you from the program. However, the inability to learn from your mistakes will. If you find yourself caught in the net, staring up at the more-successful cadets performing their combat ballet, think about what you did wrong and how to improve in the future. If you can’t seem to learn from your own mistakes, remember that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Watch and learn from someone else, because that will be the last chance you have of not being evicted from the Academy.”

The instructors, igniting their jetpacks, hovered off the ground. Confident that they were in position, Victoria called to the cadets, “Everyone, take your position! On my signal, combat begins!”

The cadets set off as one, though they broke tight ranks once they cleared the energy net. Keryn lost sight of Iana amid the other black-suited students. Finding a comfortable corner far from the others, she scanned the field. It was hard to discern individual cadets over such a distance, though white Avalon wings were easy to spot. Keryn wished she knew which one was Sasha. Nothing would please her more than putting a laser shot into that arrogant girl’s back.

Though she wanted revenge for the incessant teasing that school year, Keryn calmed her desire to hunt Sasha solely and observed the rest of the field. Many students flew in lazy circles at their starting positions, but an equal number struggled in place. Judging distances between them and herself, Keryn laid out a mental map of the field, choosing weaker targets nearby to eliminate first.

Though she wasn’t nearly as concerned with poor fliers on the field, she knew even the weakest opponent could get lucky and eliminate her. Once her initial plan was done, and she reached the far side of the field, she’d have to improvise. Feeling confident again, she fidgeted with her pistol and knife, eager to begin.

The starting klaxon came without warning, roaring loudly across the expanse. Eager to begin, Keryn initially floundered weakly. She reached back with her legs to kick off a wall only to realize nothing was available. It was precious seconds later that she regained control and pressed the accelerator on her jetpack. Readjusting, she cursed her carelessness. Many of her targets had shifted or were already eliminated by stronger opponents. Some were still near their starting positions, hanging in place as if waiting for others to come to them.

As she flew at breakneck speeds across the course, Keryn aimed at the first of the hangers and fired her pistol, then frowned as the streak of blue light petered out some distance from her target. She could’ve sworn her opponent was closer, but distances in the air were deceiving. Thankfully, her target hadn’t noticed her.

Continuing her forward flight, she scanned for other cadets who might be a threat. The immediate airway seemed clear, though many students plummeted to the net. She heard the sounds of battle all around, including above and below. The assault of spherical sound was disorienting, and she struggled to identify individual sounds nearby. Blocking out the distractions, she again focused on her target.

As she came closer, she saw the frightened features of a female Uligart hanging in the air. The Uligart fired warning shots at those who passed nearby, but she never came close to eliminating anyone. Keryn closed in rapidly, not bothering to decelerate, lowering her head with reckless abandon.

The Uligart made a fatal mistake by turning away from Keryn to fire wildly at a passing Avalon. With her back exposed, Keryn forewent the pistol, relying on the shimmering blue blade in her left hand. Passing within inches of the Uligart, Keryn lashed out at the exposed back and shoulders in two successive slashes. The female jerked as if electrocuted, then her body grew stiff. The sound of her engine died. Frozen in place, she dropped like a stone toward the net.

Smiling at her victory, Keryn flew toward the other edge of the field, searching for her next target. A laser blast flashing beside her woke her from her stupor.

Diving down from above, a sleek, black Lithid dropped into place behind her, chasing her, as she streaked across the field one hundred feet above the lake’s glassy surface.

Sliding left and right, Keryn dodged a barrage of laser fire from the persistent Lithid. Sweat ran down her forehead, as she tried to evade the cadet. Already tired from her flight, she doubted she had much more energy to muster an escape.

Her salvation came in the form of a brutish, white-and-black Oterian who slammed into the pursuing Lithid with great force. The explosion of fur and sleek black merged, as both spun out of control toward the gossamer net.

Relieved, Keryn scanned the field again. The lake was much bigger than she would have believed. Even with over two-thirds of the cadets still remaining on the field, she was a ridiculous distance away from most. It would take minutes of flying to reach them and engage in combat.

A close aerial combat, however, caught her attention. Two Avalons engaged in an epic battle, filled with dives and twists like nothing Keryn ever saw. Their flights were poetic and beautiful. Part of her wished to hover and watch, but a deeper part of her, driven by an animalistic urge for victory, drove her on. That part didn’t see two Avalons caught in sadistic ballet-it saw two distracted targets, ready for easy elimination.

Closing the distance, she was almost able to reach the two fighters before the first tumbled away, seething rage cast on his paralyzed body. The victor, hearing Keryn’s engine, turned.

Smiling sardonically, her fine hair whipping in the wind, Sasha watched her Wyndgaart rival approach. Laughing she turned and flew off, inviting Keryn to follow. Keryn tightened her grip on her pistol and set off in quick pursuit. After being hunted by the Lithid moments before, she reveled in the chance to become the hunter.

Sasha led her through a series of feints and dives, leading her farther and farther from the other cadets. It was as if they owned the airspace alone, as if the rest of the students faded away in excited expectation of the upcoming battle. Firing a few shots, which Sasha easily dodged, Keryn kept weaving, as the Avalon lazily fired back over her head. Though Sasha tried to keep Keryn at bay, she quickly closed the gap between them.

Lining up a shot on her much-closer opponent, Keryn was surprised when Sasha pulled into a steep climb. Trying to follow with her eyes, she pulled up, and was temporarily blinded when she looked into the bright morning sun. Sasha tricked her.

Suddenly fearful, knowing how easy it was to shift the delicate balance between hunter and hunted, Keryn spun around and fired, expecting Sasha to complete the loop and drop behind her. As the afterimages faded, Keryn saw the air behind her was empty. She had barely a moment to realize her folly when a laser shot struck her square in the chest-a perfect shot fired from above.

Her suit constricted, tightening her grip on both pistol and knife, while simultaneously freezing her limbs. The tightness crept into her chest and back, limiting her lung’s ability to expand. Tears of frustration streamed from her eyes, as her jetpack sputtered and died, and she began a mind-numbing freefall one hundred feet to the net.

The wind was knocked out of her when she struck the intangible net. Bowing under her weight, it held her tightly. Anger and frustration fueled her humiliation, and she cried unabated while held tightly in the web’s yellow glow. She heard the sound of nearby jetpacks, as instructors came to check her status. They called out to her, but she ignored them.

Keryn yearned to wipe her eyes and runny nose, but that was impossible within the paralytic suit. To her surprise, moments later, her suit relaxed. She took a deep breath and stared through blurred vision at the battle continuing above her. Against all her careful planning and warrior training, she embarrassingly finished in the bottom third of her class.

“Brace yourself,” an instructor called, moments before the net disappeared beneath her.

Tumbling end over end, Keryn fell forty feet to the cold water below. The impact was jarring, leaving her disoriented, as freezing mountain water rushed into her open mouth and filled her lungs. Her suit provided another surprise by being buoyant, pulling her back to the surface.

Drenched and cold, she broke the surface and began retching, spilling lake water and bile down the front of her suit, only to be washed away by lapping waves. Weak, tired, and emotionally and physically drained, Keryn struggled to the shore and crawled onto the soft sand.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay in the sand before a shadow covered her. Looking, she tried to block the harsh light that fell over her and saw a black uniform and white Avalon wings-Victoria.

“Get up,” she said calmly but firmly.

Keryn awkwardly climbed to her feet and stood before the instructor.

“You’re a damn fine student and great soldier, but you still can’t get past the idea that every possible angle is a threat. Sasha didn’t beat you because she’s a better flier. She didn't beat you because she’s a better shot, either. The truth is, she didn’t beat you. You beat yourself.

“Take tonight off and do some soul-searching. Find out what drives you to stay at the Academy. If you can’t find a good reason to be here, feel free to stop by my office tomorrow and turn in your letter of resignation.”

Keryn stared at the ground, unable to make eye contact with the disappointed instructor. Seeing no reply would be forthcoming, Victoria motioned toward the bus. “Get on the bus and get some sleep tonight. You’re dismissed, Cadet.”

Keryn walked to the bus in shame, ready for a ride back to the Academy. More than anything, she wanted a warm shower and a night to herself, to soul-search, as Victoria called it. Keryn wondered if there was something driving her to stay at the Academy. When she left her home world, she assumed it was destiny when she was accepted into the prestigious school. She wondered if it wasn’t just disdain for the Wyndgaart way of life. Though she hated to admit it, maybe Sasha was right. Maybe Keryn didn’t belong at the Academy.

I could’ve helped you back there, the Voice offered.

“Go to hell.” Dripping wet, Keryn climbed into the bus.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Did I hear gunfire?” Vance asked over the force-wide channel. “Who fired?”

“I heard it, too,” Dallis replied, “but no one reported firing shots.”

“Find out who fired….”

“Michael,” Halo interrupted, “two of your soldiers’ vital signs just bottomed out.”

“Who?” He felt the situation slipping out of control.

“Roberts and Gythrun. They flat-lined within seconds of each other.”

Vance hastily motioned Decker and Dallis to join him. “Who has eyes on our point men?”

“I did,” Decker admitted, “but we were receiving interference from the buildings in the business district. I can’t pinpoint their exact location.”

Dallis shook his head.

“Halo,” Vance said, switching channels, “do you have eyes on either of them?”

“I’m sorry, Michael, but I lost them once they went inside the building. I’m working off satellite imagery, so I can track you only when you’re visible from space. Once you’re inside, you’re on your own.”

Vance pulled his mike away from his ear and stormed away from the others. “Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!”

Regaining his composure, he returned to the group and readjusted his microphone. “Platoons Two and Three, hold your position. We have a situation.”

“Anything we can help with?” Onclav asked, his gravelly Lithid voice carrying clearly over the radio.

“No. Just hold tight right now.” Vance’s voice calmed, and a hard look came to his eyes. “We’re going in to the area directly ahead, then rendezvous at the outpost on the far side of the city.”

“Roger that,” both warrants replied.

Vance scanned the collection of soldiers and team members holding their positions on both sides of the street. Rubbing his black beard absently, he looked at the behemoth buildings looming nearby.

“What are you thinking, Sir?” Decker asked.

“I’m thinking that an intelligent man doesn’t march forty healthy soldiers into an area where two have mysteriously died. An intelligent man turns around, gets back on the ship, and blows the whole city straight to hell.”

“But we aren’t going to do that, are we?”

“I wish we could, but we have our orders.” He felt slightly dejected. “Whatever information is in the military outpost, we need it. If we hadn’t been ordered to scan the city, I would’ve just landed near the outpost, taken what we need, and left.”

“No one ever accused the infantry of being smart, Sir,” Decker joked.

Vance caught himself smiling. “Get the men ready to move. Something’s in the business district, and we’re going to find it. Then we’re going to kill it.”

The infantry and Vance’s team broke from concealment and moved carefully down the road, scanning for any signs of movement from the buildings. As the long shadows of the skyscrapers began to fall over them, the group slowed, taking time to search every potential ambush location thoroughly.

Searching the next three blocks was arduous and took nearly an hour-and-a-half before Vance was confident whatever was in the city was still ahead, not flanking them to come around behind. Raising his hand in a fist, he halted the group. Soldiers melted into the shadows, finding defensive positions until given further orders.

Dallis and Decker joined Vance, who stood defiantly in the middle of the street.

“Our time of stealth and subtlety are over,” Vance said bluntly. “Decker, split your men into groups of four. I want sweeps conducted of all buildings, floor by floor. Either find me something to shoot or the bodies of our fallen soldiers. I also need one soldier to act as spotter for my sniper. Normally, I’d have one of my own pulling that duty, but I need Yen on the ground with me this time.”

“No problem, Sir,” Decker replied. “I’ve got just the guy.” Pulling his microphone away from his mouth, he called for one of his men.

An Uligart broke from cover and hurried toward them. Vance, meanwhile, motioned Ainj to join them, too.

“Ainj, this is….”

“Topher Reese,” the Uligart responded, a look of stern consternation on his face.

“Reese will be your spotter and cover your six,” Vance said. “I want you on top of one of these buildings, ready to cover us on the ground. You need anything from us before you take off?”

“No, Sir.” Ainj adjusted the straps on his mesh vest, having forgone the heavy body armor the others wore. Aside from being constrictive when he tried to fire, the body armor weighed him down to the point that his hollow bone structure couldn't support the weight when he tried to fly.

“Good. Move out, and be ready for anything.”

As Decker called out commands to his men, splitting them up and supervising their entry into nearby buildings, Vance switched his microphone to the team’s internal communications channel. “Rally on me.”

The other five team members broke from their positions and hustled to Vance. All saw his concerned expression, which seemed drastically out of place.

“Bad juju, Boss?” Tusque asked.

“Yeah.” His eyes never left the towers looming over him. “Bad juju.”

“Where do you need us?” Eza idly spun his ax with one hand.

“Here, on the ground.” Looking around, Vance pulled them closer, so the infantry couldn’t overhear them. “Nothing against our brethren here, but, if things start to go bad, I want you all on the ground, so we can beat feet to the outpost.”

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Nova asked.

“Maybe.” He couldn’t shake the memories of the lost teammates over the past seven years. The sense of dread burrowing deep into his gut made him want to ensure his current group didn’t meet the same fate. “Nova and Yen, you two take north. Tusque and Eza, head south. Ixibas, you’re with me as reserve. Any questions?”

They shook their heads and adjusted their weapons.

“Then move out.”

Vance stood in the middle of the street, savoring the ambient light filtering between the buildings. Decker and Dallis, having established a search cordon, joined him and Ixibas on the road. Minutes dragged painfully by, as infantry soldiers searched each of the twenty-story or taller buildings floor by floor. Minute after minute, Vance asked for updates and received the same reply-no sign of the missing men or any enemies.

Chewing his bottom lip, Vance grew increasingly impatient.

“Anything up top?” he asked for the tenth time.

“Still nothing, Sir.” Ainj’s irritation was apparent even in his singing Avalon voice. “Nothing on the scope, nothing on thermals. There’s nothing out here, Sir.”

“Belay that,” Halo said. “I’ve got movement on the satellite sensors.”

Vance stood straighter, shedding the monotonous boredom that crept into his body. “Where?”

“Due north of your location, approximately a block and a half. Left side of the road.”

“Nova, Yen, you copy that?”

“Yes, Sir.” Nova pulled the spear from the holder on her back. “We’re moving toward it now.”

“Ixibas and I are heading your way, too,” Vance said. “Ainj, are you tracking?”

“I’ve got something on thermals, but it’s behind cover. I can’t make it out from here,” Ainj replied.

Nova and Yen hurried up the road, quickly covering the distance. They slowed, as they approached the area, pulling out flashlights to search dark corners. With the sun setting, the shadows grew deeper, blurring details. Their flashlights panned across the side of the street, searching for the signal Halo saw.

“There,” Yen hissed, his heart like a lump in his throat.

Nova followed the flashlight beam and saw it. Behind a dumpster, partially hidden from view, a gray-skinned creature huddled as if hiding.

Nova moved around the street for a better view. Slowly, the creature came into better perspective. Splayed out on the sidewalk, partially concealed by the alley behind it, lay a Seque. Seemingly unharmed, it had its two elongated arms tucked firmly under its long, narrow jaw. The squat back legs, which gave it a Seque an unnatural gait when it ran on its legs and the knuckles of its long arms, were spread out behind it.

Its thick, gray skin glistened in the setting sunlight. That light also captured its saucer-like eyes. Exceptionally broad and overdeveloped cheekbones extended from its broad nose to its disproportionately small ears. It looked at her in fear, mewling softly.

Nova lowered her flashlight and chuckled, as she approached the Seque. Her nervousness fled, as she realized how worked up she’d been over one of the planet’s beasts of burden. Standing a few feet away, after visually confirming the Seque wasn’t injured and nothing else hid behind it, she activated her throat mike.

“False alarm, Sir,” she said, a bit of mirth in her voice. “It’s just a Seque.”

“Nova, move!” Yen shouted, as waves of hostile energy washed over him.

Nova turned back in time to see the Seque rise on all fours and push off from the ground to stand on its back legs. At its full height of nearly twelve feet, it towered over the Uligart female. The Seque bellowed in rage, as it slammed its clawed fists against its chest. Looking down at the stunned woman, it opened its mouth in a snarl to reveal rows of jagged teeth.

Nova broke from her stupor, as the Seque swung its arm in a wild backhand. Sharp claws passed inches from her head, as she ducked and rolled to the right. The second arm came down in a crushing blow that cracked the concrete.

Rolling back to her feet, she set her shoulders and drove the spear forward. Clutching its clawed hand in pain, the Seque didn’t move. The spear split the skin of its chest and slid all the way through its body until the tip jutted from its back.

Nova expected the creature to tumble to the ground, dead or dying. Instead, she was stunned when it looked at the protruding spear and thick, green blood that oozed from the wound, then turned back toward her. Opening its mouth wide, it yelled in rage and pain.

Ignoring the spear, it stepped forward, covering the distance with its short legs and pushing Nova backward. She fumbled with the spear, but it remained solidly lodged in the creature’s chest.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said through clenched teeth, as it tried to step forward again. With the spear embedded in its chest, she remained just beyond reach of those long arms. “Shoot him!” she shouted at Yen.

Yen pulled his rifle free and fired over her head. The sounds slammed into the Seque’s chest with little effect. Many of the bullets were still visible to Nova, having been stopped by the abnormally thick hide. Snarling at Yen, the Seque pushed forward another step.

“Fine!” Nova snapped. “You want to do it the hard way?” Her forearms strained. “Why don’t you just burn?”

Reaching down the shaft, she pressed a concealed button. One million volts of electricity charged down the shaft and electrocuted the Seque impaled on the end. Its head threw back in shock, and the body writhed in uncontrollable spasms. Spittle flew in sheets from its lips.

Around the spear tip, the skin smoldered and turned black. The scent of cooked meat filled the air, as flesh boiled away, cracking in the heat. With froth on its lips, the Seque pitched forward. The spear shaft ripped from Nova’s hands and fell like a victory flag, sticking straight up from the Seque’s body.

Nova turned, as Vance and Ixibas finally arrived. With her free hand, she pushed disheveled hair from her face, her breath coming in labored gasps. Though fear slowed the event to a seeming eternity for her, the fight lasted less than thirty seconds.

“What the hell?” Vance asked, seeing smoke rise from the dead Seque behind Nova.

“It attacked me,” she said breathlessly, seeing disbelief in Vance’s eyes. “I know what you’re thinking, but it attacked me. It had strange sharpened claws and pointed teeth. It stood on its hind legs, for crying out loud! How many Seques have you seen do that?’

Vance turned toward Yen, who met his gaze with a disbelieving expression.

“Don’t look at me for answers,” Yen said. “She’s telling the truth. I never saw anything like it.”

“This could be our culprit, Sir,” Ixibas said. “It’s big enough to….”

He stopped in midsentence. Though his face remained expressionless, the looks of disbelief on Yen and Vance’s faces told her what she needed to know. She heard a wrenching sound behind her, as her spear was pulled free from the tough Seque hide. Slowly, a dark shadow was cast over her. She didn’t bother turning. Instead, she locked eyes with her teammates, her eyes pleading for salvation, as they moved in apparent slow motion.

Vance and Yen raised their rifles to their shoulders and fired a volley into the second Seque. The twelve-foot beast, straddling the corpse of its fallen comrade, was unfazed by the gunfire. It clutched the spear tightly in its hands and drove it into Nova’s spine.

She staggered a few steps forward with the force of the blow. The tip of the spear jutted three feet beyond her stomach, leaving the haft buried in her. She tried to speak, but blood spilled from her lips, dribbling down her chin before falling to the ground.

Crouching, the Seque hid as much of itself as it could behind Nova’s lithe frame. Yen and Vance held their fire for fear of hitting her. Her eyes pleaded, begging an end to the pain, when the Seque slowly withdrew the spear until the tip was back in Nova’s abdomen. She wretched a mixture of bile and blood onto the sidewalk.

“Ainj,” Vance said softly, “tell me you have a shot at it.”

“I….”

“Ainj,” he said sterner, “tell me you have a shot.”

“I don’t.” His voice was thick with emotion. “The son of a bitch has her in my way.”

“Listen to me closely. I want you to shoot through her.”

“No,” he whispered into the radio. “I can’t.”

“She’s already dead, Ainj. Look at how she’s suffering. Take the shot!”

“I can’t!” he screamed.

Nova’s legs felt like led. She wanted to slump to the ground and feel the cool concrete on her face, but the Seque kept the spear taut. Though her legs were becoming useless, the spear tip in her stomach kept her upright.

The Seque ignored the argument between her teammates and leaned close to Nova’s ear. In a guttural voice, it muttered gibberish in her ear, as if trying to form unfamiliar words. Backing away, it slid its hand down the shaft until it found the concealed button.

Though she already lost most of her blood and was near death, her screams erupted through the silent city, as one million volts poured through her body. Her skin, not as resilient as the Seque’s, boiled away from the spear. Cracking, it spouted jets of burning bile. Her eyes rolled up in their sockets before they ruptured in the heat. Her hair danced wildly before bursting into flame.

Three high-caliber rounds slammed into the Seque. The first tore through Nova’s body, ending her suffering and catching the Seque’s shoulder. Muscle and bone exploded from it, and the Seque dropped the spear and Nova’s body. Its right arm hanging useless at its side, it looked up sympathetically, as the second round struck its left hip.

The Seque spun and collapsed to the ground. With its good arm, it tried to push itself to a seated position, mewling like an injured pet. The last round, fired through tear-filled eyes, caught the side of the Seque’s face. Bone, muscle, and brain matter vaporized in fine, green mist that coated the alley wall. It fell atop is brethren, finally dead.

Vance’s radio was alive with chatter, but he didn’t hear it. Unable to pull his eyes from the charred, mutilated corpse of his teammate, he felt the weight of leadership pressing down on his chest. Laboring for air, he fought the urge to vomit.

A dark, clawed hand settled on his shoulder, breaking him from his stupor. “Halo’s calling,” Ixibas said. “It sounds important.”

Vance activated his microphone, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Go ahead, Halo.”

“Michael,” Halo said, panic evident in her voice, “switch to thermals.”

“What am I looking for?” He lowered his helmet visor. Switching to thermals was as simple as pressing a button. In the fading twilight, the city should’ve appeared in dark shades of blue, with most of the day’s heat expended. Instead, the entire city glowed bright red.

“Please tell me those are our people,” he whispered.

“No.” Halo’s voice shook. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The whole city’s alive. Whatever you did, the Seques are awake, and they’re everywhere.”

“Give me a way out of here now!” He hurried back toward Dallis and Decker. Since his communications were being broadcast to the entire force, he wasn’t surprised to see panic mirrored on their faces.

“You aren’t listening, Michael,” Halo said. Though she was incapable of crying anymore, she sounded near tears. “There’s no way out. You’re already surrounded.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Vance and the members of Fourth Platoon heard gunfire. The radio was alive with voices talking rapidly and the background noise of heavy fighting and screams. Vance tried to make sense of the shouts for help, but the overlapping noise left all his requests garbled. As he tried to contact the other platoons, Decker and Dallis stood behind him, trying the same.

“First Platoon, this is Command,” Vance said.

“Anyone on this net,” Decker said, “this is Fourth Platoon. Please respond.”

The radio crackled, but the words were hard to decipher and were broken by labored breathing and gunshots.

“This is First….” A gunshot interrupted the transmission.

“We’ve been completely overrun. They came out of nowhere. Get the hell away from me….”

More gunshots followed, then nothing but silence.

“First Platoon, do you copy?” Dallis asked. “Harkund, are you there?”

“Second and Third Platoons, please respond,” Vance said.

“This is Blythe,” a weak voice said, his words broken by sobs. “Help me. Please help me. He tore off my leg the son of a bitch. I’m bleeding. Oh, Gods, I’m bleeding bad.” His voice trailed off, followed by silence.

The radio signal remained active, as if he still pressed the transmit button. All members of Vance’s group heard a low, rumbling growl in their headsets moments before the signal cut to static.

“Halo,” Vance said, “give me a full vital-signs listing for all platoons.”

“Michael, it’s….”

“Just do it, Aleiz,” he said angrily.

Data poured onto his visor, scrolling through a list of names by platoon. Most were followed by a flat, red line, indicating cessation of heartbeat. A few weak signals were still being recorded, but two of them flat-lined while he watched. His team and Fourth Platoon showed the most activity, having lost only a few people so far.

His own heart rate looked like a seismograph during an earthquake. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself without success. His heart still pounded in his chest.

Vance felt trapped. He led his team into the heart of the city and allowed them to be surrounded. Because of his bad decisions, over 100 soldiers were dead, and the beasts that killed them were coming his way.

“Sir,” Decker said softly, so no one else heard, “we’re in a bad place here. I know things look grim, but we need to move. If we stay put, we’re dead.”

Vance nodded solemnly. “Get your men together, Decker, and get ready to move. Once we start, I don’t intend to stop until we reach the outpost.”

Vance tried to exude confidence, as Decker gathered his men, but he didn’t feel it in his heart. He was scared, not of dying but of letting so many under his command die while he watched. Nova was dead, run through and burned alive. How many more of his men would die before they escaped?

Decker worked hard to gather his soldiers, many of whom vacated the buildings they searched when the gunfire began. Nearly a dozen were still inside, and the longer they waited for them to arrive, the worse their chances of survival were. Even if they left immediately, Vance knew they had to cover twenty city blocks to reach the military outpost’s outer defenses. It took a lot of firepower to bring down the two Seques they faced. He didn’t know if they had a chance against a city full of them.

The Seques were a mystery. Normally beasts of burden, they were peaceful by nature and difficult to anger. They were also herbivores, with blunt teeth for grazing in fields. As far as he knew, none of them possessed claws.

Something changed the Seques in the city, turning them into sinister creatures with insatiable bloodlust. He remembered how one of them hid behind Nova to use her as a shield. Not only had they become dangerous, someone or something gave them intelligence.

“My men are all accounted for,” Decker said over the radio. “We’re ready to move.”

Vance didn’t bother using the radio. Instead, he shouted, “Follow me! Head straight for the outpost and don’t stop. If you fall behind, you’ll be left there!”

Activating his microphone, he called to Ainj, “I need you covering our backs, Ainj. Once we’re out of range, take flight and meet us at the outpost.”

“I’ll send every one of the bastards straight to hell, Sir,” Ainj said angrily, the rage of watching Nova die still fresh in his mind.

Vance sprinted up the street with the rest of the soldiers close behind. He heard Seques scraping and grunting, moving up side streets, but none approached his group, as they ran.

“Why aren’t they coming after us?” Eza asked, running beside Vance. “I can see them. Why aren’t they attacking?”

“They’re herding us into a trap of their own choosing,” Vance replied, still running.

“Since when did Seques get that smart?” Yen asked, joining them at the front of the group.

“Someone changed them-their teeth, claws, ability to stand on hind legs, and especially their intelligence. Someone turned our gentle Seques into murderers.”

Eza and Yen, exchanging knowing glances, kept running. The group finally broke from the towering skyscrapers, and the scenery changed to one- and two-story buildings housing either a myriad of shops or apartments filled with traveling businessmen or tourists. They were halfway to the outpost, and Vance dared to allow hope into his heart.

Such thoughts disappeared into an ear-splitting animal scream that made the entire group slide to a stop in the road. Before them was a massive Seque, even by their large standards, standing on his hind legs in the middle of the road, roaring and pounding his chest. Lowering his head, he made eye contact with the startled platoon.

The Seque snarled ferociously and barked at the trio in front. Its barks formed strange syllables, sounding like language. Though Vance couldn’t understand the words, he didn’t need Yen’s psychic abilities to know the undertone-hatred. Like slaves casting off their yokes of oppression and turning on their masters, the modified Seques flooded the city with the goal of destroying all those who kept them in servitude.

The Seque growled after it finished speaking, and other Seques hiding in the shadows took up the growl. The large beasts emerged from rooftops around the soldiers, who backed toward the center of the street for protection. Red eyes glowed from alleyways, as more of the creatures advanced on the trapped Alliance troops.

Behind them, the already bloodied Seques emerged from the side streets, having feasted on the remains of the other three platoons. In front of them, behind the alpha male, more of the creatures filled the wide street. Dozens of pairs of red eyes glowed in the darkness of early night.

Nervous soldiers pointed their rifles at any Seque they could see, trying to keep them from advancing farther. Their flashlights reflected off glistening white fangs and elongated bone claws. As they stood in a tense showdown, more and more of the creatures emerged from nearby roads, creating a tight circle around the soldiers.

“Everyone keep calm,” Vance told the soldiers. “No one give them a reason to charge.” He changed to his team’s internal communications channel. “Everyone still here?”

“Yes, Sir,” Ixibas said. “Tusque and I are at the back of the group. Our Oterian may be big, but he’s not a fast runner.”

“All of you need to be ready to run when you get the signal,” Vance whispered.

“What’s the signal?” Yen asked, standing beside Vance.

“Believe me, you’ll know it when you see it.”

Vance, looking at the hundreds of Seques gathered around them, felt hostility pouring off them in waves. “Halo, you there?” he asked quietly.

“Watching your every move.”

“Make a hole for us between our position and the outpost. Bring down the fire from the heavens.”

“Let them be cleansed with holy flames,” she finished.

On Goliath’s belly, gun ports opened, revealing primed rockets aimed at the planet’s surface. They launched silently into the void of space, hurtling toward the atmosphere. Burning through at incredible speeds, they trailed a line of fire miles behind them.

Their fiery tails arced over the night sky, as the rockets finished accelerating through the atmosphere and penetrated the thin cloud cover with a deafening sonic boom. Automated onboard systems took control, directing the rockets over the planet, angling toward the city. Boosters firing, the missiles lined up with the main road. Just before reaching airspace directly over the Alliance soldiers, the warheads burst open, spilling their payload of tiny spheres into the air.

Vance watched the trail of fire arc toward them through the air at supersonic speeds. Waiting patiently, he turned on his radio when he saw the small explosion in the sky above, knowing the rockets were pouring explosive death onto the street just ahead.

“Everyone, find cover!” he screamed, diving behind a nearby car.

The small spheres plummeted to the ground, the first ones striking before the giant Seque and continuing a path of destruction up the street toward the outpost. On impact, the spheres ignited in a plume of blue and purple plasma, scorching the ground and sending shockwaves that tossed aside loose debris.

Dozens of Seques caught on the street were consumed by the superheated flames. Gray skin boiled and melted away, cracking and bursting in the heat, spilling internal organs onto the molten concrete ground. The concussive blast sent shrapnel tearing through thick hides, stripping away skin and blowing off limbs.

Heat and smoke washed over Vance, as he huddled behind the ruined automobile. He covered his ears and shut his eyes in anticipation of the bombing. As the heat receded, he risked a look.

Though smoke hung thickly in the air, he saw the street to the north lay in ruins. Concrete was lifted and shattered in a massive upheaval, leaving slabs of stone jutting at awkward angles. The blast leveled many of the nearby buildings, some of which still burned, casting a soft, red glow in the night air.

Coughing, he looked at the stunned soldiers still hidden behind cover. His eyes fell on a severed, clawed hand in the middle of the road nearby. The index finger pawed the air involuntarily, spasms still rolling through the separated stump of the arm. Green blood oozed from it, pooling on the ruined ground.

All around them, a new sound added to the crackling fire and rumble of collapsing rubble from ruined buildings-a sea of infuriated growls. From alleys and buildings, glowing red eyes of Seques emerged. One by one, they took up a howl of angry defiance and vengeance.

Vance stood and picked up his rifle. “Halo bought us time!” he yelled to any soldier who could hear him. “Now run!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Keryn stormed into the barracks room, fuming from her loss in the aerial joust. All her training and years of practice in the secret Wyndgaart arts amounted to nothing in the Academy. She couldn’t help feeling her entire childhood and schooling were a waste of time. In just days, she successfully embarrassed herself, her family, and her race with her abysmal performance.

Iana followed her in and quietly closed the door behind her. Either oblivious or uncaring, Keryn paid the Pilgrim no attention. Instead, she angrily threw her pillow to the far side of the bed, only to retrieve it and toss it to its original location. Frustrated with herself, Keryn sought any excuse to keep busy and think of something other than her repeated failures.

“It’s not all that bad,” Iana offered, standing well outside Keryn’s reach.

“Spare me,” she growled without turning. “I’ve heard enough pep talks from Victoria to last the rest of my life.”

“It’s probably because she’s right. You’re way too hard on yourself. A couple of bad days when you’re first learning don’t mean you’re a failure. So what if you didn’t win today? You can always try again. After all, we joust again tomorrow. What’s the big deal?”

Keryn spun on her, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s a big deal, because I never fail! I may not have been the best, but I always excelled at everything I put my mind to, but this….” Her anger faded, and her tone changed. “I don’t understand this. I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it. Every time I think I have it figured out, someone shows me how wrong I was.”

Iana moved to Keryn’s side and put an arm around her shoulder. “Then you’ll have to try harder. You don’t seem like the type who’d let herself quit.”

“What if I just can’t do it? What if I give it my all, and it’s not good enough?”

“Then you can leave the Academy with your head held high, knowing you did all you could. That’s a damn sight better than the way you are now, constantly second-guessing yourself and fearing waking up each morning.”

“I’m not afraid.” Keryn sat heavily on her bed.

“You are. Most of your fear comes from the fact that all you do is either lie on the bed studying or sitting in front of your console. You never give your mind a chance to rest. You need to unwind once in a while, if for no other reason than to let your mind think of something else for a chance.”

Iana dropped on the bed beside Keryn. “Last night, I extended the offer to go to the bar, and you said, ‘No.’ Tonight, I won’t give you that option. Get up, get over yourself, and get ready to go out.”

Groaning, Keryn fell into the bed and buried her face in her pillow.

“What are you, five years old?” Iana shouted.

Keryn peeked over the edge of the pillow, staring at her aggressive roommate.

“Get your lazy butt out of bed. We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to drive the boys wild at the bar tonight.”

Finding Iana’s attitude contagious, Keryn began laughing. “You know, I do need to get out of this place awhile.”

“Then get up. Let’s get ready for a wild night on the town.”

They spent the better part of an hour preparing for their night, sorting through a myriad of outfits. As Iana looked through the piles of shoes under her bed, Keryn stared at herself in the mirror. Her silver hair was pinned up with loose tendrils flowing down her neck and shoulders. A plunging neckline revealed deeply tanned skin and exposed the curves of her breasts. Shirt and pants clung tightly to her body, though they weren’t nearly as constrictive as the suit earlier.

She felt confident again, and her violet eyes sparkled at her reflection.

Leaving the bathroom, she caught Iana’s attention. “So, how do I look?” She turned in a circle.

“Platonic erotic.” Iana smiled.

“Excuse me?”

“It means all the boys will want you, but you won’t give them the time of day.”

Laughing, the pair left the barracks and crossed the quad to the only bar on campus. Twin moons cast warm glows over the courtyard. The scent of freshly bloomed flowers filled Keryn’s senses, and the day’s tension slowly faded.

In the distance, she saw the bar’s glowing neon signs. Soft, rhythmic beats carried on the breeze, telling stories of dancing bodies and freely flowing alcohol. Her spirits lifted, she hurried with Iana across the grassy quad, eager to join the festivities.

As they entered, the pair was enveloped in a cocoon of pounding, percussive beats and shrill, stringed notes. A live band, hidden by a haze of smoke, stood on the stage at the far end of the room. A few tables lined the walls, their smooth tops dominated by large hookahs, from which noxious gray-green smoke billowed.

The center of the room was packed with writhing cadets, each dancing his own style to the intoxicating music. Recognizing a few of them through the smoke, Keryn and Iana exchanged waves, as they moved to the long bar.

Sliding onto two empty stools, the girls had to lean across the bar to be heard by the bartender. Soon, drinks in hand, they began talking and laughing, allowing the day’s stress to fade. While not exactly what Keryn tried to order through the din, her drink was sweet and strong, the alcohol burning the back of her throat.

As the night went on, and they consumed more drinks, the pair told stories of their home worlds and childhoods. While Keryn was surprised to hear of Iana’s upbringing as a gypsy, a traveling group of Pilgrims known for their disregard for social regulations like public intoxication and nudity, Iana was enthralled by Keryn’s description of the Voice and the Ritual of Initiation. Iana grilled her for hours. Though shy at first, Keryn quickly found herself warming to the interrogation and sharing insight about having two distinct personalities in her mind. Their shared laughter stretched into the night.

Well past midnight, the mood in the bar shifted. No longer did the band produce bone-jarring beats and raucous riffs. Instead, the pace slowed, allowing intoxicated cadets to pair off and spend the remainder of the evening dancing slowly, cradled in each other’s arms. For Keryn and Iana, it allowed them to speak more easily, as they continued storytelling, no longer required to lean close to each other and shout to be heard.

As groups of cadets left the bar, having found mates for the night, Keryn stretched her stiffening muscles. Though she drank quite a few glasses during the night, her pace and constitution left her feeling little more than a bit light-headed. Iana, however, giggled softly to herself between bouts of hiccups.

Realizing it was time to leave, Keryn slid from her chair and cradled Iana in her arms, trying to help the flaccid girl off her stool.

“Isn’t this a cute scene?” a pompous, singing voice called from behind the pair.

Keryn gritted her teeth, feeling the day’s frustrations immediately return. “I didn’t come here for trouble, Sasha. We’re leaving, anyway.”

“Is this your last party before they put you on a ship and send you home? After your pathetic displays the past couple of days, it’s only a matter of time before you’re gone. Might as well turn in your letter of resignation now and save yourself the embarrassment of having the instructors do it for you.”

Keryn sat Iana on her stool again. The Pilgrim reached for her twice before managing to land a calming hand on her arm. “Don’t let her….” She hiccupped. “Don’t let her pick a fight with you. Just let it be.”

“Don’t worry.” Keryn placed a reassuring hand on Iana’s. “I won’t do anything I’ll regret in the morning.”

Stepping away from her roommate, Keryn turned toward Sasha and her throng of friends. Keryn counted six females behind the Avalon. From the corner of her eye, she saw Zalide inhaling from a hookah. Quickly figuring the odds, she was certain none of Sasha’s group posed a physical threat. Still, though she may have willingly started a fight when she arrived at the bar, the anger of the day was gone. Instead, all she wanted was to take Iana home.

“What are you staring at, Freak,” Sasha asked.

“Nothing, Sasha. I’m not looking at anything.” She turned to collect her belongings.

“So now I’m nothing? Is that what you’re saying? Do you think you’re somehow better than me, Loser?”

You should’ve broken her jaw when you had the chance, the Voice advised.

Knowing Sasha wanted a fight, Keryn ignored the prodding from Sasha and the Voice’s gentle cooing. The Voice’s misguided advice articulated Keryn’s subconscious desires, but even it didn’t have her best interests at heart.

A rough voice from behind let Keryn know Sasha wasn’t going to give up so easily. “I’m talking to you. Don't you dare ignore me.”

Don’t put up with her, the Voice urged. Take her down.

“Don’t push me,” Keryn growled, barely loud enough for Sasha to hear.

Bolstered by her perceived dominance of the situation and her friends behind her, Sasha wouldn’t stop. “I’ll do whatever I want, and I’ll say whatever I want. The fact is, you’re a savage, and so is your friend. Your entire, pathetic excuse for a race is full of savages. You’re all better off dead.”

Keryn dropped Iana heavily onto her stool.

“Don’t do this, Keryn,” Iana begged weakly.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Spinning, she lashed out with a lightning-fast right cross that landed solidly on the surprised Avalon’s face. Keryn felt a satisfying crunch of cartilage in the delicate Avalon’s nose, as Sasha flew backward and crumpled to the hardwood floor. Dark blood spilled heavily from her broken nose, and her eyes fluttered, as she fought to remain conscious.

A tumbling chair and bellow of rage warned Keryn that more trouble was brewing. From across the room, Sasha’s boyfriend leaped to his feet and charged Keryn. His fist reared back, as he telegraphed his attack from halfway across the bar.

Keryn snapped her head to one side and locked her smoldering purple eyes on the intoxicated Zalide. Her body coiled in attack position, she raised her finger in warning.

“Stop!” The volume of that word was augmented by the power of her voice. The strength of her tone startled Zalide, carving cleanly through his mental fog. Surprised, he slowed his charge until it was a slow walk before stopping a few feet away from the dangerous Wyndgaart. Confused, he stared at the confident woman.

“You at a crossroads, and you need to make a decision,” Keryn said. “I know what you want to do. You want to play the role of knight in shining armor. You’ve rushed to the aid of your love and want revenge on the person who brought her low, but this isn’t a storybook. If you decide to go forward with your plan and attack me, let me explain how the rest of your night will go.

“First, your punch will be far too slow. You’re drunk, and I’m not. Beyond that, I’m a Wyndgaart and the finest fighter in the class. So you’ll punch, and you’ll miss terribly. By the time you realize I’m not on the connecting end of your powerful punch, I’ll already be behind you. Your back will be exposed, which will allow me to pummel it on both sides. Why the lower back, you ask? Because that’s where your kidneys are.”

Keryn looked to make sure she had everyone’s attention and no one else was trying to flank her. Confident they were paying attention, she continued, “Have you ever been punched in the kidneys? I have. It’s a miserably painful experience. Every time I hit your kidney, more and more blood vessels will rupture. They’ll spill blood into your kidneys. The same thing will happen to your intestinal tract, as stray punches rupture blood vessels in there, too, mixing blood into your bowels.

“The end result will be that your friends will carry you out of here tonight. Tomorrow, once you’re sober again, you’ll have plenty of time to wonder why you made such a poor decision every time you go to the bathroom and fill the toilet with dark, red blood. All that will happen because of a bad decision you’re about to make.”

She shifted her stance in preparation for the conclusion of their discussion. “Which brings us back to the present. Either you take your slut of a girlfriend and leave right now, or you can do what I see in your eyes you want, and try to attack me. It’s your choice, Terran humper.”

For a moment, Keryn thought he might’ve taken her offer to leave. However, she wasn’t able to pass up an opportunity to goad him one last time.

The Uligart launched at her, throwing a clubbing fist downward toward her head. Sliding easily to the right, she watched him slam his fist painfully into the solid bar. As he howled in pain, she extended a knuckle on her right hand and struck the side of his neck.

Zalide jerked, as the muscles in his neck seized, leaving him unable to turn his head. Keryn immediately followed that up with a swift knee to his abdomen. Clutching his stomach, he doubled over in pain, as she moved behind him.

She delivered a series of blows to his lower back. The Uligart grunted in pain, tears rolling from his eyes, as she alternated open-handed palm strikes and close-fisted punches to the delicate area. Slowly, his knees buckled, and he slumped against a barstool.

Her vision red with anger, Keryn only partially heard yells of surprise. They reached her ears as if she were under water. Figures approached from the corner of her vision. Finished with Zalide, she drove her knee into the back of his neck, disrupting his nervous system and dropping him unconscious to the floor.

Moving quicker than she anticipated, a figure slammed into her side, lifting her from her feet. The two landed heavily together, their limbs intertwined, as the attacker tried to pin her to the ground. Lashing out with an elbow, she caught his jaw and sent him reeling backward while freeing her.

As she slid away and fought to regain her footing, she noticed the dark, black pants and matching uniform jacket of an instructor. He cupped his mouth, blood seeping from between his fingers and dribbling down to his jacket collar. He glared at her with venom.

“Cadet Riddell!” a familiar Avalon voice yelled, cutting through the commotion. “You’ll stand down at once.”

Victoria stood in the doorway, her wings tucked tightly to her side, her hands on her hips, as she glowered at Keryn from across the room. Though she was many feet away, Keryn shrank back from that malicious look.

Victoria turned toward the few members of Sasha’s group who remained. “You three will take your two cadets and my instructor to the infirmary immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

The three girls nodded and rushed forward. Though Sasha and the instructor were able to stand and walk, Zalide was dead weight and had to be carried from the bar.

“Cadet Morven,” Victoria told a quickly sobering Iana, “you will head straight back to your room. Don’t let me catch you deviating from that location in the slightest.”

Iana gave a furtive shrug toward Keryn before slipping past Victoria and the two instructors flanking her. The bar was empty except for Keryn and the instructors. Even the bartender was gone.

“As for you,” Victoria said, her singing voice marred by anger, “I thought we had reached a pretty clear understanding. I thought you had potential, but now you’re making me think I was wrong about you.”

As Keryn’s warrior instincts fled, and her adrenalin stopped pumping, her blinding fighter’s rage was quickly replaced by embarrassment. Again, she felt tears sting her eyes.

“You’ll accompany me immediately to the dean’s office. He’s more than eager to have a word or two with you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Vance, breaking from cover, ran up the ruined street, dodging the larger piles of rubble. The outpost was still ten blocks away-an incredible distance even with the way cleared by Halo’s bombing of the city. He fired a couple rounds at any Seque foolish enough to emerge from the alleyways along his path.

The loss of the alpha male left a void in the Seques’ hierarchy and made them hesitate, as their prey ran past, but Vance knew it wouldn’t last. He and his soldiers took advantage of the opening to cover a lot of distance toward the military structure.

The group labored during the run. Smoke still hung like a blanket over the city, stinging their lungs as they rushed for safety. The smoke, a combination of concrete dust and ash from still-smoldering plasma, watered Vance’s eyes. Tears streamed unwillingly from his eyes, leaving tracks down soot-covered cheeks before pooling in his beard.

After they ran for nearly three blocks, the Seques finally broke from their stupor. At first, only one or two broke from alleys or leaped from rooftops to impede the escaping soldiers. Though resilient, a steady hail of gunfire brought the more-daring Seques down, leaving them writhing in pain on the ground. Steadily, however, more and more Seques attacked the group’s fringes.

Without stopping, Vance cringed, as he heard screams of surprise and pain, as his soldiers were attacked and killed by the monsters.

“Ainj,” he called into the radio over the din of gunfire and screams, “we need cover fire. I don’t care how bad a view you have through the smoke, find a scope setting that’ll penetrate the smoke and start firing.”

He ran on, waiting for sniper fire that never came. “Ainj, do you copy?”

Atop a skyscraper, a Seque clamped its jaws on the thigh of the body under it, planting a clawed hand on the abdomen for leverage, and tore a strip of bloody meat from the corpse. Slurping, it sucked down the dripping meat and sunk its head down again, its razor-sharp teeth ripping into the exposed stomach.

The Seque looked up, as a distant voice called out.

“Ainj, are you alive?”

It spoke in a language the Seque didn’t understand. It tipped its head in confusion.

Pushing the corpse aside, it stalked across the roof, searching the source of the sound. Sniffing the air, it glanced back and forth, unable to locate it.

After a brief pause, the voice rang out again.

“Answer me, Ainj. Tell me you’re alive.”

The Seque finally located the noise near the edge of the building. Near the lip of the roof, a voice spoke from a discarded headset and speaker. Sniffing the radio, Seque flicked its hand and sent the headset cascading off the top of the roof.

Turning away, the beast returned to its meal.

Vance cursed and kept running, firing at the growing group of Seques emerging from all side streets to block their way. Without Ainj, one of their best aces in the hole was gone. Vance felt their chances slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass. He pushed on, praying they’d make it to the safety of the outpost.

The group of soldiers, which began their spring for safety in a tight group, slowly spread out, as the stronger runners outdistanced their slower teammates. Vance, Decker, Dallis, Yen, and Eza kept pace at the head of the group, but Vance was concerned about Ixibas and Tusque, who lumbered slowly near the rear of the pack.

Seques broke from cover halfway through the group. Covering long distances in their pounces, the monsters landed on a trio of infantry soldiers, burying fangs and claws into their soft flesh. A lone Seque charged into the midst of the runners, bowling over two before wrapping itself around a third.

Both soldier and Seque slammed into the wall of a building across the street. Already on its feet, the Seque unleashed a brutal flurry of teeth and claws, stripping away the protective armor and mauling the doomed Uligart.

Tusque and Ixibas slid to a halt, as the Seques separated them from their teammates. More monsters spread out in the widening gap, cutting the two cover-operations soldiers and their small band of infantry from those still running for safety.

Raising weapons, the soldiers unloaded a deadly barrage at the Seques, killing three. For every one that fell, however, another emerged from the side streets to take its place. A scream from behind alerted the duo to trouble. Monsters filled the streets behind them, finally catching their elusive prey.

As Tusque turned toward the new threat, he realized his mistake, as one of the Seques separating the two groups launched itself high into the air. It came down on Tusque, raking his back with its claws. As he rolled aside, it sank its teeth into his calf.

Vance heard a deep rumbling scream that could only come from the throat of an Oterian. Stopping briefly, he turned and saw the group had become separated. To his dismay, two of his teammates were lost on the far side of the widening void, made only larger by the masses of Seques filling the gap.

“We have to help them.” Vance pulled out a grenade and tossed it into the midst of the advancing creatures. The explosion tossed the Seques aside, leaving smoking corpses face down on the sidewalk.

Eza grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. “We can’t do anything for them.” His frustration was obvious, as drops of green blood fell from his ax. “I want retribution as much as you do, but this isn’t the time or place for an epic last stand.”

Vance stared for a second longer, then Yen ran past him.

“They’re coming from everywhere,” Yen said. “If we don’t move now, they’ll trap us again.”

Looking back with disappointment and deep sadness, Vance turned back toward the outpost and ran. Four blocks ahead, he saw the sturdy fence and rising stone walls of the military compound. The front wall was damaged, collapsed either from an assault by the Seques or Halo’s cluster bombs. The way to the central building was clear, but that wasn’t what Vance wanted.

Located on the building’s exterior, guarding both sides of the door and at nearly every corner of the structure, mounted turret guns were set to open fire on any creature that didn’t emit an Alliance ID code. Implanted in every soldier’s arm was a small microchip that emitted the correct frequency. If the group could get close enough to the building, the turret guns would activate and start eliminating any Seques that came close enough while simultaneously avoiding hitting Vance’s men. It was their last chance for survival.

“I’m out!” Decker said, his voice panicky.

Vance broke his determined stare at the outpost and looked at his fellow Pilgrim.

Decker pulled the magazine from his rifle and tossed it angrily to the street. “I’m completely out of ammo.”

Reaching into the pouches in the front of his body armor, Vance took one of his last two magazines and tossed it to him. “I’m almost out, too. Make every shot count.”

Sweat seeped into Vance’s eyes, blurring his vision. Even in the cool twilight, he was sweating profusely after running so long in full armor. His pounding heart and the adrenalin coursing through his veins weren’t helping matters. Still, the outpost loomed in the distance, just a short sprint away.

“Push it out!” he shouted. “We’re almost there!”

They were close, but they lost many men to get there. Three platoons were decimated. He didn’t have time to check at the moment, but Vance was certain any survivors of the initial assault had been hunted down and killed. Of his own group, he had two remaining team members, Decker, Dallis, and a small handful of infantry. Though he refused to voice his concerns, Vance wasn't sure reaching the outpost would make any difference. Even the turret guns’ ammunition was limited, while there seemed to be a nearly endless supply of Seques destroying the city. Still, with the compound so close, he pushed on harder than ever.

As they ran the last block, nearly all of them low on ammunition, Vance saw relief flooding the men’s faces. They reached the rubble of the collapsed wall and scrambled over it, an army of Seques on their heels.

As the beasts scaled and bounded over the crumbled wall, Vance heard gears whir. The two turret guns rose from their resting positions, taking aim at the new threat. As the barrels spun, fire leaped from both ends of the weapons, as massive-caliber slugs tore through the Seques’ thick hides. Green blood sprayed in sheets. Dozens of the monsters were cut down in the opening barrages, and those that followed slipped in their counterparts’ blood before being gunned down next.

The survivors let out a ragged cheer before collapsing in exhaustion. Even Vance doubled over with his hands on his knees while he tried to catch his breath. He allowed himself a faint smile, as the Seques began hesitating after watching so many of their ilk killed so quickly by the perimeter defenses.

Reaching the outpost bought them a little more time to think, plan, and find a way off the planet. Vance had to assume that the Seques had the outpost surrounded. That didn’t mean transports couldn’t land within the compound during an emergency evacuation. Once he was inside, he’d pull up the schematics for the base and call Goliath.

While lost in his plans for escape, he noticed an absence of noise, a haunting drop in gunfire that left him feeling exposed. Though it seemed unlikely, he wondered if the turret guns were already running out of ammunition. If the Seques tried to breach the outpost before, it was possible the guns had been firing intermittently for some time, draining the belts of ammunition. If that were the case, the survivors wouldn’t have much time before the Seques returned.

He turned toward the weapons, expecting them to be resting with their barrels down, the common position once they stopped firing or expended their rounds. Instead, the weapons whirred back and forth, scanning the group of soldiers who hid and caught their breath on the other side of the outer wall. Vance’s confusion caught Dallis’ eye, who supported an infantryman who coughed hoarsely, his lungs burning from exertion.

Dallis looked back and shrugged, unable to explain the weapons. Without warning, the guns fired again. The Uligart commander and the solider he supported vanished in red mist, as the high-caliber rounds dismembered the Alliance troops.

Blood splashed the soldiers seeking refuge near the pair. Vance’s instincts took over, and he slid behind a pile of nearby rubble. He heard the guns change trajectories again, and another soldier screamed before his body was shredded by the high-velocity rounds.

The remaining members dived for cover, as rounds rained down, splitting the stones they hid behind and showering flecks of debris on the petrified soldiers.

Vance lowered his visor and switched the monitor. Invariably, all surviving members of the group emitted their ID codes. The invisible pulses registered on his visor, rolling like concentric circles from each forearm.

“Why are they firing on us?” Yen shouted, his words barely audible over the constant hum of the automatic defenses.

Vance didn’t even try to answer. There was no reason for the guns to fire on them. Their signals were still strong. He didn’t believe the automated system could make a mistake between a Seque and one of the soldiers. It was too complex for such a simple mistake. Here was no reason for the guns to fire on them unless they were reprogrammed.

Vance shook his head, not eager to follow that line of thought. If they were reprogrammed, that meant someone betrayed four platoons of Alliance soldiers. If there was a traitor among them, turret guns ahead, and Seques waiting hungrily behind them, the survivors were doomed.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Halo,” Vance said, “I don’t know why the guns are firing on us, and right now, I don’t have time to care. I need you to shut them down.”

“I’ve been trying, Michael. Someone’s blocking my attempts to hack the outpost’s computer system.”

“Keep trying.”

Slivers of rock shattered free, as more bullets slammed into his barricade.

“We need a way out of here and fast!”

“I’d doing all I can,” she said, an edge of panic in her voice. “I’m working as fast as I….”

The transmission stopped.

“Halo? Halo, answer me!”

“I wish I could say I saw this coming,” her soft, feminine voice said.

Vance knew she wasn’t speaking to him. She intentionally left the radio active, so he could listen.

“I have cameras on you. I can see the gun behind your back.” She paused. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t really been left any other choice,” a familiar male voice replied.

A loud gunshot echoed in Vance’s headset. He jerked at the sound, his heart racing.

“Halo?” He felt weak. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him. “Aleiz, please answer me.”

“She won’t be answering you,” a man replied. “Halo’s gone.”

“Captain Young?” he asked in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand?” Captain Young asked angrily. “I sent you on your last mission with two simple instructions-retrieve the data and don’t open the disk. You couldn’t manage to follow two simple tasks.”

Vance sat paralyzed and bewildered. His thoughts raced in a jumbled mess, individual thoughts lost in a cloudy haze. “I don’t understand,” he said, unsure what to say.

“You aren’t listening, Michael! You had very specific instructions. Did you or did you not complete both your assigned duties?”

“We retrieved the disks like you asked.” Vance’s head spun. “Why’d you kill her? We did what you asked!”

“I told you, in no uncertain terms, not to open the disk!” he screamed, sitting beside Aleiz’ body. Blood dripped from the destroyed side of her head, pooling on the leather seat below. “I’m not stupid, Michael. I could tell you opened the files.”

“I didn’t!” he shouted back, wanting to close his hands around the captain’s throat and shake him until he understood. “I didn’t open the disk. You didn’t need to kill her.”

“But someone did. If you didn’t, then someone on your team did. If it wasn’t you, then the blood of all those soldiers is on the hands of one of your teammates.”

Vance’s head jerked toward the remaining teammates. Yen and Eza entered the room and retrieved the disk. Could they have opened it? They weren’t involved in the conversation and were blissfully unaware of the accusations against them.

“Because they opened the disk and read a file, you’re willing to sacrifice over one hundred lives?” Vance’s anger grew. “If you wanted my team dead, why not send us in alone? Why send all those infantry soldiers along, condemning them to death?”

“Think about it, Michael,” the captain replied coolly. “It’ll come to you.”

The realization froze Vance’s breath in his lungs. For a moment, he couldn't speak. Finally, he said, “In one mission, you killed almost every soldier who could stand against you onboard. You’re taking the ship for yourself, but that doesn’t make sense. You already have possession of the ship as its captain. Who else would want it besides…?”

The captain left the sentence hanging.

“But why?” Vance asked breathlessly. “I’ve known you my entire life. You’ve been loyal to the Alliance your entire career. Why suddenly turn traitor? Why would you want to turn Goliath over to the Terrans?”

“That’s the question you’ve been yearning to ask,” the captain said, holstering the still-smoking pistol. “You beat around the bush, but you finally got to the heart of it. Gods alive, Vance, I’d love to tell you they kidnapped my family and are holding them for ransom. I wish I could tell you a tale of epic heroism, where I have to do this, or my family dies.

“Real life isn’t a storybook, Michael. I did it for money. The Terrans wanted an operational warship and a halo system to analyze. Even with her dead, the system’s in place, ready for reverse engineering.”

“Don’t you dare talk about Aleiz like she was a cog in a machine.”

The captain continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Did you know the Empire has a massive budget set aside just for bribing Alliance personnel? They have more money than they know what to do with, and they’re paying me enough to buy a small moon on which I can retire. You don’t realize how rich this will make me.”

“For money?” Vance’s face flushed with rage. “You killed my men, Aleiz, and all these soldiers just for money? You pathetic son of a bitch!”

“Watch that temper, Michael,” he replied coldly. “I killed only those who wouldn’t see the common sense I offered. The rest of the ship supports me. They’ve all been offered very comprehensive financial payoffs for their support.

“Everyone has a price, but it’s more than just the money. You and I both know neither the Alliance nor the Empire have been following the Taisa Accord. As of right now, the Terran Fleet has slipped ships past the demilitarized zone and has begun an invasion of Alliance-occupied space. The war’s coming, and I’m here to tell you the Terrans will win. Sure, they offered me money, but they also offered me a chance to be welcomed back into the Empire’s fold, regardless of my Pilgrim background. Had you not been so damned stubborn, you might’ve had the same offer.”

“Unlike you,” he roared, “I’d never sell my own people for money!”

“News flash, Michael. The Terrans are your people. Just because your grandparents made piss-poor decisions about which side they wanted to fight on doesn’t mean you’re that far removed from the Empire. You’re still a Terran.”

Vance seethed. His depression and horror at the blood on his hands was replaced by a deep-seated yearning for vengeance. “Believe me when I say I’ll personally see you dead before this is over.”

“Let’s be realistic. You’ll never get off that planet. Since you’re going to be this way and insist on making threats, there’s nothing more to say to each other. Good-bye, Michael.”

The radio went dead, and Vance howled in frustration. Yen and Eza looked at him from across the small gap. He shot both of them a look of pure malevolence. Rage showed in his bloodshot eyes.

“You two have a lot of explaining to do. First, we have to find a way off this rock.” Slumping back down behind the rubble, he muttered, “I’ll find a way off here, so I can send that son of a bitch straight to hell.”

Vance’s salvation came seconds later, as a turret gun exploded and lit the night sky with a shower of sparks. Sitting atop a four-story building fifteen blocks away, Ainj aimed at the second turret gun and fired.

The high-velocity sniper rounds tore through the metal casing, igniting the ammunition within. The second gun exploded, opening a path through which the survivors could enter the outpost.

“Move,” Ainj whispered, wishing he still had his headset.

When the Seque barged onto the roof of the skyscraper and pounced on Reese, Ainj was startled and took to the air in a hurry to avoid the charging beast, but he left behind most of his ammunition and headset. Unable to communicate with the soldiers near the outpost, he had to hope they saw his actions clearly and moved inside fast.

The sound of the sniper rifle firing undoubtedly gave away his position. Still, he stayed, trying to buy Vance and his team more time. The rest of the guns around the building would never allow Ainj to get close by flying, and he couldn’t risk being on the ground. He still held the advantage, since the Seques couldn’t follow him in the air. By firing and moving, he had a chance to elude the predatory monsters.

Through his scope, he watched Vance and the rest of the survivors break for the outpost door. Noticing the guns were destroyed, the Seques hurried to follow.

Ainj took aim and squeezed the trigger. As the first Seque leaped over the crumbling outer wall, its head exploded in a mist of green blood and gray brain matter. Ainj, feeling the rifle’s recoil, readjusted for his second shot. That one slammed into a Seque’s back, sending it tumbling end-over-end before lying unmoving on the ground. He fired a third time, tearing off the leg of another beast, as it ran toward the soldiers.

The roof shook, as a Seque climbed the rear of the building and launched itself over the lip. It howled angrily at the Avalon before digging its claws into the stone floor and charging.

Ainj climbed to his feet and hoisted his rifle, tucking the stock under his arm. Leaping into the air over the main street, he opened his wings, caught an updraft, and glided into the chasm. He spun in midair, letting his wings carry him, as he twisted to face the roof he just left. The Seque charged, preparing to launch itself across the gap at him.

Bringing up his rifle, he fired several times. Flames leaped from the large-bore barrel, as the sniper rounds slammed into the running Seque. Gaping holes appeared in its abdomen, chest, and arms, as round after round shredded thick muscles and mangled internal organs.

The Seque staggered, as Ainj fired again, catching its neck and nearly ripping its head from its shoulders. The Seque collapsed onto the roof, tearing a rut in the stone as it slid.

Ainj smiled sadistically, glad to see another one of the beasts die. Still gliding backward, he never saw another Seque perched on the roof he approached. Tucking its muscular legs underneath it, the Seque leaped and collided with Ainj above the street. It wrapped powerful arms around his body and latched its long claws into his chest and stomach.

Ainj screamed in pain, as the Seque sank its teeth into his shoulder. Its massive bulk twisted, snapping his thin, hollow-boned wing.

The pair plummeted forty feet to the street, hitting the ground with a horrific crash. The Seque’s heavy mass made them spin until it struck the ground first. Its body cushioned Ainj’s fall and broke its fangs free of his body, but blood poured from numerous wounds on his shoulder, back, chest, and stomach.

Ainj coughed weakly, as specks of blood flew from his lips. His frail bones snapped on impact, leaving him unable to move. Around him, low growls emerged from the darkness, quickly followed by a sea of glowing, red eyes. The Seques stalked toward their downed prey.

Ainj closed his eyes, not wanting to see the razor-sharp teeth and claws that came to feed upon him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Keryn sat outside the dean’s office, feeling like a child waiting to be scolded by her disapproving parents. From within, she heard muffled yells coming from Magistrate Victoria and the dean, as they discussed her situation. Her stomach fluttered from nervousness and dread, as she waited for the inevitable order to report within.

Keryn looked for a clock on the walls, anything to tell her how much time passed. Sitting in the chair, she felt it was already hours. The walls, however, were barren save for small placards indicating the Academy’s many accomplishments.

By the time the office door opened, and Keryn was called in, she was beyond dread and entered a realm of nervousness she couldn’t describe. All her hard work getting accepted to the Academy as a Wyndgaart hung in delicate balance. Her fate rested firmly in the unforgiving hands of the Academy’s dean. Swallowing hard, she stood and walked into the office.

The room was a cacophony of memorabilia collected from the dean’s years as a fleet captain before accepting the honored position at the Academy. Certificates and medals were framed in shadow boxes, mounted on the left and right walls. The rear wall was surprisingly barren. The shelves held only a few items, though their significance to the dean was obvious.

Braced by a stand, a copy of the Salisha, the holy text of the Avalon religion, was proudly displayed. Beside it, a bronze-cast figure of Itharial the Martyr sat on display. Though Keryn was well aware of the Avalon’s deep-seated religious beliefs, she always found the figure of the Martyr disturbing. The statue showed the Martyr in traditional pose at the moment of death. Pierced through the abdomen by a spear, Itharial was suspended prostrate, his arms cast wide and eyes staring toward the heavens. His mouth was agape, crying out a defiant challenge to both his assassins and the heavens. Above both the holy text and the Martyr, familiar Avalon words were carved on a banner framing the dean’s chair-Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas.

A polite cough brought Keryn’s attention away from the decorations and the dark-haired Avalon. Dean Brothius reclined in his tall-backed chair behind his broad, wooden desk. The dour look on his face told her all she needed to know about his mood. He was dreadfully unhappy.

“Cadet Riddell.” His soft voice carried through the room, and those two simple words made dread return twofold within her. The dean glanced briefly at Victoria, who stood beside him, before continuing. “Cadet Riddell, you’ve shown a great disregard for all the policy and regulations that I’ve enforced throughout my reign as dean of this institution. Those policies aren’t enacted to make your life more difficult. They’re in place to ensure everything runs smoothly here, and my students are protected at all times. You sent fellow cadets and one of my instructors to the infirmary. Therefore, you’re the single reason my students aren’t currently protected.”

Keryn swallowed hard and tried to speak. “Sir, I’m truly sorry for my actions….”

“Spare me your half-hearted excuses, Cadet!” He slammed his fist against the table. “I don’t want to hear rehearsed excuses and justifications for your actions. I’m not concerned about any teasing or goading that might’ve gone on from the other students. I’ve already heard it all from Magistrate Victoria.

“You might’ve been teased incessantly by the other students, Cadet Pythril included, but there’s a large leap that must occur when the situation escalates from verbal confrontation to physical violence. You chose to turn a confrontation, which you could’ve walked away from, into one that left a student hospitalized for the next few days. That behavior is unacceptable as long as I’m the dean of this Academy!”

Taking a deep breath, he smoothed back stray black hairs that fell loose to hang in front of his face. When he spoke again, his voice returned to the quiet, reserved tone he started with.

“What you’ve done is grounds for immediate expulsion.”

Keryn closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, fighting back a surge of emotion. All her hard work was disappearing in a cloud of smoke before her, because she couldn’t control her temper. The Academy got the better of her, and she used self-pity as an excuse to lash out at another student.

“However….”

Keryn’s heart pounded in her chest. She stole a glance at the dean, as she opened her eyes. Preparing for the worst, she hadn’t expected him to say anything but to pack her bags.

“For some reason I have yet to fathom, Magistrate Victoria speaks very highly of you and your potential. Against my own wishes, she has decided to become your advocate. There’s something she sees in you that’s obscured to my own vision. For that, she believes I should give you a second chance.”

Looking at Victoria, Keryn couldn’t hide her surprise. Victoria’s face remained as stoic as a block of ice, as she stared back at the nervous cadet.

“Do you deserve a second chance?” the dean asked, raising his hand to stop Keryn before she could reply. “The question was merely rhetorical, since your opinion isn’t a factor in my decision. I weighed both options closely before rendering a decision.

“On the one hand, you’ve proven that you’re dangerous. Whenever your temper gets the better of you, I fear I’ll see this same behavior. The Academy is filled with hidden stressors meant to test the flexibility and endurance of the cadets. This early in the year, you’ve already fallen victim to your baser instincts. How should I explain your actions to others if I let you stay, only to have you repeat tonight’s brutal assault?

“On the other hand, you’ve shown exceptional fighting skills, which are further proven by the confrontation tonight. You challenged and handily defeated a much-larger foe with no fear whatsoever. You slipped a strike past the defenses of a well-trained instructor. Though your behavior was reprehensible, your technique was flawless. If you could manage to translate your fighting skills on the ground into piloting skills in the air, you’d be an unstoppable force for the Alliance Fleet.”

The dean folded his hands before his face, as if lost in deep thought. When he spoke, Keryn strained to hear his words.

“You see my dilemma, Cadet Riddell. Either I knowingly keep a potentially lethal weapon in this institute, or I risk losing a cadet with boundless potential.”

He raised his head and met her gaze. “What would you have me do? What would you do, were you faced with such a decision?”

The question caught her by surprise. It took a few seconds before she realized that he genuinely wanted a response. Clearing her throat, she started to speak, only to quickly close her mouth.

She almost told him to keep her. Keryn wanted to explain all she had to offer to the Fleet, as a pilot and fighter, to ask if he understood how great a loss she would be if he let her go.

Before she could speak, however, another thought entered her mind. Keryn wasn’t sure if it was the Voice granting her insight from dozens of previous generations, or if she finally took a moment to be more objective about her case. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t shake the thought.

“Sir, if I were in your position, I’d expel me from the Academy.”

It seemed preposterous that she’d openly tell him such a thing after all she did to get to the Academy in the first place, but she couldn’t shake the feeling it was the right answer.

Dean Brothius nodded slowly. “The Salisha teaches that every person must be both humble and honest, lest they fall victim to the vices of pride and deceit. I’m proud to hear you say that you should be expelled. An honest assessment of one’s position is the first step toward changing your sinning ways.

“I believe Magistrate Victoria’s recommendation is the correct one. You won’t be expelled, Cadet Riddell.”

Keryn sighed, unaware she had been holding her breath. Shaking softly, she let nervous energy flee after being pent up for so long.

“Don’t misunderstand, Cadet. You erred greatly when you struck a fellow cadet and an instructor. As far as I’m concerned, you’re at the very bottom of your class. You’ll have to perform exceptionally well to prove your worth to me and Magistrate Victoria.”

“I understand, Sir,” she said softly.

“You’ve received the only redemption you’ll ever have while attending this institution. If you make another poor judgment call like tonight, I’ll expel you on the spot. I don’t mean you’ll be on suspension for a week or a month. If you make any mistakes in the next two years, you’ll be sent home immediately.”

Keryn nodded.

The dean turned toward Victoria. “Magistrate, please give us a moment.”

Surprised, Victoria stepped hesitantly from behind the desk and strode toward the door, glancing back several times. As the door clicked softly closed behind her, the dean gestured Keryn to take a seat.

“I wanted a second to speak to you alone, Cadet Riddell. I meant what I said when I told you that you had great potential. I see the same thing Magistrate Victoria does. You could be the top of your class if you’d only find a way to get past your anger and find your metaphorical center.”

He turned his chair, so Keryn saw his profile. Glancing to the wall behind him, he looked up at the ancient Avalon script written on the wall.

“I saw you when you entered. You took a great interest in the words written above my chair.”

“Yes, Sir. They’re the same words written on the banner held in the statue’s hand in the courtyard.”

He smiled and turned back to her. “That’s correct, Keryn. Do you mind if I call you Keryn?”

She shook her head.

“Do you know what those words mean?”

Keryn looked at the strange words again. “No, Sir, I don’t. I tried asking earlier this year, but I never got a good response.”

“The words are a passage from the Salisha. Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas mean No One Is Greater. Do you believe in a god, Keryn?”

She remembered the reliefs carved into the coral leading to the Shrine of Initiation. For many Wyndgaarts, the embodiment of the Voice was a higher power. They believed the Voice was cast into each unmolded child at the time of conception by a higher power, called only the Nameless One, that watched over every Wyndgaart when he went into battle. Keryn had never been one to accept spirituality, always finding true faith in science. Every battle consisted of a disciplined understanding of physics and trajectories, gravitational pulls, and elevation. To understand those left little room for religious superstitions.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, “but I don’t.”

“Then, perhaps, that’s your greatest weakness. Believing in no one but yourself means you don’t think there’s a higher power above you. Without a god by which the universe was created, it means you don’t believe in a god that lies at the center of reality. In that case, you must believe that you reside in the center, that you truly are the center of your own universe. I warn you, Keryn, that to believe such is folly and arrogance, neither of which have a place in the Alliance.”

He turned back to the script on the wall. “This passage should mean more to you than any of the other cadets. I’ve read that passage in the Salisha many times and have come to learn its meaning over time. The words have a twofold meaning.

“First, they mean simply, as one would expect, that no one individual is greater than God. The center of the universe can’t be shared between you and God. In time, you must realize it’s your place to subjugate yourself to a higher power.

“The other meaning I’ve gleaned comes straight from the passage’s use in history. Do you know why that phrase is so prominently displayed on the statue in front of the Academy?”

Keryn admitted she didn’t.

“During the first meeting of the newly formed Alliance Parliament, nearly 150 years ago, the Avalon representative was a great warrior and scholar named Etherius. His statue stands in the courtyard, welcoming students to this institute.

“That first meeting of Parliament was a madhouse. All races spoke simultaneously of the newly discovered threat of the Terran Empire. To the Alliance races, each knew it had unique strengths that would benefit the new army, and each had a reason why it should be the one to lead as the premier race in the new government.

“Irritated with their petty bickering, Etherius, a pious crusader, leaped upon the central table of Parliament and proudly brandished his spear, shouting the words, ‘Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas.’ The stunned Parliament fell silent to hear what he had to say. He told them its meaning was that no one was greater. To each race, he explained the strengths it offered to the Alliance and why each was vital. In the end, however, he also told them that without each other for support, they would fail individually.

“That’s the personal meaning of No One Is Greater and why I chose to apply it to this academy.

“You’re a great student, Keryn, but without the support of your fellow cadets, you’re destined to fail alone. Even if I can’t convince you to believe in a power greater than your own, at least take this meaning of Etherius’ words to heart. Find whatever strength you have within you to excel at the individual challenges you’ll face in the Academy, but never lose sight of the fact that eventually, you have to rely on those around you to succeed. Every pilot is part of a squadron or fleet. Even if you’re the best pilot in the Alliance, you’ll die without someone to support you.”

Dean Brothius stood. Keryn immediately stood and braced in a salute.

“Get some rest tonight, Keryn,” he said. “Remember always that tomorrow is a new day. When you come to the aerial joust tomorrow, I expect to see a changed woman, one who understands the importance of a team and friends. Also remember, you’re at the end of your rope. You have no more room for error within these walls.”

As he returned her salute, Keryn turned quickly and left. Walking from the office, she passed Victoria, who stared inquisitively at her. Keryn’s mind was a jumbled mess, as she walked back to her barracks room. Though eternally relieved at not being expelled, the dean’s words haunted her. Even more so, the story of Etherius haunted her. She saw him standing proudly atop the Parliament table, wings unfurled to catch the morning sun, as his strong voice filled the chamber. His message stayed with her, repeatedly echoing through her mind.

Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas. No one is greater.

As she undressed that night and climbed into bed, her mind continued spinning. Though sleep came quickly, her night was filled with strange dreams.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The door slammed loudly behind Vance, as he sealed the outpost’s entryway. Deep gloom enveloped him, broken only by meager twilight filtering through cracks in the nearby windows. Like the door, they were reinforced by whoever took refuge within the outpost. Though he felt safer inside, he knew no one was left alive within, which meant the building’s defenses had a weakness.

Behind him, the door heaved, as a Seque threw its weight against it. The metal latch held strong, but Vance was lifted from his feet with each shove. The remaining survivors watched him try to hold the door, shock clear on their features, as they remembered injuries, fleeing, and watching comrades die. Those soldiers needed a purpose, or they’d be content to sit down in the middle of the floor and wait to die.

“You two.” He looked at the two closest infantry. He didn’t know their names and feared he’d never have time before they joined the rest of their half-eaten friends. “Grab anything you can to reinforce this door. Put your weight against it if you have to, but make sure nothing comes through.”

As they held the door, Vance stepped away with a purpose and angrily approached Yen. Grabbing the edges of his body armor, he slammed Yen against the wall.

“Why’d you do it?” he shouted, his face inches from Yen’s. “Why’d you have to open that disk? You couldn’t keep your gods-be-damned curiosity in check for one mission!”

“What are you…?” Yen stopped when he saw Vance’s determination. His mouth slowly closed, but he matched Vance’s stare.

“You couldn’t have left well enough alone, could you?” Vance shouted.

“I think you need to settle down.” The air around Yen wavered slightly, as his power built.

Vance noticed and snarled, then began shaking Yen so violently, his determination-and the haze-vanished. “Don’t you dare try to use your powers on me, you bastard!” He shook him again.

A hand closed over Vance’s arm. When he turned, he was face-to-face with Eza.

“Let him go, Sir,” Eza said sternly. “We screwed up. I’ll be the first to admit it, but hurting Yen won’t change our situation.”

“Give it time,” Yen said breathlessly, his head aching from hitting the wall. “Halo will find a way out of here. She never let us down before.”

Vance stared at him, tears filling his eyes, as the weight of the loss settled on his shoulders. “She won’t save us this time,” he said quietly. “Captain Young killed her. She died just like we will, because you two opened that disk.”

Yen stared for a moment, then his eyes lowered in shame.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Eza said. “Why would the captain kill Halo?”

“He sold all of us out to the Terrans. Whatever was on that disk, we weren’t meant to see it. Because we did, the captain considers all of us expendable.”

His words hung heavy in the air between them.

“I think it’s time you told me what’s on that disk.” A threat lay under his words.

“Later, Sir,” Eza said.

When Vance glared at him, Eza continued, “If you want to kill us for what we did, I’ll understand. It’s our fault we’re in this mess, and you’d be justified to shoot us. The problem is, we’re also two of the only people keeping you alive. Be angry with us all you want, but save it until after we barricade the rest of the building and find a way off this planet.”

Hatred slowly faded from Vance’s eyes. His anger spent, he released Yen and regained his military composure. “Decker, I need you and your men to spread out and search this building. There should be connectors to the outlying buildings in the compound. Make sure all those doors are sealed in case one is breached. Check every possible window to ensure the metal plating is still firmly in place. I don’t know about any of you, but I’m tired of being hunted like prey. If we’re going to make a stand here, let’s do it on our own terms.”

“Yes, Sir.” Decker gave orders to the handful of survivors. Infantry soldiers, split into two-man teams, began searching the building.

As Eza walked by, Vance placed a warning hand on his chest. “This is far from done, Eza. When we get out of here, I have every intention of taking up that offer to shoot you.”

Eza looked at Vance’s hand with an expressionless face. Nodding slowly, he brushed the hand aside and joined Yen in searching the building.

Nearly an hour later, the sound of hammering and welding filled the outpost’s main building. Having thoroughly searched the structure, they found a storehouse of maintenance equipment, including arc welders and enough tools to fortify the building. Two exterior doors had been pried open, though it wasn’t clear whether the former residents of the outpost or the Seques did the damage. Unnoticed by the stalking Seques, the survivors had time to weld shut the doors again and push heavy furniture against the frames for support.

Though reinforcing the building was loud, it did little to block out the howling and scraping of predators outside. The turret guns had long since run out of ammunition and fallen silent, leaving piles of bodies behind. Still, the Seques surrounded the building in waves, their numbers seemingly infinite. They threw themselves against the metal and stone exterior with ferocious blows. Doors and windows shook under the assault, but the extra metal plating held.

Where gaps appeared at doors or windows, a survivor quickly slid his weapon barrel through and fired a few rounds into the face of a hungry Seque.

Vance did his best to avoid Yen and Eza. The work required to defend their little outpost occupied much of his time but did little to abate the burning hatred he felt toward his team members. In a moment of curiosity and weakness, they condemned over 100 brave soldiers to death, including Aleiz. The soldiers who died had nothing to do with their mistake, but they paid the ultimate price. His anger toward Yen and Eza, however, was nothing compared to the burning desire for vengeance against Captain Young.

He was still focused on his anger when he stumbled upon the outpost’s control center. The room was cast in darkness, having no windows through which light could enter. His meager flashlight glistened off dormant screens and consoles.

In front of the door, chairs and desks were overturned in a weak attempt at a barricade. The center of the furniture wall was smashed, casting slivers of wood and metal across the floor.

Reaching down, he picked up a discarded shell casing, its exterior dark with dried blood. Smears of blood spread across the floor and splashed against the immobile consoles.

“Looks like they made a final stand here,” Decker said, walking up behind him.

Vance didn’t bother turning. “That’s how it looks. A fat lot of good it did them.”

Together, they stared into the dark room. From the distance, they heard the pounding of hammers and of Seques. Vance rubbed his trimmed beard, then his eyes, which burned from weariness.

“I wish we knew what they tried when defending themselves,” he said, his voice carrying in the empty room. “For starters, why was there still ammunition left in the turret guns? Were any of them able to evacuate the planet, or did they all die here? If they stayed and died, where are the bodies? If we knew what they tried, we wouldn’t have to backtrack and make the same mistakes.”

“We could try firing up one of the consoles,” Decker suggested. “I don’t know what sort of data they stored in here, especially when they were being hunted, but it might give us a chance.”

“Do we have any way to power the computers?” He finally turned to face the Pilgrim.

“The maintenance room has a small generator. I can’t imagine there’s much juice left in it, but it might be enough to run a single computer console. It would be slow going to search through all the files without the mainframe running its diagnostic software, but it’s better than nothing.”

Vance allowed a brief moment of hope to seep through his steadily depressing world. “Do it. Get whoever you need to help, but start going through these files. I figure we’ve got only a couple hours before sunrise. By then I want an answer for how we’ll get off this rock.”

Standing aside, as soldiers carried the heavy generator into the control center, Vance watched Decker and Yen pull thick cables from under the console table and attach electrodes from the generator. Though they worked quickly, Vance grew impatient and was eager to start searching the computer files.

Stepping away from the console, Decker and Yen wiped sweat, grease, and dust from their faces before shaking hands.

“Does that mean you’re ready?” Vance asked Decker. He and Yen refused to make eye contact.

“Let’s fire it up and find out.” Decker motioned to Yen, who pressed a yellow button on the side of the portable generator.

The old machine coughed a cloud of black smoke onto the floor, as its gears sought purchase. The old oil and fuel within struggled to ignite, and the generator rattled against the smooth floor. Finally spurting another cloud of noxious, black smoke, it hummed and found a rhythm to its operation.

The large view screen glowed, casting the room in pale blue light. The trio squinted against the sudden intrusion of light, as the console ran a diagnostic start-up program. Slowly, the screen changed to a steady, blinking prompt.

Yen entered the first line of a search protocol and sat back, as the console slowly spat out data. Vance watched the slow system move through the search query.

Tapping Decker’s arm, he gestured the Pilgrim to join him in the hall. Once they were out of earshot, Vance chewed his lower lip.

“What’s bothering you, Sir?” Decker asked.

“The search is going too slow.” He stared over Decker’s shoulder at the monitor in the control room. “At this rate, by the time it finds anything of value, it’ll be tomorrow night. The Seques don’t seem like the patient type. I don’t know if they’ll wait that long.”

“I don’t see what other option we have.”

Vance nodded knowingly and reached into the dark pouch firmly affixed to his hip. Unlatching the top, he pulled out a smooth, black sphere just larger than his palm. “A covert operations team never goes on a mission without a contingency plan.”

“Is that…?” Decker’s eyes widened in surprise.

“It’s a thermal nuclear bomb.” Vance’s voice never wavered, as he held the device of mass destruction. “If we can’t find a way out, I intend to set it off and take the threat outside with us.”

“Sir,” Decker said, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper, “that thing will level the entire city.”

“And irradiate the countryside for hundreds of miles in all directions. I’m fully aware of its capabilities, but I don’t see we have much choice.”

“What about survivors?”

“What survivors?” Vance replied coarsely. “Take a look around, Decker. We’re the only survivors, at least in any radius the bomb will affect.”

Decker narrowed his eyes before gently placing his hand on the orb. Pushing down softly, he lowered Vance’s hand. “Put that thing away. Give me until tomorrow night. If I can’t find an answer by then, I’ll back you when you use the bomb.”

Vance stared at the brash, young Pilgrim. He wanted Decker to be right, to find an answer hidden somewhere in the computer files on the console, but in his heart, he feared their search was in vain. In the end, he felt certain he’d have to use the bomb.

“You have until tomorrow night-if we survive that long. We’re completely surrounded by Seque. I don’t know how anyone will survive an entire day in this hellhole.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The Seque was caught by surprise by the inky black form launching itself through the air. It lashed out with jagged claws, slashing the Seque’s chest and arms. A clawed hand struck the side of the beast’s face, digging sharp nails through the monster’s tough hide. Latching its fingers under the Seque’s skin, the figure clawed downward.

Gray hide tore from the vicious slash, spewing green, frothy blood, as the nails dragged farther down its face. Tearing past the Seque’s left eye, a sharp nail ripped open the enlarged orb, deflating the eye and spilling sickly white fluid down the Seque’s ruined face.

Collapsing to the ground, the Seque mewled in pain, as it clutched the flap of dangling flesh and favored its ruined eye. A barbed tail struck from the dark figure, piercing the Seque’s exposed neck. Green blood sprayed from the punctured artery, dousing the assassin’s glossy exoskeleton and pouring in rivulets to the ground.

Ixibas stepped away from his most-recent kill and scanned the empty street. Nothing moved. No red eyes glowed at the Lithid from the darkness. Gesturing behind him, he brought Tusque limping from the shadow of a nearby alley, supported on either side by a pair of infantry soldiers. During their run, they encountered only four Seques, roaming freely from the pack as if on patrol. Each had been hastily dispatched with little or no sound, a blessing for the tired, injured group.

After being separated from the main group, Ixibas, Tusque, and four infantry soldiers made the difficult decision to leave the main road and enter a series of maze-like alleys that led deeper into the city proper-and deeper into regions dominated by the predatory Seque. At first, their departure from the main thoroughfare was disastrous. Seque leaped from rooftop to rooftop in steady pursuit, while others crashed through the narrow streets behind them or cut across their path.

Though Ixibas hated to admit it, the barking, nipping Seque drove them constantly forward. Two of the soldiers were lost in a sea of claws and teeth, their screams fading in the distance, as the others ran on. Pateros and Hollander survived, bearing the weight of the badly injured Oterian.

Ixibas scanned the road again, a sense of paranoia filling his mind. With the injured Tusque, Ixibas harbored little hope of escaping with the Oterian still alive. Miraculously, after being pursued through a myriad of side streets, the Seque suddenly faded into the shadows as quickly as they appeared.

Exhausted, sweaty, and bleeding, the four collapsed against the nearest building. Air burned in their lungs, as they struggled for breath. Though they wanted rest, Ixibas drove them on, putting more distance between them and the pack that pursued them.

After cautiously crossing four more streets, they encountered only the meager guard force of the Seque army. He began to think of them as an organized army after watching their behavior in combat. The group of four was funneled farther and farther from the military outpost, to the point where they were near the edge of the city. The Lithid had no doubt they’d never be allowed to flee the city completely. That path would be heavily guarded and would end in disaster. Instead, he searched for a nondescript building where they could hide, while they tried to find a way past the impregnable Seque defenses.

A little way up the street, he saw what he wanted. Motioning the others to follow, he ignored their groans of pain and disappointment, as he forced them on. Moving from shadow to shadow, Ixibas sneaked forward as scout, keeping distance between himself and the loud, labored breathing of the wounded Oterian. Eventually he reached the building and checked both alleys that flanked the small, squat house. Relieved, he noted no windows on either side, with only a single, shuttered window on the front. The seclusion meant the house was the perfect place to lay low while they healed wounds and discussed their next moves.

The front door wasn’t locked, and deep claw marks indicated it was opened by force once before. Still, the latch was intact, allowing Ixibas to close and lock the door behind the other three. Their flashlights pushed back the darkness of the slender, one-room house. A sturdy bed sat against one wall, while the opposite wall showed a combination kitchen and dining room. Rotten food sat at the table, the top stained with dark splashes. Ixibas didn’t bother inspecting further, having seen too much splattered blood throughout the city.

Pateros and Hollander lowered Tusque on the bed, which creaked dangerously under his weight. With him face down, they inspected the gashes lining his back and the severed muscle of his ruined calf. From the effort of fleeing, none of the wounds had closed, and all oozed viscous blood to coat his thick fur.

Wordlessly, Ixibas removed the pack from Hollander’s shoulders and set it on the table to rifle through the contents. The first-aid pouch was buried near the bottom. With a brush of his hand, he gently slid the bowls of ruined food to the edge of the table and unrolled the medical kit.

A variety of pads, bottles, and sharp metal instruments stared back at him, as he unfurled the pouch. He sorted through the ointments and sprays until he settled on a larger bottle with a wide-mouthed spray nozzle. He walked to his injured teammate and stopped short. His featureless face turned to the Uligart and Wyndgaart infantry soldiers.

“You might want to hold him down.” His gravelly voice broke the silence that held between them for several hours. He knew neither of the men had a chance of holding down an Oterian thrashing in pain, but it made them feel important and part of the team, and he needed a close-knit team willing to follow orders.

Ixibas leaned forward until his dark, oval face was inches from Tusque’s ear. He heard pained breath moving through the Oterian’s mouth and sympathized for the additional pain he was about to cause. Infection was already settling in where thick saliva from the Seque’s mouth fell over the wounds.

“This is going to hurt,” he said, adding, “a lot. You’ll want to scream, but you can’t. I need you to be a soldier and internalize the pain. If you scream, they’ll find us and kill us all.”

Tusque nodded imperceptibly. Standing over the Oterian’s back, Ixibas examined the wounds with a single clawed hand. He pulled back the torn flaps of skin with surgical precision, though Tusque flinched from pain, as the Lithid’s claws scraped exposed flesh. Ixibas raised the bottle until it was less than an inch from the wound.

Depressing the top, he shot foaming liquid until it filled the gaping wounds. Tusque’s back arched from the pain. Through tightly clenched teeth, he whimpered. The foam spread through the injuries, cauterizing exposed muscle and stopping the oozing blood.

Ixibas moved from injury to injury for less than a minute, inserting foam, much to Tusque’s dismay, until the bottle was empty. The Oterian’s heavy breathing settled into a comfortable rhythm, as pain drove him unconscious.

The other three collapsed to the floor, overwhelmed by exhaustion. Ixibas’ featureless face failed to show any of the weariness and concern evident on the other two.

“We can’t keep running like this,” Hollander whispered. “I’m exhausted and cramping in muscles I didn’t know I had.”

“We won’t be running for a while.” Ixibas’ words eased the Uligart’s concern, though his voice sounded rougher than traditionally came from a Lithid. “He needs time to heal. Until then, we’ll be hard-pressed to wake him, much less move him.”

“Thanks the gods we were able to lose them.” Pateros sighed and leaned his head heavily against the wall. Sweat glistened over his tanned skin and brightly colored tattoos.

“We didn’t lose them, you fool,” Ixibas hissed. “They let us go. They drove us exactly where they wanted and turned away.”

“Why would they let us escape?” Hollander painfully pushed away from the wall.

“We weren’t the target. They weren’t trying to kill us, just get us away from the others. We’re separated by dozens of city blocks. They separated us to make us easy prey. Now they can pick us off at their leisure.”

“You can’t know that,” Pateros said.

“I can,” he replied harshly. “If you don’t believe me, take a look out that window using the thermals on your helmet.”

Hollander and Pateros looked at each other before clambering to their feet and donning their helmets. They moved to the window and slowly pushed back the left shutter so they could look toward the heart of the city. Under thermals, the streets were cast in shades of dark blue and black, their heat from the day already expended. As they looked toward the far side of the city, toward the outpost, their eyes widened in astonishment.

The sky above the outpost glowed with deep red that flickered as if the flames of hell swallowed the compound. The red glow swirled around the buildings in a dancing circle, as the sea of Seques moved as one, trying to find a gap in the impenetrable building. The glow reached to the sky in a pillar of light, casting a red pallor over the nearby city like an evil blanket.

Even in the cool night air, the pair of soldiers wiped sweat from their faces. Closing the shutter, they slid down the wall as one, both looking dejected, as they removed their helmets.

“How can there be so many of them?” Hollander asked. “There would need to be thousands to make the glow that strong.”

“If not more.” Ixibas’ rough voice cut across the darkness.

“They’re on the far side of the city.” A tinge of pleading entered Pateros’ voice. “Now’s our best chance to get out of here. Why are we waiting?”

“You just looked out the window, and you have to ask?” Ixibas asked angrily. “When have Seques ever moved with a military mentality? Yet here we are, cut off from any chance of reinforcements and no chance of being evacuated any time soon. Something changed those creatures into the killers we encountered. Whatever gave them that much intelligence also made them smart enough not to let four Alliance soldiers walk casually out of the city.

“You didn’t look the other way, but I’m willing to bet you would’ve seen a fine red glow around the edges of the city, too. There’s no escape unless the Seques let us.”

“We’re going to die here, aren’t we?” Pateros asked quietly.

“It’s very possible. Make peace with whatever gods you pray to. The sun will rise in a couple hours. We’ll figure out what to do then. Try to sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

The sun broke over the tops of the business district and flooded light into the squat building where the foursome huddled. Tusque stirred slowly, letting the recently sealed wounds stretch before trying to do anything as brazen as stand. As soon as he was confident he’d feel nothing more than mild pain, he pushed himself off the bed and looked around the small room.

“Glad to see you’re still alive,” a gravelly voice said.

Turning, he saw Ixibas’ dark form leaning against the wall beside the window. The shutter was thrown wide, letting sunlight flood the room.

“Are you crazy?” Tusque asked brusquely. “Close the shutter, Boss. They’ll find us.”

“No need. Come take a look.”

Tusque was joined by the other two, as they walked to the window. Looking out, they stared at an empty street, marred by signs of struggle and death, but still empty.

“Where are they hiding?” Hollander asked. “They have to be out there.”

“I don’t see them anywhere,” Pateros said.

“That’s because they aren’t there,” Ixibas said proudly. He’d been standing at the window for the better part of an hour, scanning the city for signs of life. “When the sun started coming up, they disappeared. Their lights blinked out one after the other, as morning approached. Eventually, just before I had to shut off the thermals, there wasn’t a single living creature visible in the city.”

“And the outpost?” Hollander asked.

“I don’t know. If there’s someone inside, they won’t show up on thermals. I’ve tried raising them by radio but got nothing. Either they’re dead, or the outpost walls block the signal.”

“Where would they go?” Tusque asked, his weak voice still rumbling. “There were so many, Boss. Where’d they go?”

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the Seque are nocturnal. They’re sleeping. That means there’s nothing between us and the edge of the city.”

He gestured to the pile of armor and weapons on the floor. “Get your things. We’re leaving this city forever.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Awakening with a start, Keryn coughed roughly. Her throat burned. As she cracked open her eyes in the dark room, smoke stung them. Though only a faint glow filled the room from ambient light in the hall, she saw thick, acrid smoke quickly filling her bedroom.

Somewhere in the barracks, either on their floor or below, a fire belched dark smoke through the halls, burning up the oxygen and threatening to overwhelm the sleeping Wyndgaart. Keryn felt lucky a violent coughing fit pulled her from deep sleep.

Coughing again, she quickly climbed from bed and looked across the room. Through the smoke and gloom, she saw Iana’s sleeping form.

Pulling her shirt over her nose and mouth to block the smoke, Keryn hurried to her roommate’s side. She was barely able to make out her shape, as more dense smoke filled the room. Reaching down, she grasped the bundle on the bed, shaking it violently to wake the sleeping Pilgrim. The bedding flattened out to reveal it was nothing more than sheets and blankets bunched deceptively in the darkness.

Though it was the middle of the night, Iana wasn’t in the room. Concerned about her roommate and friend, Keryn realized she couldn't remain in the barracks. The smoke was almost overwhelming, and she coughed hoarsely, as it burned and dried her throat. Her eyes watered, blurring her vision and cutting streaks through the soot caking her face. Staggering toward the doorway and the soft light leaking from around the doorframe, she pulled it open and rushed into the hall.

Down the length of the hallway, the overhead lights flickered, as the unseen fire burned at the wiring. The neon lights flashed pale white light through the gray and blue smoke hanging in the narrow hall like a thundercloud. Looking both ways, she couldn’t see anyone fleeing from the smoke. Unless they were trapped in their rooms, Keryn was alone in the barracks. Everyone else was evacuated.

Shaking her head, she found it difficult to believe she was alone and had been left in the burning building. No one noticed her missing or ran down the hall, screaming her name. Her lungs filling with smoke, and her throat raw from coughing, she realized she was alone in the building.

Staggering across the hall, she banged loudly on the door, trying to disprove her sinking suspicion. Hearing no answer, she reached for the handle. It was hot enough to burn her palm.

Screaming in pain, she released the handle and saw it glowing brightly in the flickering gloom. Looking at her hand with tear-filled eyes, she saw a clear burn line imprinted on her palm. Pain radiated up her forearm, leaving her feeling nauseated, as she turned from the door.

Clutching her burned hand to her chest, she stumbled up the hall toward a staircase leading to the ground floor and out of the burning Academy. As she passed each door, she felt waves of heat radiate from the walls, as the handles glowed in the heat. Ducking her head below the acrid smoke, she drove toward the last door on the left, which led to a stairwell, and, eventually, fresh air.

Keryn reached for it and paused as another jolt of pain went up her arm from her burned palm. Her hand hovered over the handle, and she felt telltale signs of heat emanating from the doorframe. As she withdrew her hand, flowers of red heat blossomed along the length of the handle, spreading until the entire handle was consumed.

Slowly, as the door heated from the unnatural fire behind it, the handle went from red to brilliant white. It glowed so brightly, she was forced to look away. The handle drooped and bent downward. Drops of liquid metal fell to the floor at her feet, burning the carpet.

Backing away, she turned to the last door at the end of the hall-an emergency stairwell that led to the roof. Though the roof wouldn‘t be safe in a maelstrom of fire that was hot enough to melt metal, she had no other option. Her only hope was finding freedom from the thick smoke and signal for help. Fighting her sense of fear, she wiped away the sweat rolling down her forehead and washed more soot into her eyes.

Tentatively tapping the door handle, she was surprised to find it cool to the touch. Quickly opening it, she looked up the unusually long stairwell. Behind her, the door clicked closed softly behind her, cutting off the smoke and flames. As it closed, the sounds of the flickering lights and distant, wavering flames disappeared.

Keryn walked up slowly, her lungs screaming for fresh air. She tried to keep her eyes on the tall door at the top of the stairs, but it remained lost in the distance. No matter how many stairs she climbed, it never came closer.

After walking for what seemed forever, her legs ached from exhaustion, and her breath came in labored gasps. Still, the doorway remained out of reach.

Resting her head in her arms, she leaned against the railing and tried to catch her breath. Slowly, her lungs relaxed, and air flowed past her torn, raw throat.

On her dry tongue, Keryn noticed an unusual tang to the air, which triggered her taste buds. Confused, she stepped up one stair, as she pushed off from the railing, and felt a seashell crunch under her heel.

Barefoot, she felt the stair’s carved, pitted texture. She stepped back to look. The sterilized gray of the Academy steps was replaced by soft pink and blue pastel coral. Looking up higher, her lips quivering, she stared up the arched walkway leading to the Shrine of Initiation. A soft breeze blew salt air across her face, drying some of the sweat on her brow. In the distance, she heard crashing waves like rolling thunder, breaking on the cliff face. Nervously, she took another step higher, moving toward the Shrine’s auditorium and the Warrior’s Circle.

Along the staircase, she saw figures carved into the coral walls. Looking closer, she realized they weren’t the religious figures of the Wyndgaart she saw so many times. These were twisted abominations. Each panel showed another scene between the man and woman, telling a story, as Keryn climbed higher. Though the figures started together in a semblance of the mating couple dominant in Wyndgaart theology, the next panel showed them separated. The male and female figures that once writhed together in pleasure faced each other in combat.

Expressions of murderous rage were etched on those faces, as they brandished deadly weapons. The pair clashed time and again, as the scene progressed, leaving both with gaping wounds and covered in their own blood.

Glancing upward, Keryn saw she was near the end of the stairs. Dread clenched her heart, as she prepared to step into the unknown. Intent on cresting the staircase and facing what awaited her, she failed to notice the last panel in the relief, a scene in which a dozen tentacles erupted from the spine of the male figure, as he threw himself at the female.

Stepping through the archway, Keryn found herself wearing Initiate’s garb. Broad strips of fabric wound around her chest and groin. In her hand was a ceremonial Wyndgaart dagger, its blade curved and razor sharp. Hesitantly, she stepped from the entryway and passed between the elevated auditorium seating, as she approached the Warrior’s Circle.

No soft chanting reached her ears. Unlike the last time she was there, no audience filled the seats. Glancing left and right, she walked toward the sandy stage. Above, a full moon cast its silvery light on the Shrine. Aside from the crashing waves, no sound reached her ears.

Keryn stepped into the Warrior’s Circle, smiling to herself at the feel of soft sand cushioning her feet. She fought many battles in sand like that during her years of schooling. The feel brought memories flooding to her, as well as a sense of longing. Since leaving her home, she never felt as homesick as she did, standing in the Circle, breathing salty air and feeling sand between her toes.

It’s hard to let go, isn’t it? a woman from the far side of the Circle asked.

Spinning toward the voice, Keryn gave a surprised yelp and staggered backward. Across from her, just outside the Warrior’s Circle, was a replica of herself. Dressed in a cadet’s uniform, the doppelganger smiled confidently. Her flowing silver hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, allowing her bright tattoos to shine in the moonlight.

Keryn dropped into a defensive stance with the knife held in front of her, threatening. “Who are you?” she hissed.

The mimic walked casually around the Circle, ignoring her question, as she admired the architecture of the Shrine. Keryn turned with her, keeping her dagger ready.

You spend so much time focusing on the end task, you barely ever take time to admire the world around you, the woman said. Life seems to pass you by before you realize it.

“Who are you? What are you?”

The woman paused and turned toward her. A familiar smile fell upon her lips, one Keryn saw many times in her own mirror. Though she refused to believe her eyes, she knew the woman mimicked her actions perfectly.

You already know what I am, Keryn. You’ve heard my Voice in your head many times.

Keryn stared at the strange woman, letting her voice roll through her mind repeatedly. She was right, and Keryn knew it. Though she never envisioned a personification for it, she knew she was looking at her own Voice.

I never asked for much from you. She stepped forward, leaving a trail behind her. Barely visible, it showed a hundred different faces in her wake, as if Keryn looked at a series of mirrors. My only request was that you make us proud in whatever you chose to do. You aren’t making us proud, Keryn.

The words struck with physical force. Keryn staggered backward before collapsing to the sand. The Voice spoke as if channeling a hundred ancestral voices through her own.

You turned your back on us, Keryn. The words echoed in the air, alternating in pitch and tone, first sounding soft and feminine, then deep and masculine. You rejected us. You have left us in limbo, waiting for the day you decide to merge.

“This isn’t real.” She climbed to her feet. “You aren’t real!”

In a blur, the Voice was before her. With surprising strength, it caught her cheek with a backhand slap that tossed her down to the sand. Keryn touched the pain flaring on her face.

Did that feel real enough? Do you still think this is a dream? Do you think it’s not real?

As she ran her fingers over her bruised cheek, true fear twisted her stomach. “What do you want from me?”

It’s not what I want. It’s what they want. With a wave of her hand, the stands filled with cadets. Though the figures in the seats wore cadet uniforms, their faces were blank. Flowing hair or dense fur framed their heads, stopping at the edge of empty ovals. Enough seats were filled that Keryn was sure every cadet was represented in the packed auditorium.

They sat stoically in their seats, clutching a multitude of glowing, shimmering knives and blades similar to those she wielded during her aerial joust.

They want revenge, Keryn. Every person here is someone you defeated during the ground-fighting portion of your training. Look in the front row. See the boy with crutches? You hurt him so bad in the bar, he won’t be able to walk on his own for a week or more.

Keryn saw the faceless figure that was clearly Zalide, Sasha’s boyfriend. Though he had no readable expression, his body language showed a clear desire for revenge. He swung his shimmering knife angrily, and the blade seemed to yearn for her blood. Keryn scanned the rest of the crowd, searching for other familiar faces.

They aren’t here. The Voice read her mind. Some don’t want you dead, so they aren’t present. One wants you dead so badly, there was no way she could be represented as just another faceless person among the crowd.

As Keryn watched, the Voice walked toward the low wall at the back of the Shrine to look over the ledge, down hundreds of feet to the crashing waves.

They want your blood, Keryn. I might’ve stopped them, but you turned your back on me and your entire race. Now I leave you to them, and I turn my back on you.

Keryn scampered to her feet, as the crowd stood in unison. Slowly, moving like animated corpses, the audience shambled toward her, jabbing the air with greedy knives. The weight in her hand shifted. Looking down, she saw she no longer held the ceremonial knife. In one hand was her blue, shimmering blade, while the other held the pistol from the joust.

Her Initiate’s garb was gone, replaced by the thick, black suit from the previous day. Keryn looked from her pistol to the crowd, knowing her gun would never stop them all. The faceless audience didn’t wear jousting suits, which meant her knife was useless against them.

“You’re pathetic,” an arrogant, familiar voice called from the wall behind her. “You were a failure from the moment you entered the Academy.”

Keryn turned angrily.

Standing atop the wall, her back to the cliff, Sasha sneered at the Wyndgaart. She wore the same jousting suit Keryn wore. Sasha’s spiteful eyes narrowed to slits. Her wings outstretched, the Avalon mocked her from her delicate perch.

“You never deserved to be in the Academy!” Sasha shouted. “You’re a savage!”

Groping fingers closed around Keryn’s hair, tugging and pulling her toward the vengeance-driven crowd. Their eerie silence haunted Keryn, as she threw an elbow against the nearest person. He collapsed backward without a word and was swallowed by the surging crowd.

Sasha backed closer to the edge until only her toes gripped the wall. She snarled at Keryn, as the audience reached out with pale and dark hands, trying to pull her into their seething mass. Keryn’s hatred of the pompous Avalon swelled, as Sasha screamed obscenities at her.

“You’ll never graduate as long as I’m here,” Sasha said over the shuffling of mindless feet. “The only way to beat me is to kill me!”

With her last cry, Sasha leaned backward and disappeared over the edge of the cliff. Keryn, breaking free of the clawing hands, rushed toward the edge. Catching sight of the pale wings plummeting farther away, Keryn didn’t break stride and launched herself over the edge of the Warrior’s Circle.

She became weightless, as she free fell toward the ocean. Her silver hair trailed behind, while the cliff shot past in a blur. Tightening her grip on her pistol, she kept her eyes on the falling Avalon. She could still see Sasha’s sardonic smile, as she watched the Wyndgaart descend. Tucking her arms to her side and angling downward, Keryn dived, intent on crashing headlong into the Avalon.

As she drew closer, Sasha’s body jerked violently, though the scornful smile never faded from her lips. The center of her abdomen distended, rounding as though she were pregnant, before a spear tip burst through her skin. Sasha slid down the shaft, smearing tip and haft with dark, red blood. Though she was impaled, malicious laughter bubbled from her throat. She moved her lips as if speaking, her words carried hauntingly on the wind, reaching Keryn’s ears like distant whispers.

“The only way to beat me is to kill me,” the disembodied voice whispered. “The only way to beat me is to kill me. The only way….”

Keryn pulled her pistol from her side, the muscles in her arms straining, as she struggled to aim at the martyred Avalon below. Pulling Sasha into the sights, she squeezed the trigger. Blue light leaped from the end of the barrel. The contemptuous smile never left Sasha’s lips, even when the laser struck her chest.

Instead of paralyzing Sasha, it struck her like a rock hitting a window. Her body cracked, sending fine, spider-webbed fractures across her torso and down her arms and legs. A crack split her face and her ever-present smile in two. Still, bubbling laughter mocked Keryn. She fired again, and the second laser struck the same spot. Sasha’s body shattered like glass, sending shards of the Avalon and the spear spiraling away toward the ocean.

With the laughter gone, all Keryn heard was the whipping of the wind and the thunderous waves.

Still falling, she saw the jutting rocks reaching from the waves like the teeth of a hungry monster. Keryn plummeted toward the open maw of rock and saltwater, falling hopelessly to her death. The fear that gripped her returned tenfold. She’d been so focused on killing Sasha, she never considered the consequences when she leaped from the ledge. As she passed the two-thirds mark of her fall, she realized how shortsighted she’d been.

Keryn threw out her arms, hoping to slow her descent. Tears stung her eyes and burned in her chest, a mixture of fear and regret spilling down her cheeks and falling away behind her. Through blurry vision, four lines coalesced, blocking her sight of the deadly rocks. They thickened and formed sturdy, glowing fingers.

Following the fingers, she saw Iana’s disembodied face, smiling compassionately. Beside her, Bellini appeared, and another hand materialized below her. Other faces emerged, those of cadets she met and befriended during her training, their hands joining the first two.

Slowly, the fingers interlocked and crossed. As they thinned, they left behind a gossamer net of softly glowing yellow light. Keryn struck the net, and it collapsed around her. Though she still fell, it felt as though she passed through water. The net enveloped her, wrapping her in a secure cocoon.

Slowly, the net tightened, constricting her movements. It became tighter and tighter, as she struggled to move, and, eventually, breathe. What once appeared as a safety net became a prison.

Beyond the gossamer glow, the faces of her friends were replaced by the faces of Sasha and her cohorts. The yellow net turned red and squeezed tighter. When her diaphragm constricted, Keryn could no longer find the air to breathe.

Darkness crept into her vision, as spots of light danced before her eyes.

Keryn awoke with a start, her body bathed in sweat. Sitting upright in bed, she found herself within the comforting darkness of her barracks room. From the far side of the room, she heard the comforting Iana’s deep breathing.

Climbing from bed, Keryn stumbled to the bathroom, her body aching from phantom exertion. She closed the door and turned on the light. The reflection that stared back was clearly hers. The doppelganger Voice was gone, replaced by the authentic Keryn. Her disheveled hair was matted to the side of her head with sweat. Remembering her dream, she absently rubbed her burned hand and looked at it. Callused but unmarred skin met her gaze.

Wiping sweat from her brow, she struggled to remember the details of her nightmare. Her body was drenched as if she just ran through the Academy’s burning halls. Since she was awake, the nightmare was already fading, slipping through the recesses of her mind like sand through an hourglass.

Angrily, she turned off the light and walked blindly back to bed. By the time she lay down and pulled the blanket over her stomach, most of the dream was lost. All her subconscious held was powerful imagery and emotion. Whether by her own accord or by some scheming of the Voice, she remembered the deep-seated message carefully concealed among the troubling images.

Lying in bed, Keryn smiled softly into the darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The sun cast broken rays of light through the patchwork metal plates screwed over the windows. Squinting, Vance looked up at the beams, as they fell over his face. He stretched, trying to relieve the pain that settled into his lower back.

He spent most of the night in the hall outside the control room, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Vance let the sound of the Seques’ howls and clawing against the building’s exterior soothe him into a trance. Sleep hadn’t come, though he wasn’t sure if he would’ve welcomed it even if it were possible. He fought the yawn that intruded and rubbed drowsiness from his eyes.

Casting a look into the control center, he saw Yen and Decker hard at work, deciphering pages of text buried in the computer files. Their bleary red eyes and slouched facial expressions told Vance what he already suspected. Neither of the soldiers slept all night. With the adrenalin purged from their systems, the aches and pains of fleeing the Seques the previous night settled uncomfortably in every joint and muscle.

Shaking free the pins and needles coursing through his calves and feet, Vance walked through the outpost to check the other survivors. Most huddled against walls, weapons clutched protectively against their chests. Living through a night of fear left their faces drawn and sunken. Their haunting eyes followed him, as he passed. He wasn’t sure what their reaction would be if he approached. All were on edge, waiting for a single Seque to discover a weakness in their defenses and slaughter them all. If Vance made a sudden move toward any of those soldiers, there was a strong chance he’d be shot.

Lost in his thoughts, Vance ignored his surroundings and kept walking. The one thing he never wanted was to carry the guilt and heartache of losing more soldiers. His team relied on him to carry them through every hardship. Most of them were dead, and his heart was hardened to the two who survived. Even if inadvertently, their actions caused countless deaths.

Still, he wondered if his hatred was misplaced. Eza and Yen made a dangerously poor decision to open the disk, but Captain Young was the one who destroyed them. He sent them into a trap and executed Aleiz. Vance’s desire for vengeance returned, surging through his blood. He would find a way off the planet if for no other reason than to exact that revenge.

“How long do you plan to ignore us?” Eza called from behind.

He was so lost in thought, he walked past the Wyndgaart without noticing him.

Vance paused, then shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Ignoring you seems like the best course of action, especially in our current situation.”

Eza slid from the table on which he sat and walked up beside the Pilgrim. “Yen and I screwed up. We both know that. Don’t you think we feel enough guilt already for what happened here?”

“I don’t know.” He turned toward Eza with a stern stare. “Do you feel guilty enough for all these soldiers’ deaths? Do you feel guilty enough for Nova, Ainj, Tusque, and Ixibas? How about for Aleiz?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he said with a sigh, “it isn’t. You made a mistake, but you didn’t intentionally betray us like Captain Young did. You’re just the outlet for all the anger I feel right now.”

Vance raised an eyebrow in confusion and became lost in concentration.

“So how long do you plan to stay mad at us?” Eza asked.

“Shut up,” Vance hissed.

“That answers that.” He threw up his hands in disgust.

“No. I mean stay quiet! Listen.”

Eza strained to hear whatever Vance noticed, but all he heard was silence. Nothing seemed to be moving. “I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the point. I spent all night long sitting against a wall, listening for the Seques to finally claw through a window or door….”

“…and now the noise is gone.” Eza finally realized what Vance meant.

Vance heard nothing-not the growling, howling, or clawing at the walls. The city was as silent as when they arrived. “How long has it been like this?”

“I have no idea. Help me move this shelf.”

Vance and Eza hurried to a metal shelf that had been pushed in front of one of the plated windows for extra protection. With a loud screech, the shelf moved aside, letting sunlight cascade into the narrow hall.

Vance peered between two slits. The window looked out across a grassy field toward a row of warehouses 800 feet away. The grass had been trampled, grinding the green stalks into the ground and churning the earth into muddy soup. Footprints filled with dirt, filth, and drops of green blood were visible, but no Seques remained.

Eza took a turn at the window, scanning carefully for any sign of the monsters. Finally, he stepped back and met Vance’s inquisitive eyes. “Where’d they all go?”

Vance wordlessly ran through his options. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’d love to find out. You interested in joining me for an early-morning walk?”

Eza smiled for the first time since arriving in the city. “I’d be delighted.” He pulled his ax free from his belt.

They walked through the hall until they reached the control room. Others, noticing their silence, fell into place behind them, their determination evident to all they passed. The rest of the survivors yearned to hear the answers the two apparently possessed.

Vance stopped at the entrance to the control room and caught Decker’s eye.

“I’ve got good news,” they said in unison.

“You first,” Vance said.

“We’ve been scanning the computer files all night. Without the mainframe, we can’t do any comprehensive searches. We had to search file by file, which is exhausting and monotonous.”

“I thought you had good news.”

“I’m getting there,” Decker said defensively. “When Yen started checking the automated defense systems-turret guns, automatic locks and shutters, and emergency beacons-he found a common thread. Someone input a virus that disabled the entire defensive matrix.”

“I thought you said you had good news,” Vance said slowly.

“It is good news. We think we can bypass the virus and send a distress beacon. What automatically responds to any distress beacon by sending a signal of its own?”

Vance smiled. “Every Alliance ship within range.”

“If there’s a ship on this planet, we’ll find it. It’ll take time to bypass the virus and reconfigure the beacon, but we should have it up and running sometime today.”

“That is good news.” A glimmer of hope returned. “My turn. Every Seque outside is gone. I don’t know where they went, and it could be a trap, but if you can find me a ship, and the Seques are hiding, we could very well leave this planet today. Eza and I are going outside to check. If it’s a trap, we’ll know pretty quickly.”

“I don’t trust it.” Yen looked up from the screen. “It’s too convenient.”

“Don’t you think there’s a better way to find out if it’s a trap?” Decker asked.

“Probably,” Eza said, “but we’re awfully bored. Nothing like imminent death to get the blood flowing back to the extremities.”

Eza and Vance slid extra magazines of ammunition into the pouches on their body armor and adjusted the plates that covered their shins and forearms. Yen stepped away from the console, as they finished, his eyes burning from strain and a headache throbbing behind his temples from the sound and smell of the generator.

He approached Vance, as the Pilgrim stuffed another grenade into his backpack. “Sir, I….” A plea for sympathy showed on his face.

“Don’t. I can’t say you didn’t do anything wrong, but my grudge is with Captain Young, not you. If you want to gain my favor again, find me a way off this rock, so I can let Young know how my barrel tastes before I send him straight to hell.”

Yen nodded, a look of relief breaking across his furrowed brow. “I won’t let you down, Sir.”

“Not again, you won’t.” Vance joined Eza at the entrance to the room.

The pair checked each other’s equipment and weapons one last time before moving toward the sealed front door.

It hadn’t been welded shut as most of the other doors and windows. Instead, massive piles of furniture and shelving units lent tons of pounds of support to the battered door. Even through the extra protection, the metal door showed wear and dents from its nightlong abuse.

The survivors helped Vance and Eza move furniture for nearly an hour. Beneath their heavy armor, sweat ran down their backs in rivulets, but neither complained. They savored the manual labor and the pain it caused, glad for a reason to be moving instead of hiding behind the outpost’s thick walls.

Finally, the warped door stood naked before them, lined on either side by recently displaced furniture.

“You know this has to be a trap, don’t you?” Eza rested his hand on the door’s locking bar.

“Probably, but I’d rather face my death head-on than starve to death inside this outpost.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Straining, they moved the heavy bar aside. Though it screeched in protest, the handle turned and granted them access to the muddy field outside.

Rifle barrels jutted from the sills on either side of the door, as the survivors hurried to provide covering fire against any threat the pair might encounter. As the door opened, they faced only sunshine and silence. Muddy footprints showed on the walls and door exterior. The shuffling of massive bodies was evident on the stone walkway that led to the outpost’s main building.

Viscous green blood was smeared in waves, running down the gentle hill to the street, but, as it was when they first entered the city, there were no bodies. The piles of Seques cut down by the turret guns had been hastily removed. Dark blood marked the spots where Dallis and the others fell near the entrance to the outpost, but their corpses were gone, too. The survivors were again alone in the city.

Vance and Eza jumped, as the door crashed closed behind them. They allowed themselves a soft chuckle, as they heard the heavy metal bar being replaced, but they sobered up quickly when they realized they were locked out. If anything happened in the silent city, they had to face it alone.

“I don’t get it.” Eza covered his eyes with his hand, as the glaring sun reached its zenith. “Twelve-foot monsters don’t just disappear.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Vance ran his hands through his tangled mess of dark hair. He left his helmet behind, knowing it would offer little protection against a Seque’s enormous claws and teeth. Even the body armor seemed superfluous, but he wore it as an easy way to carry extra ammunition.

“This is way too easy.” Eza’s rifle barrel panned back and forth, as he waited for an ambush that never came.

They stared at the city in silence. Sunlight reflected brightly off the windowed skyscrapers a few dozen blocks away, the light broken only by the dark voids of shattered windows. The city settled and returned to the state in which they found it the day before.

For over an hour, they scoured nearby city blocks, eager to find any signs of life. The sun beat down on the backs of their necks, draining them and reminding them of the exhaustion they staved off. Their search revealed nothing new, so they returned to the outpost in disappointment.

As they approached the front of the building, Eza and Vance shook their heads in confusion. The watchful eyes on them relaxed, and gun barrels withdrew from the windows.

“They’re actually gone,” Eza said. “Not gone, gone. I can feel them here somewhere, but not here.”

“I hope that’s just dehydration talking, because you aren’t making much sense.” Vance laughed.

He sat heavily on the ground before the outpost’s main door, wiping sweat from his brow. Eza, winded from the exertion, slid down beside him. Though Vance’s anger was genuine when he blamed Eza and Yen for their mistake, he was glad to have his old friend at his side again. They survived too many close encounters to die on that distant planet.

Still, concern gnawed the back of his mind. “I wanted to put this off awhile.” He squinted against the bright sunlight. “It’s time you told me what was on the disk.”

“Does it matter, anymore?” Eza asked breathlessly.

“It matters to me. It doesn’t matter how many missions I’ve been on. I always want to know what I’m fighting and dying for.”

Eza shrugged. “It had only two things of real value that we could find. One spoke of genetic experiments. I’m guessing we’re seeing the results of that-the sharp teeth, thick hides, long claws, and intelligence. They aren’t natural for a Seque. I can only imagine what other experiments the Terrans have in store if this is a taste of what’s to come.”

Vance nodded. “If we get off this rock, we’ll have to deal with the Terrans before they can do this to anyone again. Trust me-they’ll answer for their crimes here. The other thing on the disk?”

“It had an odd-sounding label, something toxic or toxide. I can’t really remember. I’m guessing that was the name of the task force the Terrans sent, since everything in the file talked about an advance Terran Fleet invading Alliance space. I didn’t notice a timeline. For all I know, while we’re trapped here, the Terran Fleet is already on its way.”

“All the more reason for us to find a way off this planet.” A chill went down his spine. What if the Terrans were already in Alliance space? The Terran Fleet could be wreaking havoc on unsuspecting worlds, slaughtering civilians, and the High Council might not know. They had to survive and warn someone.

The chill, however, came from the thought that somewhere in space, there was another colony of superintelligent Seques-or something worse. There were already many deadly creatures in known space. If the Terrans genetically altered one of those, the result would be damn near unstoppable.

He looked up toward the sun, which had reached its peak and was sliding toward the distant horizon. “How could you live on a planet with such short days?” he asked, watching it creep lower.

“Let’s go back inside and see if Yen and Decker found anything yet,” Eza said. “I won’t find anything to kill anytime soon.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ixibas led his group through the winding streets. Tusque lumbered behind him, still favoring his damaged leg, and Pateros and Hollander moved to the far side of the street, using the soft shadows for cover. With the sun still hanging in the sky, they didn’t expect much interference from the Seques, who spent the day in hibernation. The short days on the planet left them little time to escape before night returned, bringing with it the monsters that brutalized their group.

Keeping his natural form, Ixibas extended his claws until they jutted nearly one foot from his fingertips. He regretted not carrying his rifle, as the other three did. During the night, he was fine using his natural weapons, but during the day, he felt exposed and unarmed.

Their march through the city took longer than anticipated. Getting Tusque to his feet and moving despite the nearly unbearable pain in his body took most of the morning. Moving through the maze of intersecting streets, they saw the sun starting to dip past high noon and drift lazily toward setting. The closer it came to the horizon, the more they felt their time slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass.

Many of the roads ended in dead ends. Buildings had been intentionally collapsed across narrow streets, making natural chokepoints. They climbed the first two only to find themselves, after fifteen minutes of wasted time, facing yet another collapsed building or pile of furniture. To their chagrin, they found themselves following a preordained path through the city. It cost them extra time but led, in a roundabout fashion, to the edge of the city.

Reaching a main thoroughfare, Ixibas halted the group. He peered around the corner, not expecting to see movement, and he wasn’t disappointed. Though he was sure the Seques wouldn’t come out during the daytime, a heightened sense of danger kept him on edge.

As he scanned the rest of the road ahead, he was surprised to see no obvious obstructions. Aside from crushed cars and shattered glass, the way was clear. In the distance, still a decent walk away, green hills and crop fields rose from the city limits.

Though his featureless face betrayed no emotion, his gravelly voice contained excitement. “It looks like we may’ve found a way out. It looks clear ahead.”

“Then what are we waiting for, Boss?” Pain flared in Tusque’s back. He, more than the others, was eager to leave the city and find proper medical care. He started to step onto the street when a glossy black hand fell on his chest.

“Wait,” Ixibas said.

“Why?” Hollander caught the excitement emanating from Tusque. “We’re this close. We can see the way out of the city. Why not take it while the sun’s still up.”

“The Seques are intelligent. Are we in agreement about that?”

They nodded.

“Knowing they have a limitation about being exposed to sunlight, don’t you think they’d come up with a way to keep us in the city even when they were asleep? Don’t you think they expect us to make a run for it?”

“I’m looking down the street,” Pateros said, looking around the corner. “I don’t see anything. There are no barricades to climb over. They don’t even have a barrier at the end of the road like when we first entered the city. Maybe they didn’t expect us to choose this route for an exit.”

“They funneled us here,” Ixibas hissed in frustration. “Of course they expected us to come this way.”

“Sorry, Boss, but I can’t wait.” Tusque stepped into the open street. “I’m hurting, and I don’t know how much more running my body can handle. Either we get out of the city now, or you’ll do it without ol’ Tusque.” He walked down the road toward the city’s edge.

Without a backward glance, Hollander and Pateros fell in step behind the limping teammate.

Ixibas shook his head in irritation. “Stupid.” He stepped into the street. “Wait up. I’m coming, too. I want you to remember I said this was a bad idea.”

“Duly noted.” Hollander scanned the sides of the road for an ambush or trap. No one knew what to expect. Though they were eager to leave the city, they couldn’t ignore the fact that Ixibas was right. It was too easy.

They walked in silence for half a mile to the edge of the city before Tusque started rambling, to himself as much as anyone else, “I wonder how we’re going to let the ship know we’re alive and ready for pickup.”

Ixibas shrugged and scanned the road ahead. His eyes fell on the destruction around them-broken windows, smashed vehicles, and cracks in the pavement.

Looking closer, he saw a series of cracks to their left extended just over a foot on the ground before stopping. A few feet beyond, another pair of cracks extended a similar distance and stopped. The ground was undamaged.

Slowly turning in a circle, he scanned the rest of the road. In a concentric circle around them, cracks emanated no more than a foot before disappearing, as they approached the foci on which the group stood.

“Nobody move!” His growled words startled the others. “It’s a….”

Tusque stepped heavily, as he stopped his forward momentum. Beneath their feet, the ground shook from the impact, as if an earthquake was centralized beneath them. Hollander and Pateros spread their stance, trying to balance against the shaking.

Ixibas watched in horror, as Tusque stumbled and backpedaled toward the other three. As he stepped heavily on his wounded leg, it buckled under him. He fell backward into the middle of the group like a collapsing mountain.

As he crashed to the road, the fake covering broke loose and fell inward. The faux stone covering shattered, as fabric enclosed all four of them. Together, enclosed by shards of stone and gray cloth, they fell nearly twenty feet into a dark pit.

They landed on the packed dirt floor with a heavy thud, their limbs entangled and buried in the heavy tarp. Ixibas dug his claws into the tarp and tore a hole through it to emerge in a dark passage. Above, light fell down to spotlight them, casting a faint glow in the tunnel that extended in both directions.

“…trap,” he said, finishing his sentence far too late.

The others, emerging from the tarp, looked around. Aside from pillars of light from above, the tunnel disappeared into the darkness beyond where they stood.

“Where are we?” Hollander shook concrete dust from his hair.

“We’re in their home.” Ixibas walked to the nearest wall and ran his clawed hand over the surface, tracing long claw marks with his own sharp fingers. “They dug this.”

The rest of them looked at the mostly rounded tunnel. Nearly twenty feet overhead, the walls curved toward the ceiling. The tunnel ran parallel to the street, punctured with what they assumed were multiple false floors. The intense heat in the tunnel amplified the warmth of the setting sun, making the stuffy air thick to breathe.

“They were waiting for us to do something stupid like this,” Pateros said. “We were herded like….” He stopped, because the phrase would normally have been completed with the word Seques.

“They played us,” Ixibas said. “We were more than obliging.”

Tusque muscled his way from under the tarp and turned on his light. The beam cast a dim glow down the hallway. “Why build a tunnel like this, Boss? It goes on forever. Was this just to catch us?”

“No.” Ixibas’ voice sounded like rocks rubbing together. “I think capturing us was a secondary part of their plan. These tunnels are how the Seque disappear during the day.”

“You’re saying we’re in the middle of their home?” Fear crept into Hollander’s voice. “We’ve fallen into their nest?”

“We aren’t in the middle of their home yet, but we will be once the sun sets. Once they’re active again, they’ll flood the tunnels and find us. If we expect to survive, we need a way out.”

“Which way is out, Boss?” Tusque turned his broad flashlight back and forth, illuminating both stretches of the hall.

“I say we continue toward the edge of the city limits,” Pateros offered. “I’d rather not turn around and head back the way we came.”

Ixibas followed their flashlight beams in the direction they’d been going on the surface. The lights fell short of reaching the end of the tunnel, but he shook his head. They walked for less than ten minutes before the tunnel dead-ended. Pateros and Tusque looked for weak points without finding anything. There was no hope of escape that way.

Hollander approached Ixibas, who remained deeper in the tunnel. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?” Bony protrusions along his face glistened with sweat.

Even Ixibas’ glossy exoskeleton shone brighter in the tunnel’s warmth. “I had my suspicions. After all we’ve been through, I found it hard to believe they’d just let us go. If we want to escape their clutches, we need to head back into the city.”

Hollander shivered, knowing escape had been so close. “I say we move now and fast. The sun won’t last much longer.”

The group moved faster than before, nearly running over the tunnel’s uneven floor. The sticky air soaked their bodies with sweat, which poured into their eyes, as they hurried. Though they ran for some time, the tunnel never changed, except that it sloped deeper into the earth.

Hope fled, as they moved deeper into the dark tunnel. Three beams of light barely illuminated the slowly widening space. What began as a twenty-foot tunnel grew to thirty and forty feet, as they continued on.

The darkness became oppressive, and shadows seemed to move around them. The group turned left and right, trying to catch the fleeting movement at the edge of their vision. Fearing the darkness, they pushed on, hoping for an exit.

Instead of an exit, the floor sloped suddenly, as their wide tunnel emptied into a spherical room. Pateros, leading the way, was caught by surprise and stepped over the lip of the room before realizing his mistake. His light vanished over the edge. He slid and fell down the sloping wall into the room.

With his weapon tumbling free of his hands, his light harmlessly illuminated the wall to the right, exposing nothing of the room ahead. A wave of rotten meat assaulted their nostrils, making them gag, as the three stood on the precipice.

The wall of the round room went in a gentle slope before them to the floor thirty feet below. Lost in darkness, they heard the Wyndgaart groaning below from numerous cuts and bruises he received during his fall.

Hollander and Tusque lowered their lights until they saw the tanned Wyndgaart on his back, one leg crumpled awkwardly under him. It looked broken, and he made no effort to stand. His feet rested inches from a dark underground lake that dominated the floor. Though the three wanted to save him, the smell of rot rolled over them again.

“What’s that awful smell?” Hollander covered his nose and mouth with his free hand.

“It smells terrible.” Tusque waved his hand before his face. “What makes the smell, Ixibas?” He turned to Ixibas, whose dark oval face focused on the room beyond.

“Ixibas?” Tusque asked.

“Shine your light into the room,” he said softly, his voice taking on a worried edge Tusque hadn’t heard before.

The Oterian kept his eyes on the Lithid, looking away only when his broad light was aimed into the darkness beyond.

Their breath caught in their throat. Though the beam couldn’t reach the far wall, it showed the dominant pile in the center of the rounded chamber. Bloated bodies, swollen from heat and rot, were piled on each other. Empty, staring eyes looked down from thousands of faces that watched unseeing from the pile. Heads, mouths open and tongues lolling, emerged from the mound of corpses. Their faces were permanently locked in looks of horror that were captured when they died.

Hands reached down in claws, rigor mortis having twisted the muscles and pulled on their ashen skin. Thick blood poured over the pile, some congealed and some still running free, from dismembered limbs and free-falling organs that spilled from torn, half-eaten bodies. Cascading down the tiers of corpses to the floor, it pooled into a lake of dark-red blood.

Tusque and Hollander panned their lights up to expose the peak of the bodies nearly fifty feet above the floor. Dozens of freshly dismembered figures were tossed haphazardly onto the pile, their dark body armor visible.

“It’s every person from the city,” Hollander breathed.

“And our own friends.” Tusque stared at the torn, bloodied, armored soldiers atop the pile.

“We need to leave here now,” Ixibas hissed, his heart racing.

“We can’t,” Hollander replied. “Pateros is down there. I won’t leave one of our own after all we’ve been through.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ixibas’ voice took on a hard edge. “It’s already too late.”

Around the room, red eyes emerged from unseen tunnels and behind the pile of corpses. First, a couple dozen sets of eyes appeared, but the number grew, as the noise of combined growls of anger filled the room. Seques crawled from their cubbies, awakened from their sleep by intruding lights and voices. Hundreds of them awoke and entered the central chamber, seeing four helpless soldiers on the far side. Having just woken, their hunger for fresh meat was great.

“There are so many of them,” Hollander said, stunned.

“We can’t fight that many,” Tusque said meekly. “We’re going to die, aren’t we, Boss?”

“If we are,” Ixibas growled, “let’s make sure we kill as many of these bastards as we can before we go. Kill them all!”

The sound of gunfire and howls of rage filled the tunnels under the city.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The sun dipped behind some of the taller buildings, casting shadows that stretched nearly to the outpost. Outside, sitting side-by-side, Eza and Vance watched it set.

“Sir,” Eza said.

“I see it, too.” Vance watched the shadows grow longer, as the day faded toward night. “It’s time to go.”

They quickly climbed to their feet and hurried inside, the door having been opened for them by those who guarded the sturdy building. Without pause, they walked to the control room, where Yen and Decker still searched through endless files.

“We’re losing daylight fast,” Vance said, without formalities or friendly conversation. “Now would be a great time to tell me you have something.”

Yen leaned toward the console, typing furiously. Without breaking his locked gaze on the screen, he muttered, “Almost there. Bypassing the last of the virus protocols right now.”

“He’s been working nonstop,” Decker explained, “without sleep, breaks, or barely any food and water. He works like a man possessed, or someone with something to prove.”

“Got it!” Yen stretched his aching back and pressed a button, executing the program he created.

Emergency lights came on, casting a red glow over everything in the building, turning their skin amber. In the red light, their worn expressions and tired eyes made them look like animated corpses. A loud siren sounded in conjunction with a distress beacon being projected from the computer system.

“How long do you expect this to take?” Vance shouted over the siren.

“Not long,” Yen replied, his voice nearly lost in the din. “If there’s a ship within range, even a patrol on the outskirts of this galaxy, they’ll pick up the signal and reply within a couple minutes.”

“And until then?” Eza asked, his head throbbing from the noise.

“Until then, we wait.” Yen shrugged. “Any replies will come up on the display screen with a location and ETA.”

“Is there any way to shut off the siren?” Decker asked.

Other survivors gathered outside the door, most with hands over their ears.

“Give me a second.” Yen typed again.

Within moments, the sound died, leaving silence throughout the outpost. Vance opened his mouth wide a few times, trying to shake free of the ringing that persisted even after the siren stopped.

Though the suspense was overbearing, no one moved, as they awaited a response. Vance sat farthest from the others, lost in thought. Throughout their ordeal on the planet, his emotions had been a rollercoaster, rocketing between the extremes of hope and despair. More than once, he saw opportunities through which he bore hope of not only survival but escape, only to see them dashed by the cunning, dangerous Seques.

Members of the team, who appeared virtually indestructible, were killed by the monsters stalking his group. It was easier, he found, to sink deeper into a dark depression than to hope for salvation.

Once more, he sat in a room, hoping a savior would appear to snatch them from death. It wasn’t the first time he sat in such a situation, awaiting rescue. In every other instance, however, Halo was there to save him and his team. Her rescues were unerring, and Vance excelled in covert operations because of her help.

Halo was gone. His team was scattered and mostly dead, and he was forced to rely on the salvation of a stranger, someone he never met, and, to be honest, wasn’t even sure was in space with a rescue ship. He had to admit there was a good chance no savior would come. There was a distinct possibility that, after barely slipping through death’s fingers so many times before, that he might finally die.

Vance couldn't argue with the luck he had during his career. Many of the awards pinned on his dress uniform came from surviving situations that seemed beyond hope. In all those cases, he hadn’t survived because he feared death. He welcomed death’s embrace.

That time was different. Dying meant sacrificing the lives of those who relied on him. In that city, he already let over one hundred soldiers die while serving under his command. He refused to believe there would be no salvation, that the men with him, who already survived so much, would die alone and forgotten.

Vance wouldn’t allow that to happen. Somehow, some way, he would find a solution. Thus far, he realized he’d been playing the role of hero. Heroes didn’t die alone on a planet and let down those who depended on them. They found solutions. They were granted one last chance, a final option through which they could escape.

He needed that option. He needed a ship to respond.

“I’m getting something on the screen,” Yen said, breaking Vance from his reverie. “Sir, it’s a ship, but you won’t believe where!”

“Out with it!” Vance ordered.

“It’s here, in the city, not even four blocks from where we are.”

“Captain,” the communications officer onboard the Goliath said, “we’re picking up a distress signal.”

“From where?” Captain Young sat forward on his chair on the bridge.

“From Purseus II, Sir.”

“Give me a visual.” His display revealed flickering lines of text, which his eyes quickly followed. He smiled appreciatively and muttered, “What’s your game, Vance? What are you trying to do?”

He looked up from his console. “Helmsman, slow our exit from the system. Come to a complete stop and bring us into orbit around one of the nearby gas giants. I want to be available should those soldiers find a way off planet.”

“Roger, Sir,” the navigator said. “Coming to full stop.”

“”All right, Michael,” the captain said softly. “Let’s see what you’re capable of.”

“It’s a Cair ship, Sir,” Yen said, as schematics on the responding ship flooded over his screen. “It’s being stored in one of the warehouses on the compound, straight out the easternmost door. It looks like it was powered down, but once it detected our distress call, it started powering its main system.”

“Is it space-worthy?” Vance wouldn’t leave the safety of the compound unless he was absolutely sure of his escape.

“Readings say….” Yen studied the ship’s plans. “She’ll fly, Sir. She looks intact.”

The men in the room cheered, while Vance smiled. Only Eza remained somber.

“Sir, need I remind you we’re talking about covering four city blocks while we’re exposed?” Eza asked. “We’re also losing daylight fast. If we don’t move soon, it won’t matter if we have a ship.”

Nodding, Vance turned to Yen one last time. “What’s the designation of our savior ship?”

“The Cair Ilmun.”

“That’s the best name I’ve heard in a long time. Destroy all the computers before joining us at the side door. We leave nothing behind for others to find.” As he walked from the room, he called out orders. “Get your things together and get ready to move. We have a ship and are getting off this planet. If you drag ass, we’ll leave you behind.”

Exuberance filled the outpost, as the survivors scrambled to pull together basic necessities, checking their remaining ammunition and grabbing small amounts of food before hurrying to the side door.

A pair of soldiers beat Vance to the door and fired up a blowtorch. Blue flame leaped from the end of the torch, cutting into the recently sealed door. Metal dripped to the floor like wax, and sparks fell on the workingmen in sheets. They continued working, cutting through the multiple fused spots around the doorframe, while the others watched impatiently.

Eza stood near a window, staring across the darkening landscape. Vance joined him at a break in the window’s protective covering to admire the setting sun.

“I hope this is the last sunset we see on this planet,” Vance said softly, watching fading light glisten off windowpanes on the skyscrapers.

“We’re losing light too fast.” Eza was worried. “We were attacked at night the last time. There’s no reason they won’t hit us again once it’s dark enough.”

The smile faded from Vance’s lips. “How dark is dark enough?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like cutting it close when my life is on the line.”

Decker and Yen walked up behind the pair. Decker cleared his throat politely to get their attention.

“The consoles are destroyed,” Decker said. “I don’t know if Seques can read computer files, but they won’t have the option.”

“Good,” Vance said. “They’ve finished cutting through the door. I wish there was easy access from the front door, since we left that one unblocked. Once we get through, I’ll need all of your support.”

Eza pulled his ax free and tested its weight. After being cooped up for so long, he yearned for activity. “Just let us know what you need us to do.”

“Decker and Yen,” Vance said, pointing at them. “You know where the building is. I want you two in the lead. Head straight for the warehouse and don’t deviate.”

“Roger, Sir.”

The glow from the red light mixed with the flashes of sparks, revealing stern looks of dedication on their faces.

“Eza, you and I will take the rear to keep everyone moving.”

“And…?”

“And be ready in case we encounter trouble. I’m one of our best shots, and you were always our best fighter. I’m counting on you.”

“I won’t let you down.” Eza extended his hand.

Vance shook it firmly. Before he could release it, Yen laid his hand on theirs, followed by Decker. The four looked at each other, nodding solemnly.

“Good luck, Gentlemen,” Vance said.

The door behind them fell open with a crash. Smoke rose from the edges where the torch cut through.

“Let’s move,” Vance said.

The half-dozen soldiers ran through the doorway ahead of Yen, Decker, Vance, and Eza, their weapons aimed at the darkening grassy field beyond. No concrete had been poured for walkways through that area, leaving the grass unscathed save for where the Seques trampled a muddy ring around the building the previous night. Weak light glowed warmly over the field, illuminating a distant row of warehouses. Their nondescript exteriors betrayed nothing of the blessed ship stored within one of them.

Yen and Decker moved to the front of the group, as the infantry soldiers created a protective perimeter. Straining to see in the failing daylight, Yen counted three buildings over from the left and marked their destination before setting off across the field. They slogged hurriedly through tacky mud that pulled at their boots. Lifting their legs high to break free of the glutinous brown mud, they finally reached virgin grass and picked up their pace, almost running, as they headed across the flat ground toward the warehouses.

Vance glanced nervously over his shoulder, taking in the ghostly, quiet city and the three-quarter sun, as it set over the horizon. Its bottom edge disappeared, stealing a sliver of sunlight and dropping the temperature. Vance shivered, not entirely from the cold, as the sun’s rapid descent continued.

Yen led the group around minor obstacles like jutting rocks and unseen holes, choosing to remain on clear, even ground. The soldiers, laboring and tired but pushing forward, smiled, as the warehouses neared.

As they dodged a second outcropping of rock, the ground beside them exploded upward.

A flimsy tarp, draped with dirt and sod to make it invisible, was thrown skyward, revealing the sloping mouth of a tunnel. A massive Seque hand emerged, closing around the leg of a nearby soldier and jerking him from his feet. He fired wildly, most of the rounds going upward, as his hip gave way with a sickening pop.

When the Seque pulled him toward the hole, the soldier rolled onto his stomach and clawed at the ground while screaming for help. The survivors fired repeatedly at the Seque but couldn’t stop it. With a final scream, the soldier disappeared into the dark hole, and his screams faded into silence.

As the group tried to recover from its shock and continue toward the warehouse, a second Seque leaped from a pit on the opposite side. Its massive weight crashed heavily against an unsuspecting soldier, dragging him down, as it raked him alternately with jagged claws and hungry fangs. He screamed and squirmed under its bulk, red blood spraying the air.

Vance fired twice, catching the Seque in the throat both times. It lurched, stepping free of the soldier and staggering before collapsing to the ground. Unfortunately, it was too late for the soldier. The Uligart was eviscerated, spreading blood and organs across the ground.

The ground rumbled, and more false patches of grass shifted. Vance looked at the stunned group and shouted, “Run! Don’t stop, just run!”

They sprinted away from the ambush, as a group of Seque emerged from hidden passages under the field. Their bulky frames picked up speed, as they ran after the men who were closing quickly on the warehouses. Gunfire filled the night air, as Seques howled in rage and pain, some collapsing to the ground. As one fell, another emerged from a nearby put to pull its body away while more beasts joined the chase.

A shadow passed over Vance. He dropped to one knee and saw the Seque pass over his head. Missing its target, it shifted in midair and fell atop a soldier running ahead of Vance and Eza. Before Vance could raise his rifle, a whirl of steel fell on the Seque. Emerald blood spewed from its body, as Eza’s ax tore through its flesh and struck joints and other exposed areas. Soon the Seque collapsed to the ground. Drenched in viridian gore, Eza pulled Vance to his feet and continued running toward the ship.

Having stopped for a moment, they fell farther behind Yen, Decker, and the three remaining soldiers. In the deepening night, more red eyes emerged alongside the path. Behind them, they heard the squishing sound of heavy footsteps.

Vance’s breath burned in his throat. The Seques closed the distance quickly, running awkwardly on short back legs and swinging their bodies forward with each gait using their elongated arms. Though their legs pumped rapidly, the Alliance men didn’t have a chance of outrunning the monsters.

“We’ll never make the warehouses in time,” Vance said, praying to the gods that at least Yen and his group would escape. “They’re too fast.”

“Keep running.” Eza’s face strained from exertion.

“We won’t get out of here alive.” The realization hung heavily on him, as he felt like luck running out.

“No. You’re making it out of here.” Eza slid to a halt and spun toward the advancing Seques.

“What are you doing?” Vance looked back when he realized the Wyndgaart wasn’t following.

“Making sure you get out of here alive!” he shouted, not looking back. “Either you stand beside me and die here, or you keep running and stop Captain Young. I’d rather you lived long enough to kill the traitorous son of a bitch, so go!”

Vance started to turn, intending to run back to Eza’s side and pull him to the warehouse if he resisted. Sensing Vance’s hesitation, Eza ran at an approaching Seque and slid under its long claws, slamming his ax into its groin and dropping it to the ground. Steel flashed dizzingly back and forth, as he let the Voice saturate his body. Moving like a serpent, he struck the advancing Seque repeatedly, and they stopped chasing the others to deal with the new threat.

Claws bit at his flesh, as more of the creatures surrounded him. He struck alternately with ax and pistol, severing the fingers of any Seque that reached out aggressively or placing well-aimed bullets in exposed knees, groins, or faces. He staggered as he leaped aside from a diving Seque, but its sharp teeth slashed his leg. The tips of a clawed hand caught his chest. He moved backward quickly, but it wasn’t far enough. Bleeding and in pain, he fought on.

Stepping backward slowly, Vance stared in disbelief at the sacrifice made on his behalf. Blood seeped from multiple wounds on Eza’s body, but he fought like a man possessed, cutting down more and more of the beasts and halting their advance on his leader.

Knowing he couldn’t let his friend die in vain, Vance turned and sprinted toward the warehouse. He didn’t look back, because he didn’t want to see Eza die at the hands of the monsters.

Yen and Decker led their group toward the warehouse. Only one soldier followed. Two others were caught by pursuing Seques and dragged down. The warehouse loomed, its lettering and numbers emerging from the gloom of the dim night. The personnel door was set to one side of the massive bay doors, and Yen angled his run toward it.

As he neared the building, a large shape broke from the shadows between two warehouses. Slathering jowls emerged from the darkness, as a Seque charged them. Nearly fifteen feet tall, it bore down on trio, as they slid to a halt on the wet ground.

The air around Yen shimmered in the weak light. Splaying his fingers before him, he clamped down on the Seque’s nervous system, as he did to the Terran soldier before. It stopped, a look of confusion replacing the rage it felt a moment before. Tilting its head to one side, it snarled and planted one foot in the soft soil, taking an angry step forward, though its momentum was slowed by Yen’s resistance.

His eyes narrowed to slits, and the aura of shimmering air around him expanded, whipping his hair wildly in an unseen breeze. The Seque slid backward, losing traction even though it dug its clawed feet deeper into the ground. With a howl, it pushed forward again, fighting Yen’s control.

Blood seeped from Yen’s nose and ran down over his lip to drip from his chin. “I can’t hold it!” he said in a weak, strained voice.

Decker’s first shot caught the Seque’s knee. It staggered from Yen’s psychic energy and the shattered kneecap. Before it could fall, Decker fired two more rounds into the huge beast’s left temple.

The Seque was driven backward by Yen’s force. Its eyes rolled back into their sockets, and it pitched over backward, collapsing to the grass.

Yen’s knees buckled, as the energy around him abated. Decker quickly helped him to his feet and pulled him inside the open door of the warehouse. Letting the surviving infantryman take Yen, Decker turned and saw Vance dive through the open door.

“Close it!” Vance shouted, landing on his back with his weapon trained on the doorway, where dozens of Seques rushed toward them.

Decker slammed the door and threw the locking bar moments before angry Seques barreled against the building. Using the wall for support, Vance climbed to his feet and examined the four survivors. Yen wobbled on his feet, leaning heavily against the soldier.

“Is he all right?” Vance asked.

“I hope so,” Decker said. “He strained himself pretty bad stopping that Seque.” He looked around in surprise. “Where’s Eza?”

Vance slowly shook his head, feeling a knot build in his throat, as tears slid from his eyes. Eza sacrificed himself so Vance could have his revenge against Captain Young. He wouldn’t let such a sacrifice be in vain.

Turning away from the others, he surveyed the busy warehouse. Piles of boxes filled the near half of the room, but a ship dominated the rear half. Its glossy silver exterior glowed in the darkness.

Leading the way, he pushed past the cluttered collection of supplies until he reached the rear hatch of the Cair Ilmun. When he entered his ID code, the door opened with a hiss, and the interior lights came on, flooding the area around the ship in a halo of illumination. Though they still heard the banging of Seque outside the building, the four survivors boarded the ship reverently.

Yen pushed past the soldier and walked toward the cockpit. Rubbing his temples as if suffering from a severe headache, he went past Vance and Decker to the front of the ship. He stumbled, nearly falling into a bench that lined the crew compartment.

“Are you healthy enough to fly this?” Vance asked wearily.

Since Yen was the only qualified pilot left alive, they had few options. “If it means getting off this planet, I’ll be fine. You might want to strap yourselves in.”

They sat down and strapped in, their hearts racing, as the engines roared during Yen’s preflight checks. Above them, they heard the rumble of automated machinery opening the ceiling to allow them to depart from the warehouse.

As the Cair Ilmun lifted off, Vance closed his eyes and let a tear stream down his face for all those who died. Of the 127 soldiers who deployed to Purseus II, only four were onboard the ship as it broke atmosphere, leaving hundreds of howling Seque behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Keryn kicked off from the ground and rose into the air above Lake Arcendor. Around her, nearly two hundred cadets filled the sky and began separating, finding their distinct starting areas before the day’s aerial joust. Through the bustle and jockeying for key starting positions, Keryn found an open spot near the lake’s northern rim, giving her a clear view of her opponents and leaving no space behind her for a surprise attack. Unlike the previous day, she hovered midway up the field, allowing her fellow cadets to position themselves above and below her.

The sun cast a warm glow that morning, and she reveled in it on her skin. The day seemed brighter somehow, and her eyes keener, as she began selecting targets throughout the field of cadets. Though her sleep was interrupted by strange dreams, her mind and body were sharp and prepared. The multitude of the problems the previous night-the fight in the bar and reprimand from the dean-seemed a lifetime ago, as if they happened to someone else. Keryn was refreshed and ready for the day’s competition.

Hanging in the air, she felt a marked lack of nervousness that personified her last attempt at the joust. Keryn was calm, resolved in the fact that events would conclude significantly better than the previous day. Finishing in the bottom third had been an embarrassment, but she was confident of her ability to change that.

Keryn ran the dean’s words repeatedly through her mind. Remember your friends. Staring across the battlefield, she realized how powerful those words were. The mass of cadets hovered at their start positions, each one eager for quick kills and a victory in the joust. All 200 were filled with fear or bloodlust. In a way, it was sad to see so many peers without anyone she could trust not to stab her in the back, but she hoped that wasn’t entirely true.

There was one person in the Academy who would support her bizarre plan, if Keryn could reach her in time. From the moment she lifted off, she watched Iana’s path. Her roommate flew above her and toward the western side of the field, leaving several cadets between them. Those unfortunates would be the first to fall to Keryn’s assault, a necessary evil until she reached her friend.

Once she did, the true test of friendship would begin. Could she convince Iana not to shoot long enough to explain? She hoped so. Otherwise, one of them would be eliminated far too early in the competition.

The dean told you something else, the Voice offered. He told you to find your strengths.

“I know my strengths,” she said dismissively.

Do you? Tell me how many weapons you carry right now.

Keryn frowned, not knowing what it meant. Still, she answered the question, if not in an abrasive manner. “You know damn well I’m carrying my knife and pistol.”

You’re forgetting one. You’ve trained as a warrior all your life, practicing multiple styles of hand-to-hand combat. You don’t consider your body to be a weapon?

Stifling a sharp retort, she quickly closed her mouth. Though she wanted to argue, she wondered if the Voice was right. “I can’t use strikes in the aerial joust, can I?”

If memory serves me right, and it always does, they never said you couldn’t.

Her smile darkened. The Voice was right. She assumed the restriction on strikes and kicks was an unspoken understanding, but there weren’t any explicit instructions against it. If the Voice was right, Keryn just added a deadly new tool to her arsenal. Feeling significantly more confident in her chances, she suddenly knew she’d succeed as long as she kept her wits and wasn’t eliminated before she could put her plan into motion.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the cadet sidling along the north boundary, edging closer to her. The way he moved and eyed her meant he was looking for a quick ambush. Already, the first threat to her success presented itself. If he managed a lucky shot, she’d be eliminated immediately at the start of the joust, and all her planning would be for naught.

She couldn’t let it happen. Smiling to herself, Keryn drew her pistol and shifted position, splitting her attention between the cadet and her target in the distance.

As the horn sounded to initiate combat, Keryn launched from her position, barely avoiding a laser blast from the cadet on her right. Rolling in the air, she returned fire and struck the male Lithid’s chest. He dropped to the gossamer net, the first student eliminated in the joust that day.

Evading her first adversary, Keryn knew it was time to set her plan into action. Above her in the distance was her target. Between them, cadets flew around each other like angry hornets swarming near a nest. Punctuated by laser fire and slashed with wavering energy knives, only the occasional falling student broke the illusion of an insect swarm.

Passing through that mess wouldn’t be easy, but she had no time to waste. Firing her jets, she flew forward at incredible speed, eager to break through the airborne duels and reach the far side alive and flying.

Keryn passed between pairs of cadets deep in combat, appearing as little more than a blur as she shot through the air. She broke cleanly through them, striking surprised cadets with well-placed punches and kicks that sent them pinwheeling away, as she passed. She fired a few shots toward those beyond her reach who she thought might be threats, but those shots were more suppressive fire than laser blasts that connected. Dodging a pair of cadets engaged in hand-to-hand fighting, their wavering knives flashing in the morning air, Keryn drew closer to Iana.

She would’ve loved to spend more time eliminating the rest of the cadets in her way, knowing each one she shot was one less threat for later. Unfortunately, to stand a chance, she needed to keep to her timeline. Breaking past the last of the blocking students, Keryn found herself in open air.

Having moved steadily upward as she flew, Keryn found Iana below, engaged with a darting student who moved so quickly from side-to-side that Keryn had trouble identifying him. His fluid motions in the air left Iana on the defensive and dangerously close to being eliminated. Trying to flee his attacks, Iana launched herself straight back out of his reach.

As the attacker leveled out, Keryn saw the bony protrusions of Zalide’s high brow line. From her vantage point, she saw the haughty smile on his lips she was so eager to remove.

Tilting her body, she dived. The focused Uligart didn’t see her. For the first time, she found herself truly appreciating the aspects of three-dimensional combat, as she fell on him from above. Arching her back, she dropped directly between the fighting pair. Zalide threw himself back, stopping before he crashed into Keryn.

With only the briefest smile, she dropped into a crouch in midair and spun, extending her legs in a sweep. Her heel struck the side of Zalide’s leg, as he struggled to get his bearings. Without the confines of ground combat, the sweep of her leg didn’t drop him to the ground, but it made him spin rapidly in place.

Taking advantage of the opening, Keryn slashed both his shins with her blade, paralyzing both legs. As he stopped, upright once more before her, she saw his haughty smile replaced by a snarl of rage. Extending the blade of his knife, he swung at her in a wide arc.

Keryn quickly countered, bringing her pistol butt down on his wrist. Howling in pain, he dropped the knife into the lake. With a satisfying backhand, she knocked the snarl from his face. His look of disbelief continued moments later when she slashed both his arms with the knife, paralyzing his remaining limbs. Frozen and unable to do more than hover, he watched her place her gun against his stomach.

She leaned close and whispered, “Get comfortable in the water. Don’t worry. I’ll send your girlfriend to you shortly.”

She squeezed the trigger. Zalide grunted in anguish, as his suit tightened around him, and his jet pack failed. Within moments, the Uligart plummeted to the net, his eyes firmly locked on the Wyndgaart waving mockingly, as he fell.

Sensing someone behind her, Keryn spun, her gun raised. A few feet away, Iana stared at her, her own pistol pointed at Keryn. For seconds, they stared at each other, then Keryn raised her gun and both hands.

“I’m not here to fight you,” she said.

“If you aren’t here to fight, what are you doing?” Suspicion shone in Iana’s eyes. She glanced nervously right and left, expecting an ambush.

Keryn smiled disarmingly, keeping her hands wide to allay any thought of hostility. “I’m helping you.”

“I see that, but why?”

It was clear Iana struggled with the idea of someone helping her during a solo competition. It wasn’t surprising. When there could be only one winner, it seemed unlikely that a fellow cadet would help unless he expected to gain something. The truth was, Keryn did have something to gain from her actions.

Knowing it was now or never, she explained her plan. “I’m offering a truce.” Before Iana could protest, she added, “I know that’s not what you’re expecting, but hear me out.”

Iana scanned back and forth, watching the nearby cadets, then nodded for Keryn to continue.

“Yesterday, we fought alone, and both of us were eliminated in the bottom half of the class. It took until last night for me to realize something important about why we lost. Yes, the joust is a competition only one person can win, but alone, neither of us has the skill to come out on top. I’m ready to admit it. More importantly, I’m willing to admit I need help. Specifically, your help.”

“You want us to fight together, like teammates?”

“Exactly!”

“I’m hearing you, but why me? There are plenty of cadets who are better.”

Keryn shrugged. Iana was right. “That’s true, but none I trust more than you. Also, none have nearly as much to gain from an alliance as we do.” She laughed at herself. “We suck alone, but together, we could be unstoppable. Think about it, Iana. Forget the base instinct that tells you I’m setting you up and trust me.”

Keryn saw contemplation in the Pilgrim’s eyes, as Iana quickly calculated the chances of success.

“Let’s say we do this,” Iana said, “and, by some miracle, we wind up the last two. What happens then?”

“Are you asking if I’ll let you win? Absolutely not. If we’re the last two flying, I’ll shoot you in the back the first chance I get.”

Iana laughed and lowered her weapon. “At least I know where I stand with you. Let’s say I believe you, which I’m still not sure I do. What do we do first?”

Keryn smiled maliciously. “Ever since I arrived at the Academy, people have been calling me savage. I’ve done my best to disprove them. Right now, I’m looking forward to showing them just how savage I can be.”

Iana’s smile matched Keryn’s. “Now you’re talking a language I understand. Let’s find our first prey.”

The pair fell upon their first unsuspecting victim with unmatched ferocity. No tactics were used. Instead, Keryn dropped to one side of the surprised Oterian, as Iana sank to the other. He swung wildly with his blade, battering at the two dodging women with his pistol as a club instead of using it to shoot.

The pair never stopped moving, flanking and harassing him from all side. Arriving near his feet, Keryn slashed both legs, while Iana cut his knife arm. Paralyzed in three limbs, he turned and fired his jet pack, eager to escape the savage women.

Launching skyward, both of them fell on his back, as he limped away, driving in their daggers. As his jetpack died, he dropped like a rock. Before he was ten feet down, the duo set out for their next target.

Keryn and Iana leaped through the air like felines, pouncing on one cadet after another. Their prey reached slowly to the new paradigm shift, suddenly facing two targets, not one. Many faced Iana, as she flitted past, only to be struck down by Keryn’s brutal attack from behind.

Slowly, the pair picked apart the tradition of the aerial joust, degrading the more-honorable conventions of the Academy’s mainstay. In its stead, they created a barbaric battlefield.

For the first time since she arrived, Keryn began to feel at home. The weaving, serpentine strikes were familiar. The bloodlust of battle burned in her veins, as cadet after cadet dropped to the net, then to the lake. As they fell away, Keryn reveled in the disbelieving looks that remained long after realization of defeat dawned on those souls. The idea of teamwork in the aerial joust was too foreign for them to grasp, even after witnessing it firsthand.

After eliminating another pair of cadets, something strange happened to Keryn and Iana. Someone offered them a truce. Much as Keryn did for her roommate at the start of the joust, a young male Lithid named Malyster holstered his pistol and sheathed his knife as they flew toward him. Raising his hands, he requested amnesty.

“I want in,” he said bluntly. “You’re decimating the other students, which leaves me little doubt which side I want to be on.”

“What’s stopping us from just shooting you now?” Iana growled, her pistol aimed at the Lithid.

Keryn placed a hand over Iana’s weapon and pushed it down, as the trio hovered in midair. “Because, correct me if I’m wrong, we’ll need the extra help.”

“Everyone knows about your rivalry with Sasha,” Malyster admitted. “If you want to get through her lackeys and have a chance at taking her out, you’ll need my help.”

“Welcome to the team,” Keryn said with an evil smile.

Over a dozen more students were eliminated by the group before the others realized what they were doing. Suddenly, even confident competitors flew away, when Keryn’s team approached. The space around them cleared of potential targets, as the remaining half of the class alternated their attention between current battles and the unexpected group.

Disappointed by the lack of prey, Iana pouted. “Now that they’re on to us, what do we do?”

Keryn shrugged. There were aspects of her plan she never took into account. She hadn’t foreseen other cadets joining them, nor had she planned on others realizing her strategy and avoiding her team altogether. They were at an impasse until they could figure out their next move.

To Keryn, only one person existed who they needed to hunt, a prey who wouldn’t run if attacked by her team. In the distance, hovering at an altitude just below, Keryn spotted the cadet she wanted. Her eyes narrowed with unbridled hatred, as she pointed at the distant figure.

“There’s our next target.”

Iana and Malyster saw the female Avalon and her cohorts attacking a smaller group of cadets.

“Sasha?” Iana asked. “You think you’re ready for this?”

“I've been waiting for this chance a long time,” Keryn said. “I’m not about to miss it. “

“All right. What’s the plan? How should we play this?”

Keryn turned toward their Lithid teammate. “It’s time we put Malyster to work.”

Sasha smiled, as yet another cadet dropped into the net. The four friends flying around her assured her a victory, just as they had the previous day. Their strength in numbers left her with little concern about opponents, knowing no one could withstand five attackers simultaneously.

A disturbance on the far side of the field had been catching her attention for some time. Though she found it hard to believe, there was another group working together, eliminating students at nearly the same pace she was. There was marked fear and worry among the single cadets, whenever that trio came closer.

Before attacking the most-recent pair of cadets, Sasha lost sight of the trio. The commotion they caused faded. Disappointment replaced her curiosity, as she realized she wouldn’t have a chance to meet the other group and prove her superiority in the air. Instead, she relegated herself to searching for her next prey, as her four friends hovered protectively nearby.

A laser blast cut through the late-morning air, catching the female Avalon above Sasha just below the chin. She jerked, as her suit constricted, leaving her paralyzed. She fell with pleading eyes, lost to the net and the lake.

Spinning with hatred in her eyes, Sasha searched for the arrogant cadet who dared attack her. To her right and a little below, she saw the perpetrator moments before she fired again. Dodging quickly to the left, she watched the laser blast slide harmlessly past and strike the leg of one of her friends. Growling with anger, Sasha watched, as Keryn turned and flew quickly away like a thief in the night.

Sasha dropped into a dive, and her friends struggled to keep up with the determined Avalon. Though Keryn was the victim of Sasha’s ridicule, it was Sasha who felt most insulted. The thought of a Wyndgaart, a savage, living and flying side-by-side with her, nauseated the Avalon. To be able to embarrass Keryn in front of the class seemed a fitting finale to the derision since arriving at the Academy.

Quickly outpacing the three remaining members of her entourage, Sasha grew closer to the fleeing Wyndgaart. She wouldn’t require her friends’ help. She never had. Their friendship hinged on their establishment as a status symbol.

For Sasha, the more people around her, the more important she was to those upon whom she looked down. They were unnecessary, however, when it came to dealing with a savage. Sasha looked forward to reveling in the kill. Frowning softly, she realized how much she wished the knife would do more than just stun Keryn.

Keryn led her on a wild chase, weaving in and around several battling cadets. Her wings spread wide, Sasha glided easily past the obstacles, as she narrowed the savage’s lead. By the time she reached a comfortable distance to try shooting her with the pistol, there was a considerable gap between Sasha and her friends.

When it was wide enough, Keryn spun and flew backward without looking where she went. To Sasha’s surprise, Keryn raised empty hands, closing them into fists before extending the middle finger on each.

As the Avalon watched, her pistol momentarily forgotten, the tanned skin and colorful tattoos on Keryn’s skin began to run. Flesh hung loosely on her skull before being slowly absorbed like water into the oily, black skin beneath. Keryn’s features disappeared, replaced by a Lithid’s blank, oval face.

Even without a face, Sasha could tell the Lithid was smiling and mocking her. She howled in rage at being tricked, as she raised her pistol.

Keryn and Iana dived behind Sasha’s friends, as they lagged behind. In their eagerness to catch up to the Avalon, they failed to pay attention to threats around them. Before they knew there was danger, Keryn body-slammed the back of an Uligart female, driving her knife deep into her. Over her shoulder, Iana placed two well-aimed shots at another Avalon and froze her in place. Before the third friend could react, Keryn leaped from her perch on the paralyzed Uligart, spun in midair, and fired down, as the last of Sasha’s friends tried to track the Wyndgaart’s movements. The laser blasts struck the girl’s shoulders simultaneously, while Iana’s shots hit her fully in the chest. Stunned, her suit seized, as her two companions plummeted to the net.

Beyond Keryn and Iana, they heard laser fire and looked away from the three they just defeated in time to see Malyster fall toward the gossamer webbing after being shot and eliminated by a vengeful Sasha.

Keryn knew she should’ve felt remorse over having him eliminated after he served as bait, yet she didn’t. Malyster was useful and put her in a position to exact her revenge against the Avalon. She would feel guilty only if she fell to the net, not Sasha, and there was no way she’d let that happen.

Turning in the air, Sasha saw the two hovering nearby. Even from a great distance, the hatred on her face was apparent. Screaming obscenities that were barely audible over the gulf separating them, Sasha launched herself toward Keryn and Iana.

Iana dropped into a fighting stance, but Keryn placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Watch if you want,” Keryn said, “but Sasha’s mine.”

Dejected, Iana sheathed her knife and flew a safe distance away to observe. If necessary, she would intercede before Keryn was eliminated.

Once Iana was clear, Keryn launched herself at the charging Avalon, eager to meet her halfway. Her breath was quick and rough in her throat, as adrenalin coursed through her system. With their jetpacks at full throttle, the pair quickly closed the distance.

When they met in the middle, their blades flashed. In the span of one breath, each expertly sliced and parried before separating.

Behind Keryn, Sasha moaned softly, as her left leg seized from a well-placed strike. Keryn’s celebration was cut short, though, when she felt tightness in her knife arm. Her suit constricted across her bicep. Rolling pain washed over her elbow and forearm before finally paralyzing her hand. Her arm disabled, the limb was squeezed tightly against her side.

“You aren’t good enough to beat me, Savage!” Sasha masked the pain in her stiff leg.

Keryn turned toward her, her sore arm quickly going numb from lack of blood. Already, Sasha came at her. Snarling, Keryn turned and fled with Sasha in pursuit. Barrel rolling to one side, Keryn narrowly dodged red laser fire. Unrelenting, Sasha fired volley after volley, each barely missing Keryn, as she used fellow cadets as shields and obstacles. Keryn felt frustration building in her chest, as she fled.

Not yet, the Voice whispered. Give it a second longer.

For once, she was glad for at least one reassuring voice amid the sea of cynics. Behind her, she heard a break in the laser attacks, as Sasha adjusted for a better shot.

She didn't need the Voice to tell her it was time. Tucking her good arm to her side, she tipped her body and dropped into a steep dive. As she cut fluidly through the air, Keryn opened a sizeable lead on Sasha before the Avalon realized what happened.

Tucking her wings to her sides, she dropped from the sky, following Keryn toward the quickly rising net. More adept at flight, the Avalon sliced easily through the air and gained on Keryn.

At the last moment, Keryn arched her back and pulled her body upward, barely avoiding the grasping web. Still above her, Sasha had more reaction time, as Keryn shot past her in a steady climb. Extending her wings, Sasha halted her momentum and launched herself skyward to chase the Wyndgaart.

“Did you honestly think it would be that easy, Savage?” Sasha shouted, her words stolen by the wind rushing past her face. “Did you think an Avalon would be stupid enough to be caught in the web? Give it up, Savage! You’ll never beat me!”

Keryn’s ears popped from the rapid climb. Though seemingly far away, she heard Sasha’s mocking calls. Desire for revenge burned strongly in her chest, threatening to consume.

Confident she was high enough, Keryn smiled softly and whispered, “You haven’t seen me be savage yet.”

Cutting off her pack in midflight, momentum carried her upward a few more feet before gravity took hold. Arching in the air, she flipped at the pinnacle of her climb before plummeting right toward the unsuspecting Avalon.

Still rising, Sasha had no time to react, as Keryn dropped toward her like a stone. They slammed into each other in midair. Keryn drove a knee into Sasha’s shoulder, twisting her wing and dislocating it from her shoulder blade. Screaming in pain, Sasha tried to twist free, but Keryn used her paralyzed arm to lock herself around the Avalon.

With Sasha’s wing collapsed, her frail body couldn't support both their weight, even with her jetpack. Together, they tumbled toward the quickly rising lake.

Snaking her good arm free from Sasha’s squirming limbs and wings, Keryn planted her pistol barrel firmly against Sasha’s back. Pulling her close, she braced her feet against Sasha’s hip and whispered in her ear, “I’ll take savagery over thinly veiled civility any day.” She squeezed the trigger.

Sasha shook violently, as her suit tightened around her. Unhooking her paralyzed arm from Sasha’s chest, Keryn kicked off with both legs, activated her jetpack, and broke free of their embrace. Hovering in midair, she watched with deep satisfaction, as she sent the Avalon spinning end over end into the net.

Elated, Keryn flew back to rejoin Iana and revel in her personal victory.

Keryn floated on her back in the water, letting the buoyant suit keep her afloat, as she stared up at the bright, early afternoon sky. Clouds danced overhead, caught in the cool breeze blowing down from the mountains. Even the cold water was comforting, as she lay in the lake, each lapping wave carrying a sense of contentment.

She and Iana hadn’t finished first. It hadn’t taken much time after Keryn eliminated Sasha for others to realize what the pair did and form their own teams. Keryn and Iana were eliminated from the last twenty cadets, but even elimination couldn’t steal her happiness.

In the air, she found two things she thought she lost-purpose and confidence. She knew without any doubt that coming to the Academy was the right decision. Her fears and concerns were gone. She convinced even her naysayers and heard words of encouragement from the Voice for the first time since refusing Initiation. In the end, she realized the Voice truly wanted her to succeed at whatever she did.

More important to her was the confidence she felt. It took nearly twelve cadets working together to eliminate her and Iana. Once, she would’ve felt pity, as if the larger group picked on them for being different. She knew now that so many cadets attacked, because they respected her and her abilities.

Keryn changed her fate. Tomorrow, she would improve upon her performance, until eventually, she took her rightful place at the top of her class.

Rolling over to swim toward shore, she was unable to shake her broad smile.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The escape from the planet held none of the joy one would expect from the survivors. Within the Cair Ilmun, the four remaining members of the Alliance strike force sat in sullen silence, the quiet a divisive mockery of the deep silence of space beyond the hull.

Vance sat a few seats down from Decker and across from a young Uligart whose name he didn’t know. Civility required that he learn the soldier’s name after sharing so many hardships together, but Vance didn’t have the heart to strike up a conversation, nor the inclination to act civil with so much weighing on his heart. The mantle of leadership was a heavy burden, and it grew heavier knowing so many died under his leadership. Military law dictated that be held responsible in an inquiry to determine how much fault was his.

In a lot of ways, he welcomed the inquiry. The other survivors refused to voice what Vance wanted to hear. He longed for someone else to validate his misery and tell him it was his fault.

“Buren.” Decker’s voice broke the silence in the crew compartment.

The Uligart looked up with eyes that refused to focus. His haunted look stared far beyond Decker’s face.

“How are you holding up?”

Buren shook his head softly before his flaccid expression returned, and his gaze returned to his feet.

Adam climbed from his chair, unlacing his protective webbing, and slid closer to Vance. “What about you, Sir? How are you doing?”

“Miserable.” Vance sighed. “I can’t believe we’re all that’s left.”

“At least we survived. We stand a chance to warn others about what happened on the planet. We can get revenge for this.”

Vance shook his head. “Maybe you can, but not me. Even if we make it out of here, I’m done.” Tears stung his eyes. “I’m not fighting anymore. I don’t have the energy.”

They sat in silence. Decker seemed uncomfortable, as if he couldn’t find the right words of consolation. Vance guessed he’d never been comfortable with emotion. A crying woman probably startled the young Pilgrim. He could only imagine his inner turmoil in trying to console an emotional man. Vance needed to control himself.

Yen emerged from the cockpit. “I hate to interrupt, but I need you in the front of the ship.”

Vance roughly wiped away tears with the back of his hand, angry at himself for showing weakness to the troops. “What’s the problem?”

“We’re being hailed,” Yen said nervously.

“By whom?” Vance unlatched his harness.

Following Yen to the cockpit, Vance felt Decker squeeze his bulk into the cockpit with them. The transmission ended, as they entered, only to blare again a few moments later.

“Unidentified ship, this is the Goliath. Please identify yourself.”

Yen and Decker blanched at the stern voice. Both turned to Vance, seeking advice.

“Turn on the radar,” Vance ordered.

As the screen flickered, the bulky form of Goliath loomed, drifting in orbit around one of the distant planets.

“They waited for us,” Yen said angrily. “They couldn’t just have left the galaxy, could they? No! They had to stay behind, just in case. Those bastards!”

“Calm yourself, Yen.” Vance’s formerly stoic exterior hid his tumultuous emotions.

“Unidentified ship, this is the Goliath. Identify yourself, or you’ll be destroyed.”

“What should we do, Sir?” Decker asked.

“We don’t have much choice. Yen, open a channel.” Grabbing a mike, Vance said, “Goliath, this is Magistrate Vance of the Cair Ilmun. Please hold your fire.”

Silence stretched for a few seconds, then a sickly sweet voice spoke. “Michael, it’s good to hear you’re still alive. I’d be lying if I said this was anything other than a huge surprise.” Behind the sweet voice, Vance detected frustrated undertones.

“Captain Young, I’m truly glad you decided to wait for us. I’d hate to think we’d be flying to the Alliance Fleet in nothing more than a Cair.”

“I’m your captain. I couldn’t have you fly back under such austere conditions.”

“That son of a bitch,” Yen growled.

Vance hushed him with a wave of his hand.

“I’m eager to hear what happened on the planet, Michael. Why don’t you and your men join me on the Goliath, so you may give a full debriefing of the events?”

“It seems like an offer I can’t refuse,” Vance said flatly.

“Bring your ship around to the bow and dock in the main hangar bay. I’ll have a crew ready to treat any of your wounded. The last thing we’d want is for them to suffer when help is so close.”

Vance, gripping the microphone tightly, scanned the others’ worried faces. “Unfortunately, that won’t be possible, Sir. We’re experiencing mechanical problems. Our ship took some damage during our heavy acceleration out of the atmosphere, which means we can’t dock inside the ship. If you could extend one of Goliath’s exterior docking arms, my pilot can perform a combat docking instead.”

The captain let the silence stretch. Yen grew nervous, turning his chair to scan the radar, looking for inbound attacks from the warship. Finally, after what felt like forever, Captain Young replied.

“My navigator tells me we can accommodate your request, Michael. We’re sending coordinates for the docking arm now. We’ll see you soon. Good-bye, Michael.”

His last words carried a dangerous finality that all three understood.

“That was awfully cordial,” Decker said. “I assume it’s a trap.”

“A thinly veiled threat is more like it,” Yen said. “He’ll kill all of us, won’t he?”

Vance stared out the front window, trying to see the dark ship in orbit around the planet they approached. As soon as he heard Captain Young’s voice, a dangerous desire for revenge welled up. He wanted to feel the man’s last breath, as he choked the life from him with his bare hands.

A smaller voice inside, perhaps his conscience, kept hold on Vance’s sanity. Though revenge would come, Vance had a larger responsibility. He needed to keep the other three onboard. At least one of them had to survive to warn the High Council of the Terran threat. Rushing headlong into danger would jeopardize everything they needed to accomplish.

“Yes,” Vance said finally. “Given the chance, he’ll kill all four of us. More than likely, an assault team will be waiting the second we step off the Cair Ilmun.”

“”What do we do?” Yen asked. “Try to run?”

“We can’t outrun a warship,” Decker said. “We’d be shot out of the air the second he detected we were leaving.”

“No.” Vance’s lips turned to a thin smile, as he formulated a plan. “You’ll dock us with Goliath, just like requested.”

“Are you serious?” Yen asked.

Decker turned toward him in surprise. “After we’re sitting ducks, what do we do?”

Vance turned sharply toward them both, determination flashing dangerously in his eyes. “We don’t do anything. Once I’m safely onboard Goliath, you three will break free of the docking arm and fly out of the galaxy as fast as you can.”

“Now I know you aren’t serious.” Yen threw up his arms in exasperation.

Decker placed a calming hand on Yen’s shoulder. “Sir, you can’t do this. You said it yourself. Going into that warship is a death sentence. Even if we broke free, we can’t outrun Goliath. One quick missile barrage is all it takes to spread our atoms to the farthest reaches of this system.”

Vance pushed past them both and walked into the crew compartment. Buren stared at the arguing Pilgrims in disbelief after overhearing Vance’s plan.

“I can guarantee that Goliath won’t fire on you,” Vance said. “You’ll make it free of the galaxy. I know you don’t understand my plan, nor do you need to. You just have to trust me, like I trust you.

“While I’m on Goliath, you three will start the long flight back to civilization. You have to let the High Council know what happened here. More than that, you need to tell them about the Empire’s invasion. If I fail, you’ll die. I understand that. If you fail, millions, if not billions, of Alliance civilians could die in the Terran assault.”

He took his seat and closed eyes to indicate the debate was over. Decker prodded him for information, trying to learn what Vance planned once he boarded the warship or how he intended to keep them from firing, but the Pilgrim commander remained stoically silent in his webbed seating.

Frustrated, Decker took his seat farther down the bench and brooded in silence, as the Cair Ilmun flew closer. Eventually, it reached Goliath’s dark shadow.

A mechanical arm extended from the warship. Reaching out like a set of spider legs, they wrapped around the bottom of the Cair Ilmun’s hull. The four survivors lurched, as they stopped moving.

From underfoot, they heard the whistle of metal gears and hydraulics twisting and spinning, while an airtight seal between the ships was established. As air flooded the long metal hallway between the two vessels, the Cair Ilmun shuddered, and the light in the airlock turned from red to green, signifying breathable air.

Yen left his control chair and joined the others in the crew compartment. “Don’t do this, Vance,” he pleaded. “It’s suicide.”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Decker said, “and it’s a noble cause, but I agree with Yen. There has to be a better way.”

Undeterred, Vance opened the floor hatch to expose the long tunnel. Once beyond the hull and the artificial gravity of the ship, he would float freely to a similar hatch on Goliath. Though their conversation was far from over, he yearned to leap into the hole and feel the weight of the past few days lift from him.

“Yen.” He stared down at his looming fate. “I need you back in the cockpit. Give me a few seconds to get inside, then give this little ship everything it’s got. Get as far from the Goliath as possible.”

He was startled by a hand in front of his face. Looking up, he saw Yen’s emotional expression. Vance clutched the hand and drew Yen into a hug, knowing the burden he passed on. Not only did Yen have the responsibility of warning the High Council, he also carried the burden of being the last surviving member of their team.

Vance understood that. Being the sole survivor was never a badge of honor. Instead, it was a persistent nightmare that never left him alone. Without a word, Yen broke the hug and walked to the cockpit.

Looking over Decker’s shoulder, Vance saw Buren, still strapped to his chair. “Take care of that one, Decker. He’ll get better in time and could become a great asset, but he’ll have a hard path until then.”

Decker nodded without speaking.

“Once I’m through the airlock, make sure you seal it behind me, then strap in as quickly as you can. I have the feeling you’ll have a bumpy ride, as you escape this system.”

Vance sat on the edge of the hatch, dangling his legs, feeling weightlessness tug at his pants. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this. I feel I found a kindred spirit in you, someone who reminded me of myself a lifetime ago.” Vance sighed and looked down. “Take care of them, Decker. You’re the one who’ll have to keep struggling to stay alive.”

Decker extended his hand. “Thank you, Sir, and please, call me Adam.”

Vance took Adam’s callused hand and shook it firmly, locking eyes with him. When Vance smiled, half his upturned mouth was hidden by his dark beard. “Good luck, Adam.”

“You, too, Sir.”

Vance pushed off and dropped through the hatch. Once clear of the Cair Ilmun, his downward momentum stopped, catching him in a gentle float toward the other airlock. Like the hungry maw of a primordial beast, it slid open, revealing inky blackness beyond.

Above him, Vance saw Adam close the airlock. The outer latch spun, sealing the door and protecting the small ship from dangerous decompression. A sense of loss and sadness washed over Vance when he saw the door close, because it slammed shut a long part of his life and severed his ties to the past. Below him, rising closer, awaited a dark future.

Passing through the airlock, the door sealed shut behind him, casting him into unnatural darkness. Gravity reasserted itself, slamming him onto the deck, while highly oxygenated gas poured from the chamber from ceiling vents.

Vance hurried to regain his feet, not eager to let Captain Young see him in a submissive pose when he entered. As the interior door slid open, bright light poured in. Squinting, Vance covered his eyes with his hand and walked into the reception chamber beyond.

Captain Young stood at the base of the stairs at the far end of the barren room. Along the walls and flanking him, the traitorous crew stood in full military regalia, encased in body armor and carrying large-bore rifles. Vance walked through the doorway and stepped in front of the proverbial firing squad.

Captain Young flashed a predatory grin. “I’m so glad you could join us, Michael.” The smile disappeared, subtly shifting into a snarl. “Where are the others?”

Vance reached back and pressed the button to close the door behind him. The crew flinched at his sudden movement, and many gripped their rifles in nervous anticipation.

“They aren’t coming, Captain,” Vance replied.

The Goliath shook, and the floor tipped, tossing many of the crew off their feet. From a narrow exterior window, Captain Young watched the metal docking arm splinter and shatter, as the Cair Ilmun fired its engines. As the metal arm broke free, its insect-like fingers slipped from the small ship speeding away. The shaking stopped.

“Captain,” the intercom blared, “the ship broke free of the docking arm and is trying to flee the system.”

“I can see that, you idiot!” he shouted, all semblance of civility lost.

“They’re still within weapons range, Sir. Shall we fire at them?”

Captain Young turned toward the smug Vance, who stood calmly by the doorway, as the crewmen clambered to their feet. The captain’s narrow eyes never left Vance as he said, “There’s no need for that just yet. They can’t outrun us. Once I’m done here, we’ll pursue and destroy the ship. In the meantime, track their movements.”

“Roger, Sir.”

The captain glared at Vance, as the intercom went silent. He stepped forward, and the crew closed in around the two men like prison bars.

“Why’d you come here, Michael?” the captain hissed, his anger and curiosity palpable in the ship’s recycled air. “What could you ever hope to accomplish by coming here alone?”

“I came to stop you,” Vance replied coolly, “and to take my revenge for what you did to Halo.”

Captain Young chortled, which led to full-fledged laughter. The crew, taking their cue, laughed with him.

“Stop me? Revenge? You came all this way and sacrificed your life because of a woman? Oh, Michael, I never gave you enough credit. I knew you had to be insane to lead covert operations missions for so many years, but you’re well beyond insane. You’re clinical.”

“Not just a woman!” Vance snapped, cutting off the laughter. “I came here because of Halo and the over one hundred innocent soldiers you murdered on Purseus II. How many others have you betrayed and killed? How much innocent blood is on your hands?”

“Innocent?” the captain roared back. “There was nothing innocent about those soldiers. How many Terrans have you killed since joining the military, Michael? Dozens? Hundreds? How about thousands? You can preach to me all day long that you were doing it for the good of the Alliance in a time of war. Hopefully, you’re smart enough to realize that’s all I did, too. I defeated my enemy in the name of the Empire during a time of war.

“You’re a hypocrite, Michael, and you should’ve had the common decency to die on the planet with the rest of them.”

“But I didn’t.” Vance’s stoic exterior returned. “I had a greater purpose, one I had yet to accomplish.”

Captain Young chuckled. “Do tell, Michael. What’s this great purpose?”

“To kill you before you can turn this ship over to the Terrans.”

The captain smiled wickedly. “And how do you propose to do that?”

“With this.” Vance reached into the dark leather pouch strapped to his hip and pulled out a dark-black sphere. Activating the thermal nuclear bomb was easy while sitting in the darkness after entering the Goliath. As the countdown neared zero, red lights flew around the exterior of the sphere in a dizzying blur.

Screams of protest and fear erupted, as the guards ran for the door. Though stunned, Captain Young stood his ground and watched Vance smugly step forward into the room. Thick laughter rolled from deep in Vance’s chest, filling the room and echoing in the vaulted chamber, as the men frantically tried to flee.

“For Ixibas! For Tusque!”

“Shut up!” Captain Young screamed, drawing his pistol and firing.

The first round slammed into Vance’s gut and dropped him to one knee. He clutched his stomach with his free hand, trying to stem the flow of blood. Grimacing, he looked up at the Pilgrim traitor.

“For Nova and Ainj.”

The captain fired again, hitting Vance’s shoulder. He spun on his knee and fell prone to the floor. Groaning with pain, he said, “For Eza.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Frantic, the captain fired twice more. Both slugs tore into Vance’s back, piercing a lung and leaving gaping exit wounds through his chest.

The metallic taste of copper filled his mouth, as sticky blood poured from him. His vision darkened, as his strength fled. Sucking oxygen into his remaining lung, he whispered, “For Aleiz.”

The bomb rolled from his limp fingers.

Captain Young lunged forward, snatching the orb from the floor, and hurried toward the airlock.

Two steps from the door, the flickering lights stopped moving. A solid red bar illuminated the sphere’s equator.

The Cair Ilmun nearly cleared the last planet in the system when the Goliath was consumed in flames. Starting with a bubble on its hull, the side of the ship swelled and split, as fire engulfed the warship’s interior. Light as bright as a second sun spilled from cracks in the hull before the ship’s armored plating gave way.

The entire vessel exploded in a soundless vortex of heat and radiation, leaving little more than flecks of debris in its wake. The remains of the Goliath were pulled into the atmosphere of the planet around which it orbited. Small pieces of alloy burned away in the atmosphere. Larger pieces burned like meteors before disappearing into the planet’s cloudy interior.

Within moments of the explosion, nothing remained of the once-massive Alliance ship.

Adam silently joined Yen in the cockpit, choosing to watch the empty space ahead instead of the vanishing debris behind. He sought the right words, but they failed to come. Instead, he settled on simple conversation to pass the time and help him think of something else.

“How long until we reach an Alliance outpost?” he asked softly. Glancing over his shoulder, he wasn’t surprised to see Buren in a sullen pose.

Yen cleared his throat, brushing away the thick emotion in his voice. “It’ll be almost a month before we’re able to find anything capable of transmitting to the High Council.”

“Once we get there, that’s only the beginning of what we need to accomplish,” Adam added, beginning a mental checklist of their future work. “We have to notify the High Council of the Empire’s invasion. We need to tell them about the genetic mutations on Purseus II. We have to warn them that something like it could exist elsewhere in Alliance space. We have to….”

The rest of the sentence went unsaid for fear of upsetting Yen further.

Finally, Yen said what Adam couldn't. “We have to notify them of all those who died.”

“I’m sorry, Yen. I truly am. Once we get there, we’ll have a whole lot to do.” He remembered his final conversation with Vance and the promise he made to look after the survivors. “We have lots of promises to keep.”

Yen slipped the ID tags from under his shirt. Holding them in his hand, he read the laser-etched name printed on both metal tags-Eza Riddell. “More than you know,” he whispered into the quiet cabin.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Keryn, wiping sweat from her brow, drank in the cool air of the Academy’s auditorium. Her muscles still burned from the day’s aerial joust, but it wasn’t her solid finish in that exercise that kept an excited smile on her face. It was the two-month anniversary since she began training at the Academy, though even that milestone didn’t make her giddy. After two months, the first-year cadets were finally being given a long-denied luxury-mail.

Since their arrival, the instructors kept the students focused on their studies, not wanting them distracted by letters from home. Attrition rates dropped when cadets lacked access to letters telling them what they were missing. Two months into their training, those who wished to quit were already long gone. By then, mail made little difference to their training, aside from boosting morale.

Finding a seat in the crowded auditorium, Keryn sat in a chair beside Iana. Anticipation was palpable in the air, as others joined them. Since their inception of teamwork during the joust, both their popularity and core group of friends grew significantly. More than six students took seats around the pair, chatting idly about their successes and failures in the joust.

Keryn listened halfheartedly, knowing her true focus was on the stage and the mail that would soon be delivered.

A hush fell over the room, as a line of instructors entered from the rear of the auditorium and filed forward, carrying heavily laden bags of letters and boxes. By the time they reached the stage, the cadets were seated and quiet.

Speakers rumbled, as Victoria threw a hidden switch. When she spoke, her musical voice was amplified, filling the large chamber.

“As I call your name,” she began, sticking to the straightforward dialogue that marked her as the head instructor, “please come forward and collect your mail. Once you’ve received your packages, you may file out quietly and return to your rooms. You’re officially released for the rest of the day.”

One by one, instructors stepped forward and began calling off names, as they emptied their bags. Keryn frowned, as they went down the list. They were going alphabetically, which meant she was toward the end. She made herself comfortable, knowing nearly 150 students would receive mail before her, Iana included.

She tapped her foot impatiently against the back of the chair in front of her, much to the chagrin of the student occupying it. Keryn knew she should be calmer, that it was only mail from home, but she couldn't shed the eager energy flooding her system. Her anticipation turned to irritation, as she waited nearly half an hour before they broke into the higher range of the alphabet.

“Ralston,” an instructor called.

As that student claimed his mail, the instructor continued.

“Raylor. Reavil. Reihlaard. Ricynth.”

Keryn threw back her head and murmured, “You have to be kidding me.” She never guessed there were so many cadets with names starting with R, all of whom would be called first. The anticipation almost killed her. Her foot tapped more furiously, as she waited to hear her name.

“Riddell.”

She hurried to the stage. The instructor held out her bundle, as she walked by, which she quickly snatched from his hand and moved toward the rear of the auditorium. Though happy to finally hear her name, she was smart enough to hide her gloating smile, as she passed those who still waited, or whose names hadn’t been called. She felt terrible, as she struggled to imagine not having anyone who cared enough to write over the first two long months at the Academy.

Pushing through the heavy doors at the rear of the auditorium, Keryn turned and hurried down the hall toward her room, examining the bundle in her hands, as she walked. A few letters sat atop a small, nondescript brown package. The whole bundle was wrapped in thin, firm cord, tied in a knot on top.

As she walked, she dug her nails under the tight knot and fiddled with the bundle. Skipping the grace that would normally mark her movements, she tugged violently at the cord until she managed a firm-enough hold to loosen the knot. Sliding the ends of the cord through the small loops, she freed it and dropped it absently into a trashcan, as she walked past.

The first couple letters were in her father’s barely legible scrawl. Though they hadn’t parted on the best of terms, his disapproval of her career choice evident in his tone, he took the time to write at least a couple letters. The next letter, from her mother, was packed into a much-thicker envelope than the ones from her father. Her mother was verbose, writing small novels in every letter, even when Keryn was only conducting training a few islands away from their house. Still, she appreciated the sentiment.

Only one other letter was buried in the stack above the package. Addressed with sharp letters and almost slashing handwriting, she recognized Bellini’s printing. Keryn’s heart ached at the thought of her old friend, who, by now, was undergoing intense training to fully awaken the integrated Voice within her. In many ways, Bellini’s letter held her least and greatest interest. She was eager to find out what Bellini accomplished during the past few months, but the girl she spent so many fun-filled days with back home was gone, replaced by an amalgamation of her own personality and that of the Voice.

Sliding Bellini’s letter aside, as she reached her door, Keryn pushed into the room and tried to read the faded script on the dark-brown paper. Though she struggled to decipher the return address, the flourishing handwriting was unmistakable. Only Eza, her brother, wrote in such a fluid style. Throughout their childhood, Keryn often teased him about his effeminate printing.

Tossing the four letters aside with barely a thought, she tore into the thick, durable paper covering the package to reveal a simple white box. Offering only a passive grunt to Iana, as she sat on the bed, Keryn dropped the wrapping paper and, with great reverence, opened the box.

She saw a videodisk in a case. Written across the top in the same flourishing script were the words, Baby Sis. His affectionate moniker stuck with her for years, long after every other nickname she received faded into obscurity. Eza called her by the name so long, she barely remembered the last time he called her anything else.

Climbing back off the bed, she walked toward the computer when a loud knock sounded on the partially closed door. Standing there, barely visible, was the folded wings black uniform of Victoria.

Keryn frozen halfway between the bed and the computer, disk in hand, cursing the interruption. Sighing, she turned back and placed the disk on her pillow before answering the knock.

“What can I do for you, Ma’am?” She opened the door all the way.

Iana stared at them from her bed, removing a headset from her computer and video message long enough to see what the instructor wanted.

“Keryn,” Victoria said solemnly, “you need to go to the dean’s office right now.”

Keryn arched an eyebrow, trying to remember if she did anything wrong. “Can you tell me why?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t,” she said in a low voice, “but you need to come with me now.”

Turning to share a shrug with Iana, Keryn stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her. Victoria led her through the maze of twisting hallways between her room and the dean’s, while Keryn tried to figure out what she’d done. Dean Brothius made it very clear in her last interview that any slip on her part would mean immediate expulsion from the Academy. She did everything in her power to stay out of trouble and perform as a model cadet. She could only guess what the dean had to say.

Turning down a familiar hall lined with Academy accomplishments, Victoria stopped before the dean’s door and knocked softly. Keryn heard a faint voice tell them to enter.

Victoria held the door and shook her head, indicating she wouldn’t go in with Keryn. More nervous than ever, Keryn stepped inside.

Dean Brothius sat in his high-backed chair, staring at Keryn with his hands folded before his face. Flanking him on either side stood Alliance Infantry officers, their chests brimming with ribbons and their ranks glistening with polish on their shoulders. The clean lines of their uniforms were crisp.

Whatever their purpose, Keryn knew this was an official visit, not a social one.

“Please, Keryn, have a seat,” Dean Brothius said quietly, not moving his hands.

Hesitantly, she sat in a cushioned seat across from him-the same one he offered when she reported to his office after the bar fight.

“Keryn,” the dean said, struggling to find the right words, “when was the last time you spoke to your family?”

She glanced at the two Infantry officers standing on either side of the desk. “I….” She noted their sad expressions. “It’s been two months, Sir, though I received mail from them today.”

“Are you close to your…?”

The officer to Keryn’s right stepped forward and interrupted. “Are you Keryn Dania Riddell, formerly of Lagurica?” His tone, though soft and sympathetic, still bore the rigid dialogue of a soldier unused to dealing with more-compassionate situations. “Are your parents Lilith and Malta Riddell?”

More confused than ever, she nodded. “What is this about?” She looked back and forth between the officers and the dean.

As her eyes fell upon the silent officer on the left, a badge on his uniform triggered an old memory. Three intertwined gold loops hung above the name bar on the right side of his chest. Throughout her studies, she saw that symbol many times during her Uligart studies.

He’s a chaplain, the Voice confirmed. Keryn, religious officers come to visit people for only one reason.

She hushed the Voice, but a lump formed in her throat, as she tried to think of another reason for a chaplain to be there. Growing up on a planet saturated with warriors, she occasionally saw the Infantry visit parents and siblings in their homes. They wore similar crisp uniform and always had a chaplain in the pair when they brought bad news to distraught family members.

Tears welled in her eyes, as she asked again, wanting to hear them confirm her suspicions but deathly afraid that the Voice was right. “Why are you here?”

“Ms. Riddell,” the officer on the right said, his low voice filled with emotion, “we regret to inform you that your brother, Eza Riddell, was killed in the line of duty.”

Tears spilled from her eyes, rolling down her tanned cheeks and pooling on her chin before tumbling into her shaking hands. Unable to contain herself, she leaned forward and hid her face in her hands, as her body was wracked with sobs. The dean and the officers waited patiently.

Eza had always been the stronger of the two siblings. It seemed impossible to believe he could die. Keryn still remembered being in the auditorium during Eza’s Initiation. Though only a little girl at the time, she was awed by his speed and grace once inside the Warrior’s Circle. His ax was little more than a blur, as he earned his right to be welcomed into the warrior caste.

Of all those she watched go through Initiation, Eza retained more of his original personality than any other. Even afterward, she still had her big brother. That was what she remembered most about him. No matter what mission he was assigned in the Alliance Infantry, he was always faithfully supportive. He offered Keryn advice as she grew up and was one of the few who supported her decision to forego Initiation in order to take the Academy’s entry exam. After all he did for her, he couldn’t be gone now!

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. Looking up through bleary eyes, she saw the chaplain’s sympathetic face, as he offered her a box of tissues. She gave muttered thanks and wiped her puffy eyes and blew her nose.

“How did it happen?” she croaked, her voice tight.

“He was defending the Alliance from a Terran threat when he was killed,” the officer replied. “Unfortunately, due to the nature of his work, I can’t offer more information than that.”

“Classified.” She nodded. Eza excelled in everything he put his mind to. It was no surprise to anyone, least of all Keryn, when he was accepted into the prestigious covert operations division of the Infantry.

When the silence stretched a few moments longer, the officer, who was clearly uncomfortable, cleared his throat. “Ms. Riddell, we’ll be on the Academy grounds until tomorrow night if you have any questions. There’s still some paperwork we need you to complete, since you’re listed as his beneficiary. However, that can wait. I know this must be a delicate time for you.”

“If you need anything at all,” the chaplain added, “please don’t hesitate to ask. Our sole purpose being here is to help you through this difficult time.”

Keryn nodded, as they walked past and placed comforting hands on her shoulder. Far from being comforted, she felt heartache surfacing, as they left. Pulling another tissue from the box, she wiped more tears from her eyes.

As the door clicked shut behind the officers, Dean Brothius said, “Keryn, I’m truly sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can….”

She stood, unable to listen any more. Her face grew hot, and tears threatened to fall again. Not wanting him to see her crying, she thought it was better to leave. She took the box of tissues and nodded, unable to trust her voice. As she left, silence stretched between them.

She staggered around the corner from the dean’s office before sobbing uncontrollably. Leaning against the cool stone wall, she cried until her knees buckled, and she collapsed. Keryn pounded her fist against the ground, while memories of Eza went through her mind. Every time she thought of what he did for her, and that he was gone from her life forever, she hit the ground again. Anger swallowed her sadness until a guttural howl of loss erupted from her throat. Faces emerged from rooms down the hall to look for the source of the commotion.

“Keryn?” a musical voice asked softly behind her. “I’m sorry about your brother.” Victoria placed her hands on the Wyndgaart’s shoulders, but she brusquely brushed them aside.

Keryn climbed to her feet, ignoring Victoria, and walked away without a word. She wiped away tears with the back of her hand, as she walked to her room. Though she began slowly, she was almost running by the time she turned the corner leading to her barracks room. She slipped past the unlocked door and slammed it shut behind her, losing herself in inky darkness.

The cool door felt wonderful on her flushed, hot skin. Pressing herself against it, she realized she was alone in the room. Either Victoria told Iana to leave, or she had the foresight to leave Keryn alone for a while. She was glad to have the privacy to suffer through her heartache in silence.

Staggering away from the door, her eyes moist but no longer spilling tears, she moved toward her bed and sat heavily, crushing the letters strewn across it.

For nearly two months, she felt as if she found a surrogate family, like she truly belonged. She made friends and succeeded where no one, not even her parents, expected. Suddenly, she felt as if a new hollow was carved in her chest. Coldness crept from the void and suffused her body, leaving her empty and alone.

Thoughts of her friends at the Academy were nothing compared to losing Eza. His support for her hardships was gone. There was no one left she could lean on. As she tipped heavily to one side, she let gravity pull her down to the soft mattress.

As her face struck the pillow, hard plastic bit into her cheek. Jerking back, her fingers moved across the pillow until they located the culprit. It was the jewel case of a video letter. Even in the darkened room, she could make out the words Baby Sis.

Her hands shaking, she wrapped her fingers around the case as if the message might crumble into dust. With great veneration, she pulled the disk to her chest and pushed herself upright. Sitting in the dark, she stared at the case cupped in her hands.

Part of her yearned to run to her console and watch the video, but an equally strong part feared playing the message. She didn’t know if she could bear seeing his image so soon after learning of his death. Though her eyes felt dry and out of tears, she didn’t trust her emotions enough to tempt fate.

Watch it, the Voice said. He would want you to know that he cared, regardless of what happened to him.

Standing slowly, she moved as if in a dream toward the computer. Pulling out her chair, she sat down heavily and slid the disk into the slot on the side of the console. The screen flickered, first shining brilliant blue in the dark room before settling on an image. Play flashed in the upper left corner, as the image focused on a familiar Wyndgaart face.

Having turned on his camera, Eza took two steps back and wiped golden hair from his eyes, which flashed the same vibrant amethyst as hers. Smiling, he settled into a chair and faced the screen.

“Hi, Sis.” His strong voice carried through the silent room.

A sob slipped past her closed lips, and her body shook. She rocked in her chair, barely able to focus, as the message continued. She was woefully unprepared for the emotional turmoil she experienced at seeing his face again.

“We’re getting ready to go on a mission, but I had a few moments and figured I’d waste my time sending you a letter. Don’t worry. This mission won’t be that bad, just you’re everyday, run-of-the-mill reconnaissance. I’d tell you more about it, but you know the rules.”

“Classified,” she mouthed, as he said the word, wiping away tears, not wanting to miss seeing his face.

“I know I don’t get to write as much as I’d like, and for that, I’m sorry. Covert operations keeps me really busy, but I love what I’m doing, just like you.” He laughed. “Who knew I’d ever tell my Baby Sis I was winding up just like her?”

A smile still on his handsome face, he continued, “I’m proud of you. I hope you know that. I know Mom and Dad weren’t happy with your decision to go to the Academy, but I’ve always known you were destined for greatness. I’ve talked about you so much here, I can’t tell anymore if anyone wants to meet you or hates your guts. If they hate you, to hell with them. They don’t know what they’re missing.

“I got your letter today. It’s kind of what reminded me it was time to write you back. I appreciate the picture. It makes me feel a little closer to home, especially when I’m away so much. Once I get my next rest and relaxation anywhere near Arcendor, you better believe I’ll be on the next drop ship heading your way. It’s been too long since we hung out. Hell, you couldn’t even drink legally when I saw you last, though I’m not sure I’m all right with the idea of my Baby Sis drinking.”

She cried harder, knowing he’d never fulfill his promise. On whatever random planet he went for his mission, something went terribly wrong. Eza was dead, and Keryn was alone.

She clutched her chest, trying to cover the ache in her heart. The officer told the truth. Eza died fighting the Terrans. Rage boiled in her veins at the thought. They took Eza from her, and she would get revenge.

“I’ve got to go, Sis.” He glanced over his shoulder. Other voices spoke in the background, and, from Eza’s hurried expression, he didn’t want to give them a chance to be on the video. “I promise that when I get back, I’ll write again.

“I know I don’t say it enough, but I love you, Baby Sis. I’ll write, and, hopefully, see you soon. ‘Bye.”

The screen faded to black, as Keryn cried into the darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The early evening was warm and humid, as Yen and Adam climbed the tall staircase leading to the Shrine of Initiation. It took them a long time to reach Lagurica in time for the memorial service. Since departing Proteus II, it felt as if all they did was travel. The Cair Ilmun couldn't reach the faster speeds of a cruiser or warship, so the journey from Proteus to the closest inhabited galaxy took over a month. The trio arrived worn and malnourished, having exhausted their food supplies during the journey.

Had that been the last of their travels, Yen would’ve been content. Their arrival, however, was only the beginning of their responsibilities. They left Buren in the care of an Alliance medical team before attending a litany of meetings, where they discussed the newly discovered Terran threat.

After half a year since the massacre on Proteus II, their interviews were finally finished, and they were reassigned to a new cruiser, the Revolution. Taking leave shortly after reporting to Captain Hodge, they both longed to be present for Eza’s memorial service. The journey to Lagurica was a long, necessary evil.

Climbing the last few stairs, Yen tugged at his Fleet uniform’s collar. It was so long since he wore a formal uniform, it required extensive tailoring to make it fit again. Form fitting and heavily starched, the collar bit into his neck and left little room to breathe, as sweat rolled down his back and beaded his brow. Beside him, Adam echoed his discomfort.

At the landing, they noted the expansive amphitheater filled with mourning Wyndgaarts. Though still dressed in flowing, brightly colored dresses and shirts, the colors were muted and dull compared to the strong coral pastels of the Shrine. As they found their seats, Yen and Adam were assaulted by floral scents that barely covered the deeper musk of burning incense.

A wizened, old Wyndgaart walked to the center of the stage, taking his place among the tropical flowers and smoldering spices placed around the exterior of the Warrior’s Circle. Striking his staff on the floor three times, he brought the amphitheater to reverent silence.

“Thank you all for attending this memorial service for one of our fallen kin,” the schoolmaster began, his reedy voice carrying through the crowd. “We gather tonight to mourn the loss of Eza Kai Riddell, a true child and warrior of the Wyndgaart people. In our mourning, however, we also commemorate his strength as a warrior, love as a son, and loyalty as a soldier.”

The Schoolmaster gestured for an audience member to come forward. “Though I knew and taught Eza for many years as he grew, it would be a disservice for me to stand before you and try to describe his many accomplishments when his sister is in the audience. Keryn, if you would?”

The old Wyndgaart stepped aside, as Keryn came forward, her thin, deep-purple dress clinging to her curves, as she moved. Yen sat entranced as she walked, finding her every bit as beautiful as she seemed in the picture.

Taking her place in the center of the circle, she began her eulogy. “No one ever gave more of himself than my brother.” Even during such a difficult time, her voice was strong. “To his family, he was willing to sacrifice his time to make sure we were provided for. To the Alliance he was willing to sacrifice his safety, as he volunteered for difficult missions time after time. But for his friends-they were the ones he truly loved. For them, he was willing to sacrifice his life to preserve theirs.

“Growing up, Eza was always my hero. He stood by my side through every hardship I endured. I excelled only because he drove me to it, because I wanted nothing more than to be like him. He was my hero, and that’s why it’s fitting that we are here now to remember him as a hero.”

Shifting her weight, she struggled to find the right words. “Eza and I grew apart after his Initiation. I feared that the brother I loved was gone, replaced by something new.”

The crowd murmured disapprovingly.

“I feared what I didn't understand. After a few months, he found me alone and made me sit down to talk about my worries. For the first time in my life, I saw chinks in my brother’s tough armor. The fears I had of losing him were reflected in his own concerns.

“We’d never been distant from each other, but even when he had the responsibility of an upcoming assignment to the Alliance Infantry weighing heavily on his mind, he took the time to sit down with me. That’s the way he was. Eza found comfort in his friends and family and did anything in his power to care for them.

“Though I didn’t receive a lot of support when I decided to attend the Academy instead of going through Initiation, Eza remained at my side, sending letters and videos to tell me how proud he was of me.”

She cleared her throat and paused to regain her composure. When she looked up, clear determination shone in her violet eyes. “In the Academy, there is a phrase proudly displayed throughout the school-Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas.”

Yen nodded, remembering the phrase from his time at the Academy.

“Directly translated, it means, No One Is Greater. The phrase meant little to me when I first arrived. They were words spoken by an Avalon who died generations before my time. It wasn’t until much later that I began to truly understand the deeper meaning of those four simple words and the double-edged sword contained within them. On one hand, they remind us of the necessity of humility in our lives. Arrogance dooms us to failure. Simply stated, it means that no one individual is greater than any other. One of my instructors at the Academy gave me that meaning.

“The other meaning, which I find more applicable when I think of Eza, was explained to me by the dean of the school. No One Is Greater didn’t simply mean that you must be humble. It also meant, as Eza knew all his life, that one person alone will never have the strength that can be found only in a group of friends fighting for a common goal. Eza found his calling and purpose as part of a team, and, until his dying day, he loved what he did and those with whom he served.”

She smiled softly at distant memories.

Yen knew his own expression mirrored hers, and he lost himself in memories of his friend. During her speech, Keryn captured Eza’s spirit and memory in a way that would have made her brother proud.

“I won’t remember Eza the warrior,” she said in conclusion. “I won’t remember Eza the soldier. But I’ll always remember Eza the brother and the friend. I encourage all of you to find what it was about him that truly touched your heart and savor that memory for the rest of your lives. I know I will. Thank you for attending.”

Yen watched her take her seat again, amazed at the similarities she shared with her brother. Eza’s confidence showed in Keryn’s warm smile and the polite thanks she offered to those who shook her hand. Yen’s hand went to his chest, touching the metal ID tags under his clothing.

“Thank you for your kind words, Keryn,” the Schoolmaster said, taking his place at the center of the circle again. “Please join me in our Hymn of Remembrance.”

The entire amphitheater broke into soft song, as nearly naked men and women filled the Warrior’s Circle and began dancing. The hymn rose and fell in crescendos that reminded Yen of crashing waves against a distant shore. The Wyndgaart dancers moved as if underwater, their bodies caught in undersea currents, as they writhed against each other. Each in his own way said good-bye to Eza.

As the ceremony ended, and the audience began departing, Yen pushed his way through the crowd, eager to catch up to Keryn. Moving past the thickest part of the crowd, he saw her walking toward a rear path that led along the top of the Shrine’s tall cliff face. He hurried to follow her into the darkness beyond the amphitheater, where brilliant sunlight faded to a colorful silver on the distant horizon.

“Ms. Riddell?”

Keryn turned, her silver hair flashing in the faint, flickering candlelight. “Yes?” She arched an eyebrow.

Yen felt foolish, realizing she probably went that way to be alone. In his eagerness to meet her, he blundered into her private mourning. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you want to be alone right now.” He turned back toward the Shrine. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You’re Yen Xiao, aren’t you?”

Surprised, he stopped and turned.

“I thought it was you, Mr. Xiao.”

Yen walked over and shook her extended hand firmly, surprised by the strength of her grip and the calluses on her palm. “Please, call me Yen.”

“Yen. My brother spoke about you quite a bit in his letters. He described you almost perfectly. You can walk with me, if you’d like. I think I’d prefer to have someone with me than walk alone, anyway.”

Yen joined her, as she walked along the sandy path. For a long while, they were silent, each remembering Eza in his own way, as they admired the dying sunlight reflecting off the coral.

“You were with him when he died?” she asked, breaking the solemn mood.

Yen nodded, unsure how to respond. “Eza was a great friend of mine, probably the best I ever had. He loved you very much and talked about you all the time. He would’ve been proud of what you said during the ceremony. You really captured all that was Eza.”

Her eyes sparkled with moisture even in the darkness. She managed a soft, “Thank you,” in reply but couldn't bring herself to make eye contact.

Yen reached out a hesitant hand and placed it on her arm, stopping her. Slipping his hand under the stiff collar of his uniform jacket, he pulled free the ID tags over his head and let them dangle on their chain.

“These were his tags,” Yen explained. “Every time before we went on a mission, we traded tags. I wore his, and he wore mine. Both of us thought of it as a stupid superstition, but he started it soon after I joined the team, and we became friends.

“He told me we traded tags to ensure we always remembered our promise to look out for each other. I felt like a thief, carrying his tags around. All I ever wanted was to finish our mission and give back the tags. It seemed crazy, since neither of us openly admitted to being superstitious, but I always felt an incredible sense of relief when I came back and could return his tags. It’s almost like he knew that I wanted to bring them home safe each time, just like he did for me.”

Unable to make eye contact with Keryn, he stared out over the ocean. “I think, deep down, Eza also knew that if something happened to either of us, we’d always have the tags as a remembrance of our friendship.”

Taking Keryn’s hand, he placed the tags in her open palm and gently closed her fingers over them. “I don’t know if he meant me to always carry those tags as a reminder of our friendship, but I think he would’ve been OK with my giving them to you.”

Keryn squeezed her hand over the tags until her knuckles turned white. Though her jaw was firmly set, and her eyes glistened with moisture, no tears fell. “Thank you, Yen,” she whispered.

Turning, they walked up the path, moving farther from the Shrine. Yen stole glances at the shorter woman, as they walked, amazed at her strength. During the month-long journey back from Proteus II, he went to the cockpit many times to shed tears not just for Eza but for the rest of the team. He even saw stoic Adam cry for his lost teammates. On the day of her brother’s memorial service, Keryn remained strong in the face of overwhelming emotion.

Unable to stop himself, he commented, “You really are taking this well.”

Keryn continued walking, but her expression became indignant. “Are you referring to the fact that I’m not an emotional wreck?” She shook her head. “Believe me, I shed my share of tears. For weeks after I got the news, I cried almost every night. After a while, the sorrow subsided, buried deep inside, replaced by another emotion-revenge. They won’t tell me how he died, but I know he died fighting the Terrans. I’m going to make sure the Empire suffers for taking away my brother.”

“You may yet have your chance. You know the High Council is debating whether to declare war on the Empire? They’re sending a battle group to investigate whether the Empire has illegally crossed the Demilitarized Zone. If they find out that the Terrans have violated the Taisa Accord, we could be at war much sooner than anticipated.”

“I know. It’s all anyone could talk about during the past school year. As a pilot in training, knowing we might be going to war, it made most other conversations insignificant. Many cadets dropped out before the end of the year because of that. They hadn’t signed up for service during a war and never expected to fight. It wasn’t in their blood, I guess.”

“But it’s in yours,” he said matter-of-factly. “Finish your last year, graduate, and you could be in a squadron by the time any real action kicks off.”

She stopped walking and turned toward him.

“What?” Yen asked.

“You haven’t heard, have you? The High Council received reports that a small Terran Fleet was spotted in Alliance space. They graduated my class early to fill gaps in the Fleet’s squadrons.”

“You’re already commissioned?”

Keryn laughed softly. The sound was musical and intoxicating. “I was top of my class when I graduated. It’s Magistrate Riddell now.”

“I’m impressed-not surprised, since you’re Eza’s sister, but impressed. Have they assigned you to a ship yet?”

Keryn shook her head. “Not yet. We’ll find out next month.”

“If you’re looking for a good ship to serve on, let me know. A few of us just got reassigned to the Revolution. I’m sure I could put in a good word, since I’m one of the few people onboard with real combat experience.”

“I’ll remember that.” She smiled. “In the meantime, can I ask a favor?”

“Anything.”

Her expression turned serious. “While we walk back to the Shrine, tell me how my brother died.”

Somehow, the walk took nearly half an hour. Yen told every story he could think of about Eza. Many made Keryn laugh, something Yen wanted to hear as often as possible. They linked arms as they walked, until they were just outside the Warrior’s Circle. Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek.

“Thank you, Yen.” She walked toward the Shrine’s exit. “Thank you for everything.”

As she disappeared from view, Yen walked to where Adam lounged lazily in his seat. Though he was seemingly relaxed, his eyes followed Keryn’s lithe form, as she went down the passage leading to the stairs.

Swinging his legs over the side of the chairs, Adam climbed to his feet and joined his teammate. “So,” he began, glancing at Keryn’s retreating form, “what do you think?”

Yen looked longingly after her, her gentle touch lingering on his arm and her kiss on his cheek. Remembering the burning focus in her eyes when she spoke of revenge against the Terran Empire, he smiled at his Pilgrim friend.

“I don’t think we’ve seen the last of her.”

EPILOGUE

“Captain on the deck!” the navigator called, as the small crew on the bridge of the Liberator leaped to their feet.

Captain Hallith stepped off the lift and ran a hand along the bony ridges near his thinning hairline. “At ease,” he said softly.

The cramped bridge of the Alliance cruiser was small enough that his nasal voice carried clearly across the room.

The crew took their seats, as the captain sat at the top of the tiered rows. “What’s our status, Mr. Paporus?”

The ship’s tactical officer, a large Oterian, reviewed the day’s logs, as he spoke. Captain Hallith only half-listened, knowing the review would be dreadfully similar to yesterday’s, and the day before that, and before that. The Liberator, an archaic vessel refurbished for its current mission, was assigned the duty of patrolling the Demilitarized Zone between Alliance and Empire space.

Established in the Taisa Accord nearly 150 years previously, the Zone became a virtual barrier that consisted of sparse star systems and open space, an invisible knife’s edge through which ships from neither side would cross. The captain accepted the position only as a means for promotion, knowing that, during a time of peace between two organizations, job opportunities were great potential for further advancement within the Fleet.

Until two days earlier, his job contained little more excitement than intercepting merchant vessels traveling too close the Demilitarized Zone. His crew boarded only one ship suspected of smuggling, and, even after finding only a miniscule amount of contraband, he threw the entire crew in the brig.

Two days earlier, however, he received a Top Secret communication from the High Council. The blanket message, sent to all captains patrolling the Zone, notified them of a potential new threat. Intel reported that Terran destroyers were seen in Alliance-occupied space. If that were the case, Hallith realized, with excitement, a direct engagement with the Terran Empire would catapult his career. He would be guaranteed a Fleet command position, instead of being delegated to a small, refurbished vessel like the Liberator.

Shaking away his fantasies, he noticed a worried expression on the navigator’s face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ninarath. What was that you asked?”

“I was merely asking what you thought about the rumors of a Terran infiltration, Sir,” the Avalon asked. “Do you really think there’s a possibility there are Terran destroyers in Alliance space?”

“I think about it quite a bit, to be honest.” He shifted his weight in the comfortable chair, one of the few items he was able to specifically request during the rebuilding of the old ship. “It’s hard to say how much truth there is to the rumors of Terran attacks. Need I remind all of you that this isn’t the first time Liberator has been put on alert for a potential Terran threat? You’re too young to remember, but once everyone thought the Empire would attack at any time. During those days, we were almost always on alert.”

He slid down until he rested his head against the rear cushion. “It would be a great opportunity to put the Empire in its place for violating the Taisa Accord, but I don’t really put much stock in there being destroyers out there.”

“Sir, I have a contact,” the communications officer said. “It looks like multiple ships.”

“Probably merchants off course,” the captain said dismissively. “Send them the verification code.”

“What if it’s not a drill, Sir?” Ninarath asked.

“What’s that?”

“I’m just wondering what would happen if we later found out there really were destroyers in Alliance space. What if all this isn’t a drill?”

Captain Hallith chuckled. “Son, there hasn’t been a major conflict between the Alliance and the Empire in 150 years. However, you’ve all trained extensively on how to conduct ship-to-ship combat. The Terrans might be surprised if they went toe-to-toe with the Liberator.”

“Sir?” the communications officer interrupted again.

“What is it, Mr. Chenowitt?” he asked the Uligart.

“The ships aren’t responding with any friendly frequencies.”

The captain frowned. “What are they replying with, then?”

“Nothing, Sir.” A hint of nervousness crept into the officer’s voice. “I’ve hailed them repeatedly on the major communications bands and have received no response.”

“And the FIS?” he asked, referring to the Friendly Identification System that automatically sent a ship’s designation when probed by Alliance Fleet requests.

“Nothing, Sir. They’re flying in complete blackout and radio silence.”

“Smugglers,” he muttered, bringing his microphone to his lips and turning on the ship’s internal channel. “Attention on the ship. This is Captain Hallith. We have unidentified ships rapidly approaching our positions. All hands report to battle stations.”

He pushed away the microphone and turned to his navigator. “Helm, bring us about and give me a full forward view.”

The wall at the front of the bridge flickered, revealing a wide expanse of empty space. Slowly, as the ship maneuvered, distant dots swung into view.

“Give me magnification on those vessels.”

The image grew larger in bursts, as the camera magnified in stages. They grew from distant dots to sleek, aerodynamic silver bullets. As the image grew clearer, Captain Hallith saw the shiny, silver hulls of six large ships. Along their sides, thin, colorful pinstripes painted in overlapping patterns on the silver, armored exterior of the vessels finally revealed their identity. Behind each of the six ships, the stars shimmered from hot exhaust, as their engines burned at maximum, propelling the destroyers toward the lone Alliance cruiser.

His jaw dropping in surprise, Captain Hallith quickly barked orders to the crew. “Helm, bring us fully around and give me full speed! Tactics, arm all weapons systems!”

He tugged hastily at his microphone, nearly pulling it from the wall. “All hands to battle stations! Terran destroyers have crossed the Demilitarized Zone! This is not a drill!”

The captain shook, as the Liberator accelerated, slowly building forward momentum from its worn engines. The forward view screen spun to reveal the space behind, showing the six destroyers moving steadily closer. No longer magnified, they bristled with weapons ports at the bow of each ship.

As the six ships came within range, the lead destroyer fired a single rocket. Captain Hallith saw it.

“Evasive maneuvers! Brace for impact!”

Quickly covering the distance between the two ships, the plasma rocket’s internal computer activated, directing the missile toward the Liberator’s leftmost engine. The antiquated ship was unable to move quickly enough to get out of range before the rocket drove into the massive rear exhaust, plunging into the superheated liquid plasma fueling the engines.

Everyone onboard felt a jarring shake, as the missile struck the engine. Though Captain Hallith gritted his teeth tightly together, anticipating a ship-shattering explosion, it never came. Slowly, his hands released their death grip on the captain’s chair.

“Give me a status report!”

The communications officer activated the ship’s internal communications. A myriad of shouts and screams came from the engine room. As Captain Hallith listened, he was taken aback to find they were yells of surprise, not pain.

Within the two-story engine, the metal tip of the rocket crumpled, as it struck the burning liquid fuel, exposing a resilient dark canister within. Small explosives detonated around the perimeter of the canister, spilling forth gallons of dark fluid.

The viscous, oily substance slowed into the superheated plasma, where it began bubbling violently. Slowly, the fluid turned tar-like spreading into the engine. Everywhere it touched, it converted molten plasma into thick tar, jamming everything.

He heard shouts from a sea of frightened mechanics and engineers in the engine room. Vibrations rolled through the ship, as it lost speed. On the view screen, the Terran destroyers closed the distance faster than before.

“Sir, we’re losing speed!” the navigator shouted. “The left engine is completely unresponsive.”

His voice faded into muted oblivion, as Captain Hallith watched weapon ports on all six Terran ships open simultaneously. Dozens of rockets launched from each, their smoking trails filling the screen with crisscrossing pathways. In their own hidden language, the smoky trails spelled death for the Liberator.

“Gods save us,” the captain muttered, as the first rocket slammed into the limping Alliance cruiser.

Metal plates buckled, as plasma explosions blossomed across the ship’s length. Burning oxygen vented into space through hull breaches. Fire roared through the corridors, burning crewmen alive, as they fled one explosion only to be caught in another.

The captain watched in dismay, as missile after missile struck the Liberator, until, gratefully, one ended his consternation by splitting the hull above the bridge. He and his bridge crew were obliterated by the subsequent plasma explosion, which saved them a more-arduous death, as their bodies were sucked through the gaping hull into the void of space.

As the plasma blossoms cooled, debris from the former Alliance cruiser drifted aimlessly in space. The Terran destroyers flew past, seeking their next target.

Content

Jon Messenger
Burden of Sisyphus

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

EPILOGUE