Fall of Icarus (24 page)

Until she could find the strength of will she had somehow lost, she needed to distance herself from everyone she knew.
 
Yen Xiao included.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

           
The heavy scars of battle marred the surface of the
Revolution
as it flew toward the Farimas Space Station.
 
The rest of the Fleet, all at least as heavily damaged as the
Revolution
, flew in tow, surrounding and escorting a captured Terran Destroyer.
 
Disabled from the battle and its crew held in brigs throughout the Alliance ships, the Destroyer no longer posed the deadly threat it once had.

           
Though the
Revolution
was the least damaged of all the Cruisers, she proudly displayed her scored hull as they flew in formation.
 
Plasma rockets had burned deep holes through the armored plating and the metal slugs of the rail guns had gouged chasms that exposed the interior of the ship to the void of space.
 
Hundreds of Crewmen had died during the battle and entire sections of the ship were now uninhabitable, having been automatically sealed once the atmosphere within the ship had been breached.
 
One of the holes in the hull exposed the ruins of the former bridge, now undistinguishable aside from the twisted and melted girders that had made the framework of the room.
 
A fire within the bridge had killed both the Navigator and Communications Officers and resulted in a shift of command to an alternate post deeper within the
Revolution
.
 
Though the original bridge was now destroyed, much like the
head being
severed from the beast, the
Revolution
still flew on with Captain Hodge safely in command.

           
Within the hangar bay, the damage splayed across the surface of the Cruiser was echoed in the mass of damaged and destroyed
Duun
and
Cair
ships that littered the bay’s open floor.
 
Many ships, like the
Cair Ilmun
, had limped back to the
Revolution
.
 
They had been held together solely by the strength of will and determination of their pilots.
 
Upon their return, the ships had collapsed in the gravity of the hangar, their metallic forms too severely damaged to return to their berths within the alcoves of the bay.
 
Crews worked feverishly to salvage what they could from those ships too damaged to fly, as well as to clean away the dark red stain of blood that streaked the floor the full length of the hangar bay.
 
Many pilots had returned with little of their bodies left beyond their iron will.
 
They had died still strapped in their ships or, to the dismay of the other
pilots,
drug themselves free of their cockpits only to die on the floor in a pool of their own blood.
 
Lying unceremoniously on the hard, cold floor of a hangar, gurgling and choking on your own blood, was far detached from the romantic vision of how pilots expected to die.

           
Keryn knew that she should be there, among the workers clearing away the debris and remains of the pilots.
 
It had been days since the end of the battle and nearly every other pilot had contributed to the cleanup efforts.
 
A couple times she had made it as far as one of the clear glass windows that overlooked the hangar bay before her heart lurched and a deep pain stung her in the emptiness in her chest.
 
In the end, she had invariably turned around and returned to her quarters.

           
She had been hailed a hero, both for destroying an entire Terran Squadron and single-handedly decimating a Destroyer.
 
But Keryn didn’t feel much like a hero.
 
She smiled amicably when others stopped her in the hall or asked to sit with her at the mess hall, but conversation was always light and she left them bewildered, unsure of how to take her aloof attitude.
 
For Keryn, it was a time of soul searching, though she still remained unsure of what, exactly, she was searching for.
 
Her soul was incomplete, having been torn apart by her own actions.
 

           
Mostly, though, Keryn spent her time avoided Yen Xiao.
 
She had changed her routine to avoid him; going to meals earlier or later and working out in the middle of the night.
 
He had knocked on her door a few times and had called more times than she cared to count.
 
Eventually, she had simply deactivated her messaging service so that she wouldn’t have to listen to his concerned and upset messages.
 
His messages had pained her as well, knowing that she was intentionally hurting him.
 
Keryn knew that he loved her just as she loved him, but until she could find her own way and purpose, she couldn’t imagine herself spending time with Yen.

           
The ache in her chest was from more than just the loss of the Voice and her distancing from Yen.
 
Many of her fellow pilots were now dead, Squadron Commander Garrix among them.
 
While leading the Squadron against the Terrans, his
Duun
fighter had been struck by a plasma rocket and obliterated.
 
There was nothing left of Garrix to bury.
 
His memorial had been one of dozens conducted over the past few days.
 
Keryn had skipped most of them.
 
There was nothing to say to all those soldiers and Crewmen who had sacrificed their lives during the first real war between the Terran Empire and the Alliance in over one hundred years.
 
They were the true heroes, Keryn knew.
 
And it was that knowledge that made it difficult for her to accept when others called her a hero.

           
Standing in front of the mirror, Keryn adjusted her dress uniform and looked at her own reflection.
 
She kept waiting for the reflection to move
;
to speak as the Voice had done in her vision.
 
In some ways, Keryn wished it would move.
 
Though she hated herself for admitting it, she felt a little lost without the constant criticisms and compliments of the Voice.
 
But her reflection never waivered.
 
It was just her own image she saw.
 
The bruising under her eyes from lack of sleep and deathly pallor that had settled over her tan skin were only the beginnings of the physical manifestations of her inner turmoil.

           
Taking a deep breath, Keryn looked at herself once more in the mirror.
 
The medals she had been awarded for her actions during the battle gleamed upon her chest, though she found their sparkle a little depressing.
 
Finally, she understood what a fellow pilot had told her after her brother’s memorial service.
 
After Eza had been posthumously awarded the Alliance Service Cross, Keryn had been telling the story of how he had earned the medal.
 
A pilot had corrected her, letting her know that
medals like that weren’t awarded
,
they were received
.
 
She hadn’t understood the difference then, but she found herself understanding now.
 
A person was awarded a medal for performing admirably, either in combat or in
peace time
.
 
But what was admirable about killing thousands of Terrans in a single attack?
 
No,
Keryn hadn’t been awarded her medals
,
she had simply received them
.

           
And now, she realized as she stood in front of the mirror, the list of decorations that she would receive would grow by one, though this one carried with it a much bigger burden.
 
As she walked out of the room, Keryn tried to remember any vignettes of wisdom that Squadron Commander Garrix might have imparted before his untimely death.
 
Frowning, she realized that she couldn’t remember any.
 
She hadn’t known him long enough for him to impart his wisdom.
 
Turning off the lights, Keryn knew that she would soon be struggling to figure out the job on her own as she assumed the mantle of Squadron Commander for the
Revolution
.

           
Almost none of the pilots on the
Revolution
had been battle tested prior to the conflict with the invading Terran Fleet.
 
Through her actions, or rather through the actions of the Voice, Keryn had become a hero and established herself as the premier pilot on board.
 
Had she thought about it earlier, she would have realized that she was a natural selection for the position.
 
But she felt like a fraud.
 
It hadn’t been her that had performed those amazing feats of aerial acrobatics.
 
They were assigning her to the role of Squadron Commander under false pretenses, yet she had never taken the time to correct their mistake.
 
She would do her best to fill the role, though the threat of failure loomed ever-present over her shoulder.

           
The walk through the
Revolution
to the auditorium where her promotion ceremony would be held was a startling trip for Keryn.
 
The interior of the ship had fared little better than the exterior.
 
When she had first come aboard, the
Revolution
had been pristine.
 
Now, around her the walls were buckled from unseen explosions.
 
Black soot coated the walls from distant fires, spreading their dark marks across the walls like a drop of blood in water.
 
In parts of the ship, electrical wires hung from the ceiling where workers slaved to restore power to damaged sections.

           
Entering one of the only operational lifts on the
Revolution
, Keryn pressed the button for the correct floor and leaned her head against the cool interior wall of the elevator.
 
She had tried to come up with a memorable speech, but everything she wrote felt trite.
 
Hoping to make up her speech in the heat of the moment, Keryn now worried that, possibly, that decision had been a mistake.
 
Weariness crept into her thoughts, leaving them muddled and unclear.
 
When it came time for her to speak, Keryn wasn’t sure if she’d be able to say little more than a polite “thank you” before departing the stage as quickly as possible.
 
Smiling softly, though the humor did not reach her eyes, Keryn thought that exiting the stage quickly might not be a bad idea.
 
At least her promotion would be memorable.

           
As the lift doors opened, Keryn walked the short distance down the hall to the large double doors that would lead to the auditorium.
 
An honor guard had been posted in the hall and they nodded politely as they opened the doors.
 
Very little noise escaped the auditorium, though Keryn quickly surmised that it was due to a subdued mood in the room rather than a lack of audience members.
 
In fact, Keryn realized with a start, the room was nearly packed with pilots, soldiers, and Crewmen.
 
In her mind, the ceremony was going to be a low-key event, attended only by those with directly vested interests in her promotion.
 
Instead, a hundred sets of eyes turned to observe her entrance.

           
Feeling even more nervous than before, Keryn was escorted by a member of the honor guard down the aisle of the auditorium and to the stage, where she climbed the steps and took her seat facing the crowd.
 
She couldn’t help but feel exceptionally vulnerable sitting on the stage, with so many people watching her.
 
Even the few meager conversations that had been going on when she entered had died away.
 
Scanning the crowd, Keryn’s eyes unintentionally fell on familiar faces.
 
Sitting a few rows back, behind the rows of pilots – her future subordinates, Keryn had to remind
herself
– sat the former infiltration team of the
Cair Ilmun
.
 
Yen and Adam sat side by side, talking to one another in low tones.
 
Yen nodded to the comments the Pilgrim made, but his dark, unreadable eyes never left Keryn.
 
Beside them, the rest of the team smiled comfortingly.
 
Though she smiled weakly toward them, her eyes were drawn back to Yen and his piercing gaze.
 
It felt as though his scrutiny was pulling her apart, peeling away her defensive layers until she was left exposed.
 
Keryn wanted to find a place to hide, preferably far away from that critiquing look.
 
Her concerns were quickly alleviated, though, as the doors opened once again at the back of the auditorium.