Purge of Prometheus (13 page)

Both Merric and Scyant turned as Yen approached, their conversation halting.
 
Scyant struck a stiff salute as he reached the pair, her stern military bearing unwavering even in the course of working in the weapons bay.
 
He returned her salute, ignoring Merric’s inquisitive looks as he expected his own salute.
 
He cleared his throat, a nervous tick Yen had noticed whenever he felt an awkward silence spread, and returned to perusing his reports.

“During the last exercise involving your weapons bay,” Merric continued, picking up his conversation where they had left off before Yen’s arrival, “your section did not maintain the high standards expected by the weaponeers of this ship.”
 
He looked down, consulting the series of numbers that scrolled across his screen.
 
“The return fire by the rail guns was inaccurate and would not have maintained a proper field of suppression against any pursuing ships.”

Scyant’s face appeared carved from stone, only the slightly rosy patches of color on her cheeks belied the frustration she felt.
 
“Sir, with all due respect, I explained previously that we have been waiting for the proper instruments in order to fully calibrate the rail guns, instruments that have been on order for over four months.
 
The fault here lies with Logistics.
 
If you would kindly ask them when I can get my instrumentation, I’ll ensure that my weapons bay is compliant next exercise.”

Yen smiled, appreciating the fire he heard barely masked behind her calm demeanor.
 
Though she addressed the fault as being that of the Logistics cell, Yen knew as well as Scyant did that it was Eminent Merric who oversaw that section.
 
Her own thoughts, clearly imprinted in the front of her mind, told Yen what she really thought: any fault in the Logistics cell was a direct reflection of its piss-poor leadership.
 
Merric, thankfully, seemed oblivious to her subtle berating, and continued his rant.

“This ship cannot operate if everyone simply wants to point fingers at one another,” he said.
 
“We want results, not excuses.
 
Fix the issue before the next exercise.”
 
Merric turned toward the missile tubes and loading racks for the rail guns, confident that the issue was at a close.
 
He didn’t notice the glare he received as he stepped toward the first missile battery.
 
“Now walk me through the weapon systems themselves.”

As the trio stepped off toward the four missile batteries located in the rear of the ship, Warrant Scyant explained at great length the inner workings of the missile tubes and collections of plasma rockets.
 
She maintained the same stoic facial expression, even while fielding numerous inane questions from Merric, who seemed eager to catch her at a fault or cause her to stumble over an answer.
 
Yen frowned as he watched the exchange.
 
His powers reached out toward Merric, probing as the officer talked.
 
He could sense the concealed glee in Merric’s mind, a happiness that came at the expense of the confidence of others.

As Yen focused once more on the conversation and less on Merric’s thoughts, he caught the tail end of a mundane description.
 
“…furthermore, that’s exactly why it’s important to maintain good order and discipline within your missile crews.
 
Without your leadership, this entire rear half of the ship, as well as the engines located below you, could disappear into a cloud of…”

Yen reached out with his powers, a fine blue filament of power emerged from the gently shimmering air around Yen, striking Merric’s mind like a scorpion sting.
 
Merric paused in mid sentence, his eyes cloudy and his jaw slack.
 
Slowly, Merric closed his mouth and blinked heavily, turning slowly toward the ten rail guns further toward the aft of the ship.

“Why don’t you show me the rail guns,” Merric said, his condescending tone replaced with a calmer voice.
 
Yen reached out with the filament once more, striking Merric in the back of the skull.
 
“If you please, Warrant Scyant,” Merric said, motioning for her to lead.

Scyant’s cool demeanor melted as her forehead wrinkled in confusion.
 
She looked back and forth between the two officers; Merric gestured politely toward the rail guns as Yen smiled wickedly to himself.
 
Turning hesitantly, she led the way further into the bowels of the weapons bay.

Yen cheered quietly to himself, proud both of his ability to save Scyant from the inconvenience of dealing with Merric and, more importantly, of so clearly controlling his powers.
 
Though he felt pressure build behind his eyes after even the most subtle use of his powers, both the scanning of their thoughts and the suggestions he placed in Merric’s mind worked without error.
 
He would suffer through the pain and pressure, if only he could control his powers more thoroughly.

As Scyant led the pair toward the rail guns and the metal slugs resting a safe distance away, Merric shook his head as though trying to dislodge a bad idea.
 
He looked left and right before finally tilting his head as though straining to hear sounds in the distance.
 
Merric glanced over his shoulder toward Yen, who raised his eyebrows in expectation.
 
Opening his mouth, Merric stuttered as he tried to talk, then quickly closed his mouth and hurried to catch up with Scyant.
 
Yen felt pride swell in his chest.

The trio stopped nearly thirty feet away from the series of rail guns.
 
Though Yen had helped operate one of the rail guns on the
Revolution
once when the ship had been severely damaged by a Terran Destroyer, the simple, yet incredibly effective technology never ceased to amaze him.
 
Ten openings spread across the rear wall of the weapons bay, representing the ten rail guns located aft on the ship.
 
Each opening contained three long metallic poles, located in a triangular pattern around the edge of the opening.
 
Yen knew from experience that each of these was highly magnetic, their forces enough to rip even the smallest metal object from a person’s grip like a deadly projectile.
 
The rails’ surfaces, pocked with grooves, directed the magnetic energy toward the outside of the hull.

When loaded with one of the heavy metal slugs, whose own magnetic field was polarized against the rails, the conflicting magnetic fields kept the slug aloft as it was propelled down the shaft and out the rear of the ship.
 
The rail gun technology was not technical, but it was effective.
 
Without friction in the void of space, the speed with which the slugs were launched from the ship never decreased, the slugs maintaining their velocity and momentum until striking and tearing through another object.
 
Yen had seen the fury of a full volley of rail guns being brought to bear upon an enemy ship.
 
The slugs weren’t explosive, but they didn’t need to be.
 
Their velocity ripped through the thick metal hulls of enemy ships, decompressing multiple floors and creating a vacuum by which dozens of crewmen were killed by just a single slug.
 
Technical they were not, but deadly just the same.

Merric asked few questions as he inspected the rail guns, his mind distracted by thoughts he simply couldn’t grasp or currently comprehend.
 
Within minutes, he shook his head in frustration and turned away from Scyant and Yen.

“This all seems…” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts through his muddled mind.
 
“This seems to be in order.
 
Good job, Warrant Scyant.
 
Um, keep up the good work.”

With his cryptic departure done, he stormed toward the exit to the weapons room, lost once again in his own confusion.
 
Yen turned to the Warrant, smiling broadly.

“That went better than I could have expected,” he said mischievously.
 

Scyant’s face broke into a beautiful smile.
 
She turned to Yen, her eyes twinkling; she seemed like a different person all together from the stern Warrant who had been giving the tour moments before.
 
With her smiling, Yen could see why others found her so attractive.

“I don’t know what you did, but I can’t thank you enough,” she said, nearly stumbling over her own words in her excitement.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yen replied, his own smile broadening to match hers.

She leaned forward and, in a more hushed tone, continued.
 
“You need to be careful, sir,” she said, nearly whispering.
 
“If Merric figures out what you did, you could be in big trouble.”
 
She straightened and smiled again.
 
“Still, I don’t know how I can ever repay you for saving my ass.”

Yen looked at Warrant Scyant, admiring how her tattoos traced the curves of her high cheekbones and imagined how she would look with her hair down, framing her handsome face.
 
Iana’s advice resounded in his mind.
 
Maybe it was time he tried a distraction.

“I know how you can repay me,” he said confidently.

Scyant’s eyebrow raised inquisitively, her smile never faltering.
 
“And how would I do that?”

“Have dinner with me tonight.
 
My quarters.”

She paused as she considered his offer.
 
Nodding, she agreed.
 
“I’ll be there at nineteen hundred.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said, his spirits feeling bolstered for the first time in quite a while.
 
Still, the pain ached behind his eyes as though he had overused his powers once more.
 
Scyant braced in a salute, which Yen returned before turning and leaving the weapons bay.

CHAPTER 11:

The Terran destroyer passed through the debris field now surrounding Othus and assumed an orbit around the planet.
 
Fragments of metal and remains of former crewmen bounced off its hull.
 
The view screen on the destroyer showed the swollen black sun, its heat sequestered and its darkness now throwing the planets in this galaxy into an unnatural night.
 
Its crew was still cheering the destruction of the two Alliance Cruisers when it launched its small fighters and large bombers into the atmosphere of the planet.

The first few fighters dove quickly toward the planet, the dozens of ships pouring through the atmosphere glowed from the friction of entry like meteor showers in the night sky.
 
They immediately began pursuing ships trying to leave orbit, streaking through the sky with deadly intent.
 
The bloated merchant vessels were no match for the quick fighters and soon the sky was littered with explosions as plasma rockets and large bore automatic machine guns tore through the slower ships.

The larger bombers, slower on their entry but twice as deadly as the Terran fighters, moved into positions over the planet’s major cities.
 
A single bomber took up orbit above Miller’s Glen, its sleek silver, arrowhead shaped hull glistening even in the unnatural twilight caused by the blackened sun.

Merchants and citizens alike throughout Miller’s Glen fled the city toward the spaceport, eager to climb its spiral body and reach their ships.
 
The Terran fighters had ignored the spaceport, focusing instead on destroying the ships and recreational vehicles that scattered like insects under the assaulting Terran fleet.
 
Those fleeing toward the spaceport felt a false sense of security; the slightest glimmer of hope shone in their panicked minds that there was escape from the impending massacre.
 
Keryn and her crew, still huddled inside their hotel room, knew better than to hope.
 
There would be a slaughter of the planet, and death would come from the bomber hovering above the city.

As people packed into the spaceport, its body filling with those who had run across the length of the city searching for escape, the bomber turned slowly in the sky, taking up station above the port.
 
On the bottom of its sleek form, two doors slid open, exposing the black depths inside.
 
With no more than a whisper, a pair of glowing orbs dropped from the ship, blue and purple plasma swirling within their core.
 
As they fell deceptively slowly toward the planet’s surface, a thick ion trail followed in their wake, trailing a colorful menagerie of released energy.
 
Engines whined to life along the spaceport, pilots eager to skip as much of their pre-flight checks as possible in their hurry.
 
But none of the ships were quick enough to escape the two falling plasma bombs.

After striking the top of the spaceport, the bombs unleashed unholy energy.
 
The port exploded outward, its debris shattering through the glass walls of the tall towers in the center of the city.
 
Explosion after explosion rocked the port as the ships along its reaching arms ignited in the inferno.
 
From the center of the explosion, a shockwave erupted.
 
Out of town, trees were blown from their roots and rock formations crumbled under the assault.
 
Inside the city, the devastation was much worse.