Purge of Prometheus (2 page)

Yen turned back to the screen as the image changed.
 
Where the face had stood before, it was now replaced with a computer representation of a star system, the sun glowing brightly in the center of the concentric circle orbits of the planets.
 
A small green disk appeared near the sun as the narrative continued.

“The Lords’ Senate had approved one last bit of research, knowing that a strike by the Alliance was highly probably after we invaded their space.
 
The research was as intriguing as it was revealing.
 
The thesis of our research was simple: if the Deplitoxide had the ability to transform the engine fuel of ships into a black tar, then the effects on a burning sun would be catastrophic.”

The excitement in Doctor Solomon’s voice was barely concealed as the diagram began moving.
 
The green disk lowered gently toward the glowing representation of the sun.
 
As it struck the sun’s surface, the screen flashed brightly before the glowing orb rapidly darkened and cooled, leaving behind a black husk where the sun had previously stood.

“To that end, the Terran Empire pre-positioned canisters of Deplitoxide in orbit around forty-three different suns in thirty-two star systems.
 
As this message is playing, signals are being sent to these canisters.
 
If we can’t defeat the Alliance by force, then we’ll simply have to kill them where they live.”

The image transformed back to that of the doctor, who was smiling broadly.
 
“While I know I will always be remembered for this brazen scientific gambit, I can only hope my research is continued by those who would not live under the yoke of Alliance domination.
 
I was known in life; let me be immortalized in death.”

With the message finished, the doctor’s face froze on the screen before the message began replaying once more.

“My name is Doctor David Solomon.
 
If you are watching this video, it means that I am already dead.”

Yen shook his head in disbelief.
 
Trillions of people lived through Alliance space, many of whom would now be in jeopardy if what Doctor Solomon was saying was correct.

“…the Alliance and the Empire have both stoically remained fastidious about the terms of the Taisa Accord…”

Without suns to grant life-giving warmth to the planets, they would be damned to unnatural winters.
 
Crops would die in the fields.
 
People would freeze to death as temperatures plummeted.
 
Millions, if not billions, would die of exposure and starvation.

“…disenfranchised smuggler agreed to provide more of the chemical to us, which we weaponized for rocket attacks…”

Yen knew that there had to be a way to stop the signal before it was sent.
 
He rushed over to the computer console and tried to access the control prompt.
 
Every combination of codes he tried, however, resulted in a small red phrase flashing across the screen as the message continued.
 
“Access Denied,” it read over and over again as Yen tried to hack into the Terran system.

“…we can’t defeat the Alliance by force, then we’ll simply have to kill them where they live…”

Yen slammed his fist into the computer console and gasped for breath as the power surged through his system.
 
His nerves burned as his combined rage and frustration poured adrenaline into his blood.
 
The air wavered before his eyes and bile burned in his throat.

“…I was known in life; let me be immortalized in death…”

“My name is Doctor David Solomon…”

With an angry flick of his hand, the screen exploded into a shower of plastic and glass.
 
The room was suddenly cast into a soothing silence and the power, having found a release, slowly subsided.
 
Yen turned to the soldiers, both mortified and furious.

“Gather your men,” he said, “and get ready for an immediate evacuation.
 
We need to get back to the Fleet now!”

CHAPTER 2:

Keryn Riddell cut the heavy gravity acceleration as she entered the
Orthorius Galaxy
and began her decent toward Othus, the only inhabitable planet in a galaxy dominated by a burning, swollen yellow sphere.
 
The eighth planet in the system, the atmosphere around Othus had evolved to repel the heavy radiation that poured from its large sun.
 
As a result, the sky above the planet held a sickly, radioactive green hue.
 
Despite being located so far away from the sun, the planet’s atmospheric temperature was significantly higher than most inhabited planets in the known universe.
 
Keryn, who had already been suffering during the long voyage to Othus, was not looking forward to further discomfort added to that which she had already endured.

Twisting the latch that held her harness closed, Keryn stretched her stiff muscles as much as the cramped cabin would allow.
 
Though the inhibitors on board her ship, the
Cair Ilmun
, greatly reduced the pressure of the increased gravities a craft would encounter during long transits between galaxies, the technology wasn’t able to transform the intense accelerations into a single gravity.
 
As a result, a crew traveled for months at a time feeling as though a foot constantly pressed against their chest.
 
They struggled for breath and moved as though they carried an extra thirty percent of their body weight.

Keryn clicked the microphone strapped to her throat, engaging the intercom that ran through the small vessel.

“Regular gravity restored,” she announced in a voice that seemed strained and tired.
 
Though faint through the heavy metal door that separated the cabin from the crew quarters, she could hear the cheers from a relieved crew.

It was good to hear them cheer, she thought.
 
The last time she had heard them cheer so exuberantly was when the entire team of seven first descended on Pteraxis, the last known location of Cardax and his black market organization.
 
She remembered that their cheers were short lived.
 
Their attempt to capture Cardax then had resulted in disaster, with two members of her team killed and McLaughlin, who was still in what passed for the ship’s the sick bay, only stabilized after being wounded severely when a grenade landed near by.

The door to the cabin slid open and Adam Decker, one of the only two Pilgrims that had volunteered for this mission, entered into the cramped cabin.
 
His shaggy blond hair brushed the transparent ceiling as he stooped, his muscular upper body bent forward in the confined space.
 
Keryn turned to the best of her ability and flashed him a warming smile, glad to finally have company on the bridge of the ship.
 
The Pilgrims were an odd ally in the war.
 
Born Terrans, they had turned against the Empire’s teachings, siding instead with the Interstellar Alliance.

“How are you doing up here?” he asked, rubbing his left shoulder in an attempt to work out the stiffness that can only be experienced by prolonged exposure to heavy gravity.

“I’m tired and extremely sore,” she replied.
 
She turned back toward the front of the ship, focusing on the telemetry bringing them into the galaxy.
 

“Are we still following his trail?” Adam asked sternly, he masked his contempt behind a cool composure and level voice, but she knew it was there, festering.

Keryn looked down at the computer screen, watching their path perfectly follow a trail marked on the digital readout.

“We’re no more than a day or two behind him,” she replied, freely showing signs of the same anger that Adam subdued.
 
“We’ll catch back up to him soon enough.”

The pair flew on in silence, watching the galaxy reveal itself as they skirted along the dark side of one of the super-heated planets orbiting the swollen sun.
 
It wasn’t so long ago, Keryn thought with surprise, that she had never heard of the name Cardax.
 
Though a successful smuggler, Cardax had flown under the radar of Interstellar Alliance, doing jobs on the outer rim galaxies and not causing too great a disruption to commerce in the universe.
 
That changed just over a year ago, when Cardax stumbled upon an organic compound called Deplitoxide.
 
Deplitoxide was composed of single-celled organisms that rapidly reproduce when exposed to extreme heat.
 
Their outer membranes absorbed intense volumes of heat and converted the remaining matter into a viscous black byproduct.
 
Cardax turned the organisms into a weapon, capable of completely disabling ships once missiles with Deplitoxide warheads were launched into their engines.
 
The organisms fed on the superheated fuel that all ships used for interstellar transport, leaving behind a thick, black tar that ruined engines.

Following his discovery, Cardax became a successful pirate, striking ships throughout the major trading route.
 
His success brought on a small but loyal faction of followers, but also caught the eye of the Interstellar Alliance delegations.
 
Warships were sent after Cardax, who quickly abandoned his smuggling operation and fled for the Demilitarized Zone.
 
It was on the border of the Interstellar Alliance territory that Cardax did the unthinkable: he sold Deplitoxide to the Terran Empire for his immunity.

For that, if for nothing else, Keryn and her crew were ordered – and willing – to capture and return him to the High Counsel for justice.
 
But Cardax had made the hunt more personal when he killed two of her crew and severely wounded a third.

Her painful reminiscing of their first encounter brought a question to mind that she should have asked as soon as Adam had entered the cabin.

“How is McLaughlin?” she asked with genuine worry in her question.
 

Adam shrugged.
 
“He’s resting in the sick bay.”

Keryn nodded, but didn’t feel very reassured.
 
The ship’s “sick bay” was a converted storage bay, now lined with a cot and the minimalistic medical equipment they had on board.
 

“The auto-injectors have been keeping his vital signs stable,” Adam continued, “but it won’t do anything for his missing arm.
 
He’s still burning up with a fever, too.”

“It’s been a long time,” she said quietly.

“He should have gotten better, I know,” Adam replied, expressing the concern that she had been thinking.
 
The grenade that struck McLaughlin had been a gift to Cardax from the Terran Empire.
 
Their research into biological and genetic weapons had far exceeded that of the Interstellar Alliance and the grenade had been a byproduct of that scientific investigation.
 
The explosive blast of the grenade had shredded through the soft flesh of the Pilgrim’s right arm, nearly severing it above the elbow.
 
The open wounds, however, had caused the rest of the damage; the wounds allowed a biological agent into his body, one that was slowly breaking down his organs on a cellular level.
 
Current Alliance technology had been, thus far, unable to cure him.
 
Only one organization on their side of the war had the ability to heal him: the High Council.
 
Comprised of the greatest military and scientific minds from among the races of the Interstellar Alliance, the High Council personified the brain trust that created the greatest in military strategy, technology, and medicine.
 
But the High Council wouldn’t agree to treat their wounded until they completed the mission on which they had been sent.
 
Without the capture of Cardax, McLaughlin would die.

The
Cair Ilmun
dropped its wing and brushed through the atmosphere of one of the Orthorius Galaxy’s superheated gas giants, using the gravitational pull to accelerate toward Othus and the two large Cruisers currently orbiting the planet.
 
Within the ship, the inhibitors continued to suppress the increase in gravities and the two in the cabin were uninterrupted in their conversation.

“You think we’ll have any trouble with them,” Adam asked, gesturing toward the two Alliance Cruisers defending the planet.
 
Their mission had been one of secrecy, which meant they were operating outside the normal boundaries of legality.

Keryn shrugged.
 
“Those two are just for show.
 
They’re only here because we’re near a world on the demilitarized zone.”

The sensors crackled to life as the closest Cruiser sent an automated IFF – identification friend or foe.
 
Without any input from the crew, the
Cair Ilmun
sent its auto reply, identifying it as a member of the Alliance.

Keryn didn’t slow her approach as the Cruiser processed her reply, nor did she and Adam cut short their conversation.

“They may be armed to the teeth,” she explained, “but Othus is a smuggler’s haven.
 
Unless a ship shows up with gun’s blazing, I’d be surprised if those Cruisers ever left their orbit.”