Purge of Prometheus (38 page)

The heavy gravities caused during the slingshots around the gas giants took their toll on the crew.
 
Many didn’t sleep well at night and woke in the mornings with muscles aching as though they had spent the entire previous day in the gym.
 
The weight of the increased gravities felt a like a lead foot being pressed against their chests, making their lungs scream for air with every breath.
 
For Yen, especially, the sore muscles and difficulty breathing only added to his sour mood.
 
Aside from answering questions from his pilots about tactics and flight formations, Yen kept to himself during the accelerations.
 

He filled his time with thoughts of strategy and flight formations, making assumptions about Terran tactics and how best to exploit their weaknesses.
 
He knew the Terran ships bunched together for better defensive overlap from their rail guns and fighter interceptors.
 
If one of the ships exploded, it usually did collateral damage to the Destroyers nearby.
 
Though they tried against the invading Terran ships a year ago, the Alliance had been unable to slip a large enough explosive to destroy one of their ships outright past their intricately woven defensive grid.

In the one conflict between the Terran Empire and the Interstellar Alliance, most of the ships that each side lost had been due to destroyed engines and disabled weaponry.
 
The ships had floated listlessly in the combat, the massive bulks acting as flotsam and jetsam around which the smaller fighters had swarmed.
 
Yen surmised that it was possible to cause a massive explosion in one of the Terran ships were a fighter able to sneak some of the plasma missiles past the defenses and strike either the weapon bays with its volatile plasma warheads or drive a rocket into the fuel cells in the rear of the ship.
 
But maneuvering missiles to those locations while dodging machine gun fire, enemy rockets and fighters, and metal slugs from both sides was near impossible.

The intricate battle planning had given Yen a headache to add to the aching muscles.
 
As a result, he was pleased when Captain Hodge came over the intercom and notified the Fleet that they had arrived and were beginning decelerations.
 
While Yen was ferried by elevator to the bridge, the weight lifted from his chest and he nearly collapsed in surprise at the first lung full of breath he’d had in days.
 
As the door opened, Yen stepped onto the bridge and, for the first time, laid eyes on the galaxy that he had seen so many times in simulation.

The small sun was dormant, producing no light.
 
The two dark spheres of the closest planets floated like voids in space; two black spots behind which the stars could not be seen.
 
In front of the
Revolution
, however, the four gas giants spun lazily in their elliptical orbit around the sun.
 
The bodies, bloated and swollen, remained lit from within as arcs of lightning danced between the cloud layers.
 
The violets and blues of the planets’ clouds stood backlit momentarily before the electrical charge scurried toward another pair of clouds in the atmosphere.

“It will still be another three hours until we’ve reached orbit around the planets,” Captain Hodge said from the helm.
 
“That gives me three hours to build up the nerve to fly this massive kite into that even larger thunderstorm.
 
It doesn’t give me a very warm feeling.”

“Have no fear, Captain,” Yen replied.
 
“Those are enormous bolts of lightning.
 
If you do get struck, you won’t live long enough to feel it.”

“You’re not helping,” the Captain said dryly.

They stood for a while in silence, both watching the majesty of the gas giants and the deadly storms brewing just beneath their surfaces.
 
The planets grew only slightly closer in the time they watched, the distances between the ships and their destinations were deceptive in the enormity of space.
 
After nearly an hour of silence had passed, Captain Hodge activated the Fleet-wide channel.

“Attention all Captains,” she said, her voice carrying to the bridges of nearly three-dozen Cruisers.
 
“We have reached the separation point.
 
Starburst at this time and take up your positions in your respective planets.
 
This will be the last time we talk before the battle begins.
 
Good luck to all of you and may your aim be true.”

She switched off the channel and turned to Yen.
 
“It’s time, Squadron Commander.
 
Be safe out there and come back to us.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am,” Yen answered coolly.
 
“I have no intention of dying out there.”

With a quick salute, Yen left the bridge, taking the elevator down to the hangar bay.
 
He zipped up the front of his flight suit, and pulled on his insulated gloves before opening the door to the bay.
 
As he made his way across the open floor, he was not surprised to see all the pilots from Teams Six and Seven gathered around his fighter.

“Separation anxiety?” Yen asked as he approached.

“Oh, you big jerk,” Iana answered as the spokeswoman for the group.
 
“You know we couldn’t just let you leave without a proper goodbye.”

They all spoke at once as he got near.
 
Yen was quickly inundated with a hundred different handshakes and wishes for a safe trip.
 
As they finished their goodbyes, the pilots left the group one by one until only Iana and Gregario remained by the ship.

“So,” Gregario said, breaking the awkward silence.

“So,” Yen agreed.

“Make sure you’re…” Iana began before Yen cut her off mid-sentence.

“Please, please don’t give me another ‘make sure you’re safe’ speech.
 
I expect more originality out of you than that.”

Iana punched him playfully on the arm and gave her best impersonation of a scowl.

“Don’t go,” she said.

“Well, that one is a little more original,” Yen replied.
 
“But you know that just isn’t an option for me.”

“I know,” she said, handing him his helmet.
 
“But you can’t blame a girl for trying.”

“She’s completely loaded with ammunition and fuel,” Gregario said, patting the side of the fighter and changing the tense conversation.
 
“She’ll take you… well, as far as you need to go.”

“You two are acting like I’m never going to see you again,” Yen said, exasperated.

“You did volunteer for a suicide mission, sir,” Gregario answered.
 
“That does preclude us to believe we’re not going to see you again.”

“Just who do you think you’re talking to?” Yen asked, surprised.
 
“You don’t honestly think I’d volunteer for a mission that had no chance of survival, do you?
 
You both just be ready to cover my six once the battle begins.
 
I’ll be all alone until you guys get there.”

“We’ve never let you down before,” Iana said, smiling.
 
“We won’t let you down this time.
 
You stay alive until we get out of the atmosphere of the planet and I guarantee we’ll be there to save your ass.”

“Then can I get you two off my fighter so I can start the pre-launch checks?” Yen asked, pushing Iana off the wing.
 
He paused as she moved, revealing the improvement they had made to the side of his ship.
 
The pair of pilots were smiling broadly as he turned toward them.

“Surprise,” Gregario said anti-climactically.

“We thought it was a fitting tribute,” Iana said, pointing at the newly renamed fighter.

Where previously the words
Duun Nathur
had been painted on the side of the black fighter, they were now replaced with bright white letters reading
Duun Riddell
, Keryn’s last name.

“I’m speechless,” Yen said, running his fingers along the letters of her name.

“Quit screwing around and be speechless during your pre-flight checks,” Iana replied as the two walked toward the exit to the hangar.
 
“You’ll be late for your own suicide mission if you don’t.”

Before they reached the door, they turned around once more.
 
“We left you another present in your computer files to watch when you get bored hanging out there in space all alone,” Gregario yelled, his deep voice carrying across the cavernous room.

As they left the room, Yen slid his helmet over his head and climbed into the cockpit, automatically closing the hatch behind him.
 
He checked the series of lights on the display in front of him as he started up the ignition process.
 
The smaller engines on the back of the ship pushed the fighter out of its cubicle as it taxied into the middle of the room.
 
Turning the ship, Yen faced toward the enormous bay doors that sealed the far end of the room.

“Captain, this is Squadcom,” he said into his attached microphone.
 
“I am in position and ready for launch.”

“Good luck, Commander,” she replied, her voice taking a digital tone through the speakers in his cockpit.
 
“We are depressurizing the hangar now and preparing to open the bay doors.
 
Keep in contact with us during your flight to ensure we have good communication.”

“Roger that, ma’am.
 
Open the bay doors when ready.”

The hissing filled the room as they vented the breathable air in the room and matched the pressure of space beyond the bay doors.
 
When the hissing stopped, Yen lifted the safeguard on his main engine ignition switch and watched the end of the runway.
 
Slowly, the bay doors slid apart, the stars twinkling into existence in the gap between.
 
When the doors were open slightly wider than the length of his wingspan, a green light lit up on his display and he threw the switch.

The ignition of the main rocket threw his head back against the cushioned headrest, which conformed to support his head and neck from injury during the intense acceleration.
 
As he passed through the doors and exited into open space, Yen pulled back on the controls and circled around the
Revolution
, falling into place just above the rear of the ship.

“I am clear of the ship and in position,” Yen said, his message being relayed to the bridge.

“Good to hear, Commander,” the Captain replied.
 
“Stay in contact as we approach the planet.”

CHAPTER 29:

Keryn spent the next few days bedridden in the infirmary as a cocktail of quick-healing chemicals and enzymes coursed through her system, repairing the broken rib, damaged knee, and internal injuries.
 
Adam had been in the bed next to her on the first day as the superficial wounds on his leg healed, but by day two he was up and moving, though he still spent a significant amount of time at her bedside.
 
He held her hand, caressing it gently and lending support as she went through the more painful stages of her rehabilitation.
 
Though his words were comforting, it was the information he brought that was more valuable.

“Alcent has established a ruling council for the ship,” Adam explained to her on the second day as she lay in bed.
 
Sweat beaded on her brow as the chemicals coursed through her system, setting fire to her nerves.
 
Her body tense from the pain, she maintained a crushing grip on his hand.

“And what…” she began through clenched teeth.
 
Her breathing was labored, making speech painful in between gasps of air.
 
“What does he intend to do with this council?”

Adam shrugged.
 
“The council has yet to meet because they’re waiting for you.”
 

“Me?” Keryn asked, surprised.
 
“Why does he want me?”

“They want both of us,” Adam explained.
 
“We’re seen as beacons of the hard-earned freedom from Miller’s Glen.
 
They don’t just want diplomats on the council; people who will get bogged down in the bureaucratic double speak that everyone is already too familiar with.
 
What they want are people of action, and they can’t think of two people who epitomize action better than you and me.”

“And I’m assuming Alcent is on the council?”

Adam nodded, knowing what she was insinuating.
 
“Yes, he’s on the council.
 
Yes, it’s a position of power, which is more than a little self-serving for Alcent.
 
But I think he’s doing the right thing.”
 

Keryn glowered at him.
 
“’The right thing’?
 
Alcent doesn’t know the meaning of that phrase.”

Shrugging, Adam explained.
 
“A lot of people have questions right now, questions that aren’t readily available.
 
They want to know where we’re going and why.
 
People are afraid.
 
Just because we’ve escaped the planet doesn’t mean we’re free yet.
 
We still don’t know how long we’ll be able to fly before we encounter another Terran Destroyer.”