Purge of Prometheus (9 page)

Keryn walked around Cardax’s back, running her fingertips gently over his broad shoulders and stroking the back of his head.
 
Leaning forward to whisper into his ear, she continued, “I will be asking you some very important questions over the course of this evening.
 
If you are cooperative, this will be a short and
relatively
painless experience.
 
If you lie to me or refuse to answer, I will discipline you as though you were a disobedient pet.

“I want to ensure you have a full understanding of our version of discipline, I want to introduce you to Mr. Decker.”
 
She clenched his hair between her hands, forcing him to face toward Adam as he approached.
 
In his hand, he held a serrated scalpel, which he twisted to catch the dim bulb’s light.

As Keryn spoke, her voice took on a violent and malicious edge.
 
“You
will
answer all of our questions tonight, one way or another.
 
Do you understand me?”

Cardax stared at Adam with fearful eyes, feeling helpless so long as the sedative continued to run through his veins.
 
He shook his head futilely, trying to pull away from Keryn’s firm grasp.
 
Seconds ticked by as all the members in the room remained motionless.
 
Finally releasing a sigh, Keryn frowned.

“That was a question, Cardax,” she said with a disturbing calm, “and you failed to answer.”
 
Looking up, she motioned to Adam, who stepped forward, still twisting the scalpel with surgical precision.
 
Cardax let out a muffled scream, his eyes wide with panic.

Adam placed a firm hand against the smuggler’s chest, forcing his back firmly against the cold metal chair.
 
“If you struggle,” Adam warned, “this will be much more painful than it really needs to be.”

Cardax twisted under the pressure on his chest, but couldn’t manage enough strength to break free of Adam’s restraint.
 
Adam placed the scalpel against Cardax’s muscular chest, slipping its blade underneath the thick fur and piercing the skin.
 
Flattening the blade, Adam moved the serrated blade in between the skin and muscle in the smuggler’s chest before applying a downward pressure to the handle.
 
The razor-sharp blade cleanly severed through connective tissue between Cardax’s skin and muscle, causing excruciating pain.
 
Jerking madly, the Oterian screamed and tried in vain to break free of his bonds.

Keryn felt her pulse quicken, beating a maddening rhythm in her chest.
 
Her breathing became labored and sweat beaded along her temples.
 
Each scream felt like claws being drug down her spine.
 
Clenching her eyes tight, she grinded her teeth against the invasive noise.

There had been a time when Keryn would have welcomed the screams; she would have allowed herself to swim in his agony and would finish, sweaty and weary, but exhilarated.
 
But those were darker times; times where she had lived her life for no one but herself.
 
Her darker self had been a defense after losing her brother and becoming estranged from her remaining family.
 
She had worked hard to separate that sadistic person from the woman she had become.
 
But now, hearing the merriment in her own voice as they tortured Cardax, she felt less like she was swimming in his suffering and more like it was threatening to drown her; she felt as though she was clawing for air toward a surface that grew further and further away as dark hands pulled her deeper into her own masochism.
 

Struggling for breath, Keryn released the Oterian’s head and stumbled back until she was able to lean against the far wall.
 
She felt the bile building in her throat, threatening to make her physically ill.
 
Adam stopped, withdrawing the scalpel and standing straight, blood still dripping from his hand and the smuggler whimpering softly in his chair.
 
He looked concerned, but Keryn wasn’t interested in his sympathy.
 
She walked hastily from the room, fearful that speaking would betray her emotional turmoil.

“Is everything okay?” Adam asked as she stormed past him.

She stopped at the door, breathing deeply to control her shaking hands and quivering lips.
 
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, wanting to be free of both the room and her thoughts.
 
“Continue without me.”

Stumbling out of the back room and through the living room, Keryn pushed open the front door and stepped onto the balcony of their second-story hotel room.
 
The warm air washed over her and carried away her nervous tension.
 
Closing her eyes, she turned her face toward the sun and let its heat melt into her bones.
 
She heard the soft click of the door behind her, but didn’t turn.

“Are you okay,” Penchant asked, his face now formed into that of a youthful Uligart, the sharp bones protruding from his cheeks and forehead.
 
“You left in a hurry.”

“I’m fine.
 
It…” she paused, trying to find the right words to explain.
 
“It got a little too intense in there for me.
 
I just needed some fresh air and a change of scenery.”

Penchant nodded in sympathy if not understanding.
 
“After chasing him for so long and after all he did to us, I figured you would have wanted to be present for his… questioning.”
 
He paused before the last phrase, wisely choosing an ambiguously descriptive word.

Keryn sighed.
 
“I thought I would have too, but my heart just isn’t in it.
 
I would have felt better just putting a bullet in his brain.
 
Shooting him is impersonal; I can do it from a distance without even seeing his eyes.”
 
She turned toward him and leaned against the railing, motioning toward the inside of their hotel room.
 
“This, though… I don’t know.
 
It just seems brutal.
 
It’s too intimate for my tastes.
 
I’ll leave it all in Adam’s capable hands, and yours, if you feel so inclined.
 
I can pull watch out here while you two do what you need to.”

Penchant nodded again as though in understanding of her sentiments.
 
His eyes, however, still reflected the same concern she had seen in Adam’s when she stormed out of the back room.

Smiling softly, she laid a hand on Penchant’s arm.
 
“I’m fine, I promise.
 
Go back inside and do what you need to do.
 
I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Turning, Penchant opened the front door and disappeared inside.
 
She shivered as, for a second, Keryn swore she heard a muted scream.

*
         
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*
         
*
         
*

High above the assault teams sadistic tortures, a single craft dropped out of heavy accelerations and found itself entering the Orthorius Galaxy.
 
The ship had been pulling heavy gravities during its acceleration into the system.
 
Had the ship been manned, any living creature inside would have been pulverized under the weight.
 
But this ship wasn’t manned, which was essential for its purpose.

The long-nosed craft, a design that would have normally harbored the flexible body of a Lithid pilot, began making minute adjustments to its trajectory.
 
It bypassed the gas giant, which was on the far end of its elliptical orbit around the sun.
 
It wove gracefully between the planet’s two moons.
 
Set on its purpose, the ship maneuvered only enough to avoid obstructions, but otherwise remained on a straight course.

The two cruisers in orbit around Othus immediately detected the ship, but their continued hails were subsequently ignored.
 
The
Dormark
’s tactical officer called over the intercom, notifying the Captain that an unidentified ship had entered the system.
 
The Captain, a tall and lanky Lithid wearing full military regalia, checked the reports of the craft’s activity, and then ordered the ship destroyed.

Two rockets leapt from tubes on the starboard of the
Dormark
, the computer brains in each automatically adjusting the missiles’ burns toward an intercept with the unresponsive vessel.
 
Once far enough from the ship, both rockets began an intense burn, accelerating at speeds that no living creature could hope to outrun.

In response, the unidentified ship began a heavy acceleration of its own.
 
Weaving in evasive patterns, the Lithid craft remained oriented toward its goal: the swollen sun of the Orthorius Galaxy.
 
The two rockets continued to accelerate, quickly gaining on the evading ship.

“Two minutes until detonation, sir,” the tactical officer aboard the Dormark announced to the helm.

The small vessel adjusted its trajectory once again in response to the gaining rockets, deviating from its course and entering a thin asteroid belt surrounding one of the nearby planets.
 
The missiles, in pursuit, entered just over a minute behind.
 
All three ships, all controlled by computers, maneuvered and danced through the asteroid, making millisecond corrections to speed and course that no living creature could have made.

Halfway through the asteroid belt, the Lithid ship cut a sharp turn to the right, allowing its wing to clip a passing rock.
 
Spinning chaotically, the asteroid tumbled toward the oncoming rockets, bouncing haphazardly from rock to rock, creating an avalanche of stones pirouetting toward the oncoming missiles.
 
One of the two missiles, trapped as three asteroids tumbled toward it, was crushed under the colliding stones and detonated prematurely.
 
The second rocket, avoiding the debris, adjusted course and continued pursuing the ship.

The ship launched from the asteroid belt, making constant course adjustments due to its damaged wing.
 
Its speed dropped as it tried to regain control of the slowly spinning craft.
 
Alert sirens rang throughout the ship as the second rocket darted from the asteroids as well, now only a few thousand feet behind.

“One rocket destroyed, sir, but the second rocket has gained on the ship,” the tactical officer of the
Dormark
cried out excitedly in the helm.
 
“Detonation now in 15 seconds.”

Ignoring its heavy spin, the craft launched itself toward the swollen sun, now dominating its frontal view screen.
 
Turning, the rocket accelerated into massive gravities, quickly closing the distance between the two.
 
The Lithid vessel pushed its engines as hard as they would burn, but with the damage to the wing it was unable to escape the deadly missile.
 
The ship had not yet entered the atmosphere of the sun and had only begun to feel the gravitational pull of the sun’s field when the rocket struck.
 
Exploding in a colorful burst of plasma and burning fuel cells, both ship and rocket disappeared from the tactical monitor on the helm of the
Dormark.

“Unidentified ship destroyed,” the officer announced with a smile.

Above the sun, debris and shrapnel from the explosion got caught in the gravitational well of the swollen sun.
 
Among the torn pieces of hull and destroyed engine casing, a single black canister fell into the sun’s orbit.

CHAPTER 8:

Yen awoke with a start as the intercom blared through the confines of his room.
 
He heard the words echoing through the haze that clouded his mind, and jolts of pain reverberated through his head with every word spoken.
 
Though he tried to sit up, he found the effort futile and collapsed back into bed, his head hurting worse than ever.
 
With a slight smile, however, he realized the pain was from the alcohol the night before and not from the invasive psychic powers.
 
His smile disappeared when the intercom sounded once more.

“Squadron Commander Xiao,” it blared, causing aches that rolled from his temples into his teeth.
 
“Your presence is requested immediately in the War Room by Captain Hodge.
 
Please verify receipt of this request.”

Yen yawned and brushed the hair out of his face in order to better wipe the sleep from his eyes.
 
He fumbled, searching for the transponder on his nightstand, but only succeeded in knocking his alarm clock onto the floor.
 
He heard the crackle of the intercom as he noticed the transponder resting absently on the floor, no doubt still sitting where it was dropped forgotten the night before.

“Squadron Commander Xiao,” the announcement continued, funneling its request directly into his room.
 
“Your presence is requested…”