"Watch." Pietro activated the lights in the rest of the room, illuminating a series of targets at the far end. He eyed the objects eagerly before he stopped a moment to glance back to his friend. "You may want to duck behind that shield there."
Malone cocked an eyebrow. He'd seen his friend do a number of experiments, but a lot of them had gone south, especially in their earlier cycles. He still laughed at the memory of when Pietro fried the hair of one of their teachers.
The blast thundered through the room and knocked Malone back fifteen feet onto his back. He clutched his head, which had a severe throbbing, and glanced back toward where he had stood. There was Pietro, his uniform slightly singed, but behind him, the series of targets were nothing more than smoldering remains.
Pietro jogged back to Malone, who'd managed to get back to his feet.
"Well, how about that?" Pietro gushed.
"What in the world did you do?" Malone said.
"It's the Essence. I've figured how to channel it."
Pietro's response hung in the air like a loose thread. Of the many thoughts that began to fill Malone's mind, pulling at that thread was utmost and at the top. The Nara had at their very disposal a colossally lethal weapon. The Galaxy that had survived under the Nara was at war, and Malone's desires swiftly overtook his designated life of fueling. The Galaxy had her food, but Malone wanted the Galaxy to be shaped. And anyone with such desires for control of the Galaxy had no problem with adding 'by me' into every passing thought about it.
Chapter 4
Malone returned to his chambers. On the glowing console near his desk displayed a map of the known Galaxy, including the supposed location of Grondia. If only it was that easy to get to, he mused. He stared at the yellowish ball that represented his former home world, the place he learned so much early on. He was a promising young rising star on Grondia. Malone rose up in the ranks for Essence production tasks on Grondia, and he learned all he could about its properties.
He thought about the times he'd accompanied Loaders on their trips to worlds around the Galaxy. Traveling to each world, Loaders moved the Essence orbs into place, replacing the previous ones, as had been the case since the dawn of Ling Galaxy.
From early on, the idea hit Malone about how Essence was underutilized. His first attempts were to change the minds of his fellow Nara about the Essence delivery system. He remembered the day he approached Ander Pimm about it.
"Ander, we've got to do something better about how we handle the Essence," he said. “We can correct so many problems in Ling Galaxy: famines, wars, illness even.”
Ander's large forehead creased in thought at one of his pupils who dared question eons of Nara process. "Malone, all living beings possess in them a choice for good or evil. The Nara aren't a court system or a governing body. We allow the galaxy to unfold as it is; beings have it within them to make their own choices."
"Understood, Ander. But the illness, the poverty, the famines—why do they persist if we supply the life force to all?"
"Life is finite, Malone. It starts with birth, continues with growth that leads into decay and then death. This is not something we can circumvent. It is ours to know this cycle and do our best with what time we've been given, however great or little."
#
Malone settled into the soft chair in his lair. The lights were dimmed low, but his mind was alight with thought. The locations of Essence orbs were an annoying mystery to him, but he figured his children had a decent chance at finding them.
He reached for the Essence orb at his desk. It hovered to his outstretched hand, obeying the unspoken command he willed toward it. The orb landed softly in his grasp. He shuddered at the touch, which sent a million sensations of electrical stimulation through his body. He'd been able to hold the orb for a little at a time since he obtained it but had been working at holding it longer.
The gentle shocks of the orb continued, but he'd learned through practice how to better tolerate the sensations it produced. Soon he entered a trance, where he saw before him a temple that arced into the air for thousands of feet. He smiled at the realization the temple was on Grondia, and he'd managed to travel astrally to his home world. Before him stood a collection of Nara Ancients. The creatures of Nara served them as the providers of the Essence that the Nara distributed.
"Ancients, I ask your guidance in my matters," Malone said through his thoughts.
A booming voice echoed through Malone's mind with a harsh tone. "Malone Stanton, the powers we grant are not for those with their own shallow ends. Our power extends life to the galaxy, and with that life comes a price. You must choose wisely, for this course you seek has been tried by some in the past, with the common result being collective doom."
"You're wrong, Ancients. I've proven my worth, surely; I've gotten an Essence orb."
"Malone, your possession is solely the result of theft. We know well your transgressions, and you will not return to this world by any means. The Nara Council has seen to it, and the Ancients forbade you as well."
"But you cannot stop me from seeking my own truth; you cannot stop me from making my own."
The Ancient's face drooped in sorrow. "Malone, no course you take in this matter will end well for you. The Ancients, in addition to the bounty of Essence, have sight in all matters of the Galaxy. Consider yourself warned. The beings of the Galaxy are already on the move to usurp you, and if your pride isn't brought under control, it will one day be your undoing."
Malone clasped the Essence orb tightly. Its gentle hum gave way to an angry roar as he felt its energy course through his veins. "You'll see, one day, you'll be coming to me for guidance and mercy. Be afraid of just how little sympathy you'll get from my hands. Your rule over the Galaxy has lasted for millennia. I will end it in hours."
The Ancient's face steeled up in response. "Malone, begone; our council has spoken."
The Ancient snapped their arms together, sending several rays of brilliant light slamming into Malone's form. He fell to the floor, and just that quickly, he was back in the dark room of his lair. The Essence orb was on the ground to his side.
"Pompous fools," he muttered. "They've no idea who they've toyed with."
Chapter 5
Malone summoned his children to an Outcropping, at the end of the gathering area. The rock sloped upward toward an opening out into the cold darkness of space.
The Lookers randomly activated their powers, teleporting off the ground and becoming thin trails of light until they were all gone. Malone watched the scene with great pride; his second was next to him.
“Have you sent all of them?” Frey asked.
“No, I’ve kept a few here with us. There’s too much going on to put all my children on one task.”
"But the ones who left – you think they'll be able to find Essence?" Frey asked.
"I do. I raised them; they'll get it for me. In the meanwhile, we've other issues to address." Malone cast a glare at Frey, who swallowed hard. Malone's true plans for the Galaxy were close to what he'd told the Lookers, but the full truth included others to contend with.
"Emperor Zakmar of the Omegan empire has sent a message to you with an offer of collaboration," Frey said.
Malone's brow raised. "Those goons want to work with me? Funny how my little display swayed some minds so quickly." Malone laughed. "Wonder what they’re offering?"
"I will arrange a contact with them so we can discuss terms."
Malone mulled the thought as he steepled his fingers. Having two of his enemies engaged with each other was never a bad idea. With all he faced from the UA and even the Railen, if the Omegans were under his direction, it meant a considerable advantage.
"We’ll hear the Omegan deal in time. In the meanwhile, there's a pesky situation with the Cerulaks we must address. Ready my ship."
While Malone had the ability of physical travel through open space by himself, he knew it was best he kept his appearance as menacing as possible, which meant a large presence of craft. There was
no point to any of his plans unless they invoked as much fear as possible, and the small but menacing fleet Malone commanded was all about that. He assumed the bridge on his ship, the Aeon Impaler, a battle cruiser, along with a collection of starcraft, each equipped with the dimension shift capability of the Lookers.
Once aboard, Malone contacted the detachment of crafts from his bridge console. "We are proceeding to a known outpost held down in a deep space quadrant by the Cerulak fleet. As you may already know, the Cerulaks are among the many seeking to locate and capture Lookers by way of those Railen Trackers. Our purpose is to eliminate this outpost and all there as a signal for Cerulia to stop their present course of action. Rules of engagement are standard: be swift and merciless. There'll be no prisoners, no escape, and no survivors. Any who fail in these parameters will be disciplined solely by me, and I'll be as merciless to you as I will be to the Cerulaks."
The grouping of starcraft pierced through deep space like a razor through paper. The Aeon Impaler was in the lead; their course was direct, their purpose clear. Their warp jump complete, the ships settled into an orbit around a moon where the Cerulak outpost stood.
The Cerulaks used random locations as waypoints in their search for things like the Railen Trackers. Canvassing the Galaxy for Railen, and in particular their trackers, was a long process. Staking out locations for regrouping was as much a convenience as a necessity. Malone feared ignoring the tracker issue would've led to them being used to locate himself eventually.
"We'll descend into sub-orbital trajectory. Focus on the base, and eliminate the starcraft you find. Leave communications open," Malone directed.
The starcraft in Malone's convoy descended like a hive of angry hornets. The swarm of starcraft each maneuvered on a swift coordinated attack. The Cerulaks fired back on Malone's ships in response, the random bolts of pulse energy rocketing around the billowing craft.
"Stay your course, and destroy those ships," Malone ordered.
A shot found one of Malone's fleet; the starcraft's wing burst into flame and careened offward, back out into deep space, before it exploded completely. Malone eyed it for a moment, but continued on. The bigger casualty in a fight was cowardice, he always believed. He told that to all his crews and the Lookers. Their mantra had remained a life serving Malone until a death that glorified him.
The Cerulak base was a collection of buildings with an accompanying space port made for short trips and a place for refueling afterward. Malone's fleet broke off from their initial approach and proceeded on a direct run toward the Cerulak facility. Several Cerulak starcraft made it into the air and gave chase, which Malone's starcraft squadron gladly entertained. The air was punctuated with blasts and weapons fire. Malone wasn't concerned with the fray though. He knew his people got the job done. Instead, he ordered the Aeon Impaler to land and then proceeded to the largest building on the surface.
He activated a lock burst on the large facility, which sealed it electronically and prevented escape. Then, he directed his crew to keep the Aeon Impaler in a ready position. Together with two of his Lookers, Malone was engulfed with a crackling glow of yellowish light, and with a loud pop, his surroundings changed and he was inside the facility.
Once Malone's group was inside, the Cerulaks nearby opened fire in response. The blasts ricocheted about his body as Malone walked through the room unfazed. His senses felt the weapons fire around him, and he directed the volleys so they missed him and his team.
"I demand to speak with the commander here," Malone said amid the shouting and running. "Tell me who it is before I kill you all."
"Go ahead!" shouted a Cerulak nearby. Malone faced her, a female with a rifle trained at his chest. Her uniform had officer markings on it. Malone approached her. Her greenish skin prickled as he neared her.
"Dear child, do you think your weapon will stop me? You must know by now, I'm the universe unfolding. All of you are my children. Realize that, or suffer."
The officer clutched her rifle tighter. "Not another step!" Her voice betrayed a slight tremble.
Malone salivated as a predator with their mark fully in sight. "Fair enough." With that, he transported himself until he was at her back. With one swift move, he ripped her rifle from her hand and tossed it to one of his Lookers. Retrieving a long blade, he eased it up to her throat. "Tell me now, what is your name?"
"Zaratha," she said amidst hurried breaths.
"Zaratha, I admire your bravery. I admit, I'm impressed by all you did to stand your ground. It leads me to think you're a person of importance here."
Zaratha said nothing in response but offered a slight nod while she continued her huffing.
"The simple solution here is to let me state my case. I want a communication to the Cerulak high command so I can explain a breach of decorum."
Zaratha paused. Several other troops had gathered but were under watch from Malone's people. "If I do this, will you let us go?"
"Of course, my child. I'll let you and yours all go if you do what I ask."
Zaratha agreed and led Malone to their broadcast console. As Malone sheathed his blade, the Cerulaks opened a comm channel and hailed their high command. After a few moments, Pon Ebnora, high ruler of Cerulia, appeared on screen. She was a slender female with skin a slight shade darker than Zaratha's.
"Zaratha, this communication is highly unusual."
"It is indeed, highness. As you can see, I'm not Zaratha, but a passerby who wishes to speak with you."
Pon Ebnora's face reeled back in shock. "Malone, what are you doing there?"
"Simply put, I'm doing what you denied me. I requested numerous times an audience with you in person to discuss the most distressing news of the Railen Tracker situation and your people's attempts to obtain them. You've left me no choice but to contact you directly once I had some collateral you’d be interested in."
Pon Ebnora's jawline twitched. Her eyes darted about with the deviancy of a child caught off guard without the time or ability for a cover-up. Malone savored the look of concern and worry. He knew his next move and relished the knowledge of how few options Pon had for retaliation.
Malone once again freed his trusty blade. He held it down, like a winning card. He wanted the moment to play out at first. It was no good killing the Cerulak until he learned all he could. To Malone, the idea of the Cerulak deaths was enjoyable, like a meal savored by a victorious predator. The information was the sweet dessert he truly craved, however.
Pon Ebnora wasn't a rank amateur though; her uneasy twitch steadied after a few moments, and her composure returned to one of a resilient leader. "Malone Stanton, you really think I don't know what you're about to do? I'm frankly surprised there’s anyone alive there now."
"Highness, we both know what's about to happen with the Essence, and your feeble attempt to get a foothold will be dealt with. You can dawdle all you want, but you'll waste the lives of the rest of your people on this outpost and beyond if you don't tell me what I want to know."
Pon looked at Zaratha as she writhed under Malone's firm grip. Behind them, the rest of the Cerulaks still at the base had been rounded up. This round was over, and Pon knew it. She ached at the sight of her fellow Cerulaks under the knife, but as bad a loss as these, she comforted herself in the knowledge the bigger fight remained, and any advantage Malone gained then made the larger victory that much more difficult.
"Malone, I've nothing to offer you. You want to make a bloodbath, that's your choice. I can’t stop you, but I can stay ahead of you, and we'll find your Lookers, no doubt."
Pon ended the transmission. Malone gazed at the blank space where Pon's image had hovered moments ago. He was stunned. The mere idea of someone who denied him bit into Malone like hungry vermin. He already had a long list of those he owed retribution to for slights far too many to number, and Pon Ebnora had easily added herself to the list with distinction.
His glance still on the blank space, Malone's arm flexed in one motion, which brought the knife
across and severed Zaratha's throat. Her lifeless body draped to the floor amid a chorus of shouts and curses from the other Cerulaks present. Malone spun to his crew, their weapons at the ready.
"We've got more work to do. Finish up here, and make it bloody."
Chapter 6
Once the Cerulak population were reduced to minced remains, Malone returned to his starcraft for a journey through the nearby systems. He figured any Cerulak outpost made the immediate area worth a closer look.
His wandering eyes perused the screens before him, a holographic depiction of the sector they traveled in, when he was interrupted Osmun Myer, one of his crew and one of the many tangents in the paramilitary machine Malone had assembled among the mercenary dregs for hire of Ling Galaxy.
"Master, we've located a strong signal for one of the trackers on a starcraft near our quadrant.
"Identification," Malone said.
"It's a Zion Class cruiser, sir," Osmun replied.
A series of thoughts overtook Malone, and the report from his crew member was muffled in the process. In this sea of concepts, a name appeared, and he blurted it out in response. "The Crimson Lance."
Osmun paused. His Tillian ancestry kept his emotions from being too pronounced, but in spite of that, a healthy look of surprise washed over his face at Malone's clairvoyance. "That's correct, sir."
Malone smiled confidently. "Passengers, cargo?"
"Minimal."
"Show it on-screen," Malone commanded.
The forward display on the bridge shimmered for a moment, then a full view of the Crimson Lance filled the monitor wall. At first, Malone eyed the starcraft like a hunter regarding its prey: passionless, only sizing up of the mark, a cursory glance for weakness, and a burning desire for it. But then, the display Malone watched changed, and the forward command portion of the starcraft appeared on-screen with a familiar face in view.
Is it true, he wondered. Could it really be my son?
Quest for Dominion: An Interstellar War Story (The Essence Wars Book 3) Page 2
