by Brian Fisher
Chapter 18
Time almost stood still, framing the moment that the Masters would arrive. Daylight broke silently over Olcai and wrapped itself around the Wraith. He stood alone atop the city, hidden in plain sight. The message he had sent had been brief and simple. 'It is here.' was all he needed to say. The Masters would take care of the rest.
A cold smile crossed his pale lips. It was time now. No tears filled his eyes, nor feeling enter his heart. It was time to bring retribution to T'Sula Mir. How fortunate could he be? She, the bringer of hope was now within his grasp. The Masters had finally granted him vengeance.
A light breeze brought the scent of the people, a people ripe for the picking. The Wraith's smile turned to a sneer as he turned and headed for the lower levels of the city. Time was short, and he had much to do. The Bakeeron would pay for her treachery. She would pay dearly.
People from around the galaxy chased away the fog of sleep in the city streets far below. Restaurants opened their doors for business, and coffee shops lured in waking patrons with intoxicating aromas as the light of day crested over the tranquil oceans. There was a silent voice among the people. No sound was needed to speak of the lingering fear of another attack.
The Wraith watched intently while he scaled down the side of the skyscraper. There was a sweet taste of terror in the air. It was almost as if these pathetic creatures knew that something was happening. Yet there was nothing that could stop what was coming. No force, real or believed in, had the mite to stop his Ta'Reeth masters.
He breathed deep, as he mingled among those insignificant beings. The scent of their fear was a pungent, intoxicating aroma to be savored. He reveled in the fact that soon these people were going to die.
The Wraith slipped silently between the people of the crowded streets. Soon he found a young Caldonian man. He was young and strong, undoubtedly thinking of himself as a warrior. In the space of a few breaths, the Caldonian found himself lying on his back, suffocating, with his throat crushed.
It was too easy. These pathetic people deserved to die, and the more excruciatingly the better.