A sudden wave of guilt washed over Barsa as he chided himself for not standing in the forefront of the battle. A voice inside his head, a rasping whisper, reminded him that he was a Vartis Guard, a champion of the Vrae Javril. His new arm trembled and the metal grew warm against his side. A vision of his home world engulfed in flames assaulted his mind, unbidden and sudden. Great structures burned, the Vrae architecture was clear in his mind, as were the screams of his people. Kryth Mahr ships bombarded the planet from their orbits around the planet, scouring the surface. Barsa, unable to pull himself free from the horrors of the vision, grinded his teeth together and trembled, a desperate cry of rage and pain gargled from his throat.
Shouldering his way through the ranks of Vrae fighting the Humans and Kryth, Barsa knew he must destroy the Kryth. Some Vrae saw the glazed look in his eyes, his dangerous demeanor, and the bronze Gashnee arm as they moved aside to let him pass.
Breaking through the front rank, squeezing between two energy shields, Barsa was oblivious to the plasma bolts and explosions all around him. “Kill them all!” he yelled, the words straining his damaged vocal cords. Some Vrae looked askance at his sudden fury, but obeyed, continuing to fight against the Kryth and Humans and intent on bringing them down.
∞∞∞
“The ship!” exclaimed Lintorth, surmising such a large explosion could mean only one thing. “Tslar,” Lintorth turned his head, “Withdraw and assess the situation outside.”
Kercy gripped her sword tight, watching Lintorth and the two circling Korin Shai out on the edge of her peripheral vision.
∞∞∞
Issara watched with growing annoyance that turned to horror, realizing the number of Vrae soldiers that were being massacred by the Human Reaver on their flank. Vrae fighters fell by the dozens, casualties of the rounds that punched through their armor with such ferocity that the second ranks died under the relentless barrage. The fallen bodies blunted the forward momentum of the remaining ranks. A few Korin Shai fired at random Vrae in the middle of the formation, further adding to the disarray and reducing the cohesion of the units.
Barsa hadn’t answered his hails on the communication link. Assuming he was wounded and unable to speak, or dead, Issara issued commands to the others in the cadre of officers to dress the formation and continue the assault.
Issara stepped away from the formation still suffering a withering amount of weapons fire and surveyed the state of the battle. The House of Dal Karsis decided it was time for him to take command of the situation and break both the Human and the Kryth forces. The Kryth needed to pay for their insolence and the Humans…well, they didn’t tell him why.
Shrieking in surprise, Issara threw his arms up to protect his face as a salvo of explosions pockmarked the translucent surface of his shield. Webs of dark energy flashed, radiating from the points of impact as the kinetic force was dispersed across the surface, protecting Issara from real harm. The screams of the unprotected Vrae suffering around him rang in his ears, unblunted by the Gashnee technology.
Issara fired a blast of golden energy at a Korin Shai that was firing controlled plasma blasts at the Vrae formation. The hasty shot from the zartil missed by more than a meter, passing by the Korin Shai and a knot of Vrae soldiers. The second shot struck the ground at the Kryth’s feet, showering him with small pieces of stone, but did force him to dodge backwards. This time, Issara didn’t flinch as plasma bolts hit his shield and he concentrated instead on firing both his zartils mounted on his wrists at the Korin Shai running towards him. His shots missed the Korin Shai as he dodged side-to-side and ducked under the energy beams.
Cursing, Issara’s anger grew at the ineffectiveness of his attacks. He wasn’t afraid, knowing he was safe behind his glowing Gashnee shield. The device was an infallible marvel. Kryth, Cukkzen, and Vrae technology had been proven useless against the ancient relic countless times. It galled him that it didn’t at least come with some kind of tracking system. This was taking too much effort and he was beginning to feel, and look, like a fool. Issara’s zartils both fired again at the Korin Shai, now less than five meters away. It felt like a subconscious impulse made with no thought, but his aim was true. Twin bolts of Gashnee energies streaked at the Korin Shai. Issara exulted…and watched in dismay as the Kryth bound high in the air, his spear held over his head for a powerful strike at Issara’s head.
Burn him, hissed in Issara’s head, his vision clearing from the momentary pain. Preparing for a second discharge, Issara watched in astonishment as the yellow beams curved up and struck the airborne Kryth in the back.
The body was propelled forward, slamming into Issara’s shield before sliding to the ground in a crumpled heap, the twin charred holes on his back reeking of burnt flesh. The battle raged around the shocked Issara, who was trying to conceive what had just transpired. His breath came in ragged gasps and the beating of his heart was loud in his ears. But he could still hear, Burn them all… whispering in the corners of his head.
“Yes…Yes!” He agreed with the echoing voice inside his head. Oblivious to the explosions peppering the surface of his shield, he shouted orders to the weapon crew over the communications link. It was time to bring more of his treasured Gashnee weaponry to the battle. Reveling at his new discovery and power, Issara laughed with delight as his zartils continued to discharge energy at the enemy, the beamed energies seeking targets on their own.
∞∞∞∞
Kason’s breath rasped. Flashes of searing pain assaulted his body, eliciting agonized gasps as he tried to push himself up from the stone floor. His left arm was still useless. The nanites inside his body had a specific subroutine to prioritize healing, starting by repairing damaged vital organs such as his lungs and airway first. Other vital organs were next, then ligaments and tendons, followed by bones and muscles. Precision was sacrified for speed to ensure survival. Broken bones could be reset or aligned to heal. His HUD still flashing emergency icons, the nanites were overheating from their overdrive as they worked to destroy loose bone fragments. The fragments could worsen his condition if left alone and destroying them took less energy than integrating them back. Broken bones were stabilized with thousands of strands of micromesh knit together. Two of Kason’s broken ribs had punctured his left lung and were broken down to stitch up the lung, leaving his rib cage less protected but enabling him to breathe.
Kason knew the process and took his first deep breath, wincing at the pain of a few still-broken ribs. He let out a yell as he forced his left arm straight as possible, the shattered bones rebonding. He didn’t want to lose any more ability to move and function than possible. The crashing waves of pain were pushed back by the flood of battle drugs thundering through his body. He saw his assault rifle on the ground not too far away and, after his left arm finished reconnecting, crawled over to it.
Staggering to his feet with the help of his right arm and his rifle as a crutch, Kason stood. His left leg was crooked, the knee twisted, and his right leg was a bit shorter. He couldn’t even remember his legs breaking. Limping, he set out, walking as fast as his body allowed.
His armor was in tatters, many plates had broken off or were compromised by the extreme damage done by the beast. His helmet was mostly intact, as that was the top priority of his suit’s defense mechanisms. Reading his biostructure, the suit had used the remainder of its own nanites to repair the armor where he lacked ribs.
He dragged his assault weapon by the barrel, then situated it into the crook of his right arm and supported it with his left arm the best he could. He walked over to another stone column by a wall, then sat down behind the column and waited, his assault rifle ready.
Data CELL 62
Laurenell sat at her console awaiting the commander’s decision.
She could sense the bridge crew’s feelings.
Anger. Focus. Determination.
Not a worry amongst them.
A station beeped and Kansec turned to give his report.
“Sir, th
e XT-Transport is approaching the device. It’s about to jump into the sun’s upper atmosphere.”
The science ensign followed, “Twenty seconds before first solar contraction.”
Parejas sat, watching the readouts.
“Transport has made the jump. Locking onto the device now.”
The Keeper was the most tense one on the bridge.
She stood, half-expecting her limbs to creak as she did.
After her eyes swept from each crewmember, cataloguing their expressions, her gaze fell back on the commander.
Again, she sensed his resolve and his focus, but there was something else there.
Her heightened senses swept over his face and eyes, waiting for the slightest twitch or tick to show what was hiding under the commander’s calm demeanor.
It was there. She knew it.
Still, he moved as though this were another routine survey or patrol, neither a bead of sweat nor a muscle spasm in his temple or jaw to give him away.
The announcement broke her thoughts.
“Commander, the lock-clamps are not holding the object. Five seconds left. Shields failing on the transport.”
Laurenell gulped.
She put her hand over her mouth to not cause alarm, but angled her hand to look thoughtful.
Her stunned eyes awaited the dreaded update and the commander’s reaction.
The seconds felt like minutes for her, her heart throbbing in her chest and behind her ears.
She realized she wasn’t the only one holding their breath.
What historical event would the annals hold today? she thought.
Earlier today, she had read her father’s journal from when they had first arrived to retake the Earth.
His words, articulate as only a Keeper’s could be, were also loving and kind to the planet where Humans were born and they had not been seen in three hundred years.
He spoke of the pride and excitement every crewmember felt during that moment. He captured all the senses, feelings, spoken words, and sights of that eventful day. Reading his words, she felt as if she had been beside him in that moment.
This was the antithesis of that day. In moments, the Earth and the first Human colony to come home could be destroyed. Though the commander betrayed no emotion, the bridge’s silence rang in her ears like a communal scream.
Three seconds.
She, Laurenell Renske, may be responsible for the recording of Earth’s destruction and the planned sacrifice of the entire Earthiest settlement. Her words would belie her father’s when he first saw the Earth for himself.
She saw Kansec turn to the commander.
Two seconds.
Her eyes went back to the foredeck and that of the Earth outside the windows.
Laurenell was receiving it all.
This may be the last time anyone lay eyes on the planet outside of a holo-image.
Kansec about to give his final report.
The sun rotated in a holo-image before the command station.
One second.
Each crewmember was holding their breath as if it were their hopes..
And a Keeper who did not want to write this final ending of this Annal.
It all slowed for her.
Time.
A value given to events measured between intervals of what is perceived from those points in one’s life that can be extracted by memory and invoked by emotion.
Her eyes were now on Kansec’s lips his jaw relaxed, indicating he was about to give his report.
Laurenell paused her own breath to take in every aspect of what was to come.
A duty she must uphold, however unpleasant it might be.
Kansec spoke, “Sir, clamps holding. Transport exiting the corona. It worked, sir.”
“Pull it away to the extraction point. Shield it and cloak it. We’ll pick it up later,” Parejas replied.
“Aye, sir.”
Laurenell smiled.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she bounced on her toes.
The science officer reported next. “Star is stabilizing. Dark matter effects are fading, sir.”
“Good to hear,” Parejas acknowledged as he stood from his chair.
That sense she couldn’t discern in the commander bubbled forth over the calmness he once had.
She stopped bouncing.
She knew this feeling well.
A common trait in Humans when something wrongs them in a deep, persona, and meaningful way is that it usually evokes a negative response.
Revenge.
But, this was something…deeper.
The stern-yet-calm face of the commander, like still water, now began to boil as his near-perpetual frown deepened.
Antiquity’s voice came over the bridge speakers. [Commander, coordinates to the Kryth fleet set. All weapons online. Awaiting your command.]
“Prepare for Q-Jump to the Kryth fleet, Kansec.”
“Aye, sir.”
This emotion she sensed in the commander was still held in check by his strong, inward discipline.
The perception was beyond her own on how she felt regarding the report that the Kryth were going to destroy the Earth’s parent star. In the commander though, it was about to bring resolve to a hatred he had held for a long time.
He was born, raised, and trained to fight the Kryth.
He was responsible for all Humans’ safety; and here were the Kryth, back in Sol, targeting the Earth he had just secured back for all his species.
Targeting his fiancée.
This went beyond revenge.
This was rage.
She could feel it, beneath his demeanor, just below the surface of his expressive state. She could almost feel the temperature in the room skyrocket as the boiling storm thrashed within him…yet he betrayed none of it through sheer force of will.
She recalled her father’s journal once more.
Alon would detail combat situations he’d had with the commander to better understand his decision-making process and to offer words of advice both to the commander as well as other Keepers.
She wasn’t sure if she should offer any advice, overstepping her bounds, but wanted to understand the sensation of a vast swing in emotions and how they affect history at any given time.
Laurenell approached the command chair. “Excuse me, sir.”
“Yes.”
“I’m curious on historical matters of which my father served you during battle.”
“What’s your question, Keeper? We’re about to enter combat so, please make it brief.”
“I noticed in my father’s journal, he had mentioned your affection for classical music during engagements. He wrote that it helped you set your mind to the mission at hand.”
Parejas chuckled. “Yes. Did he also mention he wasn’t a fan of my choices? Saying it interfered with his historical recordings of the events at hand?”
She smiled. “I did read that. I see that you stopped playing it over the bridge at his request.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I saw it meant more to him that it did to me.”
“But, music is part of our soul and can bring peace or a sense of enlightenment into our lives.”
“It can. Why do you ask?”
“I hope I am not overstepping my bounds here, sir, but I would like to experience what so pleases you during times of battle. I believe it is an important part in how we function during tense situations. I mean, I would enjoy hearing and grasping your emotional state during this event we are about to engage in with the Kryth.”
“I see. So, you would like me to select a piece to play as I once did? Even at the behest of your father?”
“Yes, commander.”
“Let me see.”
Parejas turned to his chair and keyed up a floating holo-list above the arm rest.
He scrolled through the list. “I believe this will do.” He made the selection.
“Kansec. Prepare Q-Jump on my command.”
“He turned back to the Keeper. “If you can return to your post, Keeper, we’re about to get underway.”
Laurenell returned and sat awaiting the battle that was to come.
As Laurenell returned to her post, slow drums rolled in giving way to whispers of a choir from the Latin Goliardic poem, O Fortuna.
Laurenell’s eyes widened then closed, taking in the steady notes that built upon the slow, beautiful movement of the opening piece.
“Kansec,” Parejas said. “Now.”
“Q-Jump activated, commander.”
In a flash, the Orion’s Rage leapt towards its primary objective: the Kryth fleet outside the orbit of Pluto.
Parejas glaring at the helm with the rage of all Humanity.
Data CELL 63
Sontar Jal sat with impatient fingers drumming on the armrest of his command chair.
He surveyed the readouts on a side monitor, staring off between the refined data, his head resting against the backrest of his command chair like a throne.
A hurried officer broke his wandering thoughts.
“My lord, we have a situation with the Orion’s Rage.”
Sontar, with a smug glance, replied to his panicked officer, “And what situation would that be?”
“The vessel is in hyperspace heading in our direction.”
Sontar bolted upright in his seat. “Not a ‘situation’. An opportunity.”
His eyes darted, looking to pull a response from the report he just heard. “This is splendid news you bring. We go to our second plan, then. What’s their estimated time of arrival?” Sontar asked.
“Thirty siitens.” The officer’s lips quivered.
Annals of the Keepers - Rage Page 37
