Purge of Prometheus

are forever remembered for our decisive defeat over the Terran Fleet.”

Forever remembered, Yen thought as a chill rose up his spine. He couldn’t help but think of how close her words sounded to those of the Terran madman who started this war in the first place.

CHAPTER 9:

Keryn leaned against the railing outside their hotel room and breathed deeply of the warm city air. Despite the warmth, she found herself shivering. Inside, she had been close to losing control and falling back into her former self. Even despite her control, she could feel her sadistic half crawling through her mind.

You can’t escape me, the Voice said curtly in her mind. We are one and the same, you and I.

“Shut up,” Keryn whispered out loud. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, willing the Voice to go away.

You can’t just want me gone and I’ll vanish, it said. I’m a part of you, now and forever.

The whispering continued in her mind. When she had first heard the Voice as a child, she had panicked, certain that some critical synapses had burned away within her mind. Dementia, she had thought then. But then she learned the truth, not just about the Voice but about herself. And it scared her nearly to death.

But we had been great together, the Voice said, knowing her thoughts. And, in the end, you gave in to me.

“But I never will again,” she growled toward the bustling city. A startled man standing on his own balcony a few rooms over looked at her startled. She turned angrily. “What the hell is your problem,” she barked ferociously at the man. Surprised, he turned and disappeared quickly from view.

You’re already so close to me, cooed the voice. It isn’t much further until you realize our potential together once again.

Scared terribly after her first encounter with the Voice, she had taken herself off rotations for pilot duty despite being Squadron Commander, choosing instead to remain locked within her quarters on board the Revolution, keeping away from people who, like herself, would question her sanity. And though the Voice was silent for a long while, she knew it would never go away. She was a Wyndgaart, and the Voice was as natural to their physiology as the tattoos that traced her body.

The Wyndgaarts were savage warriors and exceptional soldiers. Their skills in hand-to-hand combat were trained, to a degree, within nearly every unit within the Interstellar Alliance. But their talents were not something the Wyndgaarts trained from generation to generation. Deep within their genes, their rage and savagery was given voice, a voice that carried the combat memories and skills of generations of their predecessors. For most Wyndgaarts, they came to accept the Voice and fuse it with their own, resulting in dark personalities and great heroics on the battlefield.

But Keryn had chosen a different path. She balked at the idea of accepting the savagery of her species and, instead, chose to attend the Academy. She had been a rarity, even in the prestigious institute that trained all military fighter pilots. But in order to train her mind for the complexities of three-dimensional space combat, she had to suppress her own Voice.

Suppressed, but not forgotten, her Voice whispered.

Never forgotten, Keryn thought darkly. She had given in to the Voice once before, while engaged in the complicated acrobatics of space combat. She had been close to dying, with Terran fighters chasing her through the void of space. The Voice had called out to her and, in her fear, she had given in to it. She had watched the rest of the battle as though through a fog. The had performed maneuvers that she would have never thought of alone, her ship spinning wildly and firing again and again until all her pursuers had been killed. Together with the Voice, Keryn had been unstoppable on the battlefield. But she always remembered the gleeful and childish laughter that, for the longest time, she didn’t even recognize as her own. Keryn killed hundreds, if not thousands, of Terran soldiers that day, finally bringing down a bloated Terran Destroyer by herself. But, throughout it all, there had been the laughter and, though she hated herself for it, the joy.

Joy is a small price to pay for greatness, the Voice said playfully. We returned from that mission a hero. They couldn’t throw enough medals on you for destroying so many of the enemy.

“But you’re not me,” Keryn said firmly. “I have managed great things without you and always, always, without the pleasure that you take in killing!”

You didn’t seem to have so many issues with me when you were faced with your own impending death, the Voice said angrily. I made you great. What happened after the battle? They made you the Squadron Commander. Your own Squadron to command! You never could have managed that without me!

The Voice’s words struck a chord within Keryn. She felt her resolve strengthen and a calm smile spread across her lips. “I’ve never relied on anyone before, and I’ll never again find myself relying on you. So why don’t you just shut up for a while?”

Looking over the balcony, Keryn drank in the sights and sounds of Miller’s Glenn, letting the merchants’ yells and the engines of flying craft drown out the Voice within. She let the mental techniques she had learned during her time together with Yen wash over her and finish pushing the Voice from her mind. Gradually, the Voice faded into the background before disappearing all together.

She leaned against the balcony railing and sighed heavily. The Voice was persistent and dangerous, but was still under control. Reaching to her throat, Keryn activated the microphone. “Talon Base this is Talon Six, over.”

“This is Talon Base,” Cerise replied over the shortwave radio.

“The package has been delivered and is being… unwrapped.” She smiled, in spite of herself, at the verbiage. The smile disappeared as Keryn started to wonder if that was a result of the Voice or her own sick humor.

“Roger,” came Cerise’s curt reply, her dialect elongating the vowels.

Keryn dropped the military pretext before continuing. “How is everything back at the ship?”

There was a short pause in the transmission. “We are both doing well. Things are dreadfully uneventful here.”

Keryn caught herself nodding, quickly stopping when she realized Cerise couldn’t see the movement. “How is McLaughlin?” she asked bluntly, dropping even the codenames they normally used.

“He’s…” The signal stopped and Keryn waiting for a reply. She had asked a difficult question, especially for Cerise, who had feelings for the Pilgrim. “He’s the same,” Cerise finally replied. “He’s stable, but all I can do is make sure he’s comfortable right now. The quicker you can get done with the package, the quicker we can bring him back to his old self.”

Keryn smiled, still surprised by the tender emotions the Avalon showed toward someone of Terran descent. “We’ll be done shortly, Cerise, and then be back at your location. Sit tight for just a little while longer. Talon Six, out.”

Though it was early afternoon by her account, the sun still blazed brightly in the sky. Keryn started to wonder how long a day lasted on Othus, never having time to do research on the planet before their arrival. Judging from the crowded streets and packed booths, she assumed there were still quite a few hours before the sun set on the horizon.

The two vendors directly below her balcony vied for the attention of passers by, one selling fruit and the other exotic pottery. From her balcony, pieces of conversation reached her ears.

“…lovely pottery, m’lady,” one yelled at a woman passing the booths. “This is the finest quality…”

“…grown right here on Othus,” said the fruit dealer.

The pottery dealer held up a kiln-blasted vase, its surface heavy with a dark lacquer. He smiled broadly at a young couple that stopped by to view his wares. The man and woman, decked in colorful robes, were blatant tourists new to this part of space. The merchant’s shoulders relaxed as he began his sales pitch, spinning a wild yarn about the rarity of the pottery and the uniqueness of the specific pattern painted on its surface. Keryn laughed