The Forsaken Empire (The Endervar War Book 2) (24 page)

The strikes went on, but the bombardment eventually tapered off. The surrounding explosions faded, and space became black again.

Shields regenerating, Arendi said. She then checked the updated scans.

The enemy swarm, once numbering over eight hundred craft, was all but gone. Any remaining craft were being hunted down and eliminated.

Alysdeon brushed back her gold hair and vented a cool sigh. Despite her four hundred years of life, never before had she witnessed a bombardment quite like that. It reminded her that all of this had been planned.

she whispered.

Arendi nodded. She then reported in. The package is secure, she said, transmitting her message through the comm.

They looked off into space, staring past the remaining explosions, to the weapon of war. The dreadnought reigned over the space, victorious. Arendi had seen it once before. Back then, however, it had still been hidden behind the shipyard. The Destroyer had since unleashed it. Now the vessel was his personal flagship.

Good, he replied. I’ll be docking soon.

From this distance, the vessel looked like a giant citadel striding into space. The tower was over two miles in length and rivaled the largest Alliance ships.

The flagship came to the starfighter after firing its final shot. The leftover legion began returning to the vessel as the dreadnought prepared the tractor beam.

Welcome to the Adamant, the Destroyer said. I hope our guest is still alive.

Chapter 23

She lay in the chair, her wrists constrained. Her head drooped to the side as the cold spit dripped from her cheeks. Her white hair fell from her shoulders. The strands were tangled in curls and knots. Slowly, however, Farcia breathed. Her face tossed, and she grudgingly opened her eyes.

She was a captive. And now she was looking to escape. Around her, she could feel the cold clutches of the chair. Her first instinct was to slip away. To open a portal, and jump through, like she had done so many times before.

But on this occasion, the sleeve of technocircuitry had been removed from her left arm. She raised it, expecting the hand to lift. The metal bands, however, kept both wrists strapped to the chair. She barely had any strength left, anyway. She wheezed into the air, hacking.

Turning her head, she felt a prick and a pull. Along her neck was a strange sensation. She couldn’t see it, but something was protruding near her throat. Farcia could only guess that it was some sort of medical or surveillance equipment. The tube and its liquids were funneling something inside her body. She bristled at the thought. Her gills gargled behind her own drool. She mumbled a protest.

You’ll get nothing from me

Her vision was becoming clearer. The light above was bright, and she was held down to a metal chair inside this bare, confining room. She was not alone. Two figures stood across from her. Farcia recognized one in particular. The woman was leaning against the wall, her arms crossed.

Farcia narrowed her eyes. Murderer she whispered.

Arendi was there, quiet. She crossed her arms, studying Farcia with her own sharpened glare.

Next to her was a man. He was blond and flashed his teeth. They were white and wide and curved up his lips. Maybe it was a smile. Farcia didn’t know. She knew little of these humans. Their faces were more complicated and expressive. Their minds, allegedly a primitive mess.

These were not typical humans, however. These were machines or virtual shadows of humans. Telepathically, she sensed nothing from them. Not that it mattered. I’d rather die than help you she croaked through her gills.

They almost certainly wanted her alive. That’s why she was here: to answer their questions. But Farcia didn’t care.

Maybe I’ve failed but at least you felt it. You felt my pain

Farcia held on to her dark glance. Her eyes were wet with exhaustion. It was a struggle even to speak, let alone to think. She leaned against the chair’s headrest, trying to find the strength to do more to hate. Her vendetta was against Arendi, this alleged savior. But to her surprise, it was the blond-haired man who spoke first.

I like you, he said in his own sneer. Quite the killer. And I thought I was the Destroyer

He sauntered closer, staring at Farcia. His eyes were cloaked in black.

Should I call you Farcia? Or is Endervar your true name? he asked.

The Destroyer’s voice throbbed with a strange beat. The translation later declared it a chuckle. He was asking her a question in a mocking manner.

Farcia squinted in silence. She let out a huff from her cheeks, denying the man an answer.

He put his right hand near his face. He was inspecting his fingers, particularly the nails over the skin. He gingerly rubbed them with his thumb.

We never knew what to call you, he added. You never gave us the courtesy

To them, this was first contact the first formal dialogue with the enemy of old.

It was true. She was an Endervar, although it was a crude name.

Bringers of ruin, the man went on. Devourers of life

We gave you every moniker that implied imminent doom. But I suppose we’re the ones who first offended you.

In that regard he was right. The man approached, perhaps sensing this. His face was now fully under the light.

The Endervars came here for a reason to correct this universe, or so the stories claim. So tell us, why are you here?

He was more insightful than Farcia thought. He teased her with his empathy and with the last words of her people. This need to correct the universe.

I hope you burn she shot back. I want all life in this galaxy to burn. That will correct it. Correct this mistake.

She remained bound to the chair, but her strength was slowly returning. Even though there was no chance of it, she flexed her hands at the wrist, wanting to break out.

Burn? the man said, amused. That’s certainly one kind of pain.

He leaned forward. His face was only inches away. His image fizzled when the hologram faded for just a moment to reveal the large machine behind it. In truth, he was a mass of mechanical shadow masquerading as a man. Farcia was now staring at the singular eye. It was the size of her own face, and it nearly blinded her with red light.

Pain, the machine said. It can come in many forms. Perhaps you’d like to feel it I can offer it in my own little way.

The robotic combat drone stepped away, letting the facade reappear. In return came the hologram of the blond-haired man. Farcia saw the pixels weave the flesh over the image. The only difference was his right hand. The claw was left unchanged. Each finger was an elongated blade. Farcia could hear the metal scissor the air. It seemed he was happy to torture his subject. First contact had quickly unraveled into interrogation.

Arendi, however, intervened. She extended her own arm and motioned the Destroyer to stand down. He lowered his hand and let the hologram shade over the metal. Simulated skin and fingers enveloped the claw.

Farcia looked away, annoyed. Let him do it, she said. I’m not afraid.

Her body was frail, and she was barely lucid. As all could see, she was weak. But inside her mind was a pain unlike any other. Raw emotion was fueling her now. They could do nothing to intimidate her. If anything, she was more than ready to die.

Arendi stepped closer, just as annoyed. Her face offered little except for a cold stare.

Savior Farcia taunted. Why don’t you just kill me and end this?

Farcia let her white hair drape over her eyes; she was tired of feeling the light. Death, she thought. She wasn’t afraid.

But you can’t, can you? she went on. The captain. Captain Nverson you want to know.

Although Arendi said nothing, Farcia knew it to be true.

She felt the tubes in her neck. The liquid inside them dripped, tapping into her veins. Maybe they were feeding her nutrients, or perhaps it was some kind of nanomachine. Either way, it wouldn’t matter.

The answer dies with me, she replied.

If her captors wouldn’t end it, then she would. There was a reason she had arrived comatose. Her strength was building, and so was the strain. The skin around her eyes swelled, turning a deeper black. She felt the tears in her eyes. As they fell, the telepathy from her mind reached.

Farcia had no idea where she was. She just whispered, seeking out her kin. The telepathy flickered. Growing from a spark to a flame, it raged into an inferno. An invisible force rushed out from the confined room. It searched for miles and then more, for anything that might listen. The dead language echoed into the void, becoming a scream. The act drained her, consuming whatever energy she had left. It brought a fever to her mind. Her vision became a daze, as she tried harder to span space and time.

As Farcia suspected, there was no one to listen. Her captors had confined her away from her kin or any sign of organic life. The silence reigned. She didn’t care. Farcia would wait until the very end. With enough force, perhaps her very mind might give out. She shook in her chair, convulsing. The gills in her face vomited foam.

Arendi noticed the change, and knew this might happen. Behind the woman’s white hair, the tears of black streamed down her face. Arendi went to her contingency; she pulled the prepared item out from her own belt and stormed toward Farcia. The item was a large syringe containing a pink solution. Arendi jammed it into the woman’s neck.

Farcia whelped as the dermal needle bit into her skin. Inside the vial was the serum. It had been synthesized on Alliance Command from a recipe that Farcia’s husband had once devised.

Red sends his regards, Arendi said.

The serum took hold in seconds. The telepathy became static and brittle. The Sentinel had thrown water on her attempt to end it. The darkness in her eyes retreated. Soon Farcia drooped in her chair. All her strength was gone.

Her mind was utterly blank. Whatever ill intent she once possessed, Farcia felt nothing. The hatred had all slipped away.

Chapter 24

She asked for death, and so it came.

A day later Farcia awoke, completely numb. Her body had stiffened into a dead weight. The serum that had shot through her blood stream had blunted her every sense, including her mind. She felt the haze. The telepathy in her psyche had run dry.

Trying to toss and turn, Farcia realized she was no longer strapped into the chair. Instead, she lay on her side on what felt like a bed. The tubes in her neck were gone. The skin at her throat had healed. But even without the restrictions, she could barely move. Her energy was nearly sapped. Meanwhile, every muscle across her body was sore or shot. Although the blanket across her body was light, she fidgeted, too weak to push it off. She was effectively paralyzed. Farcia huffed, her face pressing into the cushion. One half of her face had sunk into the pillow, the other remained in the light. She lay there for a long moment, seemingly at rest. Slowly, however, she felt the signs of a wet tear against the fabric. In actuality, it was more than just a drop.

Farcia had wanted to die, but instead she had been given this: a new form of purgatory. Perhaps that was the intention, she thought. Her captors sought to sterilize and jail her. Maybe even experiment upon her. Impulsively, she tried to resist. She quietly sobbed, desperate to exert her mind. But no matter the effort, her power refused to ignite. The telepathy sat buried under the haze. Neither it nor her body could properly flex. Farcia gasped. She opened her eyes, seeing the same blur. Her vision was damp, clouded in white.

Still, even without her powers, Farcia felt something. The sensation sat in her mind. It was moving along delicately, tracing itself across her. No one else had touched her thoughts before. Not since that time, days or weeks ago.

Red? she whispered.

She uttered the name with a sense of relief. But that, too, quickly died.

No, she thought. The man is already dead.

This was someone else an entirely new entity. It was another telepath trying to pry open her thoughts.

Farcia clutched the bed, growing tense. She felt the intrusion and wanted to shrivel and scream. What came instead was a whimper. What do you want? she asked raspily. With all her strength, she raised her head. It came inches off the pillow only to fall again.

She blinked over and over again as her vision gradually began to clear. She opened them to find the woman. Her visitor was closer than she imagined. The human was calmly sitting at her side, next to the blankets. She was on the edge of the mattress, her gold hair falling over her shoulders. Even her cheeks were gilded and etched with various implants. But it was her eyes that drew the most attention. They shone like two stars of violet.

Farcia saw it all pierce through the haze. The woman’s brown and pink lips contorted.

the woman said in a hum.

The woman didn’t speak like the others. Her lips were pursed, and with each word, she did more than just offer an apology. Farcia felt the sensation. It was a trickle against the dormant mass in her mind. The human had been watching her all this time.

Farcia did what was natural. She sought to fight back.

Are you not afraid? she asked. Afraid that I will kill you?

At that, the human simply sat on the edge of the mattress and crossed her legs.

The human parried the threat. For now, she was immune to the menace. Farcia yearned to prove her wrong.

Just die she whispered, trying to concentrate. Die like all the rest

If only Farcia had her power, she could have crushed this woman in minutes or less. That would make her understand. She sniffed, sucking in the air through her gills. Again, Farcia failed to summon the telepathy. She could only listen. Listen as this woman moved past the hate.

the human replied.

Farcia stared at the woman as she heard the pang in her mind. The human was calm, but Farcia could feel the sorrow coursing from one mind to the other. Gradually, she came to recognize her visitor’s face. The woman was well known within the Alliance.