Yen retreated to his quarters as the other remaining ships in the Fleet tended to the surrendered Terran Destroyers. He had wanted to rest, after exerting himself so much during the battle, but an urgent message from High Council took priority. Safely inside his room, he sat down before his console and entered his command code. The screen shifted from black and a red symbol emerged on the monitor. Yen was surprised to note the small annotation at the bottom of the screen. The call from High Council was being fed to his console live. For the first time in his career, Yen would personally speak to High Council.
The screen slowly faded to reveal six elderly figures sitting around a horseshoe shaped table. From their elevated positions, they seemed to look down upon the seated Yen. Nervously, Yen cleared his throat.
“Captain Xiao,” an elderly Uligart began. “We would like to begin by congratulating you on an exceptional victory in the name of the Alliance. Thanks to your diligence, the Alliance has won a decisive victory over the Terrans, one that will result in the final destruction of the Terran Empire.”
“Thank you for your kind words, Councilmember,” Yen replied, humbled by their personal attention.
“I think it’s safe to tell you,” continued the Oterian Councilmember, “that you are being recommended for some of the highest decorations available to the Alliance. You will truly be forever remembered for the personal accomplishments and sacrifices you made for the Alliance.”
“My accomplishments aside,” Yen added, “I could not have defeated so great an adversary as the Terran Fleet without the support of a number of valiant ships, many of whom were destroyed in the war.”
“Yes,” a gravelly voice issued from behind the stoic mask of the Lithid Councilmember, “it was a great loss of life. All those who gave the ultimate sacrifice during the war will be forever immortalized in our records. But your victory is by no means the end of the conflict. As you recover from your combat, billions of lives are at stake on artificially frozen worlds. It is our understanding that your Fleet has procured a counteragent to the Deplitoxide threat. Is this correct?”
“That is correct, Councilmember,” Yen replied flatly. “We do have a counteragent, one that was used effectively to help us win the war against the Terran Fleet.”
“We knew as much,” the Lithid said smartly. “We have need of that counteragent throughout the known universe. It must be delivered at once, lest all of our species perish along with the Terrans. Perhaps you could send some of your ships to assist?”
Yen sat staring at the screen. The Lithid Councilmember had inadvertently given him a way out of two difficult situations.
“Councilmembers, I believe I have a solution that can work best for all parties involved,” he began, chancing a faint smile. “During the most recent combat, Captain Riddell lost someone who she loved deeply. I fear that this loss has affected her profoundly. In my professional opinion as Commander of the Fleet, I don’t believe the best place for her is in command of a warship.”
“Would you delegate her to a research vessel, primarily tasked to restarting the suns of Alliance space?” the Pilgrim Councilmember asked. “It’s a damning assignment for a Captain to be demoted to a more menial task of serving as commander of a scientific vessel.”
“I understand your concern,” Yen stated, “but I know my concerns for her continuing mental and physical well-being. Should she remain amidst the Fleet, I fear that it’s only a matter of time before she becomes a detriment to herself and others. I’m concerned that her outbursts could eventually bring her to harm.”
The Councilmembers muted their radios and discussed amongst themselves. The elderly figures argued for some time before activating their microphones again.
“We have agreed to your recommendation,” the Avalon Councilmember finally answered. “Once our conversation is completed with you, we will notify the Ballistae that it’s been reassigned for an indefinite period of time.”
“I thank you for your consideration and concern for one of my Captains,” Yen said cynically. “I don’t know how I would react should she come to harm.”
“With that business behind us, Captain,” the Wyndgaart Councilmember stated, “we have another mission which requires immediate attention. Though we have defeated the Empirical government on Earth and destroyed the Fleet, the Terran Premier has still eluded our grasp. If he were to remain alive, he would become a figurehead around which a new underground movement would form. Instead of fighting in open warfare, we would be reduced to fighting guerilla conflicts on backwater planets against fanatical enemies. He cannot be allowed to live.”
“Have we located his safe house?” Yen asked, feeling the excitement build within him.
“One of the captured Terran Captains betrayed his location while under the influence of the Crown,” the Wyndgaart stated. “We are compiling a strike force now that will eliminate the last Terran threat to the Alliance.”
Yen raised his head confidently. “Councilmembers, I would like to volunteer to lead the expedition. I have proven myself time and again both as a ground and aerial tactician. My unique skill set will be invaluable for an assault of this magnitude.”
Again, the High Council muted their microphones as they went into deep conversation. Yen couldn’t hear their words, nor would his psychic powers help him over a console. Instead, he sat impatiently as he watched the Councilmembers debate his request. Finally, they leaned back in their seats and reactivated their microphones.
“We have examined the pros and cons of your request, Captain Xiao,” the elderly Wyndgaart stated. “We’ve decided to grant your request. I’m redirecting the assets for this mission to the Revolution. An emissary will arrive soon with specialized equipment for your mission. Once he arrives with the rest of your team, I’ll expect you to depart immediately. The journey to the Premier’s location will take less than a day, but he’ll be aware of the Terran Fleet’s defeat. You’ll have to move quickly to ensure he doesn’t escape.”
“Councilmembers,” Yen said, gratified, “you won’t be disappointed in your decision.”
“No, I suppose we won’t be,” the Wyndgaart answered before reaching forward and ending the communication. Yen’s screen turned dark once again.
Where previously he had wanted to sleep, Yen now found himself too filled with enthusiasm. He would lead the strike force that would kill the Terran Premier, effectively destroying the Empire once and for all. Glancing back at the monitor, Yen smiled at his own personal musings. Yen wondered how many people he’d have to kill in order to become a Councilmember.
The Terran transport ship docked with the Revolution a few hours after Yen ended his conversation with the High Council. As the wide side door slid open on the ship, Yen walked forward with his entourage to greet the emissary. He was surprised, however, when a group of soldiers exited the craft in full Terran battle gear.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Yen asked, warily watching the heavily armed men.
“My apologies, Captain,” a tall Oterian said as he stepped out of the ship, bending low at the waist to accommodate his height. In his hand, he carried what seemed to be a heavy briefcase. “We didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You are the High Council’s emissary?” Yen asked dubiously.
The Oterian walked forward, extending his hand. “My name is Maxlar. I was sent to brief you on the technology you’ll be employing during your mission.” Maxlar reached down and patted the side of the large plastic briefcase he carried by his side.
“Then they are…” Yen left the question hanging as he looked at the soldiers wearing full Terran regalia.
Maxlar looked behind him at the soldiers still standing at attention. “They are your strike force,” he replied. “The High Council wanted to send the absolute best to ensure the mission was a success.”
“They doubt my abilities?” Yen asked angrily.
“They doubt everyone,” Maxlar calmly replied. “That’s why they’re still alive.” He turned back toward Yen, an eyebrow arched in curiosity. “Do you have a room nearby where we can all discuss tactics?”
Yen nodded, his eyes still on the soldiers. Wordlessly, he turned and led the Oterian and his soldiers to one of the strategy rooms traditionally used by the Squadron. The soldiers marched in behind Maxlar and took their seats. Yen scanned the soldiers, trying to read malicious thoughts. To his surprise, every one of them seemed robotic in their thoughts. Their dominant thought was impatience at having to wait so long to begin the meeting. Soldiers to the end, Yen surmised. Knowing that none harbored a hidden agenda, Yen turned back to Maxlar.
“Shall we begin?” he prompted.
Maxlar reached into his jacket and removed a disk that was dwarfed in his giant furred hand. He loaded the disk into the console and a map of a planet’s surface appeared above the table. As the image magnified, Yen was able to make out a large bunker concealed in the midst of a reddish desert planet. Over the building, a blueprint of the inner layout appeared.
“The world we’ll be landing on has three suns in its atmosphere. Since the galaxy is supposed to be uninhabited, the Terrans didn’t black out any of the suns during their initial assault. The fact that this planet still had sun and was so deep in Alliance space made it the perfect hiding place for a Terran Premier and his rabid pack of nobles.”
Stepping away from the console, Maxlar picked up a laser pointer and began marking items on the map. Immediately, a small red dot appeared near the bottom of the display.
“You will be landing here at sunrise,” Maxlar explained, his deep voice rumbling throughout the room. The map magnified more, enlarging the building until it dominated the screen. “In the center of the bunker, there is a central meeting chamber. We believe this to be the War Room from which the Premier has been directing the battle. He and his Generals should all be present in this room. If not, you will have to clear the adjacent rooms until you locate him.”
“We’re just going march into a heavily fortified Terran bunker and kill the Premier?” Yen asked doubtfully.
“Yes,” the Oterian replied. “More or less.”
Reaching behind the table, Maxlar pulled out the heavy plastic case. Opening the locks around its exterior, he revealed a dozen small metallic bracelets, each accentuated by a single red button. Yen gingerly picked on up, flipping it over and examining its relative lack of complexity.
“And these are?” Yen asked.
“Based off the Lithid method of transformation, the bracelets allow a single individual to alter their physical appearance,” Maxlar explained. “Both the Terran and Alliance spy networks have used them extensively. In this case, all these bracelets have been modified to make you all appear as Terrans of noble birth.”
Seeing that Yen was still hesitant, Maxlar took the bracelet back from Yen and placed it in his hand. As soon as he pushed the red button, his skin began to shimmer and bubble. His thick fur disappeared, replaced by soft pink flesh while his body shrunk to a more manageable height. His muscular frame thinned substantially, leaving a Terran soldier standing where the Oterian once had.
“You won’t get a better presentation than that,” Maxlar said, his deep voice unchanged, as he hit the button again and started the transformation back to the massive Oterian.
Suspicion ran deep in Yen. Reaching into the case, he chose a bracelet at random.
“This will turn me into a Terran?” he asked.
“A perfect disguise for infiltration,” Maxlar confirmed.
Yen strapped the bracelet to his wrist and pressed the button. He watched in amazement, as he yellow skin lost its amber luster at turned pink. Along his back, he felt, rather than saw, the spines slowly disappear into the fabric of his uniform. Within seconds, he was transformed into a Terran. With Maxlar watching on, he tested the system repeatedly, switching back and forth between Terran and his former self. Finally satisfied, Yen unbuckled the bracelet and handed it back to the Oterian.
“And that is why your strike force is dressed like Terrans?” Yen asked as he tried to smile disarmingly.
“A uniform will be provided for you onboard your transport,” Maxlar rumbled.
“You seem to have thought of everything,” Yen said. “When do we leave?”
“We don’t,” Maxlar explained. “This is where we go our separate ways. However, if everything I’ve heard about you is correct, then the High Council will have nothing to worry about.”
Yen stuck out his hand, which Maxlar ignored. Turning, the Oterian left the conference room, leaving Yen and the soldiers alone. Placing his hands on his hips, Yen perused his new soldiers.
“I’m not big on speeches,” Yen said sternly. “I don’t need to tell you the importance of this mission, especially since every one of you looks ready for combat. Get your things, and I’ll meet you on the ship.”
Yen left the room ahead of the others and walked to his quarters. Grabbing just enough supplies for the brief time that he would be away, Yen hurried back to the hangar bay. By the time he arrived, the rest of the soldiers were already onboard and seated. Nodding appreciatively, Yen took his seat near the front of the ship.
Leaning forward, he patted the pilot on the shoulder. “Get us out of here.”
As the small ship departed the Revolution, Yen noticed the Ballistae leaving the galaxy at a quick speed. He allowed himself a smile, knowing that Keryn was cursing his name even now. At least he knew that it would be a long time before he had to deal with either Keryn or Iana again.
Maxlar sat in the observation deck of the hangar bay, watching Yen’s ship slide from its berth and prepare for its departure. Reaching into the inside pocket of his uniform, he pulled out a sealed envelope. Pausing only momentarily to observe the High Council emblem emblazoned upon the seal, Maxlar quickly opened the letter.
The directions within were simple: Activate the blue switch.
Opening his brief case once more, Maxlar reached to the upper right corner of the case’s interior and moved an unassuming blue button to the “on” position. A red light flickered from a bulb directly above the switch.
Maxlar shook his head, unsure what any of his actions meant, but confident that he was following the High Council’s orders without fail. Satisfied, the Oterian stood and left the room.