Dying Stars
by Ryan Klopp
“You are absolutely certain?”
“Yes, my Lord. Our agents have gained complete access to her medical
records, and our own medical experts have corroborated the conclusions
of her doctors. As far as I’ve been able to ascertain, she’s doing her
absolute best to keep the public from finding out. Only the highest
levels of her government know- the High Chancellor, the military
general staff, and so on. The people who have to be prepared to deal
with a world without her. She’s dying, my Lord. Nothing can stop that
now.”
The most feared man in the galaxy pursed his lips and frowned, still
not looking at the aide standing behind him. “How much time does she
have left?” His voice sounded out in a clear, melodious peal, a gentle
register which would certainly have surprised those who only knew him
from the propaganda posters where he stood clad in his jet-black armor,
or from the emotionless monotones of the newsreaders who were called
upon to inform the citizens of the Galactic Federation of each new
world fallen to his armies.
“Not more than three months, and that’s if she soon submits to
permanent hospitalization. Without this recourse, not more than one.”
“I see. And what of her powers? Are they affected by the extent of her
disease?”
The aide paused a moment before answering, seemingly searching for the
right words. “We… don’t really know, my Lord. Based on the medical
scans our agents have acquired, the tumors have spread throughout her
entire body. Both our doctors and hers are at a loss to explain why she
isn’t already dead. The logical conclusion is that her powers are
holding off the worst ravages of the disease, managing to keep her
alive when science says she should be long gone, but the scans show her
body growing weaker by the day. I’m sorry we can’t provide a more
precise explanation for you, my Lord, but you know how uncommon such
abilities are in the galaxy, and with the exception of you yourself, we
simply don’t have record of anyone as psychically strong as she is. We
don’t have enough context to fully understand the available data.”
A quiet silence hung in the room for three, four, five minutes, the
aide waiting wordlessly to answer any further questions his master
might have, but the Lord Strategos seemed to have already forgotten
him. Kaeso Apollyon sat perched in the same chair where he had won so
many battles, his hand resting against his head as he mulled over what
the aide had told him. He gazed out over the bridge of his beloved
Deicide, all the crew gone save the Lord Strategos himself and his
servant, and out the clearsteel viewport at the galaxy beyond. In the
infinite darkness of space, there was no light but that of the stars,
hung like glimmering jewels in the black firmament as they twisted and
turned for his pleasure in their eternal dance of fire. But the dance
was not eternal, he reflected. Some of the stars out there were already
dead, their beautiful light shining on only to signal that in this
place had once stood a star, the last gasps of its life taking years
and years to trickle their way across the cosmos to his eyes. It was
dead, its fire burned out, but he watched its beauty still.
He wished that there were someone to explain this revelation to, but it
was an empty thought. After all, only she would have truly understood
what he meant.
“Contact the generals and inform them that we begin our offensive in…
fourteen days. And send a message to Admiral Titus, ordering him to
recall all his troops to a war footing and have them readied for
battle. He will lead the assault on Terra, under my direct command.”
The aide cocked his head and paused for a moment even as he
automatically reached for his wrist-comm, sure that he had misheard.
“My Lord, you wish Titus to lead the assault? Do you not recall the
report of the Inquisition, proving that he is in the pocket of the
Federation?”
“I recall everything, Major.” Apollyon’s voice lowered, suddenly as
cold and deadly as the blade of a frozen dagger. “Have you done what I
instructed you to do?”
The wrist-comm chirped to signal the success of the transmission, and
the aide nodded, despite the fact that the Lord Strategos still faced
away from him. “It’s done, my Lord. Is there anything else I may do to
serve you?”
“Does anyone else know what you have told me? About the progression of
her sickness?”
The aide shook his head, a response conditioned into him and called
even when there was no point in it. “I maintained confidentiality
protocols as you instructed, my Lord. The agents responsible for
acquiring the data were unaware of whose files they stole, and the
doctors analyzing her case have already been mind-wiped. Obviously
whoever she may have told in the Federation knows, but among our
people, perfect secrecy has been maintained.”
“Excellent.” Apollyon smiled, for the first time since the conversation
had begun. “You are dismissed, Major.”
The aide blinked, streams of crimson beginning to trickle from his nose
and ears. “I… I don’t feel…” He pitched forward like a marionette whose
strings had been cut, falling first to his knees, then slumping to the
floor with a soft, wet thud. Apollyon didn’t bother to look up.
Instead, his eyes were fixed on a small holo-picture, gazing at it as
though the picture itself had somehow managed to hypnotize him. The
smile on the face of the boy looking back at the Lord Strategos was so
wide that it appeared as though his lips might tear, and indeed, a
number of small scars were visible on his face, thin lines that told of
a past entirely at odds with the young man’s joyous visage. He couldn’t
have been more than sixteen, and the girl around whom his arm was
draped looked only a few years older. She was blond, and frozen in a
burst of laughter, forever on the verge of falling over backwards as
she clung desperately to the boy beside her. She was beautiful, and
even now, her smile seemed to reach into Apollyon’s cold heart and drag
out a feeling of peace that he had forgotten even existed. Without
thinking, Apollyon’s fingers began to trace their way across his face,
following the spider’s web of scars that still wandered there. Faded,
no longer as bright and inflamed as they once were, but not forgotten.
Never forgotten.
Nor would she be.
*****
Twenty years ago…
A gentle beeping sound echoed through the corridor as the seal between
the two ships was established. The waiting pair of Marines snapped to
attention, then saluted as the hatch slid open and the two Adepts
stepped aboard the Sharpened Claw. To an observer, the scene might
appeared ironic, even humorous- the burly Marines, still clad in their
well-worn suits of armor and wreathed with the burning odor of blood
and spent blaster cartridges, could not have been more textbook-perfect
in the pose they struck if it had been the High Chancellor himself that
they were stationed to greet, and not a thin old man with white hair
and the teenage girl that followed a few steps behind him. The two wore
neither military fatigues nor armor, seemingly content to trust their
safety to the simple cloth tunics they wore, but the triangular patches
emblazoned on their right shoulders would quickly dispel any fool from
thinking that they relied on mere fabric to defend themselves. The
patches were blue, and marked with three simple words- “Circle of
Adepts”- which were as formidable a guarantee of authority as could be
found anywhere in Federation space.
“Welcome aboard, Magister.” The greeting of the more senior of the
Marines was acknowledged with a respectful nod by the old man, who,
making a quick gesture, called forward the girl to stand alongside him.
With a look of mild nervousness on her face, she complied, and advanced
from the position she had staked out at the edge of the airlock.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. I am Magister Gaius Fronto, and this is my
apprentice, Initiate Lara Icena. The Circle received your request for
Adept reinforcement, and Initiate Icena and I were only a few
light-years away at the time. How may we be of aid to you?”
“As I’m sure you can tell, Magister, this isn’t a navy vessel. We
disabled and boarded it on suspicion that it was a pirate, and we were
right.” Behind him, the other Marine spat on the deck, a sentiment well
shared by all present. Preying on civilian shipping was a capital crime
according to Federation law, but the decentralized nature of galactic
administration meant that there were always a few, who decided that the
economic benefits of the practice made it worth the risk. Here on the
edges of Federation space, it was depressingly common to encounter
planetary officials who could be persuaded not to look a certain way in
exchange for a cut of the profits.
“Of course, pirates weren’t going to surrender willingly, so we ended
up having to clear them out compartment by compartment. Our men”- the
lieutenant’s chest visibly swelled with pride- “didn’t have any trouble
with them, we didn’t even lose a man until after we got to the bridge.
The last ones ended up retreating towards the prisoner hold, and we
figured that the bastards were going to try and use whoever was locked
down there as human shields, so we set up a cordon and got ready to
flood the hold with stun gas. When we breached, the pirates were dead.
All of them. And not just dead, but shredded.” He paused for a second,
shaking his head as if to clear it. “Body parts all over creation, some
burned, some just torn apart. We ran like hell and sealed off the
entire section, then we opened up the internal surveillance system and
had a look.”
“And?” The Magister’s jaw was set in a hard line, but his expression
remained unchanged- forming a sharp contrast with his apprentice, who
had blanched until she was as pale as the robes she wore.
“It was a kid. One kid. Obviously psychically capable, and powerful. He
must have gotten loose during the chaos of our attack. We had a look at
their records, and found messages between the pirates and some of the
insurgent groups on the galactic rim- Captain Janus already forwarded
them to your Circle for review. As far as we can tell, the pirates
kidnapped him off some ship out on the Fringe, then realized what they
had and decided to auction him off as a living WMD to the highest
bidder. How in Sol they got it into their heads that that was a good
idea, we don’t know, but I think the kid demonstrated to them pretty
conclusively how terminal that kind of stupidity can be. Right now,
he’s in the medical bay, sedated- the gas we thought we were using on
the pirates knocked him out, and we’ve kept him drugged up since then.
To be honest, Magister, we’re just hoping that you can take him off our
hands. Psychics are a bit above our pay grade.”
“You did well to bring this to our attention, Lieutenant. The Circle
will of course take this boy into our custody, and see to it that he
gets the help he needs.”
When the Magister and the Initiate arrived at the medical bay, the old
man dismissed the team of Marines standing guard with a wave of his
hand, then turned to his apprentice.
“Lara, I think that you should be the one to make first contact with
this boy. His experience has surely been quite traumatic, both on a
physical and mental level. A friendly face might work wonders in this
situation.”
“If… if you think that’s a good idea, Master, I’ll try, but I’ve never
done anything like this before. I’m not sure I’m ready. What if I just
make it worse?”
The Magister took hold of the girl by her shoulder, his hand pressing
against the patch that proclaimed her power for all the galaxy to see.
“You won’t. I have faith in you, Lara. You have a good heart, and no
amount of training or experience can substitute for that. Right now,
this boy needs someone who can understand him, not an old man like me.”
After a moment, the blonde girl nodded. Leaving the Magister behind,
she walked into the medical bay, trying to keep her expression calm and
balanced as she did. The room was sterile and almost entirely white in
the manner common to such places across all of civilized space, with
enough beds and equipment standing ready to care for two dozen patients
at once, yet only one was occupied. Lara bit her lip as she saw the
bandages wrapped across his face, some of them already hardened with
dried blood. The boy’s eyes were red, though whether from tears or from
the stun gas she could not say. He was even smaller than she had
expected- if there was any justice in the universe, he would have been
celebrating his graduation from primary school, not lying sedated in
the medical bay of a captured pirate ship. Gently, so as not to startle
him, she took his hand. Instantly, he rolled over in the bed, seeming
to stare right through her.
“Who are you?” His hand clenched around hers like a claw of iron, his
grip so tight that his nails began to burrow into her palm.
“I’m Lara.” Taking a quiet breath, she called upon her power, letting
it flow through her body like a soft breeze, wrapping her in a cloak of
such serenity that the pain seemed like nothing more than a meaningless
memory. “I’m part of the Circle of Adepts. We think that you have the
potential to join us- learn to use your powers to help people, not hurt
them. Would you like that?”
He kept on staring at her, seconds seeming to unspool themselves into
an eternity before he answered. “Yes. I want to go with you.” His grip
slackened, though not so much that his hand dropped away from her.
She smiled at him, not bothering to look down at the droplets of her
blood silently splattering against the gleaming metal floor.
“Wonderful. What’s your name?”
“Kaeso.”
“That’s a nice name. I’m going to take care of you, okay? I’m going to
make sure that you’re safe, forever and ever. Do you trust me?”
He finally let go, relaxing peacefully back into the little bed. “Yes.
I trust you.”
*****
Fifteen years ago…
On a quiet little world on the edge of the galactic circle, the sun was
setting.
Ceres 12 was not Terra, though few planets were. Truth be told, it was
not even Pluto, though its climate was certainly far more reminiscent
of the jewel of galactic civilization than of that frozen wasteland.
But, for that small handful of men and women who were blessed enough to
have set foot on Terra at some point in their lives, it was close
enough to stir up memories. For the remaining ninety-nine percent of
Federation Peacekeeping Force Theta-Six, it was peaceful, and it was
calm, and that was all anyone could ask for in these troubled times.
A gentle wind rolled down through the valley, a cool breeze that seemed
almost to welcome the presence of the soldiers of Theta-Six, and to
promise them that this world would bear them no ill. Wherever it blew,
it looked down on tired, weary, hardened warriors, dozens of them
dotting the quiet landscape, some setting up tents, others cooking food
over small fires, still others lying down in the grass and letting
their loosened armor plates dangle off their bodies. Three months of
steady combat in the chaotic edges of Federation space against
criminals and pirates and terrorists had taken their toll, and those
who had lasted until the end were more than happy to simply rest on
this world as they awaited replacement by a fresh corps come to take
their place on the front lines of the Federation’s neverending war
against disorder and entropy.
A few hundred meters away from the camp that even now was only
half-finished, a young man and woman walked together across the
undulating ridges that ran through the valley like bones. After a
while, they stopped, and the young man unhooked from his belt a small
holo-camera.
“We made it, Lara.”
“We made it.” She grinned at him as she took the camera from his hands
and captured the beauty of the fading sunset, before quickly striding
over to a fallen log, where she motioned for Apollyon to sit down
beside her. He did, only to be rewarded with a dull crack when the old
wood gave way, sending Lara bouncing to the ground in a fit of
laughter. The camera slipped from her hands as she fell, but instead of
shattering itself against the ground, it merely floated downward like a
feather, rotating itself as it did so Apollyon could look at the
picture within. He nodded with approval and passed it back to Lara, who
had managed to clamber back to her feet. The two of them sat there
together, watching as the interplay of sunlight and the planet’s own
atmospheric chemicals splattered a dizzying array of colors across the
sky. For perhaps thirty minutes, they observed as the horizon shifted
from blue, to red, to purple, finally to black as Ceres 12 finished its
rotation. When only the pale light of the world’s two moons shone down
upon them, Apollyon suddenly spoke, his gaze fixed on the lunar bodies
overhead.
“Lara? Do you ever feel like we aren’t doing enough?”
She cocked her head as she looked back at him. “What do you mean?”
Apollyon gestured aimlessly, as though he were trying to catch with his
hands the meaning behind his words. “You know, us. The Circle. The
Federation. You and me. Remember the first mission we ever went on
together, breaking up that hostage situation on Phaenon Prime? I was so
excited after it was over- not just because we won, but because I
thought we made a difference. But then, the next day, I saw on the ‘Net
that the exact same thing had happened on the other side of the planet,
and more people died there than we saved on our mission. I just feel
like no matter how much good we do, we’re still not even close to
catching up.”
Lara wrapped her arm around him, scooting closer on the old log. “You
can’t save everyone, Kaeso. We’re just two people, and the Circle is
only a few hundred. There isn’t even one of us for every sector in
Federation space. We do everything we can, and if we help one person,
that makes it worth it to me.”
“Maybe.” Apollyon shrugged, though he was careful not to break the grip
she had on him. “I just keep thinking about all the people we couldn’t
help. And that was back when we were still being sent to help with
crimes and humanitarian ops. Now, the entire Circle is operational out
in the Fringe, chasing terrorists and rebels. We’re at war, even if the
High Chancellor doesn’t want to admit it, and it’s only going to get
worse. You’ve read the reports, Lara.” She slowly nodded, her lips
pursing as she mulled over what he was saying. “If the rebels can find
anyone to unite their groups together, then suddenly it’s going to be
the Inner Core burning, not just planets out here without any real
populations. We aren’t ready, and our leaders won’t let us get ready.”
Lara’s eyes shone brightly in the dark, moonlight reflecting off them
as though she were a cat. “So what do you propose?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if I wasn’t a psychic, I’d try to run against the
High Chancellor, but…” His voice trailed off into silence, that phrase
“If I wasn’t a psychic” cutting off all avenues of plausible thought
like an ax swinging down. His power was a part of him, as surely as his
brain and his heart. To Apollyon, the idea of being a normal person was
as foreign and alien as the idea of becoming an ant. “I don’t know. I
just know that there’s some solution we aren’t seeing, and I’m not
going to stop looking until I find it. And if I have to leave the
Circle and go off on my own in order to do so, then that’s what I’ll
do.” He slumped down against her body, leaning on her as though the
speech had physically exhausted him.
“Okay.”
Apollyon sat back upright, staring at her as though she had shocked
him. “Okay? That’s it? You aren’t going to try and convince me to
change my mind?”
“No, Kaeso.” Her eyes seemed to shimmer for a moment, as though the
light bouncing off them was being refracted through water, but then she
blinked and it was gone. “I know that you’ll do what you think is
right, and if you think that you have to leave us, then I won’t stop
you. But, while you’re out there, remember that I have one irrefutable
piece of proof that the Circle is a force for good.”
“What’s that?”
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, and when she pulled back, he
could see that those impossibly bright orbs in the center of her face
illuminated a sad, wistful expression, one that marked the end of five
years of heroism and riotous happiness. “Without the Circle, we never
would have met. Now go save the galaxy.”
When the sun rose in the morning and woke the men and women of
Theta-Six with its soothing light, he was gone, and Lara understood in
her heart that he was never coming back.
*****
The sky above Terra burned.
Dozens, hundreds of warships hung in the vastness of space above the
cradle of humanity, hurling gigatons of nuclear energy back and forth
at one another like the vengeful deities of ancient myth. To an
observer, or even the men and women who sprinted back and forth aboard
the great ships like frightened ants, the sheer chaos of the battle was
overwhelming, incomprehensible, all-consuming. To Kaeso Apollyon, every
ship, every soldier, every shot fired fit together into a beautiful
symphony, weaving for him a tapestry that spelled the realization of
the destiny he had worked for a decade to bring about.
He stood at the twilight of the old gods, the death of the Galactic
Federation itself, and he was the master of the storm.
The Lord Strategos opened his eyes. The countless tactical displays and
blinking crew readouts scattered across the bridge of the Deicide were
nothing more than crass parrots blathering back to him reports which he
already knew. Terra’s fall was inevitable regardless of the battle’s
outcome, though there was little to fear on that front. Indeed, the
inferno of destruction playing out before him was, in a sense, wholly
unnecessary. If not for the treason of Admiral Titus, whose body
presently lay cooling a few meters behind Apollyon’s chair, there would
have been no battle whatsoever- without the advance warning Titus had
so foolishly chosen to send to the Federation, the Terran fleet would
have been swept away before the irresistible onslaught, and Apollyon
would already be sitting in the hall of the High Chancellor. But then
the matter of vanquishing the navy of the wider Federation would still
have remained- far better to let them desperately rally together in
defense of their capital and so be crushed in one fell swoop than to
win a bloodless victory and spend the next months or years waging a
prolonged counterinsurgency. Apollyon had waited long enough to remake
the galaxy in his own image, and so he had permitted Titus to alert his
Federation masters of the coming attack. The Lord Strategos appreciated
the poetic irony of his enemies hanging themselves with their own rope,
but if truth was to be told, that was only a fringe benefit. At the
root of his decision to strike lay a far more personal motive, one that
none of the legions laboring under his command would ever know.
There she is. He could feel them, the untold millions of lives fighting
and dying above Terra. He could feel them as a lesser man might feel a
fly sitting on his arm, or the gentle breath of the wind against his
skin. Their emotions, their dreams and sorrows and futures were
constantly washing over him, waiting to be examined and discarded at
his leisure as he searched through the uncountable mass of humanity for
those worthy of his attention. Most people were nothing, just chaff to
be thrown away as he sifted through the rubble in search of diamonds.
Those who were truly special always seemed brighter somehow, their
souls surpassing the others on a metaphysical level, an indelible
signal of those who possessed the power to shape destiny with their
hands.
Among even trained Magisters of the Circle, few could have matched the
breadth and unerring precision of Apollyon’s prescience. But no psychic
in the galaxy, no matter how young or untrained, could have failed to
realize that Lara Icena outshone normal mortals like the sun outshines
a matchstick.
Lara Icena, the girl who had first welcomed him on the path to his
destiny all those years ago. The woman who had stood by him as he
unlocked the secrets of the universe, taught him how to channel and
control the unfathomable power that he bore within himself. And now,
the Grand Magistra of the Circle of Adepts, come to end this war once
and for all.
As he felt her shatter the defenders in the Deicide’s docking bay with
a single thought and step out onto the deck of his ship, he realized
just how much he missed her.
Apollyon pressed one of the many buttons on the arm of his chair,
opening a priority comm-channel with which to address the entire ship
at once. “All crew: commence general evacuation. Repeat: commence
general evacuation.” He turned now to the communications officer, a
young woman standing rigid and ready for his order. “Transfer our flag
to the Invictus. Once this is done, sound a general retreat. All nearby
ships are to recover lifeboats from this vessel before engaging
hyperdrives. The rendezvous point will be Alpha Centauri. Upon
successful transmission of these instructions, lead the bridge crew in
evacuation. Until I rejoin the fleet, Admiral Corbulo is in command.”
The officer snapped off a brisk salute, then scrambled to send out the
messages. Her confusion and surprise were as clear as day to Apollyon,
though she was far too disciplined to let it show in a way any mundane
person could have noticed. To order retreat from the very precipice of
victory? None of them would ever understand, but that mattered not. It
was his task to command, and theirs to obey. In only a few moments, the
bridge was empty, and the sounds of footfalls were receding down the
corridors. Apollyon watched through the viewport as the last of the
escape pods went spiraling away from the great battleship, then typed
in the command to launch Deicide into hyperspace. Terra disappeared in
a pulse of light as the flagship accelerated into that strange
half-dimension where the physically impossible became manifest. This
done, Apollyon leaned back in his throne, slowly breathing in and out
as each of his senses sharpened a thousandfold, as the universe around
him seemed to slow down until even the constantly updating displays on
the bridge computers were frozen in time. He breathed, and he waited,
knowing that the time left before the confrontation was short.
Before his eyes, the meter-thick blast door of the bridge gently slid
itself open as if it were made of paper. And she stood there, her
Adept’s robes replaced by a suit of gleaming golden armor, her hands
empty of any weapon, yet her piercing blue eyes laughed at those who
thought such primitive implements of destruction might be worthy of her
attention. Lara Icena was still the same woman he had left behind all
those years ago, and who had haunted him ever since. And yet, as he
looked at her and she looked at him, he understood that there was
nothing left of those days. Staring into those sapphire diamonds, he
knew that she had come to kill him, and Kaeso Apollyon smiled.
“Hello, Lara.” He rose, feeling his power coursing through his veins,
ready to be unleashed, but not yet, not quite yet.
“Hello, Kaeso.” She remained still as a statue, a goddess of ice come
to wreak the vengeance of an entire broken civilization upon his head.
“I don’t suppose you were planning on surrendering.”
“I’m afraid not.” He shook his head, keeping his gaze fixed upon her.
“It’s too late, Lara. I know about your disease. I know how much pain
you’re in. You should have stayed on Terra.”
She laughed, a short, sharp sound that somehow cut into him more deeply
than a blade. “So much for secrecy. You’re right, I’m dying. But before
I go, I wanted to make amends for my greatest mistake. Do you remember
when we were kids, Kaeso? When we thought the whole universe was ours
to explore? Those were the happiest days of my life. Every night since
you left the Circle, since you set out on this mad quest for
domination, I’ve wondered if I could have stopped you. If I could have
saved the billions of lives that you took for nothing more than to
satisfy your ego. And I know the answer is yes. I loved you too much to
accept the truth about what you were becoming. Every drop of blood
you’ve shed is on my hands, for not killing you when I had the chance.
I won’t make that mistake again, Kaeso. Do you remember any of it? Do
you remember anything from before you turned into a monster?”
“I remember everything.”
A bolt of blue lightning shot from his outstretched fingers, the primal
energy of the universe itself burning its way out of his body in a
burst of pure destruction. Lara merely raised her hand and the blast
broke itself harmlessly against her flesh, exploding into smaller ropes
of electricity which whipped their way across the bridge like the
tentacles of a great squid in its death spasms. Computers and terminals
ruptured and spat out their mechanical guts as the force of Apollyon’s
attack was misdirected through them, glass and metal shrapnel
splintering against the shields raised in a nanosecond by the man in
black and the woman in gold. Lara screamed, not in pain, but in
unbridled fury as the flames scattered across the bridge heeded her
command, suddenly springing upward and hurling themselves at Apollyon.
The metal plates bolted to the floor and the walls followed, wrenching
themselves from their posts as they spun toward him like gigantic
blades. Their target was already gone, twisting in midair as he leapt
over the oncoming scythes and flames, each one slowing down until he
could have dodged them in his sleep as he effortlessly bounded between
the projectiles. Apollyon raised his arms, and the onslaught abruptly
ceased, each great steel shard freezing in midair for a microsecond
before he sent them flying back towards the Grand Magistra.
At once, the entire bridge was filled with an impossibly bright light,
a miniature sun appearing between Lara and Apollyon. When Apollyon
opened his eyes, he saw countless pools of molten metal scattered
inoffensively in a circle around Lara’s feet, and not a scratch upon
the shining surface of her armor. Lightning once again crackled in his
closed fists, but all thought of another attack disappeared instantly
from his mind as an irresistible force closed itself around him, a
telekinetic python wrapping itself around his chest and crushing him.
Uncalled for, an absurd little thought popped in the back of his mind.
Perhaps I made a mistake in luring her here. Then all his thoughts were
swept away by a jolt of blinding pain as Lara flung him into the
nearest wall, and he felt his ribs snap. Again and again she swept him
through the air, into the walls, floor, even the ceiling, every blow
backed by the hate and anger and suffering of the woman who had called
every one of the Lord Strategos’ crimes onto her own head, who had
tormented herself for years with the knowledge that she, in some small
way, was culpable for the rise of a man who had burned worlds. Grand
Magistra Lara Icena gave in to her own darkness, and she was glad.
Finally, she held him still, and Kaeso Apollyon felt true fear for the
first time in a very long time as he felt his throat begin to constrict
and close. With power born of desperation, he tried first to break her
grip, then to simply push her away, only for his attacks to be slapped
away with no more effort than if she swatted at a fly. It was
impossible, it was inconceivable, and yet it was. She was a dead woman
walking, one foot in the grave already, and yet she was still stronger
than him. He could not fathom how difficult it must be for her to keep
her organs running with her thoughts, to keep flowing the blood that a
dying heart would no longer pump, and yet with whatever small traces of
her power were not tied up in doing the impossible she had vanquished
the most feared psychic in the universe.
Apollyon wondered if it was strange to be utterly, breathlessly in awe
of the woman about to kill him.
His vision beginning to blur, Apollyon tried his last gambit, grasping
with his mind one of the pieces of rubble lying behind Lara amid the
shattered remains of Deicide’s bridge. A short metallic pole, bent and
twisted by the force of the battle, raised itself out from the wreckage
and flew like an unerring arrow.
Under normal circumstances, such a pitiful attack would have posed no
threat to even a common psychic, much less Lara Icena. But her eyes,
her prescience, her enhanced senses were all focused entirely on
Apollyon as he wriggled and choked beneath her grip. The desire to stop
him, to see him pay for the all evils he had unleashed, to absolve
herself of the deaths of planets utterly consumed her, and so it came
as a complete surprise to both man and woman when the pole pierced
through her back and lodged itself protruding from her chest.
Apollyon fell to his knees, gasping for breath as he massaged his
throat, but only for a moment. As soon as he felt the strength begin to
return to his limbs, he was already moving, stumbling across the ruined
bridge towards the prone woman. The rod had skewered cleanly through
the left side of her torso, leaving her transfixed like a butterfly in
the hands of a collector. Save for the pole itself, there were few
signs to tell just how serious the injury was, by Apollyon had seen
enough chest wounds to know that the inside of her breastplate was
rapidly filling up with blood. He approached cautiously, wary for any
last attack from her, but nothing came. Instead, she simply lay on the
deck and looked up at him, all her rage gone, replaced by a look of
peaceful acceptance.
“I’m sorry.”
Apollyon stopped in his tracks, stunned by what he had just heard.
“You’re sorry? What in the galaxy do you have to apologize to me for?”
She smiled at him, a few drops of dark crimson trickling from the
corners of her mouth. Her face was unnaturally pale, and for an
instant, she looked like one of the vampires of ancient Terran legend,
about to drain his life away. “When we first met, on that horrible
pirate ship. I promised you that I was going to take care of you, but I
had no idea what I was doing. I was young, and arrogant, and I thought
I could do anything, even teach you to be a good person. I failed you,
Kaeso. If I had warned anyone as I slowly watched you lose your mind,
you could have gotten the help you deserved. I managed to persuade
myself that there was no reason to worry, even as the boy I loved
disappeared before my eyes. And because I was so willfully blind, the
whole universe is paying the price.” She laughed again, but where
earlier there had been hate and anger now remained only sadness, and
loss, and perhaps a trace of nostalgia for the happy world lost so long
ago. “Your soldiers. All the innocent people in the Federation. You.
Everyone is suffering because of my choices. It’s only right that it’s
my turn now.”
Apollyon knelt over her, squeezing her hand as though he could keep
death from pulling her away, though she already felt unnaturally cold
in his grip. For a fleeting instant, they were no longer Lord Strategos
and Grand Magistra, but only two old friends, reconciled after entirely
too long a time spent lost in resentment and isolation. “Lara, none of
this is your fault. I chose my own path, and I take responsibility for
everything. Before I ever saw you, when I first realized that I was a
psychic, I swore to myself that I would someday be strong enough to
make sure that no other child would ever had to go through what I did.
From the day I turned eight years old, I knew what I was going to do
with my life, and nothing you could have said or done would have
changed that. If anything, you being there bought the Federation some
extra time. I never would have stayed in the Circle for as long as I
did if not for you.”
Lara shook her head feebly, now as white as a marble statue, and the
voice that issued from her lips was as soft as a whisper. “I taught you
how to control your powers. When you left, no one could have stopped
you, except for me. And I didn’t do a very good job of that, did I? I’m
just as guilty as you.”
“No, you aren’t. You’re a hero, Lara. And I came here today to show
that to the entire Federation.”
A look of total confusion passed across her face, but Apollyon carried
on, an all-consuming fear that the cruel fates might take her before
she understood burning inside him like acid.
“I didn’t attack Terra to take it. I attacked Terra because I knew you
were dying. This war is over, it ended the moment you became ill. At
this point, it makes no difference to me whether the Federation falls a
month or a year from now. I would win and you would die either way, the
only distinction is when and how. Lara, you did help me when we were
young, more than you can ever know. You were my whole world, and for
all these years, my one regret has been that I failed to persuade you
to come with me. When my spies found out how sick you were, I decided
to act. You deserve better than to waste away in a lingering death in
some hospital bed, and… I wanted to see you again. So I attacked, but
before the first shot was fired, I already knew I was going to fail.
The instant you set foot on this ship, I ordered a retreat. Terra
stands, for a little while longer. When my fleet comes back, it will be
the end of the Federation, because you won’t be there to protect it. I
could have ended this today. But I wanted to make sure that the entire
galaxy will remember you for all time.”
She smiled, for one last time. The blood flowing from her mouth had
stopped and was beginning to dry, in a pattern that looked almost like
a flower painted across the lower half of her face. “You’re completely,
utterly insane. I used to love that about you.”
As her hand fell limp in his grip and tears began to roll down his
cheeks, Apollyon closed her eyes.
THE END
© 2021 Ryan Klopp
Bio: I am a full-time student in Williamsburg, Virginia. In
September 2019, my novella “Souljar of Fortune” was published by Alban
Lake. My additional credits include Lovecraftiana, The Fifth Di..., and
The Night’s End Podcast.
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