Other than Beloved Leader, long may he reign.
The front of his armor is slick with inky blood leaking from the wound. There’s something strange in his eyes, so unexpected from him that it takes me a moment to recognize the emotion as shock.
He struggles to get up, batting away the troops who try to offer him assistance. His eyes meet mine, and he whispers two words.
“Crush them.”
Then he collapses onto the floor.
CHAPTER TWO
WE SOMEHOW MANAGE TO GET OUR HIGH COMMANDER into the nearby elevator. His body is heavy, almost too much for us to carry. His ragged, gurgling breaths fill my ears. If it were anybody else, I would assume that he was near death, but I know this is no normal Mogadorian in front of me. He is forever, immortal. This is a momentary setback. Not even that—it must be part of his plan, something he has foreseen.
As we rise through the Anubis, the other troops in the elevator with me are silent except for occasional outbursts.
“Hail our Beloved Leader!”
“Long may he reign!”
“Praise his name!”
When the doors open, a few medical staff are waiting for us. It’s fortunate we’re on the Anubis, as doctors are hard to come by on Mogadorian vessels, even on the warships. It’s usually not worth the trouble of trying to heal or treat the vatborn when more can so easily be created. As for the trueborn, it’s sometimes better—or more honorable—to die on the battlefield than return a disappointment.
At first the doctors are afraid to even touch Beloved Leader, but I bark at them, and he’s hoisted onto a gurney. He grunts, and then he’s rushed to the medical bay.
I start to follow, but then something occurs to me: we’re still parked at the Sanctuary. Our enemies are somewhere just outside, and our commander is currently unconscious.
Who will lead us?
What would Beloved Leader have us do?
His last words fill my mind.
Crush them.
Then it becomes clear. He has given me a command. Purpose. A divine order. He’s leaving it up to me to take control and see that his will is done.
If I can do this, I will have proven myself many times over to him, surely.
So instead of following the doctors, I make for the bridge. My long, black braids have come loose in the battle, and they whip the air as I sprint through the hallways, the sounds of my footsteps echoing behind me.
I burst onto the bridge. The officers are running around, shouting at each other. The medical teams have apparently already reported in to them. It seems that several crew members left to be by Beloved Leader’s side, while others nervously hover around their terminals, waiting for commands.
“Where are the Loric bastards?” I shout as I make my way to the viewing window at the front of the bridge.
“They’ve just taken off,” one of the officers says. Based on his terminal’s readouts, I’m guessing he’s our navigator. “They have a Loric ship somehow. We’re waiting for—”
“Follow them,” I say.
“But Beloved Leader is the only person who—”
I raise my blaster to the officer’s head.
“I am Phiri Dun-Ra, trueborn daughter of the honorable Magoth Dun-Ra,” I say, slowly and clearly. “And at this moment I am the voice of Beloved Leader. He has given me orders to crush the Garde. If you don’t put us in the air in the next five seconds, I’ll do it myself.”
He hesitates only a beat before the Anubis takes off.
“Fire as soon as you get them in sight,” I say.
I open a comm line to the medical bay, but there’s nothing to report. Setrákus Ra is still unconscious. The doctors are trying to figure out how best to proceed with the extraction of the pipe. They’ve contacted some kind of specialist, whatever that means.
Which leaves me to command the ship. To execute Beloved Leader’s order.
To ensure Mogadorian Progress.
I pace around the bridge, watching the Loric ship on our radar screen. We’re gaining on it, but not quickly enough.
“Call for reinforcements,” I shout. The officers follow my orders. They know who I am—some of them even recognize me from when I was leading troops at the main base. “Map their trajectory and alert the other warships on this continent that a Loric vessel is in the air. We don’t let this ship escape. And someone send more troops to the Sanctuary. Many of the Loric were wounded. Perhaps mortally. Capture anyone left behind.”
“Incoming transmission from the West Virginia base,” an officer says.
“Pull it up.” I gesture to one of the many electronic panels around the bridge.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice a bit shaky, like he’s unsure of how to proceed. “But I’ve been instructed that this is a private message for whoever is in command of the ship.” His brow knits together. “Is Beloved Leader able to—”
“I am his voice and his ears right now,” I say. “Take me to a place where I can receive this call.”
The officer leads me out of the bridge. I’m taken to a meeting room. The officer leaves me there alone as I tap on a control panel. A trueborn appears on the screen on the opposite wall. There’s a jagged but thin scar running across the dome of his tattooed head—one I know he got from the traitor Adamus’s attack on Ashwood Estates.
“Ah, Phiri Dun-Ra,” he says with a slight smirk. “When the chief doctor contacted me, he mentioned the Anubis was in the air. I should have known it was you who’d taken control.”
“Dr. Zakos,” I mutter. “I have a ship to destroy. If you have a message for me, speak now.”
Zakos and I have not always seen eye to eye. He was often a guest of Beloved Leader at the base in West Virginia when I was still stationed there. He oversaw all sorts of experiments and augmentation programs dreamed up by our leader. Once a superpowered piken of his design got loose in the tunnels surrounding the facility and ate half my men when we were sent to retrieve it. The doctor shrugged off these casualties as necessary losses. Meanwhile, I had to train a new squad.
When the Loric Garde escaped a few days later, it was that team of new soldiers who lost them in the tunnels.
“It’s admirable that you’ve so quickly stepped into Beloved Leader’s boots,” Zakos says, “but chasing this ship is out of the question unless it’s headed to the West Virginia base.”
“Of course it’s not,” I say.
“Then I’m afraid you’re going to have to abandon your pursuit.” His face gets serious. The self-satisfied smirk disappears. “Beloved Leader needs my attention. Now. His wound is serious, and every second that passes, it grows worse. The Anubis is not equipped to handle his injuries.”
“Beloved Leader will not be killed by a pathetic Garde,” I say, my voice getting louder. “He will rise again to conquer this world.”
“Of course he will,” Zakos says. “But he’ll rise much faster if I can get him into the healing vats. The longer you chase the Loric ship, the longer Setrákus Ra will be out of commission. He’ll have to spend more hours in the vats while you are free to . . . do what, exactly? Command the Anubis? That sounds an awful lot like treason, Phiri. However, a disgraced trueborn such as yourself would likely find favor with Beloved Leader if he awoke and heard that you had sped up his recovery by rushing him into my hands.”
I grit my teeth, unable to respond at first.
“He told me to crush them,” I say.
“If he holds that against you, I’ll take responsibility for it myself,” Zakos says. “Time is of the essence, Phiri Dun-Ra. I’ve alerted General Krah that Beloved Leader is . . . unable to be reached right now. He agrees that this is a matter that no one outside of the Anubis needs to know about. Understood?”
I nod.
“Good. I’ll be awaiting your arrival personally.”
The feed cuts out.