Slave Empire - Prophecy

First Officer Marcon’s imperative and rather rude telepathic intrusion roused Commander Tallyn from a deep slumber. Such tactics were only ever used in an emergency, so he quelled his annoyance and sent back a query. Marcon’s response, that a group of mutants was attacking the human girl, made Tallyn jack-knife off his bunk and don the one-piece stretch overall that was slung over a chair.

  Tallyn’s quarters were only a few strides from the bridge, and within seconds he watched the confrontation on the main screen. He admired her pluck as she hurled bricks and abuse at the monsters, but when it was quite obvious she could not escape, he gave the order to destroy the mutants. The ship’s neural net, under the guidance of a net-linked officer, locked onto the targets and calculated distance and trajectory before firing the lasers with pinpoint accuracy.

  The girl looked around and up, but the ship was in orbit. The spy-cam that brought her image to him also marked her position, enabling the ship’s infrared scanners to track her movements. The spy-cam was programmed to keep her image in its lens. She hobbled down the street, the spy-cam following like a faithful dog. Her limp worried him, and the brown stains on her leggings indicated injuries he had only noticed when she had set out on her journey that morning. The possibility of infection added to his concern, making him toy with the idea of picking her up.

  Tallyn could not explain why he had not done so yet, but something warned him not to, in spite of her injury. The same instinct told him that she was the golden girl child in the prophecy. Over the years, he had learnt to trust his instincts, and this was probably the most significant mission he would ever perform. As the ship’s commander, he had no need to explain his actions, or lack of them, to the crew, although Marcon had looked at him oddly.

  The ship held orbit now above the city where the girl dwelt, so she was obviously the target. The crew probably wondered why he did not order her transferred up, but Atlantean crews rarely questioned their commanders’ orders. Nor did he find any need to explain it; he would wait until the time was right.