Prophecy of the Stars

Bishop nodded her head in silent agreement. She opened her mouth to ask how long it would take before she could expect her shuttle to arrive, but was distracted by a diminutive Terran in a white flight suit: a pilgrim child. Bishop found her constant disgust with anything that was alien fighting her natural love for the child. The child was staring at her.

  King let her disgust become apparent and she opened her mouth slightly to reveal her fangs. The child's eyes widened and a smile took over. “You a Felvin?” the child asked. Bishop and King shook their heads together slowly. “You got teeth like a Felvin. Where's your tail?” she asked in disbelief.

  “We don't have tails. We are from Guntheria, not Felvox,” Bishop answered her quietly.

  “Where is that? You come from cats like Felvin?” Bishop shook her head again. “Why you got teeth like that if you don't come from cats?” the child continued to ask.

  “Our ancestors are bats. Giant cave bats that ate little girls like you,” Bishop spoke as she swooped down to eye level with the tiny girl.

  “I don't believe you. Bats don't eat little girls,” the little child responded with a wider smile, “And if you is bat, where your wings?” Bishop smiled and waved her arms. “You don't have wings, so you don't come from there. I think you is a Felvin,” the little girl continued her line of interrogation. “We had a Felvin,” the girl smiled as she spoke, “She taught me to walk when she wasn't cleanin' and cooking. Ma made Pa get rid of her when she heard the One's voice.”

  Bishop continued to stare into the tiny child's eyes. “You're funny. Why your eyes blue and her eyes red?” Bishop thought for a moment as she looked up at the annoyed King. She looked back at the child and attempted her best answer, “I am from Guntheria and she is from Belthonia.”

  The child's smile disappeared behind a confused face. “You said you both from same place,” the child let out a whine as she spoke.

  Bishop bit her thumb for a moment as she thought. Her mind traced into the tiny amount of information she had learned on standard Terran biology and she suddenly remembered a key fact to their biology. “I know I did,” she spoke soothingly, “My mother had blue eyes and her mother had red eyes.”

  “You're funny!” the little girl giggled as she spoke, “Are you here for the One, too?” Bishop responded with a perplexed look. “Lulu!” a motherly voice yelled out. Bishop looked up to see a Terran woman rushing across the room to her. “Lulu!,” she continued to scream as she grabbed the child into her arms, “Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you. Where is your father? Thank the One I found you”

  “I've been here, Ma,” Lulu responded sheepishly, “I've been talking to nice Gun-tear-ians.” Bishop smiled at the horrible mispronunciation as she stood up, towering over the woman. The mother hugged Lulu tighter as she studied Bishop and King, obviously concerned by the duo walking around in their battle armor; a common sight in the area.

  “I apologize,” the mother began to quickly voice, “The One granted her with a powerful curiosity and a lack of fear. I pray she didn't offend you.”

  Bishop continued to smile at Lulu and her mother's terrified view of her child's curiosity. “We're both fine,” she spoke calmly, “It takes more than a pilgrim child's questions to hurt a Guntherians.”

  “May the One bless the Mistresses' day,” Lulu's mother spoke as she turned for an exit. King let out a long sigh, finally breathing after the offensive time had passed. “Let's wait for them in the cantina,” she spoke angrily, “I don't think I can breathe here.”

  XXVII

  The black covered everything. Within were shapes, colors, and sounds; but, all he knew was the black. A subtle emotion revealed itself slowly, acting as a minor itch and spiraling into a full burning. The emotion punctured the black and declared itself as anger. Another emotion imitated the first, conquered it, and named itself fear. The fear rode the anger as it soared itself higher into the black before declaring itself victor. As the fear rejoiced in its supremacy, a third and final emotion rocketed above the first emotions, usurped their power, and became despair. Unlike the first two, despair began to melt the black as it formed two blue statues of beauty.

  They were beautiful, but sad. Their eyes bore their emotions with brilliant colors, one set struck dazzling blue whilst the other pair wore crimson red. The sadness was tainted with hesitation and accusation. The blue eyes were flanked with long silver hair, draping simply alongside her elegant white gown while the red eyes were joined with blue hair that matched the first. For all of their emotion, fear was not one of them.

  Gunthix felt a voice build inside of him. The eyes met one another before the voice reached out, “What have you done.” It was not a question, but a command. The voice demanded again, forcing a response from the duo of beautiful women.

  “You did not choose, Father,” responded the Red Eyes.

  The Blue Eyes continued, “You forced us to force an answer from you.”

  Gunthix felt the anger grow in him, only to be subdued by the despair again. “You wished to gain my favor,” begged a voice from inside Gunthix, “And for that, you will destroy everything?”

  The Blue Eyes stepped forward and pointed an accusing finger at her twin, “She would have destroyed everything regardless. This is her fault!” The anger in Gunthix rose again, only to subside.

  “You set this evil upon us,” argued the Red Eyes as she stepped forward, mimicking the first perfectly, “I was merely preparing for your attempts upon my inevitable reign.” Gunthix attempted to question their charges, but only felt himself choke as he tried.

  “Your gift did not please Father,” responded Blue Eyes, “He would not have chosen you. I destroyed your only chance of ruining my place in our Father's eyes.”

  Tears began to flow down the face of Red Eyes as she spoke to her accuser, “You destroyed my gift and wrought this plague upon our entire people.”

  “Enough!” bellowed the voice of Gunthix, “The stars granted me twin daughters in the place of my son. A son would not have begged for the attention of his father, he would have gained it through feats of valor, honor, and compassion.” The emotion in their eyes returned to sadness as the words rang through their bodies. Gunthix's voice continued, “I loved you both equally. Only the love for my people rose above you both and you have now jeopardized everything I have created.” Despair began to slowly fall away, but was quickly caught in the mind of Gunthix.

  “What will we do, Father?” begged the Blue Eyes.

  The Red Eyes continued, “Will you save us from our sins?”

  The battle of emotions suddenly ended as anger, fear, and despair vanished as hope filled their void. Gunthix's vision shifted to a black rectangle above him, itself dotted with beautiful, white diamonds. “You will live on,” the voice spoke calmly, “But you will never return until I send for you.” Both beauties gasped in disbelief and scorn. He waved them away, signaling for them to turn and leave. As they reached the massive silver doors, the room began to fade to black. Gunthix heard himself say one final breath as the black took total control of the image. “Belthonia! Guntheria!” he roared, “Quickly, for we have no time to spare.”

  The black turned to white suddenly, forming the dagger-like shards of ice, and the mists of snow. Gunthix search around him as he fingered the silver blade in his hand. A sudden realization exploded in Gunthix's mind and he shouted it to the snow, “You did this!”

  He expected laughter, but was responded by a somber voice, “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  He felt anger rise in him, but was calm enough to avoid attacking the ghost. “Why?” he asked instead.

  The ghost seemed to hesitate for a moment as Gunthix saw it drifting aimlessly among the icy spires. Just as he began to ask again, he was answered, “You believe in the ultimate peace that resides in war. It is beautiful, as you and all your children know, but you don't fully comprehend or appreciate it. It is a high, a rush, and a thrill for you, meant to be felt, used, a
nd thrown away for something bigger, better, and deadlier. To me, it is art, meant to be preserved.”

  “I saw them in their greatest moment. You could fill a nebula with the pride and blood-lust that filled the air. This collection of races stood no chance against your zeal. When I saw this, I couldn't resist. I created what you see now,” the disembodied voice concluded.

  Gunthix stared at the phantom in disbelief, unsure of what he had heard. “Why did you force me to remember,” he begged slowly as he caressed the ancient blade in his hand, imagining the lives that it had ended.

  “You uplifted a primitive race to the stars. Instead of love, you filled them with hate. They turned the hate into their passion for war, the same passion that you can't resist. Now you have abandoned them; and without guidance, they will destroy themselves by either their certain in-fighting or a war they cannot possibly win.”

  “But I am not the great King Guntha. I am Gunthix, son of Cylos,” roared Gunthix.

  “Did she give birth to you?”

  “No, but she was mother to me in every form. She was a teacher, a protector, and even a friend. That is the mother that I need.”

  “She was merely a vessel. An object destined to deliver. Why else would you be such a warrior?”

  Gunthix hesitated for a moment as he attempted to calm his anger at the words. Closing his eyes, he imagined Scientist Cylos, her loving nature, and how much she meant to him and sacrificed for him. The images he had experienced of the past burned their way into his mind, forcing him to concentrate harder on his maternal figure. Her image continued to fade and he became desperate for anything to erase the images from his mind.

  He focused on his sisters, Styx and Charon. They were the rock of his world, insuring that he had a true purpose and place, that he was not alone. He traced the outline of their figures against a black outline, insuring that they were his sisters through a bond that couldn't be falsified. His favorite feature on any female was their eyes, something that could not lie or be altered. Eyes were the emotion true self of any being. He imagined Styx's red eyes, and enjoyed the zealous fervor that she carried with her at all times, and then Charon's blue eyes, powerful and calm, she was always in control. After adding these important details to their outlines, he let his mind fill in the rest of their body. His mind acted fast, carefully carving every minute detail. He sighed and embraced their image, and discovered they were the same two beauties of his invasive nightmare.

  Gunthix opened his eyes to the sight of the ghastly skeleton hovering before him. “How long will you remain?” he asked protectively.

  The skeleton appeared to fade as a strong mist appeared around Gunthix as words sounded into his mind, “Until I grow tired of them.”

  He stared across the valley, hoping for a hint of the phantom's origins or motives to this unspeakable act. “Are there more of you?” he asked cautiously, hoping that the entity was a remnant of an ancient race or the birth of a new species.

  “From time to time,” a low laughter began to rumble within Gunthix's skull, “Another will come to bask in the glory of your warriors. Several have tasted their valor and beauty and are slowly making their way to your home where they can enjoy a perfect, untainted world.”

  A terrifying and icy image of the Guntherian skyline appeared in Gunthix's mind, forcing chills through his spine. A thunderous laugh sounded and the mist began to thin as he searched his mind for any weakness that his new enemy might have. He turned slowly, searching for the ghost.

  After failing to locate his strange benefactor, he powered his jets to boost him into the sky, and landed on the top of the massive ice spires. A horrible sight filled his vision as he discovered the entire world was equally desolate. Disgusted by his view, he looked to his feet, only to find another grim discovery; his jets had melted the ice, exposing the Guntherian emblem on an ancient landing frigate.

  Gunthix screamed into the snow. Rage filled him as he took the blade in his hand and attacked the hull of the ship. The frigate gave off sparks, but refused to form a hole. The blade was an awesome weapon, but without its plasma feeder to line the edge of the sharp weapon with burning energy, it could not puncture the ancient hull. He knelt down and traced the outlines of the majestic sword as he searched his mind for his next decision.

  ***

  Bishop stared directly across the bar at the collection of various containers. She focused on the colors, sizes, and order as she attempted to recall their names. The sounds of the room slowed, forcing each heartbeat and breath to be heard, identified, and located. Air hissed and sighed as it was forced through the recyclers to become new air and forced through again. Bishop concentrated on all of this in an attempt to not identify the voice of Charon standing behind her.

  “I said,” the sweet voice of Charon sang again, “You are looking better than ever.” Bishop attempted not to shake as she calculated what to do. She was certain that Charon and Styx weren't there to kill them; they would already be dead. Was she there to fan an old flame or to offer them a pardon for their treason, Bishop wasn't sure. Fearful of what she would see, she slowly turned around on the stool to see the beautiful, but aged, face of Charon.

  Her silver hair was longer, just like Bishop's, and dangled down her back to her waist. “You've gone too long without any,” scorned Styx, “But she does still look good.” Styx's silver hair was still short and curved at her shoulders, but her eyes were different: they had a slight taint of fear. Bishop forced her hand on her knee in an attempt to stop her shaking.

  “How did you find me?” she asked instinctively, more for an understanding of how she failed to hide her renegades.

  Styx and Charon sat down on both sides of Bishop as they ignored her. “This was a good idea, Charon,” mused Styx as she eyed the bar with an angry glare. Charon nodded as she looked through the corner of her eye at her former love interest. The Terran bartender approached the trio and instinctively poured the same green liquid that Bishop's Renegades had favored.

  “How did you find me,” Bishop asked again.

  Charon sighed and reached into the sleeve of her long coat, retrieved a data-pad, and handed it to Bishop, “Our last assignment was on Trinity.”

  Bishop activated the data-pad and the tiny screen showed to the hooded figure of a Guntherian surrounded by bright, colored lights. “What is this?” she asked as she continued to watch it, hoping it would show the answer to her question.

  Styx slammed her glass on the counter, stared at the bartender again, and attempted to speak calmly, “I didn't believe anything he said until we saw you, now I'm wishing I argued and went to the coordinates.”

  “Coordinates,” remarked Bishop questioningly as she continued to watch the Guntherian stare through a window at bright lights. She watched as he left the window, approached a desk, and lifted his hood. It was Gunthix. Bishop dropped the data-pad on the counter and held a hand over her mouth.

  “I win,” giggled Styx as she slammed the glass on the counter again. A small, silver robot wheeled over, extended a hose from underneath, and poured more liquid into Styx's glass.

  “That's not him,” whispered Bishop as she stared at the data-pad.

  Charon giggled as she placed her hand on Bishop's thigh. “It's him,” she argued, “Our target wouldn't have lied. It's Gunthix or someone prancing around as him.”

  Bishop calmed her breathing, rubbed her temples, and stared at the hand on her thigh. After running the image through her mind, she slowly asked, “Why are you here?”

  “We're not here to kill you,” giggled Styx as she traced a finger on the lip of her glass, “Nor are we here to kill your renegades.” Bishop let out a loud sigh of relief, but her question was still unanswered.

  “You managed to cover your disappearance well,” spoke Charon reverently, “Your ship was counted as lost with all hands and full honor. High Admiral Kai claims that you saved the entire fleet with the stunt that you did.” Bishop grinned as she
remembered her greatest tactical brilliance.

  “I did it more to save the fleet than to run away,” Bishop mused.

  “What exactly happened to the Unicorn?” asked Charon.

  “It was easy. I was given command and the cruiser was to attack as a tactical scout ship, meant to flush out attacks as the battle group moved. With something so dangerous, I was allowed to pick the entire crew as I saw fit.”

  “And you choose sympathizers.”

  “Yes. Most of my renegades were fixated on the notion of the suicidal attack against the Federation as the end of our civilization; but we are all soldiers, we can't speak out against the empress.”

  “I know, but her will is absolute. You have no right to question her. Did you see the Grigor fleet hiding behind the planet?”

  “Not until it was too late. The planet was metal-rich and they used it to bounce our sensors off. The fleet swooped in around from both sides of the planet, encircled the fleet, and activated a hidden ion cannon ring on the planet. By the time the fleet had launched a quarter of our craft, they had us in a complete ball with nothing to do.”

  “I read the report. High Admiral Kai raised quite a storm with the fleet controllers about not noticing a fleet that big coming out of their sector. Empress Kerrigan was furious that she had to divert part of her new fleet to the Grigor campaign. Where did you get your brilliant idea?”

  “It came from one of my simulations. I knew that if a capital ship charged in one direction as if trying to break their lines, they would shift to interrupt it. That gave the rest of the fleet a chance to go in the opposite direction and break out.”

  “That was tactical brilliance. How did the Unicorn survive?”

  “I charged a Grigor battleship, fired the cannon at close range, and dove through the hole that was created. After we barely made it out, we sling-shot around the star, and disappeared. I had Biggs disable the long range communication equipment so they would continue to believe we had been lost. Then we rescued Gunthix, lost him again, and came here to wait for him. We've been here for, I don't know, almost a full-cycle and a half.”

  Styx reached across Bishop and grabbed her shoulder, “You learned all that from me, didn't you?” A tingling sensation crept up Bishop's spine as she remembered her time with the Lariot Program.