Prophecy of the Stars

  “Do you miss it?” asked Charon, squeezing Bishop's thigh. “The lust for war doesn't go away easily,” she continued without waiting for an answer, “And I'm sure High Admiral Kai would be more than happy to have you back in the fleet.”

  Bishop tried to control her breathing. It began to violently increase as she considered the return to home as a hero, not as a traitor that she had fostered inside the minds of her renegades. Her attention shifted to her hands, which weren't shaking. She lifted a hand, slowly turning it as she studied it as a method of searching herself. The opportunity was too great to give up.

  “Well,” Styx interrupted, “I think we are done here. We have set the ball in motion.”

  Bishop remained still as Styx and Charon quickly kissed her on both cheeks simultaneously, then abruptly stood up and walked to the exit without a word. She continued to stare at her hand as she listened to their steps slowly quiet themselves. Memories began to abruptly flash into her mind; memories of love, combat, and the greatest feeling of serving a higher power. Her gaze shifted from her hand to the same shelf of liquors that she had studied earlier. She attempted to remember their names, colors, and tastes.

  After an unbearable and slow time, her attention was called to someone sitting down next to her. The focus increased on her endeavor to block out the metal world, attempting to fully understand her place in the universe. Her attention finally broke by a voice that continued to repeat itself. She slowed her breathing and listened to it again.

  “I said,” it was the voice of King, “Did you know a Guntherian cruiser came through the system?”

  XXVIII

  Gunthix stared at the lifeless world from his perch. Frost had begun to creep toward his feet from the cleared section of the ancient warship. The steady march of the ice reminded him of the unstoppable fate that waited him and his race. He closed his eyes, imagined his ship, and opened his eyes to the interior of his starship.

  The warm interior of the ship paradoxed the cold world he had just left. Gunthix sat in the command chair, plugged the jack into his arm, and ran a system check. He checked his ship's log and discovered that he had been on the surface for almost seven cycles; he could only account for less than four hours. This disturbed him. He activated the star map and a tiny hologram appeared floating above his face, several tiny dots aligned with the stars he could see through his view-port

  Gunthix searched for Guntheria and was denied. The ship had been modified so many times that it had no record of Guntherian space. Searching for similar constellations, neutral shipping lanes, or Guntherian colonies denied him further. A tiny hint of anger emerged in Gunthix, but he quickly quelled it; he knew what he would do.

  He activated the small craft's core for a full-burn, forcing the engine to create a massive amount of energy. Several warnings read across his visor as the tiny ship began to navigate toward an empty sector of space. A final warning came verbally from a computer that Gunthix did not recognize, but his suit translated: 'Warning! Core overloading. Remotely release core pressure.' Crossing the ante-chamber of the small ship, he ignored his attire and entered the tiny core room.

  A small sphere was slowly changing from flat gray to purple. Gunthix studied it, noting the various attachments that lead off to various parts of the ship. The warning called again, but was ignored as he began to remove smaller hoses leading off of the powerful core. The sphere began to buckle as the tiny object brimmed with energy. He studied it for a moment before thrusting the sword into it. The gray room filled with purple as Gunthix closed his eyes and folded space, fading into black as the ship imploded.

  ***

  Princess Iris was in her garden, admiring her beautiful flowers and contemplating her last encounter with her charges. She enjoyed her position to teach the future, but felt a tint of sadness at the possibility of her tainting the history of her people. The notion of her genetic superiority left a small hole her heart that was filled with the understanding that it might be wrong. She ignored it as she caressed her favorite flora. A small hiss of air, combined with a flash of purple, distracted her from her personal bliss.

  “My princess,” a familiar, but ghostly voice, spoke quietly. Princess Iris turned to see Gunthix in a foreign armor, kneeling with utter respect. A rush of emotion countered by cold logic flooded her. She knew the face, remembering it every night as she went to sleep, but the body encasing it was strange and terrifying. The possibility of this image as a test terrified her. “Gunthix?” she trembled.

  “I have returned,” Gunthix spoke as he rose to his feet.

  “You are dead,” she answered flatly. He raised his arm, revealing his new found weapon, but remained silent. She studied it, recognizing it almost instantly, but remained cautious. “Who are you, phantom?” she asked without moving from her position.

  “I am Gunthix,” he answered proudly, “I am your champion and the hero of Guntheria.”

  Her silver gown flapped in the air as she swiftly moved into his arms, embracing him as she had in her dreams each night. “What are you doing here?” she asked him as she rubbed her cheek against his.

  “I have come to regain my honor,” he whispered into her ear, forcing it to shiver at his words, “And to save the empire from itself.” Ignoring his words, she breathed deeply, adjusting to the scent that had since changed since her last encounter with her champion.

  “Did you hear me?” he whispered into her ears.

  “I did,” she replied, “But there is nothing that we can do. The Empress's will is absolute.” She continued to rub her cheek against his, demanding that time stop so that she could enjoy it for eternity.

  “I will demand the Battle of Champions,” he denied her, “And claim you as the new Star of Guntheria.”

  Princess Iris released her grasp on her hero and stared at the blue grass at their feet. His armor cast a strange shadow, terrifying her further. He asked for a certain death, but was confident in it. She wanted to think of what he would be against, but every detail refused to clearly announce itself. A Guntherian royal was destined to know the perfect answer to every question, but she was unsure of the fate that would fall upon them. If he succeeded, she would be crowned Empress and she could reverse the course that her people had set upon. If he failed, he would be killed, and her future reign would be tainted with her failure. She knew she couldn't dissuade him from his choice, forcing her to ask a final question: “Where?”

  “In orbit around the moon of Pyatt,” he answered without emotion. She lifted herself onto the tips of her toes as she gave the most intimate kiss that she could manage. The kiss filled her mind with the memory of her first time opening her eyes to Gunthix. To her, he was the very star that Guntha revolved around. Her eternity was forced to an end as he slowly pushed her away. For the first time, she studied his face. It was tired and aged. His eyes seemed empty, emotionless to her attempts to love him. She watched as he faded into black and her beautiful garden replaced him. The garden lost its beauty, forcing her to turn for the entrance into the palace.

  Princess Iris moved with the natural grace of her majestic genes and the speed that her race naturally possessed. Several staff members watched the trails of her dress follow her as she raced into the palace library. Admiral Mars stopped his speech midway and stared at her, astonished in her lack of royal protocol. A few other officers prepared for a command, unsure if this interruption was scripted and destined through an unknown code of royalty.

  Empress Kerrigan looked up from her data console and stared impatiently at her intruder. They locked eyes in a battle for supremacy. Princess Iris understood her error, but she refused to allow it to overcome her current quest. After several tense minutes of silence, one of the officers cleared his throat and spoke, “Officers, I believe we should wait until later to finish this.” Admiral Mars clenched his fists as he turned with the others to leave through the same doors that the princess had rushed through.

  “What,” the empress sta
rted slowly as she attempted to calm herself from the massive breach of royal protocol, “Do you want?” Princess Iris opened her mouth to answer, but closed it quickly. Normally, she knew exactly what to say at all times and in what tones to speak with. This was her first unscripted moment out of her personal prison and she was terrified in a new way. She loved it.

  “A call has been heard,” she was prepared, “Gunthix demands the Battle of Champions and, with it, my reign.”

  XXIX

  “Admiral,” repeated the voice, “Admiral, we are nearing orbit. Do you want to deploy the strike-force?” Admiral Mars continued to stare at the image of the hanger, ignoring his crew, as he watched the lone warrior stretching.

  The voice cleared its throat and spoke again, “Admiral.” He watched as several technicians, new to the ship, were moving swiftly back and forth in the zero gravity adjusting the hulking, metal monsters chained to the platforms magnetically held against the hull. His anger began to surface as he counted the behemoths, a dozen total, and remembered the source of his anger.

  “Strike group,” the voice spoke; not to Admiral Mars this time, but into the battleship Dragon's inter-com, “Prepare for launch.”

  Admiral Mars snapped away from the console, “What are you doing, Lieutenant Arsa?” She looked up at him, ashamed at her insubordination, but correct in her instructions. “We are in orbit, admiral. The strike-force needs to be deployed.”

  He raised his first in preparation to strike the officer, hesitated, and struck the image he was watching. “I may not be the Empress's champion,” he spoke through his clinched teeth, “but I am still an admiral. I am still the in command of this battleship. I will launch the strike-group.”

  “Admiral Mars,” sounded a voice from the broken monitor, “We need another additional five minutes before we can launch. We will alert you when we are prepared and launching.” Admiral Mars raised his fist to strike again, but decided against it. He knew his crew, especially Lieutenant Arsa, valued the Empress's mission above anything else and he would be replaced quickly if he attempted to hinder it.

  “Admiral,” a different voice sounded, “short range scanners have picked up something.”

  Admiral Mars walked across the bridge toward the soldier, “Why are we just now picking up something?”

  Another soldier reached the console first, asking, “Why aren't the other scanners working, Slore?” Slore began to work his console rapidly before responding to the other soldier. “I don't know, Sergeant,” he responded without stopping, “Heat scanners are functioning. Laser radar is working.” Admiral Mars stood over him to examine his station as he continued to list the systems. “Everything is working,” Slore announced, “The ship's computer finally spotted it on visual scanning.”

  His sergeant leaned in as he questioned with disbelief, “The same scanner we use to identify unfamiliar ships and E.V.A? How? It has to be smaller than an anti-ship mine.”

  “It is,” responded Slore.

  ***

  Gunthix open his eyes to the massive battleship Dragon moving toward him. He raised the ancient blade up to face level, splitting the capital ship in half, and grinned. Squeezing the hilt, a bright blue streaked along the edges of the blade; confirming his suspicion that the plasma cell had recharged after he thrust it into the core of his former ship. He intended to strike at the Dragon and slice the ship in half. Studying the ship and preparing for the likely launch of fighters, he began stretching to ward off his meditated calm.

  The ship's reverse thrusters fired, slowing the giant mass to a relative stop in the orbit of the moon. Gunthix raised his other hand, eclipsing the battleship. He lowered his hand and watched as several large objects launched from the underneath the wings of the ship. Counting them, he questioned why they would launch so few fighters to attack him. The tiny silver dots formed a line, allowing Gunthix to count their total to twelve, as they began to quickly approach him. He responded by rotating himself and powered his leg thrusters to meet them head on.

  As he approached the phalanx formation, silver dots became clear to him: they weren't fighters. Gunthix slowed, righted himself, and watched as line approached him. He continued to slowly glide toward them as their true function and identity was revealed: they were exo-suits.

  The formation slowed itself, holding formation tightly, and stopped a short distance from Gunthix. A center suit moved ahead of the rest and Gunthix watched as several green lights began blinking on it. He told the suit to listen to a communication channel and spoke, “I am Gunthix. Champion of Princess Iris and prepared to battle in her right.”

  “I am Lariot Two-Zero-One, Buster, I am Empress Kerrigan's Champion,” a voice responded, “and I am prepared to kill you.” Small green lights on the other suits began blinking rapidly in response to Buster's call. Gunthix didn't hear any radio traffic and assumed they were broadcasting on a hidden channel. “Are you ready, Champion?” Buster asked as he assumed a foreign fighting stance. Gunthix nodded.

  Buster quickly thrust his arms forward, firing both loaded rockets. Gunthix launched himself above their line and dived toward him. The other suits responded by firing twin rockets in sequence, closely following the nimble Gunthix, as they spread out. Carefully dodging the trail of fire, he changed direction and surged toward Buster, locking hands with the giant suit. He felt the suit powering energy to his arms, but Buster easily held him still. “You will die,” chuckled Buster,” The Empress's will is absolute.”

  Buster's shoulder-mounted Gatling-guns tilted down at Gunthix, cycling up and pouring blue fire at him. Gunthix's shield easily slowed and bounced the fire off as he strained to defeat his opponent in the duel of strength. A feeling of urgency raced through Gunthix as he turned his head to discover the other suits had encircled him, prepared to fire another volley of rocket fire. Gunthix curled up, delivered a powerful kick to the torso of Buster, and launched himself out of the grapple.

  Gunthix propelled himself toward a suit, twisting around its rocket fire, and slashed violently with his plasma-lined sword. He scored a direct hit, cutting the suit in half at the torso, and continued on past it. Two cannon shots rushed past him as he twisted himself to survey his certain kill on the suit.

  The suit had been cut in half. He watched as the legs floated off gently toward the moon, but the upper portion turned itself and blared its Gatling-guns. Gunthix looked for a trail of blood to flow from the suit and saw none.

  “Only I will fight you,” announced Buster, “as I am the Empress's Champion. These robots are my arms, easily defeating you.” Gunthix raced toward the damaged machine, sliced it again from the head down, and raced toward another.

  An explosion sent shock waves through the fight, propelling Gunthix faster than machine collection predicted, allowing him to dodge another hail of cannon and rocket fire. He grabbed the arm of another monstrous machine, plunged his sword into the chest, and struggled as he wrenched the arm off. Buster rocketed toward him, connected with a powerful tackle, and hurled the group into a ball.

  “I will kill you, Gunthix!” screamed Buster as he slugged Gunthix with a powerful fist. The attack easily slipped through Gunthix's shield, connecting with energy. Gunthix kicked the life-less suit away, tearing the mechanical arm off, and used his trophy as a club to attack Buster.

  After several strikes with the impromptu weapon, Buster caught it. Gunthix morphed a Gatling-gun with his other arm, aimed it at his opponent's thigh, and fired a short burst. Kicking at the damaged area, Gunthix launched himself toward the damaged suit holding his sword hostage, and dodged a rocket that was fired from another robot. Buster swatted the rocket away as he chased Gunthix to his destination.

  The damaged robot ignored the sword in its chest as it fired its Gatling-guns at Gunthix. Braving the hail, Gunthix grabbed the hilt of the sword and swung around the back of the suit as he used it to shield himself from Buster's cannon fire. The twin rounds connected with his victim, creating a gaping hol
e.

  Gunthix grabbed the weapon from the husk, used it as a launch point toward another machine, and dodged another rage-filled attack from Buster. “Fight me, coward!” screamed Buster as he collided with the derelict wreck he inadvertently destroyed, “I am the Empress's sword. You will not defeat her will.”

  Gunthix morphed twin Gatling-guns as he twisted mid-flight to his target and fired a burst as he responded, “The Empress is misguided, just as you are!”

  Buster flared his jets to dodge the fire, but several rounds connected with his left leg. His suit shrugged off the damage as he surged himself toward his sworn enemy. Gunthix twisted himself, melted his weapons back into his gauntlets, and grabbed the sword with both hands as he plunged it into the shoulder of his new target. The suit reached for him as he continued behind the machine, prepared for another attack from the battle.

  Gunthix held on with one hand as he morphed a rocket, pressed the head against the back of the suit, and watched as Buster raced toward him. He pulled himself above the suit as it surged its back-jets to burn him off and aimed the rocket at the enraged Champion. Buster watched as the rocket raced toward him and twisted to dodge it. A suit trailing Buster connected with the rocket and exploded. Another suit, its Gatling-guns blaring, approached Gunthix from behind and attempted to dislodge him from his mechanical brethren.

  “The Empress told me how you were a failed project,” Buster announced to Gunthix as he joined the collection of warriors, “I am better than you in every way!” The machine behind Gunthix connected another powerful punch to his side as he continued to drive the blade deeper into the chest of the hostage suit. Buster raised a fist, pushed it forward, and connected, accidentally, with the machine behind Gunthix.

  The attack connected with enough force it allow Gunthix the chance to kick away the prisoner machine as he dragged the blade through the machine. Once free, he turned and kicked the machine away, and raced toward another suit. Buster wrestled the destroyed suit out of his way as he followed Gunthix. “You can't outrun me forever, coward!” he screamed as he launched another twin set of rockets.