Prophecy of the Stars
She giggled and looked at Charon. “Technically, we are only seventeen,” she mused, “But, we spent the first ten in a tank to develop the body of a twenty-year old. We've been out of the tank for about seven years each.” Hudson nodded at the confusing age and thought of how to understand their exact biological age.
A man rushed into the room. “The Empress,” he gasped, “has died.” A few in the room gasped. Everyone bowed their heads for a moment in remembrance. Many of them thought about their past wars and hoped that the succeeding Empress would follow in her steps and follow through the Ancient Code laid down by the ancestor of the noble family.
Charon broke the silence, “When is the coronation?”
He sat down with a thump. “It’s next full-cycle,” he answered.
“That’s not very far away,” murmured Watson, “better get our dress uniforms ready.”
III
The twin moons of Guntha, Belthonia, and Guntheria are the home-worlds of the Guntherian Empire. Heralded as the Empire's true perfection, the moons were heavily urbanized in beautiful white buildings, drenched in the blue hue of sunlight that filtered through the giant, uninhabited planet. As one of the few areas of the Empire without a modern star-port, Guntheria and Belthonia relied heavily on small shuttles to ferry goods and personnel to the surface. The grandest achievement of Guntheria was the majestic home to the Empress.
It was the first time in a long time that any of the squad had been to the moon Guntheria and more importantly, the first time any had been within the halls of the Grand Palace or even the Great Hall. The shuttle ride from the cruiser Black Halo to the surface allowed its passengers the chance to view the beautiful, white skyline of the urbanized moon. “Is the whole surface as white as this?” asked Malloy. Knight nodded in response as she continued to stare out across the surface. “I have never been to Guntheria before. Shanto is a farming planet,” Malloy spoke aloud, to himself more than anyone else, “I didn't know they could build a city so beautiful before.” Watson patted Malloy on the back as he studied a break in the skyline: the Grand Palace.
Selections from every part of the military were present, representing the best that Guntheria had to offer. Everyone within the squad was promoted one rank, to show for their increased responsibility, but more to let them feel comfortable among the admirals, generals, and sergeant majors. A few of the higher ranking and less knowledgeable sneered at the attendance of less qualified individuals in attendance, the others spotted their shock trooper pins and spent time sharing drop stories. Gunthix and Charon stayed in the corner, entertaining anyone that passed by inquiring their history and lack of stories. Styx mingled with everyone, even the civilians. Watson was sure she was drunk.
An old general approached Watson. He studied the veteran and noticed the large amount of medals, but he didn't see a shock trooper pin. “I haven't seen you since the Rodan campaign,” the old general called out to him. Watson could tell that his apparent age was a lie, he had been a ground officer for a long time, yelling to someone was natural for him. “You were with Commander Athlon, weren't you, Sergeant?” he continued through Watson's study.
“Yes, sir,” snapped Watson.
The general continued to dig his hand into Watson's shoulder as he studied him. “Now that was some serious action. It is good to see that you became something. Commander Athlon was my dear friend, his loss was felt across the First Army.” Watson nodded in agreement, remembering his first mission.
***
“What is your name, New Blood?” asked the sergeant. “It is Watson,” answered Watson, “This is my first combat landing.” The sergeant looked him over and compared him to the rest of the company waiting in the massive hanger of the landing frigate. “You will make it,” the sergeant commented as he had told a number of soldiers before, “The first one is the hardest. You have the look that will keep you alive. Just keep it. Nobody in my squad dies on their first drop.” A call was echoed through the other sergeants for the company to form up for the commander.
A Guntherian with a large vertical scar across his right eye stepped in front of the formation of over a hundred soldiers, all prepared to give their lives for the empress and the empire. He cleared his throat, pressed a tiny button attached to the collar of his battle armor, and spoke, “In case you don't know me; I am Commander Athlon of the Dragoon Company, Thirteenth Battalion, of the First Army. Our unit can trace its lineage to the Second Legion, the Wrath of War. That is history, and we will live up to it.”
“Our mission is to support the Shock Troopers that have already landed and are currently disabling the Rodan orbital cannons so that our landing frigates can land to finish the job. Once we hit dirt, we will capture the area surrounding a secondary cannon. I expect every one of you to do your job,” the commander finished on a dry note. Watson could hear the atmosphere beginning to burn around the massive frigate. He imagined twenty of the frigates in a line, maintaining strict formation, slowly descending onto the planet. Watson waited in the belly of the massive creature, waiting for the single giant door to open and release the Empire's wrath.
A blue light filled the hanger, signaling the soldiers to close their visors and prepare for war. Watson complied, fingered his weapon, and did everything he could to calm himself. “Don't worry,” rang a voice through his channel accompanied by a hand on his shoulder, “I got a good feeling about you.” Watson turned to see the faceless visor of another soldier, attempting to remember her name. He was sure he knew her, seeing her in either the showers or the mess hall. As the name reached the tip of his tongue, the blue light switched to red.
“Come on, you warriors,” Commander Athlon echoed through their helmets, “Do you want to live forever?”
The silver wall lowered quickly, revealing a red sky surrounding a massive cannon aimed directly at the sky. Explosions rocked the ground as Commander Athlon charged forward. Streaks of blue raced toward the cannon, painting a terrifying guide for Watson to follow to his destination. He ran forward, naturally guiding himself into formation with the company. A ringing sounded as he charged forward before the ground exploded in front of him.
***
A bell began ringing and everyone took their place in formation. The doors opened slowly and everyone took a bow and then knelt as the Empress-to-be entered the room. She walked slowly and stopped for a few moments as she passed each section of the service, each step carefully choreographed for her long march among her people. She stopped on the step before the throne and turned. The Grand Star Marshall, leader of the entire Guntherian military stepped forward and knelt with the crown. “Great one,” he bellowed, “these soldiers that stand before you are prepared to give their life for the crown. They only ask that you be willing to do the same.” She scanned the room, as was customary, and spoke, “If my people need my blood, I shall give it to them now.” She reached for the Marshall’s dagger, and drew the blade against her arm, drawing a tiny sliver of blood. “And as you kneel before me now, I shall kneel before all of you.” She knelt down on one knee. The Princess-to-be stepped from behind the Marshall, retrieved the crown and placed it upon her head. She turned and faced the crowd as the only standing member in the room. “All of Guntheria, hear now and forever. Empress Kerrigan is now our guiding light through the stars.” She bowed to the room and stepped slowly back toward the throne. The Empress stood again and regaled at the applause.
“My people,” she spoke elegantly, “the sun may have set on our great empire, but a new day is yet to come. We shall still cling to the values that have granted us our perfection and foster yet even more achievement within our great society. We will maintain our place at the top of universal power and continue on our path to perfection and peace.” Applause filled the room as she ended her speech. “Now please, rejoice for our great celebration.”
The assembly moved into an adjacent room filled with tables. Bishop eyed Gunthix for the first time in his impressive dress uniform and remembered t
he first night she found him in the shower.
Waiters in crisp uniforms lead them to their tables. Although they were part of the assembly, they weren’t designated to sit at the main table. The entire Lariot Program was placed at an impressive round table with, at her insistence, Chief Scientist Cylos.
Small talk was spread around the table with Styx and Scientist Cylos leading the conversations. The topics drifted from their individual beliefs on best places to vacation to impossible theories in science. Politics were purposely discarded, but couldn’t be ignored forever. It finally came to the front with a discussion on the Galactic Federation.
“I don’t care how many planets you gather together, the only way to maintain peace with that many voices is to continue to expand,” stated Hudson.
Styx chuckled and responded, “If they aren’t careful, they’ll try to conquer within Guntherian space and then they’ll start up the war they couldn’t finish centuries ago.”
Charon gave Styx a watchful eye, “If they want peace, they will try to amend the charter diplomatically.” A momentary silence was created as another table laughed loudly.
“Any nation,” stated Scientist Cylos, “must understand the limits of its potential and maintain it. That’s why the Great Empress Kiri decreed that the Federation must not impose on our borders and why we have yet to expand.” Gunthix thought long and hard about the instability that was rumored to exist within the Federation.
“I have a tough question for you, Scientist,” cut in Knight, “why is it that the more space faring races we discover, the more similarities we find?” Everyone remained silent as Scientist Cylos finished off her wine glass and then raised it as a message for it to be refilled.
“That's an easy one,” she responded, “your are inquiring as to why most intelligent species shares similarities?” Knight was accompanied in a nod by Hudson and Bishop. “Regardless of a species' natural habitat, multiple concerns are obvious. The first is the need to be bipedal. Being able to walk upright gives the organism the ability to see further, bear more weight, and even use their front limbs for manipulation of tools or food.” Everyone nodded in agreement. Scientist Cylos looked at Knight in preparation for another question. Knight leaned forward for another question and was interrupted by a sound.
A staff member on the main table stood up and began tapping his glass with a spoon in an attempt to gain the attention of the entire room. “I propose a toast,” she said, “to the Empress.” A round of agreement filled the room and the room echoed with ‘to the Empress.’ The Marshall then stood up and called for a toast ‘to the Empire,’ followed by another round of agreement and an echo. Scientist Cylos whispered to Charon, “Why didn’t you tell me this was my cue?” and stood up, “For everyone who has lived and died in service to the Empire.” The room agreed and echoed. Toasts continued until the wine was gone, but the celebration continued.
***
The celebration went on until finally the Empress stood up and resigned herself to her quarters. Shortly after she left, groups of people began leaving. Scientist Cylos excused herself after a short while, citing that royal wine wasn’t any good and she would rather drink something from a planet she stumbled to pronounce a name, but it did start with an 'R'. Watson left shortly after, followed by a few others and Gunthix. Styx sat at the table demanding more wine. She was denied. Charon forced Styx up from the table and had Bishop assist her in shepherding Styx to her quarters. Charon told her good night and Bishop stumbled down the hallway, trying to remember where her quarters were. Leaning against the wall, she admitted to herself she was drunk and resigned herself to her fate. Suddenly she felt herself lifted up and rested herself on the shoulder of her hero, only to look up and discover it was Gunthix.
He opened the door into a dark room and laid her down. She reached up with her hands and held him the best she could, searching his body for any sign of love or romance. “Please don’t leave me,” she cried, “you didn’t leave me before, don’t leave me now.”
Gunthix lay down next to her and held her in his arms and she thought he whispered, “I will never leave you.”
***
“Maintain your lines!” commanded Commander Athlon through the radio channel. A hand grabbed Watson and dragged him out of the open. “Are you still green?” called a voice he couldn't identify. He nodded as he stood up and began running toward his goal. Watson checked his flanks to insure he was in perfect position within his formation and discovered he was far behind the formation. He looked to his left and saw the soldier again, remembering her name: Solara. An explosion snapped his attention to his destination as he raised his weapon and fired a short burst at a figure emerging from the smoke-filled hole in the wall. He pushed himself harder to maintain formation as he slammed his back into the wall.
“All soldiers, break formation and continue at the lowest level,” another command came through the channel, confirming that the company as a whole had made it out of the open. Watson looked back across the field and watched as the frigate continued to fire streaks of blue over him toward his eventual destination.
“We got a job to do,” commanded the voice of Solara, accompanied by a armored hand on his shoulder. Watson turned back to look at her and noticed she had switched from her rifle to a smaller, one handed weapon. She pressed a button on her oversized left arm and eight black bars sprang from the outside of her forearm. Another button press, the spaces between the bars turned black and turned it into a shield. She raised up her other arm with the heavy pistol, “Are you ready? I'm lead,” she bellowed over the sound of explosions. He gripped his rifle and nodded. Solara raised the shield to her chest, extended the pistol over it, and rounded the corner. Watson followed her closely, prepared to kill anything that wasn't Guntherian.
The smoke began to give way to the red sky and the tall rectangular buildings of the town that surrounded the orbital cannon. “Up high,” Solara called into the short-wave channel. Watson reacted perfectly, firing a burst into a window. He wasn't sure what she saw, but whatever it was, it was no longer a threat. She directed them along the wall to their right to give them better cover.
Solara stopped her steady march abruptly and crouched. Watson mimicked her perfectly, waiting for whatever made her stop. She pointed to an intersection across the street from her with the pistol. Watson aimed at it carefully, prepared to fire if it proved hostile. A trio of soldiers moved into view behind a shield and made contact with Solara and Watson. “Corporal Solara, third platoon. We haven't seen anyone from our platoon since we broke the wall,” spoke Solara through the short-wave.
One of the soldiers straightened up and responded, “Sergeant Marbro, first platoon. I want you two to move up the right side with us.” Solara bounced her pistol on the shield to confirm his order and began slowly creeping forward.
The group continued moving through the street, listening closely for the obvious sound of a rushing Rodan. “Hey, sergeant,” came the voice of one of the soldiers into the helmet Watson, “We haven't seen anything since we made it through the wall.” Watson continued to scan every window, insuring their relative peace was maintained.
“What's your point, Dedli?” answered the sergeant.
“Well, do you think they ran away scared?” asked Dedli.
“If you would shut up,” one of the standing soldiers hit the shield holder on the back of the helmet as he spoke, “I would be able to hear them when they attack.”
“What the--” sounded the voice of Dedli. Watson switched his view to street level as he saw two massive, four-armed Rodan jump down from a building, landing on Sergeant Marbro and impaling Dedli with a massive sword. Watson aimed and pulled the trigger of his rifle, killing one with painful efficiency. Solara emptied the clip to her pistol into the other Rodan, forcing it to stagger as it turned around. Watson dropped the magazine to his rifle and thumbed his chest harness as he searched for another. As he retrieved the magazine and brought it up to his
weapon, he watched as the Rodan searched inside its armor on its chest.
Solara holstered her pistol, collapsed her shield, and charged the Rodan with her blade armed. The Rodan's top arms braced for her weapon as the bottom arms continued to search inside its armor for something. Watson finally seated the magazine in his weapon and fired a burst over the shoulder of Solara and into the metal helmet of the Rodan. It slumped to the ground as Solara continued the blade into the shoulder of the felled opponent.
Watson relaxed as he watched Solara check on the team from First Platoon. Solara shook the bodies, calling out to each one, before turning back to Watson. He couldn't see into her visor, but assumed by her posture that they were certainly dead as she began to remove their ammunition and weapons. She activated the shield again as a loud whine sounded. Solara looked up, attracting Watson's attention to the red sky, as three crescent's cut across their view. He felt a blow to his stomach as an explosion launched his body into the air.
***
Watson woke up on the floor. He calmed his breathing and focused on reality, reminding himself that it was simply a nightmare. Searching his legs, he calmly felt the scars that he carried with him everywhere. He stood up, approaching the window of his suite, and stared at the sun rising over the giant blue ball: Guntha. The rays of the star forced its way through the atmosphere and flooding the moon with blue, calming him. He stretched his arms and chest, preparing himself for the day. A small, low beeping gained his attention. He approached his personal data-pad and discovered that he had a message waiting for him.
Across the palace, in a separate suite, Bishop woke up with a jolt and a hangover. She searched the bed for her savior and found nothing but cold sheets. Reaching for the light she found a note:
“Morning muster at 0900. Flight suit uniform. Shuttle Yard IV, Room 16”
He was so romantic.
IV
She was neither late nor the last one at the muster. King and Rider both showed up together, late, and wearing the others flight suit. Hudson couldn’t keep from giggling while everyone waited for the briefing to start. Bishop finally spotted Gunthix in the corner, flanked by Charon and a now sober Styx. Major Leadly strolled into the briefing room. “I’m glad everyone is here. Before we get started: Styx, Scientist Cylos wanted me to deliver a message to you that centers on the fact that she still drank more than you.” Styx responded with an explicative and slammed her fist against the wall. Watson hoped no one was in the room next to them, lest they think they were getting shelled. “We have a new mission assignment for the Program. I can’t give the details now, but prepare yourself for warm and wet weather. We will be boarding the battleship Purple Rose and joining a battle group. The necessary equipment has already been loaded. We don’t have any time for questions. Dismissed.” The major gave a short scan of the room and then left smiling.