Jon Messenger: Purge of Prometheus

Maxlar sat in the observation deck of the hangar bay, watching Yen’s ship slide from its berth and prepare for its departure. Reaching into the inside pocket of his uniform, he pulled out a sealed envelope. Pausing only momentarily to observe the High Council emblem emblazoned upon the seal, Maxlar quickly opened the letter.

The directions within were simple: Activate the blue switch.

Opening his brief case once more, Maxlar reached to the upper right corner of the case’s interior and moved an unassuming blue button to the “on” position. A red light flickered from a bulb directly above the switch.

Maxlar shook his head, unsure what any of his actions meant, but confident that he was following the High Council’s orders without fail. Satisfied, the Oterian stood and left the room.

The ship skimmed the red surface of the planet, tracing the rises and falls of the shifting sand dunes. The planet was desolate and uninhabitable, save the one bunker located nearly a hundred miles still ahead. Yen hated the jostling of the ship as it flew so close to the ground, but knew it was necessary to avoid the Terran radars. His soldiers, however, took the abuse in silence; most of the men barely seemed to move at all as the ship tilted to avoid another outcropping of sand or rock.

Yen donned the lightly armored costume that he would wear, one that resembled a Terran General. The outfit clung to his body, feeling awkward and confining against the spines on his back. Once he transformed, he knew the uniform would fit better, but Yen grew nauseas at the thought of wearing a Terran’s skin for any longer than necessary. Instead, he tilted the General’s hat over his yellowed forehead and let his black hair cascade down his back.

As the team made their initial approach, the ship slowed and set down behind a large dune. The back door cracked, letting waves of stifling dry heat into the interior of the ship. Yen stood and nodded to the rearmost soldier. Unbuckling himself, the soldier reached into the storage area above him and removed his high-powered sniper rifle.

“I’m not expecting any Terrans to escape alive,” Yen yelled to be heard over the howling wind, “but you’re our failsafe if any do. We don’t need any prisoners, so shoot to kill.”

“Yes sir,” was all the soldier said before slipping off the back of the ship and trudging through the thick red sand.

Yen pressed the button and the rear of the ship sealed shut once more. Rocking slightly, the ship lifted off and gained some altitude before approaching the Terran bunker. The flight from the drop off point to the bunker was relatively short. Yen had only just gotten settled into his seat when the intercom crackled to life.

“We’re being flagged by the Terran bunker,” the pilot called back. “We’re being ordered to set down outside the front entrance. It appears that we are going to have a rather large welcoming party.”

Yen began flashing hand and arm signals, notifying the soldiers to activate their transformation bracelets. One by one, the different races melted and boiled away, leaving behind strong-jawed Terran soldiers. Content that everything was ready, Yen unwillingly activated his own. Yen’s long hair receded and turned white, stopping when it was a close-cropped military cut. His smooth yellow skin darkened and tanned. Stubble erupted from his cheeks and chin, giving the impression of a long journey to reach this remote outpost. Looking down at his hands, Yen was disgusted by the soft pink flesh and roughly callused palms.

In front of the ship, the bunker came into view, rising out of the sands like a half-buried giant. The once white stone walls had been weathered and coated with the red sand, making the structure nearly invisible from the sky. At the front of the building, a small overhang jutted from the stone walls. Recessed under the overhang, a large pair of double doors hissed as they slid open and a dozen armed Terrans rushed out.

Following the directions of an internal communications array, Yen’s ship set down in the red sand in front of the bunker, kicking up clouds of concealing red dust. Yen moved to the middle of his team as the door slid open on the back of the ship. In his uniform, the heat was oppressive and, even at sunrise, the light was blinding. Terran soldiers outside the rear of the craft motioned for Yen’s team to exit the craft. His soldiers filed off and took up positions on each side of the gangplank leading to the red ground. As Yen exited the craft, they all snapped to the position of attention. Terran soldiers, unsure of how to respond, hesitated as they observed the formalities.

One of the Terrans approached Yen, his head slightly lowered in a sign of respect for the General’s rank. Yen read his epaulettes before addressing the Terran.

“Lieutenant,” Yen barked at the lower ranking officer, “I have been traveling a long time to get here. Alliance soldiers overran my entire position. The Premier needs to be appraised of the intelligence I carry immediately!”

“Yes, sir,” the Lieutenant responded nervously, “but I will need to scan your identification before we can proceed.”

Yen gave him a look that he hoped showed his obvious displeasure and disdain. Angrily, Yen unclipped the identification badge that Maxlar had prepared for him and shoved it into the Lieutenant’s hand. Pulling out a small scanner, the Lieutenant swiped the badge. Lines of code flickered over the screen.

Yen felt sweat roll down his back. He didn’t entirely believe that it was from the heat. Though he was confident in his ability to kill the dozen guards outside, a premature attack might allow the Premier and his staff time to evacuate the building. He couldn’t allow them to escape and, potentially, drag this war on for years to come.

To his relief, the Lieutenant handed the badge back to Yen before snapping to attention. The other Terran guards followed suit. “A thousand apologies, General. We had to verify your identify before proceeding. I’m sure you understand our precautions.”

“Of course,” Yen said with condescension. He found that maintaining a guise of open hostility toward Terrans was easier than he would have guessed.

The Lieutenant led the General and his entourage into the cool shade of the building. Inside, the halls felt cluttered with collections of Terran equipment salvaged from a number of quickly evacuated worlds. A number of Terran guards, some bandaged from previous war wounds, sat within the small rooms that jutted from the main hall. A couple members of Yen’s guard force dropped back as they moved toward the central conference hall. Yen’s soldiers mingled with the Terrans, asking them questions and, simultaneously, positioning themselves to take out the guards closest to the main door to the building. Smiling, Yen continued to follow the Lieutenant.

When they reached a second set of heavy double doors, the Lieutenant entered an access code and scanned his thumbprint before the light above the door turned from red to green. Like breaking open a long-forgotten vault, the air hissed as the door slid open. The room beyond seemed dark after being exposed to the intense sunlight outdoors. Guards and technicians lined the walls, working on maps and tactical displays that seemed to track most of the known universe. A large circular table dominated the center of the room. Nearly a dozen Generals sat around the table, many in different stages of standing at the surprising intrusion. Across from Yen stood the Premier, who had already climbed to his feet.

The Premier was unmistakable to Yen, who had grown up watching propaganda films about the atrocities committed by the Terrans in that man’s name. Though he was still clothed in full military uniform, overburdened with superfluous medals and decorations, and bedecked with a flowing violet cape, the man before Yen looked significantly older than the one that had appeared in the videos. His cheeks seemed fuller, but his skin sagged from the bone. The once dark, wavy hair had become intermixed with grey and looked wild as thought it had not been brushed in quite some time. The Premier, from what Yen could tell, had aged terribly since the start of the war.