Chapter 5
Millions of stars shimmered across the backdrop of space behind the planet of Belvidia, their tiny pinpricks of light filling the deep abyss of the galaxy. The nearest of these stars, called Adorae, shone half-again as bright as the others behind the blue-green world. Belvidia was heavily forested, yet its atmosphere glowed with an azure tint that lingered amongst trees and draped across fields. Those who'd visited the land spoke of a world of unimaginable beauty and tranquility. Many tales told of a place of peace and serenity where one could spend eternity after passing through the mortal coil, and comparisons to such a paradise had become commonplace for Belvidia.
At least, that's what Lieutenant Petreit's report had said.
The Black Eagle slowed to a crawl as it approached the planet, its engines shuddering as they powered down. The rest of the Vezulian Armada followed suit, positioning themselves around the command ship like a pack of lions protecting their young. Three of the fleets' massive starcruisers formed a defensive triangle around the Black Eagle, and assault transports peppered the sky between them. Tiny starfighters zipped back and forth, running patrols around the perimeter of the fleet. As expected, the Aeden Alliance blockade was waiting. A mixture of Aeden assault transports and starfighters circled the planet in constant patrols as per the agreement between the Alliance and the Belvids. It was touted as some sort of charitable show of chivalry by the Alliance, but according to the information provided by Lieutenant Petreit, the concentration of Aeden ships had multiplied considerably over the years, giving Thorus the impression that they sought to turn the Zeros system into another Alliance outpost.
Staring at those enemy ships, Kindel ground his teeth. The presence of the more heavily armed transports meant that there were Alliance carriers in the vicinity. Assault transports were not capable of traveling long distances through space on their own; they were designed for interstellar combat, heavily armed and just as heavily reinforced. They were larger than one-man starfighters—most carried a crew of about twenty-five people—and laser turrets lined their hulls.
"Sir, we're approaching firing range," Captain Tiras reported. He was a wide man, sturdy and noble looking, with a thin line of a brown beard following the edge of his chin. His brown cap and uniform identified his rank, as did the steel black pin on his left shoulder. "Shall I scramble the squadrons?"
Thorus kept his eyes on the Alliance ships. "No, Captain. Bring the fleet to a halt. I do not intend to do battle today . . . if it can be helped."
"As you wish, Sir," Tiras responded, turning to the helmsmen seated beside him. "You heard him. All stop."
Across the main floor of the bridge, crewmen sat in front of illuminated control panels and colorful viewscreens. The helmsman, Geo Marnfell, handled the entering of coordinates and controlled the overall movement of the Black Eagle. He sat near the center of the floor, alongside Margis Cordlein, the tactical officer. Behind them, Beau Merlianis and Seavan Petreit of interstellar cartography planned courses and accessed necessary planetary data, and Aarn Goldsyn handled transmissions at the communications array. The sensor terminal stood against the wall on the left, manned by Treage Nardale. Thorus stood to the rear beside the transportation lift, flanked on either side by Scimitar and Kalibur, arms folded beneath his black cloak. He pondered the next move, somewhat surprised that the Aeden ships had yet to acknowledge their presence.
"Your command, Sir?" Tiras was looking at him expectantly.
Kindel glanced once more at the Alliance ships. "Odd that they haven't attempted to contact us. No matter, the less Aeden resistance we face, the better. I want to be out of here as quickly as—"
A long beep came from the communications array. Aarn glanced at the screen and nodded with a frown. "It's them. Shall I make a connection?"
Kindel grunted as he moved to the terminal. The signal was coming from one of the starcruisers. "Do it."
Aarn flipped one of the switches on the panel. A male voice began to speak, firm and obviously agitated. "Vezulian ships, by order of Marshal Jayde Windlest, Chairman of the High Council of the Aeden Alliance, you are hereby ordered to halt your approach immediately. Failure to comply will force us to take action against your fleet."
The suggestion infuriated Thorus; he had to bite his tongue to keep from inviting the challenge. "Nonsense, my good man," he said, trying to smile as he spoke, "we aren't interested in conflict. Tell me, with whom do I speak?"
"I am Captain Thomas Angeles of the Stardiver," the voice responded. "And you are?"
Again, Kindel bit his tongue. There was scarcely a man, woman, or child across the galaxy that didn't know Thorus commanded the Vezulian Armada. He almost wondered if the captain had put out the question simply to ruffle his feathers. Still, Kindel kept his diplomatic guise. "Admiral Kindel Thorus of the Thorus family of Zo'rhan. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain."
"Yes . . . Likewise." Angeles' voice suddenly seemed a bit hesitant. He certainly knew Thorus' name, but perhaps he hadn't expected to speak to him directly. "What is your business here?"
The best lies were always built upon truth. "Archeological research, Captain. I am a collector of fine artifacts. I've gathered fantastic pieces from some of the finest planets across the galaxy. During my stop at Geavaan, I learned of Belvidia. The man spoke of a world of delicate beauty and grace, envied for its lush forests and blue-green skies. After only a few words, I decided I simply had to see this planet for myself."
"I'm sorry, Admiral," Captain Angeles responded quickly, "but the Belvids are an endangered species. The High Throne requested our assistance in blocking the planet to outsiders. Even our own people aren't allowed on the surface. Our blockade is charged with seeing that no one passes. You'll have to turn your archeological interests elsewhere."
"Anything would be of interest to me, Captain." Kindel's voice was smooth. "If I cannot travel to the surface, may we at least take a few scans of the planet for our own curiosity?"
There was a moment of silence before Captain Angeles returned. Kindel's eyes caught a frantic hand gesture from Commander Nardale, indicating he'd picked something up on radar. "You have ten minutes," Angeles was saying. "We will expect you to leave promptly thereafter."
"Your understanding is most appreciated, Captain," Thorus was trying to sound humble, but a twinge of agitation tainted his gratitude. "Thank you." Aarn flipped the communications switch, cutting off the transmission. "Ten minutes certainly won't provide proper time to study the gemstone, but perhaps I can convince one of the Belvids to return here so that I can work without the Alliance hanging over my shoulder," Thorus grumbled.
Behind him, Kalibur's raspy voice spoke. "And what if they won't come, my Lord?"
Kindel turned halfway toward him. "They will. One way or another, they will. I am not leaving empty-handed."
Treage Nardale was still trying to get the admiral's attention. "Sir," he pointed at the terminal readout, "two Aeden carriers are moving aft. Their hangar doors are open, but they haven't launched any fighters yet."
"They are cautious of us," Thorus noted. "And with good reason. We've had our share of skirmishes with the Alliance in the past, have we not?" The question was a rhetorical one, but Nardale answered.
"Yes, Sir. I'm also getting reports of another incoming fleet of ships. Their make and numbers suggest more Alliance craft."
"Then we will have to move quickly, won't we?" Thorus said with a grin. "Scimitar, Kalibur, you're with me. Captain Tiras?"
The gruff man turned from the tactical viewscreen. "Yes, Sir?"
"Maintain a defensive stance while I am on the surface. Should the Alliance decide to attack, destroy them. All of them."
Tiras' eyes bulged, but he voiced no objections. "It shall be done as you have commanded, Admiral."
Thorus turned to his bodyguards. "Scimitar, Kalibur, prepare for teleportation."
The proces
s of teleportation had been attempted by many yet perfected by few. It was a dangerous technique, one that could see a person disfigured, dismembered, or even destroyed if performed improperly. Even the most powerful sorcerers in the galaxy had denounced and refused to teach it. It had taken Kindel a lot of research to piece together enough information to make an attempt. It was all about strength of mind. Concentration was the key. Even the slightest distraction could disrupt one's flow of energy and jeopardize the safety of those transported by the spell. But Kindel was never one to flee from danger. It was his greatest ally at times; an asset and an advantage.
He focused his mind, blinding himself to the Black Eagle's bridge and crew. With his thoughts focused on the surface of Belvidia, his directed energy around himself and his bodyguards. A pure white glow surrounded them, somehow feeling both warm and icy at the same time. The light amplified dozens of times over until the bridge was no longer visible, and the brilliance of the energy was everything. Only inches from their noses, it seemed, yet impossibly out of reach. Kindel felt the ground shift beneath his feet, felt a sudden humidity in the air, heard the chirping of birds and the murmur of voices. He released gradually, allowing their bodies time to adjust to the new climate. When the last remnants of the snowy light vanished, he stood amidst a bustling village on the surface of Belvidia, Scimitar and Kalibur at his either side. It took only seconds for chaos to ensue.
"Intruders!"
"Offworlders!"
"Call the Disciples!"
"Protect the children!"
It was a quaint little village of wooden huts and cloth tents, scattered by towering trees that nearly touched the few clouds in the sky. The short grass was a healthy green, vivid despite constant trampling. A sweet aroma of fruit filled the air. Birds of a variety of colors darted between the trees overhead, occasionally disappearing into the sky's thick glow. The light seemed to swallow the treetops as though they were being dipped head-first into a solid sea of blue. Truly, Lieutenant Petreit's description had barely scraped the surface.
But Kindel's arrival abruptly shattered the peace, sending the angelic Belvids scurrying away while others drew arrows and strung longbows with haste. Petreit's description of their beauty had also fallen far short of the truth; they were the closest to perfection that Kindel had ever seen in a species. They stood no less than a head taller than Thorus and his bodyguards, skin tones varying in soft shades of green. Fabrics of soft colors adorned their bodies. Some had hair down as far as their waist, elegant and royal looking in different tones of blue and green and red. Others kept theirs barely long enough to run fingers through. Grand translucent wings rose from each lady's back, but it was the shimmering gemstone in the forehead of each girl that drew Kindel's eyes.
The pluck of a bowstring twanged from the trees ahead, and Kalibur's sword flashed with a clang. The arrow clattered to the ground in front of Kindel, its steel tip flattened by its impact with the blade.
"Hold your arrows!" a woman's voice shouted from the wooden cabin ahead. It was a long narrow house, nearly the length of four of the other huts placed in a row. Elegantly carved wooden steps led to a door in the center where a teal-green Belvid stood, her dark maroon hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back. Like many of the others, she wore short brown pants and a tightly wrapped sash of blue that crossed over her chest. However, a thick band of white silk was wrapped around her waist and tied in the back, the ends of which ran to the floor and disappeared into the cabin. "They've not shown themselves to be hostile yet." She walked down the stairs with two Belvids trailing her, carrying the streaming tails of her silk belt. She must be an authority figure, Kindel thought. Their leader, maybe.
The females were obviously the dominant gender of the society. Their garments were lined with silver and gold trim, while the men's clothes were bland and usually dirty. After a moment, Kindel noticed that the only men he saw were working on a small farm to the left of the oversized cabin. Unlike the women, their wings were tied together by heavy bands of leather and folded down. Are they . . . slaves?
"Though I don't know how it would be possible, did the blockade around this planet somehow elude you?" the Belvid spoke in a flat voice as she approached. Scimitar and Kalibur shifted their feet, but Kindel motioned them to stillness.
"I apologize for the intrusion," he began, all smiles. "You see, my travels led me upon the story of your world. In particular, I was fascinated by the gemstone your kind have embedded within—" The sounds of arrows being drawn and wooden bows creaking interrupted him. More of the Belvids were readying weapons as he spoke. "Again, I apologize. I'm afraid our knowledge of your people is limited, at best."
"Aeden fools! They have failed to keep their word once again!" a green-haired Belvid spat. "If they can't—"
"Silence, Meylinda!" the first commanded, shooting her a harsh glare. "I will handle this." Her blue lips curved in an artificial smile as she returned her attention to Kindel. "You seek the baharinda. You are hunters, then?"
Scimitar leaned forward and whispered in Kindel's ear. "Three minutes, Sir." He nodded in acknowledgment, though he was confident that Captain Tiras could stall for a few extra minutes if needed. Still, there was little time for negotiation.
"Hunters of knowledge," he answered the question, "and nothing more. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kindel Thorus, of the Thorus family of Zo'rhan. I've traveled the universe collecting various archeological artifacts, studying cultures, and seeking knowledge and intrigue wherever I go."
"I am Lady Almatha Delgornis Baynyi, ruler of the High Throne of Belvidia." The other Belvids, even the men in the fields, kneeled at her introduction. "And while I respect those who hunt knowledge and hunger for learning, I cannot allow you to stay on our world. Our people are a dying breed, Kindel Thorus of Zo'rhan, and we cannot take any chances with offworlders. Before the Aeden Alliance agreed to defend us, many hunters came in search of the baharinda." She gently touched the glowing yellow stone in her forehead. "Some showed no restraint, slaying many of our Ladies and savagely tearing the baharinda from their flesh. But others came as you do, claiming only intellectual interest in our planet. They would gain our trust in the evening, and we would wake in the morning to find more dead among us. Perhaps you are noble in your hunt, Kindel Thorus, but it is a risk our people can no longer take. I must insist that you leave."
Years of research had brought Kindel to this planet, and now he was being asked to leave it all behind. It wasn't in his nature to disturb an innocent society; the Vezulian Armada only exterminated races that threatened others. Still, the future of the Armada depended on the lephadorite. War with the Aeden Alliance was inevitable, and it would give Thorus and the Armada the advantage needed for victory. But the success of the lephadorite depended on Kindel's success here. If he couldn't harness the reproductive properties of the Belvids' gemstone—the baharinda—then the Armada would likely fall to the greater numbers of the Alliance. Only the strong survive. Remember Zo'rhan. Remember the Ma'tuul. It must be done. "I'm terribly sorry about all of this."
The land surged, an upheaval that sent dirt and rocks and debris bursting to the sky from the center of the small village in a fountain of destruction. Belvids scattered in every direction—those that weren't caught in the blast—dropping their bows amidst screams of terror. Lady Almatha was thrown to the ground along with the two that held her sash, their bodies unintentionally shielding her from the falling rocks and dirt. Another, the short-haired Belvid that Almatha had referred to as Meylinda, snatched her bow from the ground and drew an arrow meant for Kindel's heart.
Thorus was already gathering energy, blinding light emerging from the humid air to surround his body. He reached out toward Almatha and her assistants, extending the glow around the crumpled ladies. Bowstrings twanged, arrows flew, and women screamed, but it was too late. When the light dissipated, Kindel was safe on the bridge of
the Black Eagle with Lady Almatha and the other two Belvids in a heap beside him. Scimitar and Kalibur slipped to either side and hauled the assistants to their feet while Kindel yanked Almatha up. Dirt marred her otherwise pretty face, her chest heaving with panicked breaths.
"What . . . have you done?" she gasped. "You have violated—"
"It is not important what treaties I may have violated or what laws I've broken," Kindel cut her off. "I will stop at nothing to ensure the future of the Vezulian Armada and realize our dream of peace across the galaxy! To protect—"
"Peace?" Almatha recoiled in disgust. "You think your actions represent a desire for peace?"
"The laws of existence are harsh ones, my dear!" Thorus' eyes narrowed. "To protect oneself from the would-be champions of the universe, one must become more powerful than those champions. The phrase has been uttered for generations past, and will survive for countless generations to come: Only the strong survive. You may feel that my actions are hostile, violent, and destructive, but I assure you my Lady, it is for the greater good." He turned toward Scimitar. "See them to cells."
The black-clad ninja had already slipped steel shackles around the wrists of his prisoner. He handed her off to Kalibur, who led both of Almatha's assistants into the transportation lift. A similar pair of steel cuffs went around the wrists of the Lady before Scimitar led her to join them. The door slid closed with a quiet whisk.
"Admiral?"
A slight tremor of the floor accompanied by a distant explosion brought Thorus' attention back to the bridge. Outside, starfighters cut through the sea of space, twisting in loops and dips and turns, trying to get a clear shot at one another. Frequent laser streaks of red and orange ripped through the starry backdrop with brilliant split-second flashes of light. Assault transports unloaded their firepower in a thunderous shower of blasts that spread across the battlefield. The communication lines were alive with the chatter of the fleet, and the wreckage of ships already lost floated amidst the ongoing struggle. He'd been gone only ten minutes, yet the fight looked like it had gone on for hours. Not that it surprised Kindel that the Alliance had attacked; he was more shocked that he hadn't noticed the battle until now. "Tiras! Explain this."
"A distress call came from the planet almost immediately after you left," the Captain growled. "The Alliance must've provided the Belvids with the means of contacting them in case of trouble. I tried to stall Angeles to give you more time, but his ships opened fire. I launched all craft and ordered a full assault, as per your instructions. So far, they've lost twenty-seven starfighters and twelve transports, while we've suffered loses of less than half that. The fight goes well, Admiral."
"Shields holding at ninety-two percent," Margis Cordlein, the tactical officer, reported. "Two of the forward laser batteries have stopped responding." Two was not a number to panic over, but it certainly required attention. "Repair crews are already responding. The Falcon Mist reports four more squadrons ready for launch. E.T.A. on the approaching Alliance fleet is three minutes at best."
So reinforcements were on the way. And Aldoric is likely with them. Against a larger fleet, losses would be greater. Perhaps greater than the Armada could afford right now. Certainly greater than necessary, anyway. There was no more reason to remain in the system. Kindel's tasks here were complete. "Withdraw."
Tiras looked back at the admiral, surprise evident in his eyes. "Sir?"
"You heard me," Kindel snapped, his eyes thinning. "Take us out of here. We've done what we came to do. The Alliance will still be out there when we're ready for them. But that will have to wait for another day. Take us back to the human homeworld. I may need to conduct more studies there. Lieutenant Petreit, report to the prison cells and see what you can learn from our guests. It is doubtful they'll want to share information with me at the moment."
Petreit rose from his seat at the interstellar cartography station and headed for the lift without a word. At the tactical terminal, Commander Cordlein issued orders to all starfighters to return to their hangars and prepare for departure. When a long beep came from the communications terminal, Kindel expected to hear Captain Angeles gloating over the Armada's perceived "retreat." But when Aarn flipped the switch to make the connection, a calm and solemn voice spoke.
"What have you done, Kindel?"
Thorus' eyes shot to the viewport just in time to see a silver and black starfighter soaring just outside of firing range. It resembled a seagull, its wings spread wide to either side of its narrow body. The spidery looking emblem on the wings indicated its affiliation with the Alliance. "Aldoric," Kindel muttered with a grin. "Late as usual, I see."
"The Belvids are reporting that you abducted the High Lady Almatha and her assistants," the voice returned. "Return them to the planet, Kindel. There is no way the Belvids can help you achieve what you want in your absurd—"
"If you only knew, my dear brother," Thorus cut him off with a laugh. "These ladies will be the key to the rise of the Vezulian Armada! They will help me bring a new era of peace to the galaxy, starting with the destruction of the Aeden Alliance."
"You won't get away with this, Kindel." Aldoric's voice remained steady. "Almatha will not cooperate with you. She'll fight you every step of—"
"Do you think I'm unaware that you're trying to stall me so that your allies can arrive in a feeble attempt to stop us? I'm sorry, I'd love to stick around and play, but I'm afraid the stakes are too high, and I cannot afford to risk a full-scale battle right now."
"Cannot win, you mean," Aldoric grumbled.
"Believe as you wish," Kindel said, moving beside the communications array. "But I promise you, Aldoric, that when next we meet, you'll find a change of attitude to be in order."
Before the voice could respond, he flipped the switch on the terminal, severing the connection. "Commander Cordlein, have all starfighters returned to their hangars?"
"The last squadron just reported in, Sir. All are present and accounted for."
Thorus nodded with a satisfied grin. "Good. Helmsman, plot a course for Terranias and take us out of here."
Geo Marnfell typed in a series of commands, leading the fleet in full circle as the Aeden ships continued to pound away at their' shields. The engines of the Black Eagle powered up with an eruption of blue, sending the starship hurtling into the depths of space at a velocity that exceeded even that of light itself. The rest of the Armada followed suit, leaving Aldoric, the Aeden Alliance, and the planet of Belvidia far behind.
Kindel returned to his quarters and stared through the viewport. The family conflict had been brewing for years upon years, stemming from Kindel's initial decision to form the Vezulian Brotherhood. Aldoric feared what Kindel was capable of, feared his strength, and feared being forced to choose between his brother and his own ego. The day that Kindel left Zo'rhan to seek others to join his cause, Aldoric had challenged him to a blood duel. He'd had Kindel all but beaten, too, but he refused to finish the job. Aldoric could not bring himself to kill Kindel, bringing shame to both himself and the tradition of the blood duel. He'd proven to be the weakest of all the zo'rhan, and Kindel's brush with death further fueled his conviction that the weak must be made strong, or they might be forced to submit their sovereignty to the mighty.
But true power was never easily obtained. Brawn was one thing; any idiot could train their body. If a warrior's might was all it took to claim victory, Zo'rhan would never have been broken. No, true power was more than brains or brawn; it had to come from other sources. Unconsciously, he shifted his eyes to the collection of artifacts on the cabinets lining the wall. His gaze came to rest upon the long white cloth draped over a narrow flat piece. No, not yet. I'm not that desperate yet. Fool, you'd probably be incinerated just for lifting the cursed thing!
He returned to his desk and dropped into his chair with a sigh. Before long, the top drawer was open, and he was rolling lephadorite in his pa
lm. With the Belvids aboard, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place just as he'd hoped. The doorway to unlimited power stood before him, and with a little more work, he'd soon be ready to turn the key. "Only the strong survive, Aldoric," Kindel murmured as he gazed into the stone. "You'll soon learn the value of true strength."