Chapter 16
536 Words
16
Unfair he had to rely on such rabble, but such is the path to redemption.
Under searing lights the color of blood, Rampa waited in silence for the accelerated communications link to connect from his ballista class carrier, Vengeance, currently patrolling the threshold of the Frontier, to the world known on the charts as Osiris in Dark Space where Rodon waited.
His legs shook, his fingers wrapping the black console in the sealed comm room. The officers had left him alone to conduct this conversation, bolting the hatch behind them. The official records said his task force was scanning waves emitting from the Frontier and Dark Space for scientific reasons. A reasonable cover since the closest settled space other than occupied Zahlian Worlds was the Shoborian Coalition and the Legion on the far side of the Empire.
He sighed.
Yes, he was about as far from his regular stomping grounds as possible, a far cry from the pinnacle of his career as a Zahlian Officer nearly two cycles before when he conducted his operations on Nesteel, but it was worth it for a second chance at redeeming his reputation. And, of course, for the greater good of the Empire.
A sour, lingering discomfort settled into his belly, thoughts of his failed conversion project to fill Zahlian Interceptors with skilled pilots plaguing his mind as usual.
The link mercifully established, filling the room with a blue light as the image wavered, stabilized.
"I thought you weren't going to contact me again so soon,” Rodon’s voice popped over the transmission before the image stabilized. “I’ve nearly had them.”
"I've read reports of an attack on the despicable establishment known as Ilman City," Rampa said, glancing down at the pad on his console. "Dozens killed by biological weapons following the ... ‘brief deactivation of the atmospheric shielding as a result of a nanotechnology onslaught.' Your handiwork?"
The close-set eyes narrowed, the brow furrowing and causing the jet-black hair streaked with gray to slither back. "We speaking plainly?"
Rampa nodded. "The channel is secure as can be."
"I thought you’d allow me the time to use your intelligence to find my targets.”
“And I thought you’d be quicker than this. You said nothing about tearing through Zahlian Space to carry out your vengeance.”
Rodon sighed and paused. "There were complications. Now they’ve escaped on one of your space lanes. One of my prisoners gave up their tracker frequency before he died, but I cannot track them until they’ve returned to normal space. I’ll not stop until I have them all!”
When he didn't continue, Rampa prompted, "And?"
"And ... what?"
“What about the Legion Agent’s signal your people detected on Ashia? I want that transponder.”
“You’ll have it once I’ve got what I want,” Rodon said in a low voice. “Neary is being kept alive until I have them all. Now, I want Neary to watch as the others perish.”
Rampa suppressed a sigh. Listening to Rodon’s petty notions of revenge seemed trivial compared to the stability of the Empire.
“Once I’ve carried out my revenge,” Rodon continued, “the Pisceans want to know when you’ll supply all intelligence about the Legion’s Quadrant Seven and Eight defenses so they can begin their campaign?”
Rampa’s eyes narrowed, despising the fact he had to use this man. For now.
“When the Zahl has engaged the Legion and not a minute sooner. That won’t happen until you get me that Legion transponder.”
“Have it your way.”
“I will.”
- Writer
