The Chronicles of Heaven's War: Burning Phoenix (24 page)

Alithea, whose given name was ‘Chrusion’,
although the children of the Empire addressed him only as
‘Adelphos’ while privately calling him ‘Asotos’, frowned ever so
little, pulling Legion in close so that only he could hear his
words. “I am very pleased to have someone so devoted to this cause
as you are, and I so appreciate the tireless energy you have
invested in making this day a success, but…”

Legion became concerned. “But what, my
brother?”

Alithea’s face filled with questioning
remorse. “Troubling news has come to my ears concerning the
treatment some of the prisoners have received. Yes, yes, the unruly
need be handled with a firm hand lest they believe us weak.
Still…there are others where possible malfeasance has been
delivered upon them. Sirion, for example…”

Legion’s face filled with surprise, but his
eyes betrayed the game that was being played out. Alithea must
pretend the part of a concerned father who defends the rights of
all the people in his charge. After all, there was a bill of rights
and a constitution belonging to the Band of Brothers that
established certain inalienable rights for all, and numerous, also,
were the rules of conduct written for the protection of war
prisoners. Every citizen of that nation possessed a copy of such
laws and regulations, they being required study for them.

This little game of self-righteous
indignation for any possible violation of the nation’s wonderful
laws of respect and freedom must be carried out to the full. Few if
any of Alithea’s leading officers gave credence to those laws, and
only the
fool
ever lifted up his book of rights in a court
to declare his freedoms. But to openly act in defiance of them
without proper justification might get a person killed, or even
worse, for there were many worse things than death that flitted
about the shadows of Alithea’s kingdom.

Legion waxed apologetically defensive. “My
brother…my king, I sincerely admit that there have been some
indiscretions proscribed against a few of the prisoners - I believe
by those seeking revenge for real or imagined atrocities committed
against them by the evil horde. These matters I have addressed with
those in charge of the prisoners, demanding they protect them with
their own lives if need be. There was also the horrid condition
many of the prisoners arrived in when delivered into our hands by
the Stasis Pirates.”

Looking toward the distant ships, he sighed.
“War is such an evil thing. It forces a person into actions so
displeasing to the heart. This mission is pivotal to the very
existence of our kingdom. Nothing must be allowed to threaten its
success. I fear there were times when persuasive measures were
carried to an extreme, but it was done only for this cause. Look
and see. The arts of persuasion need not be violent and destructive
to the flesh. These were used only when necessary…and to
satisfactory success. Sirion, on the other hand…”

Legion turned away, wiping a hand across his
face. With tear-filled eyes, he looked back at Alithea. “Sirion,
and a few of the others - you must understand, there was no other
choice or our purpose might be threatened. That bitch-woman who
stands a field marshal must be stretched to her limit. Her love for
Sirion is so well known. Well, I believed that Sirion was the
linchpin to our success. And besides, little else has been done to
the girl other than what was done by the Stasis. We merely
permitted her injuries go unattended. When this ordeal is finished,
she will be given whatever assistance is needed.”

Bowing his head in sadness, Alithea lamented
bitterly, “Sirion was the last of the virgin children come to my
bed to refresh my spirit. She I wished so much to train up in all
the ways of sweet lovemaking, but alas, as only a little child, she
was stolen away from me by Tolohe, the girl wanting so to escape
with us in our flight. But that
witch-woman of darkness
kidnapped the girl and turned her against me… her only
true
lover.”

Looking up and into Legion’s face, Alithea
forced a grim smile. “After this day’s ordeal is over - and if that
little child still lives - I wish for her healing to be made
complete so that I can give to her,
personally
, what she
deserves.”

He turned toward the growing dust cloud,
shaking his fist in anger. “I wish for them all to get what they
deserve! They…
Erithia
…she has ruined it all! Now it is her
day to pay the price for such wicked insolence.
She must suffer!
They all must suffer! For all the evil done to us, retribution must
be demanded back from them!
”

Looking back into Legion’s hypnotic eyes,
colored the richest of deep hazel hues, Alithea apologized. “It is
not the fault of my dear, loving brother that evil has befallen
Sirion or the others.
It is the evil witchery of Erithia and
those who stand arrogantly beside her in defiance of truth and
justice!
I find no sin in you at all. Indeed! You were the
kindest and gentlest of all my brothers until that adulterous witch
cast her evil spell over us.”

Lifting a hand, he shook a finger at Legion.
“I promise! I swear! One day we will prevail over all this evil. We
will take back the Palace and return to ourselves the hidden power
Erithia stole from me, her brother. Yes, I say her
brother
,
whom she claims she birthed! It is not the case at all! My
inheritance she stole from me, and I shall one day retrieve it from
her wicked hands. Then we shall see. Then we shall see...”

At that Alithea reached out, arms wide, and
gave Legion a gripping embrace, kissing him tenderly upon the
cheek. Legion affectionately offered Alithea a hug and kiss,
speaking consoling words of sympathy to his older brother. This was
the last part of the act Alithea so often played out among his
senior officers, especially when the wine was on him. So long had
the fable been told by this man that he was becoming to believe it,
but Legion knew the facts - the reality that all living flesh was
through the birthing into life by Erithia. Still, it was all the
better to silently go along with the man. After all, there was
hidden power somewhere. Maybe it was somewhere in the Palace.

At length, Legion stepped back, offering
Alithea a warm smile. “I must be about my duties, else…” He stared
into Alithea’s ocean blue eyes, revealing the longing in his own.
“Everything must be perfect for the day, a few final details tended
to. My lord and brother, I look forward to this night’s victory
celebration.”

At that Legion hurried away toward the camp.
Alithea turned once more to watch for but a moment the gathering
dust clouds and then quickly followed his brother.

(
Author’s Note:
‘Erithia’, a name
given to Lowenah [Ma-we] by those who joined in the Rebellion,
reflected the deep contempt harbored within their hearts for the
one they used to call ‘Mother’. Its root meaning was ‘the causer of
strife and faction’, and it reflected the common opinion of these
children that
she
was the
real
villain and creator of division in the First
Realm.)

* * *

A frantic voice heard over the intercom
filled the officers on the bridge with fearsome dread. “The
explosion took out the port control systems! We have people
injured. Number two and three boilers are overheating! Crews are
attempting to shut them down, but the damage is making it
difficult. We must jettison fuel from the tanks that feed those
boilers or…”

The intercom suddenly went dead, quickly
followed by a violent shudder racing through the ship. Flames burst
out through a ruptured hull, carrying away with it the number three
boiler and engine rooms along with several of the crew. If not for
the energy shield surrounding the Chisamore, it would have been
torn asunder, killing everyone aboard. As it was, the majority of
officers and crew manning the port boilers and engine rooms
perished in the conflagration.

Within seconds, noxious, burning fumes were
flooding all aft compartments and hangar bays. The captain ordered
the holds to be sealed as the concussion of one eruptive explosion
after another could be felt blasting through the ship. The
Chisamore was fatally wounded, but not yet destroyed. It was the
captain’s duty to salvage what souls he could. Those who were
trapped in the raging destruction behind sealed bulkheads would
have to survive as best as may be until rescue was afforded
them.

* * *

Terey was thrown from her chair to the
floor, piles of papers and books tumbling down from the desk upon
the woman. Screeching of ripping metal and buckling deck plates was
deafening, her apartment being on ‘C’ deck just forward the #3
engine room. Jumping up to the sounds of bleating sirens and red,
flashing hazard lights, the woman dove for the opened doorway just
as the lighting died and the ship violently pitched to starboard,
throwing her back into the room.

Spinning crazily around in the blinding
darkness, Terey fell, smashing her face against a footlocker,
breaking her nose and cutting a deep, bloody gash across her
forehead. Stunned, she fell to the floor in a faint.

When Terey came to, the air was heavy with
an acrid odor of poisonous gases. Frantically, she groped in the
blackness for the fire locker. Half blinded by blood streaming into
her eyes, she felt her way around the room until crimson rays of
the flashing hazard lights reflected off the chrome handle on the
locker. Releasing the latched door, the woman could do little more
than groggily fumble through its contents for a respirator
facemask, managing with great difficulty to put it on.

The filtered air helped revive Terey and
clear her head. Using the wall to steady herself, she managed to
stand and stumbled out into the passageway. Its floor was
unreasonably warm, indicating the flight deck directly below must
be ablaze. Choosing to go forward, she turned to the right and
hurried as best she could down the companionway toward the front of
the ship.

Going was difficult at best. Not only did
Terey’s injuries hinder her sight, growing pain was making it hard
to concentrate in the frothing smoke, so thick that only the
ghostly red glow of the emergency lights could penetrate it.
Clutching the handrail that ran along the wall, Terey slowly made
her way down the corridor until it opened onto a catwalk that
traversed the ‘D’ deck storage bay. On the other side of this bay,
she would find the portal for her escape.

As of yet, ‘D’ deck storage bay, filled with
fighters in various stages of repair, had not been damaged. Thick
smoke rolled in through the two aft passageways, quickly filling
the area with toxic fumes. The air forward was not as fouled, and
Terey could see closed bulkhead door on the other side of the
catwalk. Her hope for survival increased.

At that instant, another violent tremor
rocked the Chisamore, pitching Terey to the deck and ripping away
her facemask. In futile desperation, the woman searched for the
mask in the burning smoke, its noxious poisons tormenting her eyes
and lungs. In only seconds, Terey was retching in uncontrolled
vomiting, but her heart refused to give up the fight for survival.
Having only her sense of direction, she struggled forward on hands
and knees to seek escape, a sick headache sapping her strength
until she was crawling along on her belly.

After what seemed an eternity, each breath
burning her lungs like a blazing firebrand and every movement
agonizing, Terey made it to the closed hatch. Try as she might, the
woman no longer possessed the energy to reach the hazard switch
that would alert others beyond the door to the presence of someone
on this side.

Totally exhausted, Terey could no longer
contain her emotions. Like a forlorn little child, the woman began
to weep, not for her coming death, but for the futility of effort
and struggle - it being all for naught. She reached up once more
for the button protruding beyond the wall only inches from her
fingers. Then there came another violent shaking of the ship and a
sudden crashing that fell upon Terey’s ears.

Before the woman could cover her head for
protection, a heavy girder broke loose, smashing into the wall
above her, falling across her back after crushing her hand. Terey
cried out in anguish as her face crashed into the deck plates. A
sudden rush of freezing air racked her body as a black cloud
consumed her mind. The valve on a nearby oxygen container had been
ruptured by the falling girder, burning the unconscious woman’s
flesh, but also filling starved lungs with life-saving oxygen.

On the other side of the sealed hatch,
blatting sounds and flashing lights were catching the attention of
firemen stationed near a boson’s locker off the upper hangar deck.
Cautiously, they approached the door, contemplating the risk of
opening it. Was someone seeking escape, or was it a false alarm?
The fire captain stared at the hatch. She alone must decide, there
being no time to seek approval from the bridge. The life of the
entire crew might well rest on the choice she had to make, or
possibly the life of just one person stranded on the other side of
that door. Safety or destruction, the life of many or possibly few,
or only one, wisdom or foolish emotion, life-saving rescue or
misjudged folly, what was it to be?

* * *

Her nightmarish visions were only
intensifying, haunting voices from the distant past crying out
troubling words that stirred half-forgotten memories. All the
while, ghostly shadows danced before the girl’s eyes - faceless
shapes of ruthless men dragging along their captives, the screams
of a little child as it was tossed through the air only to
disappear into a gathering void filled with the ferocious roars of
hungry cats. And then she saw a man begging for mercy being
delivered to the same fate, except this time the girl was forced to
watch, horrified, as the beasts consumed the man’s very being.