UPRISING - Preview
EXTINCTION
Zenja Hinds
Her sandy hair is congealed with her own blood, which drips over her neck rest and leaks into Aeryk’s behemoth palm before splattering on the bridge of the Zerian ship, Turi. Aeryk’s stare is fixed on the wide open, dead eyes of the freshly severed skull. Other soldiers ignore the sight and dare not lock gazes with him. He speaks to it, tussling reddened strands of hair. “You thought Valora was the savior of your daughters, Ila and Eche. She deceived you, my parents, and the rest. I know who she is, I’m no fool. Be grateful I released you from the hell of this reality. Tell my parents I said hello.” With that, he drops her head. It tumbles in front of me. I place my boot on the head, halting the drops of red liquid from flying as it tumbles. “Let no one say I’m not merciful, Zenja.”
“I wouldn’t worry what others say, but to me, you’re very merciful when you need to be. You know how and when to distribute justice,” I say, tracing up Aeryk’s thick bicep to his wide shoulder, resting there. “Governance were fools not to follow the truth and you. You’re a part of a long line of Military Arts Commanders; you should’ve been in charge from the start. All you did is rectify a mistake.”
Aeryk turns toward me, eclipsing the ceiling lights, which give an ethereal sheen to his stray blond hairs. He’s enthralled by a mixture of adrenaline, power, and lust as his fingers extend slowly toward my hair. I gently guide Aeryk's hand of Executive Commander June Enem Deenamst's sticky remains into mine avoiding bloody streaks in my hair. He curves his palm upward and traces between the spots. I stand still, careful not to trigger a feeling of rejection or his wrath. He says, “What would I do without you?”
“You’d still be a commander,” I say, walking to the body at the edge of his new station. “The remaining Zerians have sworn loyalty to you, and the others are headless, as ordered.”
“Eject the bodies into space. Keep the heads. Seal them and mount them across my ship as a reminder of what happens to my enemies,” says Aeryk.
“Second lieutenant, plot a course for the coordinates from the Scimitar’s mayday,” I say, his name escaping me. Later we shall talk; I need his loyalty.
A quivering “Yes, ma’am,” leaps out of the newly promoted officer’s bone-thin body draped in its engulfing uniform. With each word Aeryk speaks, he has contorted forward as if he can hide from him by slumping. Insecurity I can manipulate.
“It may’ve been premature to kill the head of engineering. What if we run into trouble?” I ask. Her dead arm is visible in my peripheral vision.
“The Caretaker is destroyed, and the ship is working. Can’t change it now. Her remains are aboard. Reattach them and sit her at a terminal in Engineering as motivation.” Aeryk giggles.
“You’re right, as always.” I check Aeryk’s blue eyes for a glint of sanity. It is hard work managing him, not knowing which Aeryk will show at any moment.
“All things have a date of extinction: the Caretaker, Governance, and soon my dear sister Valora,” he says.
Arriving at planet Arnes should take years. Enough time for me to plot my course.