Hyperspeed Dreams by Anna Carven

Chapter Thirteen

Lodan’s consciousness expanded.

He saw the dark void of space around the ship; the cold, silent vacuum of infinity.

He saw the planet Earth, with its shimmering oceans and swirling cloud-forms and verdant, sun-drenched land-masses.

He saw the dark corridors of Silence; the stony faces of his comrades as they sought the nearest safety-restraints or handgrips. The humans on the ship were the most secure of all; swiftly bundled into the safety-mechanisms of their sleeping pods by the Second Division guards stationed outside their chambers.

There was an emergency protocol for humans onboard any of their ships. Humans were to be secured first, because they were more fragile than Kordolians, and largely unused to the rigors of long-distance space travel.

All across the ship, the crew buckled down.

They didn’t cry out in fear; they didn’t lose formation and scatter around like rabid vorchek.

This was Silence, the former Empire’s most powerful stealth cruiser.

Her crew did not know the meaning of panic.

And neither did he.

Lodan settled into the command chair and forced himself to relax. He drew on all of his brutal training as he sought the void; the cold, dark place of nothingness that had saved him so many times before.

My Master,the Sylth whispered, curling her tendrils around his hands, his arms, his torso…

Lodan didn’t like that one bit.

He was nobody’s master.

This had gone on far too long, and he’d been a fool to try and ignore it.

Since when had he gotten so fucking complacent?

“What am I to you, Sylth?” he uttered aloud, using the sound of his own voice to ground himself; to remain in control, because he didn’t trust himself to speak rationally in his mind-voice right now. “Why do you mesh better with me than anyone else in the Empire?”

He didn’t care if Tarak or the navigation crew heard him; they all knew, anyway.

Have you forgotten, Arkerion?

Arkerion?She’d called him that once or twice before. Lodan hadn’t thought much of it at the time—he’d just assumed he probably resembled someone who had piloted the ship a long, long time ago. The name was strange; it sounded like one of the ancient Zor names that would have been common around a thousand revolutions ago.

“I’m not Arkerion,” he murmured as he went through a systems check. “Show me the exterior. Full damage scan.”

For a moment, the Sylth resisted.

Lodan flexed his considerable willpower. Yield.

A stream of data filled his visor. He saw Silence’s smooth outer hull, which was unscathed.

Check.

“Interior systems analysis,” he ordered.

Again, the Sylth resisted. You are he. Her speech became a strange mixture of archaic and modern Kordolian. You are the third Emperor of the Dark Sun, ruler of the Six Sectors, and the only Zor I answer to. How can you deny it, Master? I made all of this… for you. A shudder reverberated through the ship. She was about to go ballistic again.

Zor? Was she fucking mad?

Of course she was. She wasn’t even a living being; she was a machine, an artificial construct.

He would not allow some malfunctioning AI to disrupt their mission, especially not when he had yet to unravel the mystery that was Tasha—the strongest human he’d ever seen, who was about to fall apart.

Arkerion.

“No,” Lodan growled. “I am no emperor. I am Lodan Vorkan of the First Division. I am the last of three sons and master of nobody. My loyalty is to my commander and my people. I am not your Arkerion. Show me the interior systems scan, Sylth.”

Data streamed across his vision. There was evidence of superficial damage to various non-essential equipment and structures, but it wasn’t anything that might cripple the ship. The fusion plasma reactors that powered the ship were in perfect working order.

The parked vessels in the dock were intact, locked in place by their emergency anchors.

Check.

“Show me the medical bay,” he commanded as he manipulated Silence’s controls, coaxing the entire ship into perfect stillness.

Stop.

But not for long.

A tremor rumbled through the floor and the walls as the Sylth protested against his control.

Stop.

Zor do not fall for pathetic humans.

“Show me the medical bay,” Lodan growled, pushing the ship into a slow, grinding acceleration. If she wanted to toss about like an idiot, he would just have to put her through her paces.

Why are you so fixated upon her? She is just a human.

I am not fixa—

That’s when he saw her.

Tasha was securely fastened in the examination chair, with Nythian looming protectively over her, watching closely for any sign of danger—just as Lodan had asked. With his battle-brother there, Lodan wasn’t so worried about Tasha, because he knew that Nythian would protect her as if she were his own.

After all, he would do exactly the same for Alexis.

Zharek hovered around his consoles and datastreams, muttering quietly to himself as he rapidly scanned massive amounts of data. Lodan could almost hear the medic’s freakish brain ticking over as he dissected every angle of the human’s condition.

The ship rumbled ominously.

Lodan barely noticed. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Tasha’s face. She stared straight ahead, her blue eyes wide and determined, her jaw clenched, her delicate features glistening under a faint sheen of moisture.

She was suffering.

She was afraid.

The look on her face was undeniably human—caught somewhere between hope and strength and despair.

Lodan remembered the destruction she’d wrought on Earth with her own two hands; the swift, graceful kills, the sheer force of her attacks.

And now he understood that she wasn’t this way by choice. She’d been forced to become like this.

Who did he have to fucking kill?

For stealing this child away from her innocence.

For corrupting her…

He would tear out their cursed hearts with his own bare hands.

Whodid he have to kill?

No. You are mine, Arkerion na’k Krahl. How dare you? To desire revenge for this mere human… unacceptable.

Through his visor, Lodan saw the ship’s fibers coiling around Tasha’s neck… strangling her.

No!

Involuntarily, his hand dropped, searching for the familiar grip of his sword-hilt—the natural accompaniment to his mounting killing rage—but it wasn’t there. His hands were encased in the ship’s controls, and this was one enemy he couldn’t kill.

A big, dark blur swamped his vision.

Nythian.

Lodan’s rage ebbed away.

The Sylth couldn’t touch her, because Nythian was there, and his battle-brother had never let him down.