Altopereh hung motionless above Antia's twin moons. The metal panels over its cockpit had slowly crumbled away and left it fully exposed. Just above the cockpit its core — the home of the monster inside it — lay bare, still glowing faintly, as if it wanted to wake up again. But Altopereh was truly finished. Its last attack had destroyed almost every ship that remained, leaving only five: the Morphius, Leonora's flagship the Millia, and three warships barely holding together.
On the Morphius' command deck, the two generals stared out at the battlefield in awe. In all their campaigns, they had never witnessed a battle so terrifying or so costly; it was as though the devil himself had climbed out of hell to join the fight. And yet, even though their mission had failed, Altopereh was back in the Empire's chains. The Tartarusios' most dangerous weapon was gone, and it was only a matter of time before the rest of them shared its fate.
Mikhail turned to Leonora. "I don't know how we survived. I watched my life flash before my eyes twice, and yet here I am. I can only hope my men will forgive me. I marched them straight into hell."
Leonora was silent for a moment, looking out at Altopereh. "I don't know, Mikhail," she said finally. "I came here to watch my husband be executed. And in the end, the ones who were executed were my own men. As the woman who was once his wife, I'm not worthy of asking their forgiveness. I can only hope to atone for it someday, however long this life of mine goes on."
Emilia stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on Leonora's shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Leonora. His sins aren't yours to carry, least of all the dead from this battle. Every soldier who boarded those ships knew exactly what they were heading into. Bless their souls for the cause they gave their lives for. Sorrow would only make their passage harder."
Leonora smiled faintly, and when she spoke again, it was only to herself. "I guess he couldn't tell which ship I was on." Then, more quietly still: "Or you knew, and you missed on purpose and let me live. I don't know if I can forgive you for that."
The Morphius took Altopereh aboard from Antia's orbit, and inside the flagship's hangar the once-towering Orbiton barely resembled what it had been. Mechanics swarmed over it and climbed up onto its cockpit. On Leonora's orders they began cutting into it with an enormous plasma saw to recover Youri's body. The saw made painfully slow progress against that monstrous alloy, and it took six hours before they had cut deep enough to trigger the emergency release. The hatch tore open with a violent hiss. Inside lay Youri — cut and bruised and covered in blood. One of the mechanics shone a light into the cockpit and froze, because Youri's finger had just twitched. He pressed two fingers to Youri's neck, and then he shouted. "He's alive! Quick — get the commander!"
Emilia was on the bridge when an officer burst in, barely able to breathe. "Commander! The Duke — he's still alive!"
Emilia frowned sharply. "What are you saying?"
"Altopereh's pilot is alive," the officer repeated.
She ran to the hangar, pushed through the crowd of mechanics around him, knelt beside him and checked his pulse herself. It was faint, but it was there. The news raced through the flagship like wildfire until it reached Leonora in her quarters, and she stormed into the hangar a few minutes later. "What the hell is going on here?"
The whole room fell silent. Emilia rose to her feet. "General, we need a medical team. I think your husband is still alive."
Leonora froze. Then, in an instant, she was on her knees beside him, holding his face in her hands. "Get a medical officer here immediately!" she shouted, and her tears fell onto his cheeks. She had believed she would never see him again, and now she clung desperately to the tiniest flicker of hope.
Far away on Fansilia, a young soldier was sprinting through the halls of the royal council with his footsteps echoing beneath the vaulted ceilings, and when he reached the Prime Minister's office, he could barely get the words out. "I have urgent news from General Rozasar," he told Alia.
"The Prime Minister is busy," Alia said calmly. "I can pass it on."
"I'm sorry, but I have to speak to him directly. I'm under strict orders."
"Then you'll have to wait."
"Shit — there's no time," he muttered, and before she could stop him, he vaulted over her desk and ran straight for Alan's door.
"What do you think you're doing?" Alia shouted, but it was already too late.
The soldier burst into the office. It was a room of regal calm, all deep mahogany and gold. A commanding wooden desk was polished to a mirror sheen, a tufted leather chair behind it like a throne, flanked by a pair of armchairs that invited conversation without presuming it. Carved wood paneling touched with gold climbed the walls, and shelves of leather-bound books behind glass doors trimmed in gold, softened by a framed painting and a pair of red candles.
But the office was empty.
The soldier looked around, bewildered — until the air behind the leather chair rippled like water, and a man stepped out of it. His golden hair fell in soft, windswept waves that caught the light as though each strand held a glimmer of dawn, and it framed a face both regal and ethereal. His skin was smooth and luminous. Its almost radiant warmth set off the cool, piercing blue of his eyes — eyes that held a quiet intensity, distant and thoughtful, as if they were looking far beyond the world in front of them. He smiled and came closer.
"Who are you?" the soldier barked. "What are you doing in here?"
The stranger smiled again. "Oh, right. Give me a second." A white glow enveloped him and faded. When it was gone, Alan stood in his place.
The soldier froze. "Prime Minister? Is that you?"
Alan let out a breath. "These Terrians," he murmured. He raised his hand slowly and closed it around the soldier's throat. The young man gasped as the life drained out of him. "Ah," Alan said softly. "So that's what you wanted to tell me." A sinister smile spread across his face as the soldier's body disintegrated into shimmering particles of light and scattered through the air.
Alan sat down behind his desk, folded his hands beneath his chin, and spoke quietly to the empty room. "Things might get interesting."