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The immediate need for relocation was the most damning piece of information that Cylex had learned, but he couldn’t bring himself to report it. Jevara was a craven fool who put no value on anything or anyone that did not serve him. The Citadel had been caught unaware the first time. They would be prepared if Jevara attacked again. Cylex tensed, a sick feeling dropping into the pit of his stomach. Would preparation, determination, and a handful of power triads be enough against Torretian warriors?
“This is some moon in the middle of nowhere. They store sacred relics and who knows what here. It was a long trip for nothing, if you ask me.”
Jevara rolled his eyes. “Mystics are like that. Not a practical bone in their bodies.” Cylex was about to end the conversation when Jevara asked, “Have the other two Hays girls been claimed? If they can manifest multiple elements like Flora can, they might be worth risking an abduction.”
Their images formed within his mind. He had seen them shortly after they returned to the Citadel two weeks ago. Raina with her golden-brown hair and soft green eyes looked as if she’d been crying. Cara’s hair was even lighter, a pale sun-streaked blonde. She argued with everyone as her sky-blue eyes flashed with defiance. Provost Nadis would have her hands full with those two.
“They have not been claimed, but I doubt they are worth the effort. They are not generating much interest and there are no secrets at the Citadel. If they were anything special, I would have heard about it.” The last was an outright fabrication. The Citadel was buzzing with interest surrounding those two females.
“Understood, and carry on.”
The comm disconnected and Cylex deactivated the implant with an impatient swipe of his fingers. He straightened and stretched out his back. He risked discovery every time he contacted the emperor, but keeping the bastard informed was the reason he was here.
Tromping through the underbrush, he assessed his option for the future. The emperor’s word was law on Torret. To his knowledge, it had always been that way. Many had tried to install a more democratic form of governance, and many had failed. The Torretian people were powerless, literally subject to the whims of their rulers. The burning desire to change that, even to some small degree, was the only thing that kept Cylex loyal to his planet. He circled around the ship and emerged on the other side of the small clearing from where he made the comm.
“Cylex!” Commander Tov Nee yelled as soon as he spotted Cylex. “Where the hells have you been? We are ready to depart.”
“I apologize.” He jogged to the ship and hurried up the stairs leading to the hatch. “I thought I saw something in the trees.”
“You disappeared without telling anyone where you were heading,” Tov boarded right behind him and closed the hatch. “If it happens again, I will leave you. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. It will not happen again.”
“Glad to hear it because we’ve been given another mission, and this one is complex and important. Report to the armory. Merrik is going to brief everyone.”
“Yes, sir.” Cylex went directly to the armory. Anything that drew attention to him was counterproductive for a spy. He had reined in his abilities, performing only well enough to pass their tests. He needed to blend into the background and be as forgettable as possible. Until now, he had been succeeding nicely.
He was the last to arrive, so he stood against the wall just inside the doorway. The other five trainees formed a semicircle around the workbench in the middle of the room. Merrik, the second in command, stood at the head of the table. He was tall and thickly muscled. According to ship gossip, Merrik was working with Commander Tov to form a triad. Tov was definitely a controller, so Merrik was likely a source. Odd, if Cylex had been asked to guess he would have said Merrik was a controller too.
“Our target is this shipyard,” Merrik began as soon as the door slid shut behind Cylex. A holo-display had been activated above the workbench featuring a detailed image of the shipyard. “The complex is largely automated. However, it is located on a developed moon. Traditional explosives would risk too many lives, so we are working with three power triads. They will surround the target and consume it with Altorian fire. This method will contain the destruction and minimize the damage to the surrounding facilities.”
“If the triads are going to attack, what is our role?” one of the trainees asked.
“Hopefully, observers,” Merrik said. “The triads are being transported to the staging site via one ship. Two additional ships—one being ours—will await their arrival. All three ships will jump to the moon on which the shipyard is located and the triads will attack. If all goes well, the entire endeavor will be over in a matter of minutes.”
* * *
The mission Flora’s triad was about to undertake wasn’t that different from the other ten missions they had been assigned over the past two weeks. Her mates said she needed practical experience and President Zevon seemed determine that she get it. They had blown up manufacturing hubs and boarded supply ships, forcing them to destroy their own cargo. It was exhilarating and Flora was proud to say that as of yet, she had not taken a life. Altor was at war with Torret, so she wasn’t sure how long she would be able to maintain nonlethal status, but she would hold on to it as long as possible.
She’d met with Nadis to strategize about activating the power exchange, but Nadis insisted that it was something Flora needed to find within herself.
“Don’t be fooled by the rarity of this gift,” Nadis cautioned. “It is a mystic ability like any other. Use the same techniques to access it. Visualize what you are trying to do and then bring it into the material world.”
Nadis made it sound so simple, but Flora knew it was not. She meticulously constructed a visualization, a small, square building with doors on either side. She channeled mystic energy into the building through one of the doors. It swirled around for a moment, then exited through the other door as a different type of elemental magic.
The visualization was simple by design, allowing her to concentrate on the actual transformation. She wasn’t sure how she flipped it on, but three days ago she felt something stir. A strange surge of power rushed through her body and new awareness unfurled within her. Curious, she fed Altorian energy, fire magic, into the psychic building and moments later it flowed out as water.
Her excited screams brought her mates running and she demonstrated her new ability. The next two days had been dedicated to expanding her control over the power exchange. She still tired quickly, but Noratu and Draven were thrilled that she’d been able to activate the ability at all.
Shaking away the distraction, Flora refocused on the coming mission. President Zevon had found out this morning that the shipyard opening had been moved up by several weeks. An emergency meeting of the board followed so Draven, Noratu, and Flora flew to the Citadel. The framework of a strategy had been in place for weeks. All that had to be worked out was the timing.
After a detailed briefing, the nine members of the triads gathered in the ship’s small dining area. Flora sat back and watched the males interact for a while. They clearly knew each other well enough to joke and tease. The other two females were less friendly, but seemed fairly well acquainted. After the initial introductions no one spoke to Flora. That was to be expected, she supposed. She was an outsider, a stranger raised on a strange world.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Gwala, the older of the two conduits, asked Flora. She was a statuesque female in her late forties and had been rather rude even during their introduction. Flora was pretty sure she hadn’t done anything wrong. The woman just seemed to be unpleasant by nature.
“She is stronger than she looks,” Noratu said with a charming smile.
Gwala glanced at him then fixed her hostile stare on Flora. “Is it true that you can manifest water?”
