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A pair of eyes tracked the partial departure of the crat armada from well within the confines of an indiscernible spacecraft tucked behind the shadow of a slow-revolving asteroid.
‘Looks like they got their asses served to them,’ a low voice said. ‘They’re standing down to a fractional retreat.’
‘So a blockade then?’ a melodic voice asked.
‘Tis. Two of the ships are positioned over Dunia’s spaceport and cargo facilities,’ the deep voice grunted.
‘One just headed to the other side of the planet, over Rambasa’, the sing-song voice said.
‘That’s conveniently close to the xentium ore mines and industrial trade centre,’ came the low-measured observation. ‘It would seem The Technocracy is digging in their heels over Dunia. They must be desperate.’
‘What’s our play?’
The conversation paused for a beat.
‘Nadafor now,’ the deep low voice said. ‘We don’t want to be pulled into this particular fight needlessly. But let’s keep eyes on whatever happens next. Please launch a couple of spy drones. Have them slip past that blockade and watch Dunia from a safe distance. Send me all surveillance and telemetry regarding The Technocracy’s actions on the planet.’
‘Naam,khosi.’
‘Then take us home.’
Moments later, the craft’s thrusters engaged, and the sylphlike nose of the ship turned slowly, then shot out of its bolt-hole. Heading towards Eden II, a large, slightly irregularly-shaped moon that shone brightly above Dunia’s darkening skies.
Selene
Waking groggy sucked. Waking with every bone in your body screaming sucked even more.
Selene opened her eyes and winced.
The bones in her body creaked as she turned which set off a splitting pain in a part of her brain she never knew existed.
She flicked on her wrist comm and peered at the timestamp.
She’d only been out for six hours yet it hadn’t made a dent in her tiredness.
Her eyes throbbed with the effort to focus, and she groaned.
A reaction to the ongoing pain, stress and grief of the last 48 hours, she thought.
The implosion of life as she’d known had come so swiftly and so unrestrained she was still in deep shock.
She’d spent most of the night obsessing about her father dying alone in the most horrific way possible - betrayed by the man he’d appointed to defend his beloved country.
At last, overcome by exhaustion, she’d fallen deeply asleep.
Only to be assaulted by the terror that had crowded her dreams these last few weeks.
Her nightmares featured a burning, scorching and flamed presence that kept calling out to her.
She’d ignored the dreams for a while now.
But why did they keep recurring?
Were they a lingering remnant of her strange encounter on Enia? Or a premonition from Dunia about the current upheaval? Perhaps a foretelling of her father’s death?
Either way, she had no idea and not the first clue how to deal with them, so she abandoned her weary musing.
Rising from the hammock, she stumbled to the small washroom, splashing cold water on her face. She gazed in the mirror and thanked Dunia that mirrors couldn’t talk, or they’d laugh at her shattered expression, ragged skin and red eyes.
