15
The sheer amount of ships in the sky was so staggering that they blotted out the heavens, forcing an unnatural darkness into the world. Lornia stared upward, all of her hatred and anger coming back again.
That time it was not directed solely at the humans though. There were other beings in this universe, beings who were just as reckless with the life and just as mad with power.
Destroying the Federation would not destroy that. She knew that because her race had already seen this happen before.
Her mind went back to those long ago days, and she could feel the weapon beginning to power down slightly as those memories stole her concentration away from the moment at hand.
They had been foolish. Her race, they had been foolish enough to believe that if they only closed that one door and tried again in the universe untried and untested, not yet alive, that they could end war and bring about peace that could never be broken.
But within every being lay hatred. Within every being lay anger and rage and the tendency to war and fight. In every single being in every single universe lay greed, lay apathy, lay ignorance, and the willingness to turn away from evil and to let it play out rather than to stand against it and fight for something better, to fight for the good.
But there was good too. In every single being and in every single universe, there were those who were good. Here, in this universe, she had seen so much good. So much evil too.
She had never wanted to be this weapon. She had never wanted to be a killer, and she had never wanted to be at war. She had turned away from her responsibility to her own race as they lay dying and fighting in the universe beyond the one in which she now stood. She and the elders who had chosen her had decided to turn their backs and to do nothing. They had closed that door and let evil rule, and now and in that other universe lay something even worse than the Federation.
And it should have been stopped long ago.
She had turned away from evil once, and now the fact that it was still alive and much worse was just as much her fault as it was the fault of those who had originally engaged in it.
That anger within her, that pulsing hatred that was the weapon’s greatest power, gave off sick and thick little throbs inside her heart and body. The weapon systems grew stronger with every breath that she took, and she knew that Drake was hesitant, torn between ordering her to use that weapon, to become that weapon, and his love for her.
That love that had worn down his grand and killing ambitions and let the goodness of his soul shine through the darkness that had started up in him and that the weapon had brought even closer to the surface.
She knew that he feared, just as she had back then, ordering the release of that weapon upon the universes.
But it had to be done. He had to be stronger than he thought he could be. He had to use the weapon even if it meant sacrificing the love they had for each other.
She had to be the weapon, had to sacrifice herself and that love she wanted so much to keep because there were hundreds of thousands of people gathered below, all of them staring up at the sky. The Federation was willing to kill all of them, and she could not allow that.
She looked at Drake and spoke. “Give me the command. I can’t command myself. You’re the only one who can, and you must. Fire the weapon. You must. Please.”
Had he understood what she had said? Her ability to speak was fading. The machine was taking over and soon she would be nothing more than that machine. She hoped he had understood her and as he looked at her, she thought she saw recognition and understanding written on his face but stamped over that was a grief so violent and so large that she feared he might yet fail in his duty.
Drake reached out a single hand. His fingers stroked through her hair, sending it fluttering in the sour wind emanating from the ships above.
His voice was gruff. A single tear tracked its way down his right cheek. “Weapon, I command you to fire.”
The whole of the Federation Armada was in the skies above them. There was no way out of this. He had to do it. Drake spoke the command and even as he did, the last vestiges of hope and joy that he had known crumbled into nothingness. Lornia’s last words rang through his mind, trying to summon up a small bit of that hope—hope that there would be after—but it faded as she suddenly threw her head back and her arms spread wide.
The rip began in the sky and he stared upward, his mouth opening in a silent scream. He had never seen anything like that in his life. How could he have? Space and time tore its self in half, rupturing across the sky. The ships, suddenly flung out of the orbit that they had known, crashed together as if a child's hand had carelessly swept down from the heavens and smashed them like an unwanted toy.
Then a vast suction began. The wind was so strong, so bitter and acrid that it burned his throat and eyes, that it lifted him off his feet and toward that rupture so many hundreds of miles above him. His scream lodged in his throat. He managed to keep one hand fisted into her hair, but he could feel his grip slipping.
A funnel appeared, a whirling and sucking funnel. That funnel arced across the sky and as he watched in complete terror and shock, the Federation ships suddenly began to fly into that funnel. He saw a vast warship, one that held at least fifty thousand of the Federation’s soldiers, get sucked into the maw of that funnel.
More grief hit. Those were living and sentient beings on that ship! He had just killed thousands! He had done that; he was a murderer, and a murderer with a high kill count on his conscience and heart. More ships were sucked upward. The rift continued to form and shape itself. The people below on the planet screamed and ran for shelter. He wondered if it would do them any good at all. Would this entire planet, would the entire system that they were within, be taken by that rift? Had he made a vast mistake?
He had to command the weapon! The Federation ships were being clawed out of existence, winking away, and to some place where he could not see them. He wanted to weep with sheer horror at what he had ordered to be done even as he knew that it had to be done.
And still, the rift continued to grow.
More Federation ships vanished. The wind picked up, blowing him across the ground they stood upon and toward the high spikes of the wall that they had built. Blade grabbed him and hung on. Drake stared at his half-brother with real bemusement. How had they ever been enemies? How had they ever let things as ridiculous as the circumstances of their birth and the fact that they had different mothers keep them from appreciating each other for the men that they were? It didn’t matter now. Everything was ending, and it was his fault, and he had no way to stop it. Or did he?
“Weapon, disarm!”
Was it too late? Had she any ability to stop now that she had begun such destruction? The Federation ships were gone, but the sky still boiled and rolled. The atmosphere changed. Stinging sand blew in, shattering windows and toppling buildings. People ran, screaming now as they realized that the weapon they had unleashed in a bid to save their lives might very well end them.
