Page 4 of Command

There was audible shuffling, then a familiar voice as his father came into view. It was strange seeing Koruth through this two-dimensional lens. It exposed his age in a new light—brittle apertures edged by black, the faded glow of old blood inside. His eyes were a pale, sickly pink. Threxin glanced at Renza. Many cycles ago, the old male would have looked just as strong as his true son. Now he was a husk who had no business dictating his descendants’ futures.

“Father,” Threxin said.

“You have done well.”

“I know.”

“Are they subdued?” Koruth’s beady eyes darted around the screen, pausing at various humans.

“Yes.”

“Good. I will begin my transfer.”

Threxin flicked his fingers in a dismissive gesture he wouldn’t have dared make toward his father until now. “No need.”

Koruth blinked, apertures widening, which only diluted the depth of their glow. “It will be a long journey back into range of Haevn. We will?—”

The immediacy with which hisClossalresponded to his unspoken instruction to close the transmission induced a pang of satisfaction. He could already feel himself melding with his ship—or rather, his ship melding with him.

Threxin turned to the communications officer trembling inher seat. “Project as I say at channelElssiantwo-five-two-six. Are you prepared?”

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, then threw a glance at her former commander beside him. “Sir.”

“Agh. Sze. Pre?—”

“I’m s… so sorry. I don’t understand.”

“Shoq,” Threxin sighed, twisting his brain to capture the correct words. “Two. Five… Three-nine…”

Threxin ignored the shuffling of his cohort at the door and continued his strained recitation ofElssian’sself-destruct codes. When it was done, he issued his next query to the former commander. “You have quantum radar?”

The sigh of the female beside him was long and exasperated, drawing from Threxin an appraising glance, but only that because Orion Halen intercepted with a quick “Yes.”

“Show me. Show me theElssian.”

The radar projection was blown up on the hull.Elssian’smarker on the image was flanked by a few other smaller craft scattered in close proximity. In Threxin’s peripheral vision, his human-kin tensed at the sight.

Then, all at once, the projection ofElssianbegan to separate into several unequal chunks, then dissipate into pixels on the thermaview. As the entangled photons of the radar were beamed out inElssian’sgeneral direction and collided with the ship, their counterparts inClossal’ssensors mirrored changes in their state, building a detailed animation of the explosion.

Renza stepped forward. He had removed his helm to reveal crimson apertures stiffened into thread-thin slits. His spikes bloomed brightly atop his head, pulsing at his scalp. “Brother, what did you do?”

“Father’s plans were for Father.”

“But he wanted?—”

“Immortality,” Threxin cut him off. “I want life.”

The clearing of a throat took his attention. When he turnedtoward the sound, the angry female next to Orion Halen was stepping forward. “You gonna tell us what’s going on or what?”

Orion Halen’s gaze snapped to her, and the way her eyes flashed in his direction once more gave away the existence of a nonverbal messaging passing between them. She clicked her tongue, as though in response to some unseen instruction.

“You are communicating,” Threxin observed. “How?”

Neither said a word, but words were not required.

“Of course. The…subvocalization,” he guessed. “The humans on yourElssianhad such things.”

Threxin peered at the sampler still plugged into the flesh of his socketless wrist. A trail of blood seeped beneath the sleeve of his suit. “Ship, disable subvocal communication in all intracranial implants. Disableallcommunication between human members of the ship.”

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