Blood Impulse

Prologue

Homebound Sector, Haven System, Base Oceana

"Move the body to the waste recycling decks tonight at 2330." He ordered, watching them shove the corpse into the tiny supply closet. "The processes will break it down the raw nutrients and destroy the evidence."

The Marines slammed the door, concealing the corpse's bloody orange uniform from the view of the conference room. The soldiers turned to salute their superior, "Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes," he answered dismissively, "Go stand watch outside."

The Marines snapped off their salutes, "Yes, Admiral."

He watched them go, ensuring the door slid shut behind them before he turned to the council that had gathered in the conference room. They were a handful of the most powerful people in the worlds, and yet, it seemed some of them lacked the stomach. "Are you certain we can trust those men, Reeter?"

"Are you questioning the loyalty of my men, General Quentin?" Reeter noticed the sweat under the man's collar. It was all too obvious his shallow interest was only self-interest. The sight of death for this cause, the sight of the bullet hole in that spy's chest, it blanched his face with fear. He was not a true believer, but for now, he did just fine as a pawn. Most of the men at this meeting were only pawns, meant to serve their purpose.

Quentin swallowed and tugged at the stiff collar of his uniform. "Even you must admit that the loyalty of Command's forces is fragmented." Reeter had won the majority of them over, but it was a slight majority, and the military was not a democracy. Most of those soldiers would not be loyal enough to disobey a superior officer for Reeter's cause. "General Clarke knows what you're up to-"

Reeter slammed his hands onto crystalline tabletop, "Clarke is an old fool. His spy is dead in the closet. He cannot begin to understand our goals." They were going to save the worlds. The cost that came with that was acceptable. He was willing to make the necessary exchange, even if all of his predecessors had not had the courage. He would succeed where they had failed. It was his destiny.

Clarke was not what they had come to discuss. That old man couldn't comprehend their true goals. No, they had come to finalize the plans for the most pivotal week of their entire movement. He would allow nothing to go wrong. "Is this room secure?" He asked the woman on his right.

She smiled, an easy smile. "Of course it is." As if I would give up my little game so early. The handsome Charleston Reeter had much to learn in the ways of the worlds. Every creature at that table had their own intentions. Not a single one of them believed in Reeter's so-called destiny to save the worlds, but they would play along while it suited them.

He briefly rested his eyes upon her pretty face and unnaturally white hair, but said nothing to it. Her efforts earned her just a smile, a smile young women across space fawned over, but one that meant nothing to her. This was all no more than a means to an end.

Reeter turned back to the weaselly face of the man who had questioned him. "My men are loyal, Quentin." Reeter said, "I cannot help that Clarke has his loyal few, but they are just that, few and far between. Command's ships, troops and bases are under my direction." The most powerful militarized force in the galaxy was his to control.

"The beating heart of the Fleet Admiral indicates otherwise." Heads turned to the largest man in the room, "Half of Command's forces are too afraid to turn. Out of fear for their souls they will not betray Admiral Gi-"

"Do not speak that name in my presence." The room fell silent, waiting for the inevitable eruption, but Reeter smoothed his perfectly parted hair and the red eventually faded from his face. Not even Quentin was reckless enough to bring up that man in his presence, and it was clear the man who had regretted his boldness.