Chapter Eight

Ryan waited while the Valdician pulled out his chair and then stepped forward to settled into his position at the head of the long table. He could feel Declan’s presence behind him, the Valdician’s nervous tension making him feel uneasy. What happened in this room was the man’s only responsibility. As with the other Valdicians who served Ryan, Declan had his own segment of Ryan’s life that he managed daily. It was his duty to ensure that the scientist’s meals were prepared the way that he liked them and that they were served on time in the dining room that only Ryan ever used. They served him without question, doing anything that he told them to do without hesitation. Ryan often wondered if they had any concept of the power that their kind once had. He knew that they had some concept of their history and what they could do if they had all of the power that they once did, and that they were thankful to him for taking up the reins of the experiments again, ensuring that they were supported and given what they needed to stay as strong as they were. Unlike his father, Ryan was proud of the Valdician blood that ran through his veins, even if he didn’t have any of the features or characteristics that the species had. He didn’t even require the Izalux the way that they did. That didn’t change that he saw their potential. He knew what they could accomplish at the helm of the most powerful army that had even been created. They would always serve him. They would always show their gratitude toward him through unquestioned dedication to his needs. But he would one day offer them their legacy, the destiny that was always meant to be theirs: The Universe.

Declan hesitated behind for a few seconds, waiting to make sure that Ryan was settled into place, before hurrying out of the room and returning a few moments later carrying a large tray of food. Two other Valdician men came in after him and all three placed the food that they were carrying in front of Ryan. Declan waited for the others to leave before he stepped up beside Ryan and poured juice into the elaborate cup beside his plate.

“Thank you, Declan,” Ryan said. He took a sip of the thick, sweet juice, and placed the cup back down. “Have you heard anything new?”

He cut a piece of the meat on his plate and put it in his mouth. It filled his palate with rich, spicy flavor and he felt a moment of thankfulness that he had decided not to remain on the ship where he had gone after the conflict in the laboratory. Though being in the ship, hovering in the atmosphere just beyond the reach of the military guard vehicles, kept him distanced from everything that was happening and also gave him the sense that he could travel quickly and easily, it was a less than comfortable arrangement. The small vehicle was capable of short trips at fast speeds, enabling him to get to Penthos before he needed to refuel, but it was sparse and didn’t have the capacity to have the supplies and features that kept him comfortable. Returning to his personal compound made it more difficult for him to stay as engaged in everything that was happening and to keep track of the Denynso, Maxim and Kyven, and the rest, it also allowed him to relax and stay close to the things that mattered to him most. He didn’t truly need to be able to travel quickly. He didn’t involve himself in the fight whenever possible. That was why he had the hybrids and the Valdicians. He created, taught, and trained them so that they could do what needed to be done for him.

Declan stayed quiet for a few moments and Ryan gave him his time, allowing him to bring together the right words.

“The battle on Penthos was not successful,” the Valdician finally said.

“I am aware of the situation with the battle,” Ryan said, not wanting to be reminded of the fact that the first attack had not been the swift, devastating victory that he had intended it to be. “What has happened since then?”

“Nothing,” Declan said.

“Nothing?” Ryan asked. “I have a thoroughly trained, weaponized army positioned on two planets and with links to a third, the enemy is on all three planets, and nothing has happened since the first battle?”

He could hear Declan swallow hard behind him.

“No,” he said. “The hybrid army on Penthos has not attacked in several days.”

Though Ryan was angry at first, the feeling quickly dissipated as he realized that this was not the fear or cowardice of the army showing, but in fact his training coming to light. He took several more bites of his dinner and savored their flavor as he contemplated what the Valdician had just told him.

“That’s good,” he finally said. “They know what they are doing. That first battle showed them what the warriors and their counterparts are capable of, and what they will need to do in order to defeat them effectively. They know that the Denynso are well-trained and that they were prepared for the attack. If the hybrids were to attack again too soon, the enemies would know what was coming and would be ready to handle it. The longer that they wait, however, the more the enemies will put down their guards and become complacent. They will think that they have already pushed the hybrids back and that there is no longer a threat. Soon they will not be prepared, and the hybrids will be able to attack.”

Ryan appreciated the psychological approach that the hybrids had chosen to take. It was powerful and effective, something more than just the fierce, unrelenting physical attacks that he knew that they were capable of giving. Though he knew that the Denynso were the most fearsome of warriors and that even the members of the Mikana army were strong, capable of standing up against the assault of the hybrids, they had never faced an opponent like the hybrids. In his army, the enemies would have to see themselves, their friends, and their families, and layers of ability and strength that they had never even fathomed. This was warfare unlike anything the galaxy had seen, and it would only intensify the more that the hybrids discovered about themselves, and the more of his creations that became ready to be released into the ranks.

“We suspect that the enemy army has left the compound that they have claimed for themselves and is heading across the planet to rescue those who they left in the ship.”

There was another layer of nervousness in Declan’s voice, but Ryan wasn’t unnerved by the revelation.

“Let them do it,” he said.

“Let them?” Declan asked. “You don’t think that we should try to rally the army and have them attack while the smaller group is out in the desert alone? They are vulnerable.”

“No,” Ryan said. “Don’t waste the energy or resources on another small battle. They are smart. They’ve proven that. As much as I would like to think that their strategy would be nothing compared to ours, they have proven themselves to have thought through this. We need to handle this in the best way. Allow them to go to the ship and to bring out those who they left behind. That way when they have returned to the compound, all of them will be in the same place and it will be much easier to keep watch over their actions. Once they are isolated, it will be more difficult for them to get away. When their ship is across the planet from them, they will not have the option of hiding away in it and hoping that their shields hold up. They will be out in the open and have nowhere to run. We wouldn’t want to make it easy for them, would we?”

Ryan tucked back into his meal, but he could feel that the Valdician was still hovering in his place behind him as if there was something more that he was considering telling him.

“Is there something else?” Ryan asked.

“It seems that Frederick is missing,” Declan said.

“It seems?” Ryan asked, turning to look at the man.

“He is,” Declan said.

“What do you mean that he has disappeared?”

“We tracked his position to the transportation bay the day that the enemies escaped. He has not been seen or heard from since.”

“Where did he go?” Ryan asked, trying to keep his voice calm and level. “How could he simply have disappeared without any of you knowing where he is? I thought that you had him under tracking surveillance.”

“We did,” Declan said. “I don’t know what happened.”

“And the trackers?”

“They don’t know, either.”

“In all of the time that they have been on Penthos, in the time that you have known that he disappeared the same day that the army left, no one has thought to bring it to my attention?”

“I’m sorry,” Declan said. “I didn’t know if it was my place. I know that I don’t know everything that you have planned or the intelligence of all of the other members of the army. I didn’t want to overstep my bounds by bringing it up if you already knew and there was something else in effect.”

Ryan didn’t know how to respond. Declan was right. Ryan had always been insistent in the different elements of his army being kept separate along their lines of responsibility. This worked for him on different levels. It ensured that each of the groups focused entirely on what they were meant to do without distracting themselves by interfering with the work of the other groups, and gave him the flexibility of keeping certain information close and protected, limiting the opportunity for leaks. Through this, however, it also kept each of the groups slightly off-balance. Without them knowing all of the operations of the other groups, none could feel entirely confident in their position within the group. This helped to ensure that there wouldn’t come a time when they would feel powerful enough to try to overthrow Ryan and reclaim power for themselves. In this circumstance, however, it had worked against him, leaving him without vital information. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

“Do you have any more information where he might be?” Ryan asked.

“There is some concern that he might have piloted the ship.”

Ryan felt the muscles in his neck tense. He twisted his head to try to release the tension, but it seemed to only get tighter and more painful as thoughts of Frederick dug their way deeper and deeper into his mind. He felt like the edges of his thoughts were fading, like the carefully constructed perspective of the world that he had built for himself was starting to waver. Ryan fought to keep it under control, to prevent the veil from slipping further.

“Find him,” he said. He turned back to the plate in front of him and grasped his fork tightly. “Tell the trackers that I said find him. I don’t care what they have to do. They need to find out where he is and get him. I want him brought to me.”

“I will tell them, Sir,” Declan said quietly.

Ryan heard the Valdician man walk out of the room swiftly. He slammed his fist against the table, sending his silverware skittering across the surface and letting out a loud, infuriated growl.