The Spectrum Force Volume Three by Heather Ray (motivational books for men .TXT) 📖

Phaedra opened her eyes, the faint orange light touching her skin fading at the breach of contact. "Weakling human," she seethed, "asleep again! How am I to learn anything with her constantly closing her eyes?"

Not that it mattered, anyway. The "Spectrum Force," as they called themselves, had stumbled upon Gaius' sanctuary. It would no doubt take them hours to search it exhaustively, which was a complete waste of time. Phaedra's soldiers already searched the granite stronghold after they had captured Gaius. Though, they weren't searching for the Diadem, as they had believed the pyramid they had obtained was the mythological gem. They searched high and low for any secrets Gaius could possess, such as the hidden location of the Remnant's base, to no avail.

Perhaps the humans would find something? They did mention the peculiar ability to see a signal of light guiding them. Could the Diadem be calling them? Could it detect the Soldiers of Light, and draw them to it?

There was no way for Phaedra to learn the actual abilities of the Diadem, short of finding it and seeing for herself. The only record of its abilities was the ancient myth of the First Ones that boasted "unlimited power" within the Diadem's core. For all she knew, it was a worthless rock that a few misguided idiots worshipped. Men did have a penchant for shiny objects…

A bold knock disrupted her flight of thought.

"Enter!" she growled, lifting her head to the doorway.

Mor'se entered the darkened chamber, bowing his head once when he made eye contact. "Empress, I have found something I'm certain you will find useful!"

An elegant eyebrow rose. "You

found something useful?" she repeated, mockery tingeing her voice.

Mor'se managed to hide the outrage her naked scorn incited. He stopped when he stood directly before the makeshift throne, and prostrated himself. His arms reached forward, holding a gilded scroll.

"I was reviewing some of the potions and elixirs I have collected-"

"When you could

have been doing something productive," Phaedra sneered, "Like find me the Diadem."

The aged Denebian frowned. It was clear the empress' fury was beyond satisfaction until the Diadem rested in her hands. Or was it something else that frustrated her? "Forgive your servant, Majesty. I have never been a soldier. I am a scholar. Research is my weapon... and I have a weapon that will surely give you an edge over that filthy traitor."

Mor'se won her full attention. "What?" she demanded, snatching the parchment.

"If your Majesty would open the scroll, you will see the particular tactic I have in mind."

Phaedra unrolled the woven page, her eyes skimming over the writing. "The… Blight?"

As a fuller understanding slowly dawned, her gaze shifted back to the beginning, and read in earnest. "A magically-enhanced disease, completely debilitating to most species, eventually lethal to all. And there is no cure… not magical, or medicinal."

"Indeed, Majesty," Mor'se urged, a sinister lilt in his voice, "Not even a panacea will ease his suffering. The first stage of the disease attacks the muscles and bones, resulting in unprecedented pain. The second includes a dulling of mental faculties, as the disease moves from musculature to the brain. And finally, death."

Phaedra continued reading, her throat going dry at the explicit detail outlined in the scroll. She had never personally seen the Blight in practice, though she did remember reading of it with her tutors. It was the life's work of Oril of the planet Uqar, circling the star Aldebaran. The masterful alchemist perfected a mutated virus that had been attempted for centuries, and developed just enough to assassinate the six members of the Governing Body, and initiate a political coup. He only managed to deliver three, before an accident in his laboratory left him mindless. Soon after, the Denebian Empire sent an attack fleet into the system, throwing the Uqarian political revolution into further chaos.

The Denebian Emperor Styx personally led a devastating force to conquer the planet; but when his most trusted general was stricken with the Blight, in horror the Denebian forces pulled back. Not until Acheron ascended to the throne did the Denebians return to Aldebaran to claim it.

That general lived in torment for months, writhing in endless agony until the Emperor finally ordered euthanasia. His hellish howls and fevered whimpers haunted the doctors who tended him years after his death.

Whosoever was exposed to the potion would suffer the worst possible death.

"How would you

create this Blight?"

"My father was on the preliminary scouting mission to Uqar, and he acquired one dose of the Blight. It has been in our family since."

Phaedra's lips parted in surprise. "You have a dose of the most potent biochemical weapon ever developed?"

"My family has always served the Monarchy as trusted counselors and field researchers. My father instructed me to use it wisely... and no use could be wiser than to claim the Diadem for Denebia."

He saw the shock warring with doubt in her eyes, and continued. "I assure you there is no danger from the virus, Empress. It is inert until activated by a drop of blood. And once activated, it can only infect a single individual... it cannot be transmitted by any means."

Finally, the empress recovered her voice. "What would you advise me to do with this Blight? I had already threatened to terminate Spectra before his very eyes, but I don't actually have a captive to use against him! I doubt he even knows the humans, so he wouldn't risk the Diadem on their behalf."

Mor'se stared at the empress in surprise. "I… I had thought you would cast the Blight on the traitor himself."

The empress glared at him sharply, her eyes slivers of crimson ice. Mor'se stumbled on his words, so startled by her reaction he was. "S..surely the pain of Stage One alone will loosen his tongue-"

With a growl of disgusted anger, Phaedra threw the scroll to the ground. Mor'se watched it skid against the smooth floor, striking the distant wall.

"Why would Lord Gaius tell me anything after I sentence him to a torturous death whose pain has no equal?" she hissed, rising from her seat.

Mor'se blinked. Wasn't the answer plain as day? "Claim you will rescind the Blight if he capitulates. He will be so maddened with pain he would do anything to end it!"

"Why 'claim' to rescind the disease? Can it be done?"

The scholar frowned deeply. This conversation grew stranger after every word! "He would not know otherwise."

Sanguine smoke trickled from her eyes. Mor'se swallowed his fear… the temperature had risen to a highly uncomfortable level during the conversation. He had never seen the empress so upset.

Why did this traitor's fate plague her so? Of course, a select few of the Denebian court knew their empress had a close relationship with the nobleman over a century ago… but that was before he betrayed his home world. It was ancient history.

"You did not answer my question," she murmured dangerously.

What does it matter

, so long as the fool believes it can?

"It may be possible that he who casts the Blight has the power to retract it."

She gazed down at him disdainfully. Her breathing had calmed, but it was clear her anger had not dwindled. "Are you willing to stake your life on it?"

His eyes widened further. "No, Empress. I'm afraid I don't know just how to retract the toxin. Oril's research… it states something about the 'soul of the condemner,' but he never had the opportunity to refine his research before his death."

He stood in the face of the storm, frustrated by the empress' irrational behavior. "And even if the Blight could be retracted," he stated boldly, "it shouldn't be. That worm should die a thousand torturous deaths. Deaths of a cowardly traitor."

Before Mor'se could inhale, his body was suddenly catapulted into the air by the thunderous energy of the Denebian Empress. He flew through the open door, his right shoulder smashing against the pane, and crashed full-body into the wall opposite the entrance.

The two guards standing at either side of the door hurried to his side. Once he had recovered his bearings, the respected scholar pushed away their aid, desperate to maintain some semblance of dignity.

Yet, despite his humiliation, he allowed a breath of relief. At least my head is still attached to my shoulders…

"Are you all right, Lord Mor'se?"

He waved away the question. "If you can, I suggest you don't approach her for at least a few hours. The Empress is… emotional."

The two gulped visibly. All of the Empire knew of Phaedra's short temper. And they watched as Mor'se walked through the hall, one of the very few who could boast surviving such a fit of rage.

^Sphere Grid deployed.^

Spectra hurried away from the supply cabinet she was rummaging through, and fell into her seat at the main station of her ship. The large screen depicted the globe of the Earth, with a honeycomb-shaped pattern around the circumference.

"Finally," she breathed, a small smile brightening her face.

It had taken a great deal of time and effort, but she had succeeded in reprogramming the Sphere Grid Shield. It had been designed as an early-warning device, creating a barrier to pinpoint the exact time and location a Denebian ship crossed into protected space. She had used it less than a week ago, while she laid in wait for Phaedra's arrival.

Now she was using it as a shield to protect the Earth itself.

It was far more difficult creating a close-fitting shield, which would be necessary to protect the planet as she desired to.

At most she would need a day or two to aid her allies, but she couldn't take for granted that Phaedra's armies would do nothing

during that time. Without herself or the Force available, it would only take a few platoons of well-armed Denebians to lay waste to a world power, and irrevocably throw the Earth's governments into chaos. Even if the Force were able to stay the invasion, the whole of the planet would learn the truth. The damage done to the world would be irreparable, as an entire species of volatile beings fought for their own survival.

It would be best to keep the war a secret from the world… for as long as possible.

Spectra had counted on the assumption that the energy field emitted by the spheres