For parts 1-4, use these links:
Tears of Destruction Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
"The Battle Group is mine!" Korsblin roared as he delivered the finishing blow to Brikeltek’s forehead. The admiral stopped moving. Korsblin tore his own captain's patch off and replaced it with the rank patch he’d ripped from the admiral's uniform. A blue tear of pride dropped from his face, splattering on the former admiral’s neck.
“Mom will be so happy for her boy’s success!” He laughed and looked around at the crew. They chuckled nervously and waited for his attention to return to Brikeltek. Once it did, they settled the bets, some men smiling, others less happy for more reasons than the money. Admiral Korsblin flicked his old captain’s patch onto Brikeltek’s prone form with a sneer.
A signal alarm went off on the bridge.
Brikeltek opened his eyes and sat up. The captain patch fell from his chest into his open hand.
"Interfere again,” Korsblin raised his voice to be heard over the klaxon, “and I’ll have you busted down to sub-ensign." He sneered at the hatred emanating from the black and blue sockets of Brikeltek's eyes. "Besides, it's too late. The signal has arrived. Hasn't it, Lieutenant Tragnfel?"
Tragnfel checked the message. "It’s our Earth contact, Cap— um, Admiral. It says GO."
"Good,” said Korsblin, seeming to let the slip go but making a note to himself to discipline Tragnfel later. “My first official duty in the Admiralty shall be personal verification of the signal." Without a second glance at his defeated rival, newly promoted Admiral Korsblin summoned two bodyguards and headed to the teleportation room.
Lieutenant Tragnfel looked down at Brikeltek. Fear for the coming confrontation with Earth drew a red tear from his eye.
A thick band of orange light reflected off the ocean, stretching along the horizon. The bottom of the sun stretched to complete the orange circuit and provide the illusion of a nuclear blast. With a FZZZT, three Velgorans appeared in an alien transporter beam next to the aluminum pattern behind Brent.
A newly formed bruise covered one’s cheek and his bottom lip was cracked but not bleeding. His shirt was just like the envoy’s shirt and had a gaudy emblem that looked like four planets orbiting a star. Brent decided the two that stood on either side of him must be Velgoran Marines.
"Are all you guys this short?" asked Brent.
The emblem wearer gave him a dirty look before examining the aluminum message. After a few seconds, he nodded to Brent.
"I am Cap—" The Velgoran stopped himself then straightened up and puffed out his chest before continuing. "I am Admiral Korsblin. The advance scout said you might be with the signal despite being told to be elsewhere. This is for you."
One of the bodyguards opened a box they had with them. A shirt just like the envoy’s lay inside. Brent’s smile widened. He pulled it out and examined its colorful glory as the many dots on it flashed in the fading sunlight.
Armani would say this is a sin against fashion, but I don't care. It's beautiful.
"You are now an honorary sub-ensign," the Admiral tapped the shirt’s sunburst shaped rank insignia, "in the Velgoran Armada with access to all the privileges that implies." A bodyguard chuckled, and Admiral Korsblin whipped around. The bodyguard cleared his throat and straightened up. The Admiral continued. "This rank insignia has a tracking device. Keep it with you so we always know your location. That way you’ll live to see additional rewards once we conquer your planet."
After studying his rank with reverence, Brent pulled the shirt on over his own shirt. Sub-Ensign Brent Thorston of the Velgoran Armada. Not quite King Thorston of Earth, but I'll take it… for now. He pried his eyes away from his new rank badge. "Thank you, Admiral. Request permission to watch your conquest of Earth from your flagship if I may."
"Denied," the Admiral replied, his tone leaving no room for debate. “We must keep you safe.” Yellow liquid ran down the admiral's cheek and dripped onto his shirt, changing a green dot to yellow.
The envoy said yellow tears meant he was worried about his superiors punishing him. Isn't admiral a high rank? Who is superior to this guy? For the first time, Brent realized he’d been so desperate to be liked that he hadn’t really examined what he was being asked to do. He also hadn’t questioned if they’d really reward him or not. What if yellow tears meant they were lying? Can I trust these guys?
The Admiral said something Brent didn't understand. One of the bodyguards pulled a teleport activator from a pocket and started pushing buttons.
They're going to teleport out and leave me here. What if I’m caught in the fighting or end up as collateral damage from their super-weapons? Letting them go without him could condemn him to death.
"Take me with you," Brent insisted, stepping forward, surprised at his own assertiveness.
The guard without the activator put himself between Brent and the Admiral. He squeezed Brent's arm until the bones ground together.