by David Beers
He turned around and looked at Trinant. The other two Ministers were here, but they no longer mattered. When this was all done, there would be one Ministry left, because the other three were completely fine with decapitation.
“I’m going higher,” the First Priest announced.
Trinant looked up from the tablet on her desk. Annoyance wore as heavily on her face as exhaustion, and again, the First Priest wanted to spit. Everything since arriving here had been horrible. This entire Ministry was nothing but a horror show, but the First had made many plans while sitting in here being treated as a second class citizen. One of them was that if Trinant survived, the First would ensure she didn’t live until old age.
Still, he couldn’t do anything about it just now.
“What do you mean, you’re ‘going higher’?” the woman asked.
“You all can sit here and wait for them to come get you, but I’m going higher up. As close to the top of this thing as I can.”
Trinant sighed. “There’s only machinery in the floors above us. There’s no protection in them. Our best chance of survival is the plan we’re following.”
“I don’t care,” the First said. “I’m not waiting in here anymore. At worst, I can hide up above. They know we’re here, though—everyone still alive in this Corinth forsaken place does. Let me go now, or the True Faith will consider me a hostage.”
Trinant laughed at that, a genuine, belly-filled laugh. It grew louder and she leaned back in her chair, seemingly unable to control it. The First Priest stood there, taking one last insult—and knowing it was his last. Others had tried insulting him like this—Raylyn Brinson, the Hollowborne woman, and even Reinheld through his trickery. Each of them got what was coming to them. This woman would be no different.
Perhaps the world would continue underestimating the First Priest, just like the High had, but the First was coming to realize something: he was ordained by Corinth himself. There could be no other explanation for what had happened, and these fools here would see it soon.
The Minister finally stopped laughing, though she remained leaning back in her chair and smiling at the First. “Go on then, High Priest. Go wherever you would like. I certainly wouldn’t want anyone in the True Faith to think we held someone against their will.”
The First Priest stared for a second longer, trying to remember the way this woman looked at this exact moment. He wanted it imprinted on his brain, because when she died, he wanted to recall it.
He turned and left the room. No one followed, not guard nor Minister.
“Are you going to send anyone after him?” Yule asked.
Trinant glanced over at him before looking back at the reports rolling across her tablet. “No. I’m not wasting resources on that silly man.”
The Pope nodded. He didn’t disagree. If they were to die in here, then he would rather not die around the First Priest. The Pope had thought it a blessing to be rid of the High Priest, but now he felt the exact same way about the man who just scurried from the room.
“We can watch him,” Trinant said, looking up and smiling. “It would be a nice break from this madness.” She nodded to the windows stretched across the room. “You two want to do that? See what he does?”
A little guilt ran through Yule, but as he looked at the windows, his answer solidified immediately. “I’m okay with it.”
“Me too,” Benten said.
Benten was lying on a couch on the other side of the room; his eyes were closed and his hands across his stomach.
The Old World’s army had already arrived, and were now in position around the Globe. Both the True Faith’s and Constant’s arsenals were arriving soon, and that’s what everyone was waiting on right now. Yule continued getting updates about the Old World, and none of them were good. There had been no sightings of the weapon, nor Nicki, though—and that was confusing, to say the least. The Black’s followers shouldn’t be able to rise like that, not without the weapon to lead them …
What do you know, old man? You know exactly as much as the First Priest, who is now about to climb into the machinery portion of this huge globe.
The left half of the windows changed, showing the First Priest walking down the hallway. The camera was in the corner, so taking an overview look at him. Every 10 seconds or so, the view changed as he moved.
Yule leaned back in his chair. The code change had bought them some time, but the last update the general brought said that the attackers were beginning to break it more rapidly. The reinforcements would arrive first, but what exactly they were going to do was still being worked out.
No exits nor entrances were working. The place was completely sealed off, and Spyden said none of their own hackers were yet able to modify the code.
Yule’s hopes weren’t high. It’s not like the ships could simply start blasting away at the Globe, even if they managed to hit everything beneath the Minister’s floor. The orb was too large, and too many necessary components would be destroyed with such indiscriminate shooting. The general was working out possible strategies, and she was supposed to bring them soon. Yule had been praying, going to Daniel’s room to speak with him from time to time, and now, he thought he might watch this fool try to maneuver his way out.
There would be a time, later, in which the Pope would regret that decision. He had witnessed a lot of pain in his life, with the greatest concentration over the last month—and yet, he would forever hear the First Priest’s screams echoing in his mind until he drew his own last breath.
The First Priest didn’t really care where he was going. He had told Trinant ‘higher’ because that seemed the easiest way to get him out of the room; they would buy that he wanted to get further away from the invaders, and thus not ask too many questions when he left.
The thing was, the First Priest thought these Ministers were all idiots. Not insane like the High, but idiots just the same. Perhaps it was being so lofty for so long that made them not use their heads. They were used to those beneath doing the thinking, and then taking the credit for it. The First Priest hadn’t ever been so lucky; he’d been the one toiling to make sure things happened, to ensure that Corinth’s will actually came to fruition.
They’d all watched the same thing in those windows—each of them able to witness the same actions take place.
Only the First Priest had taken anything away from it, apparently. The others were still waiting on those beneath them to figure out the best course of action.
The High Priest used to do the same, but it was the First that had been tasked with determining the course.
The Globe was locked down. That much was true. Somehow the Black’s crazies had disabled the ability to open up any ports, windows, or doors along the outer perimeter. Ships could fly right up to them, but there wasn’t any way to actually get out.
It was the last part that the First Priest realized was false, though he didn’t feel the need to share it with any of those idiots behind him.
He passed hallways on his right and left, not bothering to even look down them. All he really cared about was getting to the edge of the Globe, to one of those windows that lined the entire place. As long as he kept moving in a straight line, he’d eventually get there.
The idea had first come to him yesterday. He’d been staring up at the windows inside Trinant’s office, a constant undercurrent of worry streaming through his mind. Now, he understood Corinth had chosen him, but yesterday, he’d felt forsaken. The cretins were moving up floor by floor, killing everyone in their paths with those sickening gray strands hanging from their hands.
They would soon reach the First’s floor and he could already imagine the way it would feel when those static strands wrapped around his face—burning and scratching. It would feel exactly as it had back in the High Priest’s home, when the surge had nearly peeled him alive.
The First almost didn’t see it. None of the others had, missing something so obvious—and that’s why he now knew Corinth was with him.
He’d been staring at Trinant’s windows for hours. Watching those bloodlust filled people hack code and then kill. All the time, the answer had been right there in front of him.
Literally.
The windows.
The place was lined with them, from the very top of the Globe, to the very bottom. The One Path’s ostentatiousness knew no boundaries, its arrogance unparalleled. The entire place was made of glass, including the room the First Priest sat in.
Glass shattered.
The exits might not be working, but what the hell did that matter when one could be made?
The idea slowly crystallized in his head over the next few hours. Leave this room. Find a window at the Globe’s perimeter. Have one of the True Faith’s ships open it with a shot … and then leave. Yes, leaving that way would be dangerous—maneuvering out a shattered window into a transport. Yet, it was certainly less dangerous than waiting here.
No one else saw the answer, yet they all watched the same thing he had.
Walking down the hallway now, he finally slowed, catching his breath. He’d walked to the opposite side of the Globe, wanting to be far from Trinant’s office, and he had finally reached it. Glass windows lined the hallway in front of him. He saw no one else, and that was exactly what he wanted. Corinth was delivering everything just as it should be.
The First’s eyes lit green as he activated his nanotech. How much longer?
A minute or so passed, the First growing more impatient with each passing second.
Ten minutes, the Priest finally answered.
Connect me with the pilot.
Another second passed, then a new voice filled the First’s head.
Your Holiness, this is Captain Demure. The First Council’s Priest gave me your instructions about moving closer to the Globe, but has now put me in contact with you.
Finally, a man who sounded half-way competent.
Yes, the First Priest said, I’m sending you my location within this globe. I want you to come to it, and get me out.
A brief pause, and then, Get you out?
Yes. You’re going to shoot a hole in the window, drop down, and let me hop into the top of your transport.
A longer pause. The captain spoke hesitantly with his next words. I’ve received your location. Your Holiness, I just want to make sure I understand you clearly … you want me to fire on the Globe of One and then you’re going to jump into my transport.
The First Priest shook his head while he stared out the window at the end of the hall. The man might sound competent, but perhaps that was as far as it went. There is no other choice. I either do that, or I die in here. Do you understand?
The man’s training whipped into play and his voice returned to its original cadence. Yes, Your Holiness. My ETA is five minutes.
The First Priest walked down the hall, his eyes returning to their usual color. He got to the end and looked to the left and right, seeing no one on either side. He thought the ship could pretty much fire anywhere, as long as it was a little distant from the First, and then he would walk to the opening.
Minutes passed, and then he saw the ship drop down from above, coming into view. It hovered directly in front of the First Priest.
I see you, Your Holiness. I think I can safely fire at the other end of the hall, though there it will start a fire.
Hush, you fool, the First said, unable to withhold his anger any longer. No one but him had understood the situation since it began, and this man was no different. There will be a fire extinguishing system in here. Just shoot the damned window and then make sure you catch me when I jump.
Yes, Your Holiness.
The ship floated to the left, its nose still pointing at the windows.
The First Priest watched it go; Corinth be thanked, he was about to get out of this.
“What is going on?” Benten asked.
Yule stood from his chair, not knowing he did it. Benten had stood, too, no longer lying across the couch.
Only Trinant remained sitting.
“Where is that ship from?” Yule asked.
“It’s got to be one of his,” Trinant answered. “This one was sent separately. We’re not tracking it.”
“Where are the others?”
“They’ll be here in 10 minutes,” she said.
“What is he doing?” Benten asked.
Yule watched the Priest’s eyes light green briefly. “He’s talking to the pilot.”
And sure enough, the ship started moving down the row of windows, away from the Priest.
“No,” Trinant said, standing up now. “He can’t be that stupid.”
Yule thought he saw it at almost the exact same time.
“He doesn’t understand,” Trinant said. “He doesn’t have a clue because he’s lived maybe a week above ground. Same with that idiot pilot. They have no idea what they’re doing.”
The ship was going to fire on the globe, opening up a hole in it.
“The fool,” Yule whispered, seeing what the First Priest didn’t. Corinth may have been a brilliant engineer beneath ground, but his descendants didn’t understand air pressure. Louder, Yule said, “Can we stop him? Is it too late?”
A second passed, and then Trinant said, “I can try.”
“Don’t do it.”
The voice came from the ceiling, loud but not disguising the bitch it stemmed from.
“You’ll die if you do.”
The First Priest laughed; he didn’t know if Trinant or the other Ministers could hear him, but he didn’t care. Actually, he almost hoped they could.
You’ll die if you do.
Death wasn’t in the cards for the First Priest, at least not right now. He didn’t even bother saying anything back. His eyes lit green.
Fire, he told the pilot.
The turret on the ship’s nose burned bright green, and for a single moment, the First Priest wished he’d told the fool to tame it down some.
It was too late, though.
The First Priest watched as the green light bulged outward, for an instant looking like it might not actually fire—and then streaking across the air and colliding with the large window. The glass seemed to freeze, even as the laser obliterated the wall behind it. The window hung—in one piece—for an impossibly long second, and then the First Priest watched it fall. Tiny pieces of glass all dropping at once.
The First Priest had a moment to think, I wonder if that’s what snow looks like, and then the glass was ripped out into the sky.
Wind roared by the First Priest, stronger than anything he’d ever felt. It pulled his feet out from under him and he hit the floor sliding, being sucked toward the open window.
Most Holy! the pilot shouted through his nanotech.
Fire grew in front of him, though wind rushed them toward the smashed window. He grabbed at the floor around him, but found nothing to hold on to—his body continued sliding across the floor, the wind pulling him toward the exit he’d created.
He flipped over on his stomach, hoping he might be able to grab something firmer, but his fingers found no crevices to fix on.
“NO!” he screamed. “NO! NO! NO! NO!”
Over and over the words rolled from his mouth as he flew down the hallway, as if somehow his voice alone could stop everything happening. He drew closer to the flames, themselves whipping out the open window nearly as soon as they were born. Above him, the extinguishing system had activated, but the water flew to the window, not falling even two inches before hitting the sky.
“NO! NO! NO!”
And then, despite how far down the hall he’d been, the First Priest reached the window. He looked out for a split-second, seeing the pilot impossibly far away from the Globe, having no choice but to avoid the wind tunnel pouring from it.
The First’s legs went first, and he reached out, more desperate now than he’d ever been in his whole life—searching for anything that might save him.
His hand briefly touched the metal bar that suppo
rted the window, and for a brief moment, hope sprung alive in the First Priest’s mind.
Yes, Corinth!
His hand couldn’t possibly have enough strength to hold against such force, though, and the First Priest was sucked out of the Globe.
He fell much like the Prophet had; only he screamed the whole way down.
It was a long fall.
Thirteen
Nicki woke up expecting to see neon blue sky above her, but instead she saw smooth, white tile. She stared at it for a second, not understanding how the sky had changed so much.
Rules, Laurel’s voice said.
Her fingers pressed against the ground beneath her, but she realized it wasn’t ground—certainly not the smooth black glass from that other place. She was feeling floor tile, much like what she saw above her. Nicki’s vision expanded then, and as she looked to the left and right, she understood where she was.
A dark, all consuming depression grabbed her mind. She saw the box, the one that had been cast in blue light, but then lit up bright green. It looked dead now, the windows providing the hallway’s only light.
A skeleton, just as it had been before, but no life in its bones.
Nicki closed her eyes for a second.
It’d all just been a dream. Just some crazy damned dream. She hadn’t gone anywhere, and the people that were here with her …
Dad? she wondered, her eyes flashing open. She climbed to her feet, looking around the long hallway as she did. She saw nothing, only walls, windows, and the single door at the end.
“What did I do?” she asked, tears filling her eyes. “What did I do?”
She walked down the hallway to where she had seen the dark man, hoping maybe—somehow—that when she got to the end, she would see more. She didn’t.
It was a dream, she thought, a chill running down her torso. I killed them. All of them.
She heard no voice from another world, nothing telling her what to do. There was no fat man, nor thin one, in Priest’s robes now. No woman walking beside her on black glass. Maybe the voice had been nonsense, too. Just something in her head, driving her to protect herself from whatever the fat man wanted.