“I thought there was meant to be no smoking on duty?” she said raising one eyebrow.
Both guards shifted uncomfortably. Nervously, one of the guards spoke up.
“I beg your pardon Princess. The Demiurge himself has decreed that as Angels of Fire we should carry some item representing our namesake. He, umm, suggested we smoke.”
“Hmmm.” Gabriella looked dubious. Another sign that Metatron was loosing it.
“Ah. Umm, the Demiurge is expecting you Princess. Go right in.”
The two guards pushed open the golden doors and hastily moved aside to allow Gabriella to pass.
Striding into the room, Gabriella glanced around, familiarizing herself with the throne room. She hadn’t been here since the last Angelic Council, six months ago. The room at the heart of the Areopagite empire was 80 meters long and 20 wide. Twenty golden pillars on each side supported an arched ceiling rising 30 meters into the air. In between each pillar stood a Guardian Angel – the Demiurge’s personal body guard. Scenes were depicted on the walls in classical style representing Angelic scenes from Biblical history. A recreation of Michelangelo's last judgment from the Sistine Chapel covered the ceiling. Some whispered that it was the original, having been removed before Rome was destroyed in 2280.
The far end of the chamber was dominated by a massive golden throne. A depiction of God in the stained glass window directly above channeled sunlight onto the throne causing golden sparkles to radiate to all corners of the room. Seated at a small conference table to one side and below the throne sat the Demiurge Metatron and the Archangel Michael. They were surrounded by a dozen Ministering Angels playing a variety of musical instruments. All were beautiful females. Judging by their playing, Gabriella thought they’d been chosen for their looks rather than musical aptitude.
Metatron, looking up at Gabriella’s approach, snapped his fingers. The Ministering Angels immediately stopped playing, packed up their instruments and left the throne room. Both he and Michael stood to welcome her.
Ritually embracing each other and murmuring “peace be with you," Metatron gestured for Gabriella and Michael to take a seat. Gabriella smelt alcohol on Metatron’s breath.
Sitting, Metatron took a long swig from a wine goblet on the table before activating the sound buffer. The buffer would ensure that their conversation didn’t carry to the guardian angels who were notorious gossips.
The ruler of the Areopagites for the last 100 years, the King of Angels, Prince of Princes and foremost amongst the Archangels, had the appearance of an extremely good looking male in his middle years complete with a well trimmed silver beard. He was also drunk as a monkey.
The edges of Metatron’s pure white robes were edged with golden flames. According to the third book of Enoch, Metatron was once a man who was transformed into an Angel because of his righteousness. God then blessed him 1,365,000 times, made him the size of Earth, and then bestowed 72 wings and 365,000 eyes upon him. Even if it was genetically possibly, it would have been quite messy to take the Book of Enoch literally. Instead, the Areopagites had settled for making a crown out of precious substances representing all of the blessings of god. Even so, perched slightly askance upon Metatron’s head, it was a busy and convoluted affair, the eyes battling with the wings for attention. Gabriella found her attention wondering towards it.
When one Metatron died, ruling Seraphim and Cheraphim vied for the position, battling it out in non terminal contests to determine who would next lead the Areopagites and wear the crown. Gabriella was confident it would be her when the time came, although her bookie told her that Michael was currently the odds on favorite.
“Welcome sister." Metatron’s voice was loud, deep, commanding and slightly slurred. His bearded face smiled broadly. Gabriella forced her eyes away from the crown and looked into Metatron’s eyes.
“Thank you my Demiurge. Once again it is a pleasure to be in your presence and that of my divine brother." Gabriella tried unsuccessfully not to smirk.
Metatron’s smile faded to be replaced by a look of distaste.
“Spare us the horseshit Gabe. I bought you both here to discuss a matter of extreme importance to us."
“Oh?." Gabriella’s face revealed nothing but innocent surprise.
Metatron took another swig from his goblet and tried to hide the irritation he felt. Gabriella really did grate sometimes. “And don’t look surprised either. I know you’ve taken a interest in the Overdrive."
Gabriella paused. Looks like there was another spy in her camp. Some sort of purging would be in order when she got back to Makon. She felt herself smiling at the thought.
“Yes Demiurge."
“That’s better. Michael here will brief you on the current situation."
Gabriella turned her attention to Michael. Probably the most famous Angel of the Areopagite’s, Michael’s appearance was very similar to that of Metatron, minus the beard. His gold breastplate, trimmed with red and yellow, depicted an Olive and Almond tree interwoven together.
Michael, like Metatron, was of the most powerful order in the Seven Heavens. The Seraphim, traditionally only 4 in number, had consisted of Metatron, Michael, Serapiel and Uriel. Uriel had disappeared without trace 8 months ago. Three months ago, Serapiel, during a skirmish with the Watchers, had been sucked out into vacuum following a hull breach and subsequently zapped by a Trireme’s field disruptor and heavy plasma cannon. Apparently there hadn’t been enough of Serapiel left to make a decent sandwich. None of the Cheraphim, including Gabriella, had stepped forward as yet for advancement.
Gabriella gave Michael a smile that had caused many a lesser male to leave an unsightly stain in their pants. “Have you missed me Mickey boy”?
Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “About as much as a snake in my underpants. If you don’t mind, can I get on with the briefing”?
Gabriella’s smile never faltered. “Of course."
“As you undoubtedly know, a company in the Camus system, Nebula Inc, on the asteroid Coleridge, has reportedly developed a revolutionary new star drive known as the Overdrive. We intercepted company reports, distributed to an as yet unknown owner or owners, stating that, as of two weeks ago, the Overdrive had been successfully tested. This technology has the ability to travel between stars faster, circumventing the Shiva. We all know what the implications will be for our current exploration and navigation monopoly." He gave Gabriella a significant look. She nodded dutifully to show she was paying attention.
“Metatron and I,” he continued, “have dispatched a Galley, with a full compliment of Templars and led by Simbiel…”
“That moron! He’s incapable of tact. The only thing he’s good for is for chopping up things into small bits."
Michael, ignoring the interruption from Gabriella, sailed on.
“…led by Simbiel to obtain a working prototype. Simbiel arrived too late. Another party arrived before him, destroying the prototype, seemingly by mistake - at least that’s what our sources assumed, and turning the employees of Nebula Inc into greasy spots on the floor. It seems however, that the senior designer, one Felix Teppitt, managed to escape and is now on board a Hedonist starcruiser bound for Revel. Simbiel is about to give chase."
Gabriella nodded again, trying not to show her surprise. She’d known that Felix had escaped but had not known his means or destination.
“It is imperative," continued Michael, “that we get our hands on this technology. If it falls into the hands of the Watchers or any other powerful group then we will lose our pre-eminence in this part of the galaxy. To this end, and unknown to our fellow members of the Angelic Council, we intend to dispose of this technology. If we cannot obtain it for ourselves, we will destroy it utterly.”
Gabriella was perplexed. “Two questions. Why not share this with the rest of the council and why get me involved when you and Metatron sound like you’ve got things under control”?
Before Michael could answer, Metatron, goblet in hand, took control of th
e situation in classic drunk style.
“Why! Because the rest of the council is composed of damn fools." Metatron gesticulated with the hand carrying the goblet. Red wine stains appeared on his robe. Some droplets splashed onto the table, narrowly missing Gabriella. Unseen by Metatron, Michael rolled his eyes. Gabriella tried not to giggle.
Metatron, seemingly oblivious to the damage he’d done to his robe and table, went on. “If we told the rest of the council about the potential of the Overdrive, the idiots will want to use it for themselves."
Noticing that Metatron’s goblet was now largely empty, Michael refilled it. Metatron, distracted and intently watching Michael refill his goblet, trailed off. Michael smoothly continued for him.
“Basically, by sounding out other members of the council, we have discovered that the resounding vote would be to use this technology to further exploit our current monopoly on Shiva controlled trade routes. Metatron, myself, and to some extent, you Gabriella, are proponents of keeping this technology under wraps for the foreseeable future. If we start utilizing ships with the Overdrive installed, then sooner or later one will crash or be captured and our monopoly disappears overnight."
Michael paused to look at Metatron. The Demiurge was busy trying to remove stains on his robe using saliva and his finger. “We’ve got you involved Gabe because not only do you share our goal but you also have access to contacts and resources that we lack."
Gabriella knew where Michael was going with this. “When you say resources, you are of course referring to my Valkyries."
Michael smiled. “Bit transparent really. The Valkyries we’re hoping will only be used as a last resort in case the Overdrive should elude Simbiel."
Gabriella stopped to consider. Her twelve Valkyries were the most powerful battleships in the known galaxy. Makon’s defense budget for the last twenty years had been spent in development and construction of these ships and she wasn’t about to risk one unless it was absolutely necessary.
“Unfortunately all of my Valkyries are currently engaged on other assignments although I might be able to help you when and if the time comes."
Michael knew that Gabriella wouldn’t risk her precious ships unless she thought she would gain some sort of advantage from it. “Of course, if we should capture the Overdrive data, allowances could be made for a few ships of the fleet to possess the technology."
“Really?” Gabriella feigned mock surprise and her voice dripped sarcasm. “Gee, I hadn’t thought of that myself. That’s a novel idea. Now you put it that way I feel confident that I will be able to devote at least one Valkyrie should that simpleton Simbiel fail in his task."
“That sounds acceptable," replied Michael.
Metatron clapped his hands and stood, somewhat shakily.
“Right then. If we’ve finished up here, I’ve got an important appointment with two of those lovely Ministering Angels. Michael, great to see you as always. Gabe, I take it you’ll be off back to Makon.”
“Yes Demiurge."
“Good. See you in six months." With that, Metatron, staggering slightly, walked up to the throne and disappeared through the door hidden behind it.
“Looks like its just you and me Mickey boy," Gabriella said saucily.
Michael rolled his eyes again. “Don’t start Gabe."
“Why not? I’ve been telling you for years that an alliance, both politically and physically, is just what we need at the moment. Especially the physical." She winked.
“Gabe," Michael sighed, “how many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested in any sort of alliance. When Metatron passes on, I am fully confident that I have the power and ability to succeed him. Besides, I’m not interested in women."
Gabriella was constantly surprised by Michael’s confidence in his own abilities. That was what made him so attractive.
“Well, you’re full of yourself today. I wouldn’t be as confident as that if I were you. I may have some surprises yet to show you.” She paused and let her frustration and irritation show. “I take it you’re still seeing that Angelic pretty boy?
Michael showed surprise. She must have some spies pretty close to him. “How did you know”?
Gabriella smirked. “I have my sources." She pouted to show her displeasure.
“What in hell has he got that I haven’t?”
Reflecting, she added “apart from the obvious. I swallow and I’ll even take it up the arse for you. What more do you want?”
Michael flinched. “Is there any need to be quite so crude. And for your information, I require someone with strong moral character, a kind heart, incorruptible and lacking political motives. Being male and not a dirty whore helps as well."
“Who are you calling a whore? I just like to enjoy myself, that’s all. Look, when the old fart kicks the bucket, there’s going to be a lot of reshuffling and upheaval in the ranks. We’re gonna need each other, obviously withstanding the sex bit; I’ve got the cunning and guile, you’ve got a practical mind geared for administration."
“And yours is geared for sin," Michael muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I’ve heard rumors Gabe. Bad ones.”
“Such as?” Gabriella reverted to her innocent girlish persona.
“You’ve gone against the proscription and are having sex with common Templars."
“So? What of it? Makon is my world and I can fuck whoever and however I like on it.”
Michael enjoyed watching the indignation and defensiveness on Gabriella’s face.
“Yes, but it goes against the Proscription. The Watchers left 100 years ago because of that. Carrying on the way you are makes you no different to them. You know the rules. What sort of precedent do you think you’re setting? Angels are forbidden to have sexual congress with non Angelic beings. The Watchers left because they couldn’t agree on that one rule. If you feel so strongly about it, maybe you should join them.”
Annoyance crossed Gabriella’s perfect features. “And so its alright for you to fuck little boys”
“He’s not a little boy. He’s over 40 and he is of Angel stature. There is nothing in the Proscription that forbids it."
“Yeah, but what about the bible?”
“In the bible it states that all Angels are pure in body, heart and mind. I think we both fail on a couple of counts. Face it. We’re no angels.” Both Gabriella and Michael smiled at the irony.
“Anyway, just forget it Gabe," Michael continued, “what we should be concentrating on is that bloody Overdrive. Our priorities at the moment should be to recover it. If someone else gets that, then either one of us won’t have an empire to manage when Metatron goes. I think we should both co-operate and pool our resources to secure this. Any other approach would be sheer stupidity."
“Oh great. So you won’t agree to an alliance once Metatron goes but you want one now.” Michael opened his mouth in an attempt to protest. Gabriella forestalled him. “Oh alright. Agreed." Despite their differences, Gabriella knew some sort of co-operation would be required in order to obtain the Overdrive. Besides, this meeting had already served its purpose. She was now in possession of Felix’s whereabouts – information she had not known previously. “The deal still stands Mickey. If required, one of my Valkyries will be ready to intervene.”
“Thank you Gabriella." Michael relaxed and commanded his AI to turn off the buffer field. “Now if you’d excuse me, I’ve got an urgent meeting with my bookie. One of my horses is running today.”
Standing and giving Gabriella a perfunctory peck on the cheek, Michael departed via the same exit as Metatron.
Gabriella watched him leave. She’d have to do something about him when this was all over. For the time being he was useful and for some reason she had a soft spot for him in her otherwise unsentimental heart. The Overdrive was the key. Once she had that in her possession, it would be time for her to make her play.
With thoughts of galactic domination going through her head, Gabriella made h
er way through the palace corridors. Taking an AG lift down, she exited at the Space port level and was met in the foyer by her private guard consisting of 12 burly and uniformly ruggedly handsome Templars and the Angel Sammael, her assistant. The 12 Templars fanned out to surround her and with Sammael falling in at her side, Gabriella strode towards her docking bay. Gabriella had chosen her Templars personally, requiring loyalty, good looks, an amorous nature, and downright, unadulterated stupidity.
The Space port foyer was a massive and impressive edifice. Constructed primarily of marble and supported by huge Ionic columns, it presented the cold, holy, awe inspiring and hard face of Areopagite society to off world visitors. Millions visited the Areopagites capital planet each year. Some were on holy pilgrimages, some came representing trade or exploratory interests, and still others came to stare in open mouth astonishment at a world filled with beautiful angelic creatures. Many were doing just that –gazing at Gabriella in reverential awe as her Templars pushed their way through the crowd. Some, getting too close, were trampled underfoot.
“How did it go?," inquired Sammael.
“Better than expected. I have some information you need to pass onto our mutual friend. Our quarry is now on board the Hedonist ship Dirty Little Minx, bound for Revel. It seems Metatron and Michael were more resourceful than we’d planned. Simbiel’s been assigned to track them down."
“Simbiel! I’m surprised that boy knows which end of his sword to hit things with.”
“That, dear Sammael," she said patting his arm, “is precisely why they sent him. And for all his stupidity, he seems to be closer to the Overdrive than we are."
Gabriella glanced at Sammael reproachfully. Like all Angels in the middle hierarchy, Sammael was handsome, blond, muscular, clad in white robes and had glowing blue eyes. He had been with her for close to 50 years after she elevated him to Angel status. She’d found him on one of the outlying Areopagite controlled worlds, rapidly establishing a reputation and a small empire with skill, ruthlessness, violence and depravity – many of the attributes she admired. He shared her ambition, was happy to get his hands dirty and was a decent bed wrestling partner when required.
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