Gabriella dismissed such thoughts from her head and looked about her. Passively waiting for her in the pristine garden were nine winged figures, their faces hidden behind silver masks and clad identically in black and red robes emblazoned with an apple tree – Gabriella’s symbol. They bowed low as she walked up to them.
With a start, Felix recognized the figures. Even he, an outsider in Areopagite society had heard of the Ten Unholy Sefiroth of the Cabala. Sammael, as their leader, had the right to accompany Gabriella at all times.
Gamaliel, Gamchicoth, Chaigidiel, Golab, Harab, Serap, Lilith, Sathariel, Thaumiel, and Togarini each bowed in turn as Gabriella addressed them personally. They were Gabriella’s personal guard; her assassin’s and some said, her children.
“Secure the palace," she said. “As of now, the place is locked down. No one gets in or out. You nine will take personal command of the defenses."
The Unholy Sefiroth all bowed again, contriving to look subservient despite their arrogance. Satisfied, Gabriella, indicating that Sammael, Tynan and Felix should follow, made her way through the great entrance way.
Inside, the palace was sheer opulence as befitted a Princess of the Areopagites. The walls and ceilings were embedded with precious jewels; silver and gold appeared throughout, as common as more baser metals in less salubrious dwellings. Frieze’s filled any gaps, the predominant theme being Gabriella exerting her dominance and beauty over lesser mortals.
As they passed through the main entrance hall and other subsidiary chambers, Angels and Templars alike bowed low, some groveling on the floor in the presence of their ruler. Gabriella ignored them all, quickly moving through the rooms and corridors. Around them, Felix noticed that the décor was becoming more utilitarian as they penetrated deeper into the palace proper.
Finally, Gabriella stopped outside a thick metal door flanked by two heavily armed Hayyoth. Unlike the Hayyoth on Arabot, they were not smoking, Gabriella being less than tolerant of such aberrations in her servants.
She looked at Felix, a smile playing across her gorgeous features. “There’s something in here I think you’ll want to see."
“I doubt it," replied Felix sullenly. “Unless its a chopping block with your name on it."
“Suit yourself." She gestured at the Hayyoth who opened the doors wide so Felix could see within. Out of the corner of his eye, Felix could see Tynan smirking at him knowingly. He ignored the Templar. Just as well considering that Tynan had no idea what was going on either; his smirk intended to unsettle. If that was his intention, it was working admirably. Felix wasn’t just unsettled, he was downright scared.
Behind the doors, a large chamber was revealed. Inside lay various tanks filled with a murky liquid. Tubes and pipes connected the tanks with mysterious machinery of incomprehensible purpose. Even to Felix whose background was engineering, the machines remained a mystery. Curious despite himself, he cautiously walked into the room. Before him, a tank, displayed in the most prominent position in the room, began to clear, revealing its contents.
Felix gasped, staggered and would have fallen were it not for Sammael walking closely behind him. Floating within the tank and connected by various tubes, lay a figure that Felix would have recognized anywhere.
It was Crystal.
◊
“Years past,” said Asel conversationally, this palace was my fathers. “Before he ran off with my mother, he made a number of additions that even Gabriella is not aware of.”
“You hope," said Tarquin.
Asel ignored him. “I doubt whether this entrance way has been discovered by anyone since he left.”
They stood before the small stone door and looked around cautiously. Around them native trees stood in thick groves, almost entirely concealing the stone door at the base of the promontory. The park encompassed the entire east side of the land below Gabriella’s palace and not being in the palace grounds itself was not even guarded.
After gaining access to the shuttle, they had taken it down to Cabala’s spaceport, encountering little opposition from the Areopagite officials. Not surprising considering Asel’s new status and the prisoner they held between them. Requesting an AG transport, they used it to make their way to the park land. On the way, they had released Ram Terry who spent most of the time explaining and justifying his earlier actions.
Although not entirely trusting him, Logan, Tarquin, Walter and Bruce had decided that they needed every extra bit of help they could get. Asel didn’t get a vote because the others already knew he was a dodgy bastard.
Loaded down with weapons, the small group had spent the best part of an hour trying to find the concealed entrance; all the while attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible. Hard under the circumstances considering a sheep and a gorilla weren’t exactly commonplace on genetically intolerant Makon.
“What happens now?” asked Tarquin.
“Simple," said Asel. “The door was designed to only open to those of the first Hierarchy. All I have to do is exert my field strength and manipulate the lock within.”
They all waited for Asel to continue. When he didn’t, Bruce decided to prompt him. “Go on then," he said.
Asel looked perplexed. “I just did. Nothing happened.”
“Well then, try again," said Logan. “Perhaps its broken. As you said, its been years since anyone opened it."
Asel nodded. He closed his eyes, obviously trying mightily, veins popping out in his neck as he extended his field in an effort to open the lock. After another minute, he opened his eyes again. Sweat beaded his forehead.
“It won’t budge.”
“Well, its going to have to," hissed Walter urgently, looking around and peering between the trees. “Some guards are coming this way and I doubt whether they’ll give us a warning for loitering if they find us here.”
“Why don’t we try together Asel?," suggested a small voice at Asel’s feet.
“What?," said the Watcher, looking down at the diminutive four legged creature below him.
“If we try together, we have a much better chance of opening the door," repeated Ram Terry.
A part of Asel wanted to laugh. How could this sheep help him? However, he had underestimated Ram Terry before to his cost. He shrugged.
“Why not? Its worth a shot. But I warn you," he said, holding up a cautionary finger, “follow my lead and do not try and interfere with any other systems. There are other security measures in place here than just the lock.”
Ram Terry nodded his assent and the two unlikely allies closed their eyes. Moments later an audible click was heard, accompanied by sounds of satisfaction by both sheep and Watcher.
Hurriedly gesturing towards the others, Asel ushered them into the pitch black opening. The guards in the park lands beyond walked over to investigate the noise and arrived in time to see Bruce disappearing and the door closing behind him.
Inside, it was darker than night.
“Stay here,” said Asel. “And do not move. There’s meant to be a light around here somewhere," he muttered.
The others could hear him rustling around and then a muffled curse as he crashed into something. Bruce unsuccessfully suppressed a throaty chuckle as Asel uttered a further string of curses. Moments later the lights came on revealing a wide rock corridor stacked with crates covered with cobwebs. Dark alcoves periodically broke the monotony of the rock walls on either side; dark silhouettes only hinting at their contents.
“You’re not wrong,” said Logan. “This place hasn’t been used in decades.”
Asel, standing at a recessed panel beside the door and surrounded by overturned crates glanced in Logan’s direction.
“Yes,” he said. “The last time was when my father made his hasty exit." As he talked, he typed in a series of codes into the primitive keypad. “There," he said with a satisfied nod. “I’ve disabled all the security precautions in the corridor. It should be safe to continue now.”
“You better hope so,” growled Tarquin. “Any sign
of betrayal and this Afer gets emptied in your arse.” He patted his weapon and gave Asel a significant look.
Asel sneered at him by way of reply and then pointedly ignoring him, began walking down the corridor.
The others followed, looking around warily.
“What’s in these alcoves?," asked Logan as they passed one of the openings.
“In my father’s day," began Asel conversationally, “they were used as tombs. Some of my ancestors probably lie here although I think Gabriella has probably discontinued the practice.”
“Figures," said Tarquin. “The only person dead or alive that Gabriella cares about is Gabriella.”
They continued in silence for some time, the journey uneventful until Walter disturbed a group of bat analogs when he overturned a crate. Caught off guard and uttering a less than manly squeak, he fired a shot, the noise reverberating throughout the entire length of the corridor. The others turned and glared at him.
Looking guilty, Walter averted his eyes, muttering an apology.
Finally, after what seemed to be hours, but which, according to their AI’s was less than one, the corridor widened into a massive rock chamber. At the far end, a small light glowed, revealing an AG lift below it.
Nearby on crates illuminated by the light lounged a group of Templars. They looked up as the small group made its noisy entrance into the echoing chamber.
The Templars jumped to their feet. “Stay where you are," ordered the commander, his yell bouncing off the walls. Around him his men gathered their weapons and began striding purposefully towards them.
“Looks like we were expected," whispered Asel to the others. “Stay here. I’ll handle this.” Without waiting for a reply and surrounded by a glowing blue field, he extended his wings and launched himself in the direction of the Templars, sword drawn and held ready.
The Templars, unprepared for an Angelic assault and lacking Afers, fired their plasma cannons desperately as Asel rapidly closed the 100 meter gap between them. Landing, he beheaded two in one smooth stroke, the return cut disemboweling a third. The remaining 5, including their commander, turned and ran, not even getting to the lift before Asel cut them down. By the time the others caught up with him, Asel was sitting on a crate, cleaning his sword with a piece of cloth torn from one of the Templars tunics and smiling happily.
As they reached him, the AG lift chimed and opened. Three Angelic figures in red and black robes stepped out.
◊
Widely intolerant towards genetic manipulation in others, the Areopagites did not apply the same standards to themselves. Outside observers acknowledged that the hypocrisy observed in Areopagite society was, ironically, probably genetically inbred.
The practice of eugenics was commonplace as was outright genetic tinkering, resulting in the long lived, statuesque and winged aristocracy. The commingling of Shiva DNA with humans, one of the Areopagites best kept secrets, had resulted in physically superior humans possessed of godlike powers. Homo Superior never looked so good.
The highest hierarchies of Areopagite society - the Cherubim and Seraphim - were created by a highly planned and coordinated eugenics programme. Those Angels produced were used as breeding stock for yet more powerful creations, regardless of the sexual predilections possessed by their donors. The Archangel Michael was a fine example; he’d already engendered some 130 sons and daughters despite or perhaps in spite of his lust for boy’s bottoms.
While all this procreating was going on, Areopagite technicians continued to further develop and refine their practices, stealing DNA when they could not procure it by more socially acceptable means. In an effort to compete with such underhanded techniques, the Shepherds had resorted to the same tactics, stealing a fertilized ovum from the Areopagites when the project was in its infancy.
This fertilized ovum, brought to term in an exowomb, was raised and nurtured by the Shepherds. The child grew into a beautiful woman possessed of powers at least equal to those of the first hierarchy: Crystal.
Unbeknownst to the Shepherds, the Areopagites had replicated the same ovum, bringing their version of Crystal up in somewhat different circumstances. Her body had been grown in a sensory deprived regrowth tank, designed so the body developed in a normal way while leaving the mind a blank slate. Using the transplanter techniques, the brain from a suitable willing and pliable candidate would be inserted into the mindless body, integrating with those higher brain functions of the host body. What the Areopagites hoped to achieve was total integration, enabling the inserted brain to inherit the latent field generative and Shiva controlling abilities possessed by the host.
Gabriella had intended to use this body as a prototype, testing and refining the technique for later use on herself. Even though she still had at least another 100 years of life, Gabriella had seen fit to put plans in place for her eventual demise. If the process worked; enabling the mind to use all the powers possessed by the host’s mind, Gabriella would transplant her brain into a clone of herself and achieve immortality. Every time one body grew old, she would simply replace it.
That had been the plan. Now that Felix had arrived, the mindless body of what appeared to be Crystal could be used as leverage to gain the Overdrive. Felix didn’t need to know that it wasn’t the Crystal he knew and loved. That Crystal was dead according to Sammael. Her death, it would seem, had served a greater purpose than just satisfying Sammael’s need to salve his already grossly inflated ego.
Gabriella considered such things while watching a number of emotions flutter over the face of Felix. A combination of joy and remorse were the more prominent ones as he stood, motionless, before the tank containing the body of Crystal.
“Why is she in there?” he murmured, gazing into the murky depths at the face he knew so well.
Gabriella took a breath and began the charade that would eventually give her the Overdrive. “When we captured her, she proved to be, shall we say, less than willing to co-operate. In fact, so great is her power that we struggled to contain her. Eventually she was subdued and we placed her in this tank.”
Felix looked up, an unspoken question on his face. Gabriella nodded and smiled. “Yes, she is unquestionably alive. The tank keeps her in stasis, enabling her body to function while her mind is quiescent.” She moved closer to Felix and reached out a hand to place gently on his shoulder, slowly moving it down to rest against his chest. He shuddered but did not resist.
“Its a simple matter to revive her," she said soothingly, whispering in a seductive voice that had captivated so many. “In return, I only want one little thing from you. Give me this and she will be yours again. Can you guess what it is?” While she spoke, she moved gradually closer until her lips were almost pressed up against his ear.
Felix nodded blankly. “The Overdrive," he said numbly.
“Yes,” whispered Gabriella huskily. “Can you imagine having Crystal back? To hold her in your arms again? To kiss her? To make love?” She drew back slightly to observe the man’s reaction. His eyes were fluttering and she could feel his heartbeat race against her hand.
“I’ll do it,” he said, his eyes never leaving the tank. “Get her out of there and its yours."
◊
“Sathariel, Thaumiel, and Togarini. To what do we owe this pleasure?," asked Asel pleasantly, facing the three Unholy Sefiroth.
How Asel managed to identify them personally was anyone’s guess considering all three wore masks. Two of them stepped towards Asel while the other placed himself in front of Asel’s more mortal companions.
“Your death," answered one of the two facing Asel.
In a movement that was so synchronized as to appear almost laughably rehearsed, the three drew their swords, engaging their fields so that the large chamber was dimly lit by three human sized blue suns. The action would have almost been funny were it not for their obvious intent. Two advanced on Asel, forcing him to activate his own fields and bring his sword up to parry the vicious blows they rained upon him.
&nbs
p; To the others watching, the blades were almost too quick to follow as the three leaped and twirled, striking and counter striking in a bewildering and dazzling display of swordsmanship. Finally, after what was only seconds, Asel stepped back out of sword range with a satisfied grin. The two Sefiroth looked down. Both were leaking blood from minor cuts to legs and arms.
Thaumiel, the third Sefiroth, had watched the fight with some interest, all the while keeping a cautious eye on Asel’s companions. He turned his full attention back to the two humans and their pets just in time to catch a plasma blast on the chest. The blast splashed harmlessly against his blue aurora, the run off creating droplets of molten plasma which started to eat away at the rock beneath his feet. He laughed and advanced towards them, enjoying the look of fear on their stupid faces. Something niggled in the back of his mind.
Wasn’t there four of them? He paused, a look of uncertainty hidden under his mask as he turned around.
“Looking for me?” asked Tarquin as he fired his Afer directly at Thaumiel’s head. The glowing bolt surrounded the Angel, blazing for a second before dying out just as quickly. Thaumiel emerged unscathed but minus a protective blue shield. He stood bewildered and subdued for a moment, quickly regaining his composure to charge Tarquin, brandishing his sword and roaring in what he hoped was an intimidating fashion. Three plasma cannons cut him down, reducing him to large globules of smoking flesh. Feathers from his wings floated down to sizzle upon the glowing floor.
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