Bane of the Dead (Seraphim Revival Book 1)

by Jacob Holo

  Seth glided across the small world’s surface, past hidden doorways that led into the sensitive interiors of the Core where the seraph factories and the Choir dwelt. He skimmed across towering buildings dwarfed by the pyramid before him.

  Seth spotted the landing platform: a thin strand of silver vaulting out of the pyramid’s side. The platform stood large enough to accommodate scores of craft and whole squadrons of seraphs, yet it appeared insignificant next to the Palace.

  The long silver arm ended in a bulbous circle equipped with all manner of docking stations. Already, dozens of vessels were moored across its circumference. Seth spotted two gleaming silver seraphs among them.

  “The Renseki are here,” Quennin said, slowing for the final approach.

  The seraphs used by the six Renseki pilots all shared a common design. Their armor shone like sculpted silver. Ornate lines swirled, twisted, and formed delicate curlicues across their bodies and wings. One seraph stood taller than the other, its ornamental lines more prolific.

  “There’s Mezen’s,” Seth said.

  “The other one must be Zo’s,” Quennin said. “I doubt the twins or the old guard would be called in without those two.”

  Seth pulled above a vacant seraph dock and eased down until his feet touched the ground. He retracted his wings behind his back.

  He pushed the seraph out of his mind, wiggled his own arms, blinked his own eyes. The cockpit receded and opened. He climbed out of the pilot alcove and walked onto the landing platform.

  Seth looked up, finding a perfect simulacrum of early morning sky where the planetary engines had been. To his right, Quennin’s seraph dipped down, made contact with the dock and locked into place. Seth walked over to meet her.

  Quennin stepped out of the seraph and glanced over at the Renseki seraphs.

  “First an unexplained summons from Vorin,” Quennin said. “And now the Renseki show up. Something big is going on.”

  “So it would seem,” Seth said.

  An automated aircar stopped in front of the two pilots. Low doors opened, stairs extended, and the two pilots boarded the oval, open canopy craft. A local gravity field energized around the vehicle, and it took off, swooping along the circumference of the landing platform and traveling across the long arm towards the Sovereign’s Palace. Though the car accelerated harshly, Seth and Quennin felt none of it.

  The aircar sped through the twenty-story archway at the far end of the connecting arm and took them into the Palace’s labyrinthine interior. Other cars zipped by as short glimpses of color.

  The car quickly arrived at the Sovereign’s private residence, deep within the Palace. Seth and Quennin exited the automated car, which promptly took off to assist other travelers.

  A great foyer opened up before them, wide and tall and supported by a dozen fluted columns. Tiny white, silver, and black tiles covered the floor with intricate curling patterns that led the eye towards three staircases.

  Quennin grinned when she saw who had waited for them. A petite woman leaned against a column, possessing friendly blue eyes and long black hair woven in a complex braid. She wore the traditional long coat of the Renseki with its numerous flourishes of silver curls.

  Zo Nezrii looked up. She smiled brightly and waved.

  “Quennin! Seth! Good to see you two.”

  “Always a pleasure, Zo,” Seth said. “Though I wish I knew why we’re here.”

  “Any idea what this is all about?” Quennin asked.

  Zo shook her head. “Not a clue. Vorin and the Choir wanted to wait until you two arrived.”

  Seth grimaced. “What would the Sovereign reserve for us that he wouldn’t tell you?”

  “Good question. Let’s find out.” Zo led the way up the central staircase.

  They walked by servants and Aktenai dignitaries busying themselves with duties large and small. All of them stopped and inclined their necks until the pilots had passed. Seth noted the absence of Earth Nation citizens within the palace.

  “Yonu is doing well, by the way,” Quennin said.

  “Oh, is she?” Zo asked.

  “Top of her class in scholastics.”

  “That’s my girl. What about combat?”

  “She’s in the top third,” Quennin said.

  “Let me guess,” Zo said. “Tevyr still has the highest marks.”

  “Of course,” Seth said.

  “Well, I can’t complain about that,” Zo said. “I suppose I should find time to see her, but Vorin likes to keep us busy.”

  They proceeded upstairs and through three more doorways and checkpoints until finally coming to the Sovereign’s control room. A white tiled floor gave way to black walls and a black ceiling. Two men stood with their backs to the entrance, both looking at the array of images covering the far wall. Fleets, places, and persons of interest all bore the scrutiny of the Sovereign and his chief lieutenant.

  Sovereign Vorin Daelus and Renseki Mezen Daed faced the three pilots entering the control room.

  Vorin clasped his hands in the small of his back. He was tall and gaunt, with ghost white hair and dark eyes. Though two centuries of service had taken their toll, his face remained unravaged by time. He wore a uniform similar to the Renseki, but with gold instead of silver highlights.

  Mezen Daed stood like a slab of muscle to the Sovereign’s left. With his grim demeanor, Mezen made Vorin look cuddly. Just below the edges of his cuffs and above his uniform collar, Seth could make out the jagged lines of scars: souvenirs from his Grendeni captors.

  Seth could remember Mezen as a loud-mouthed braggart, back when they were both young and impulsive pilots trying to earn names for themselves. Now, Mezen rarely spoke, and when he did speak it was almost always to either Zo or Vorin.

  Seth, Quennin, and Zo dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

  “Please rise, pilots,” Vorin said. “We have much to go over and little time.”

  “How may we be of service, Sovereign?” Seth asked, standing. It may have been his imagination, but Mezen’s and Vorin’s expressions seemed darker than normal.

  Vorin cleared his throat and gestured to the arrayed images behind him. Screens flickered to new shapes. At first Seth thought the images showed crippled seraphs or perhaps seraphs under construction. However, he soon realized these flayed copper skeletons deviated too heavily from existing seraph designs.

  “We all know the Grendeni have reverse-engineered parts of seraphs recovered in battle,” Vorin said. “We also know that the Grendeni managed to capture one seraph nearly intact.”

  One of the screens showed images of a ferocious battle within the atmosphere of a gas giant. Seth, Quennin, and a powerful white seraph fought against four hostile seraphs, their systems corrupted by a Grendeni agent. Three were recovered during the battle, and the fourth pilot was eventually returned to Aktenzek through a prisoner exchange.

  “It was inevitable that the Grendeni would duplicate seraph technology,” Vorin said. “But we had hoped they would find our pilots more difficult to match. Despite the odds, our Fallen brothers and sisters have jumpstarted their own pilot breeding program.”

  Seth glanced over at Mezen. The man’s stoic expression was unreadable.

  “Behold the Grendeni archangel,” Vorin said. Several screens merged, revealing a strange seraph-like machine in crisp detail. The edge of its long sword blazed with light.

  Seth stepped closer and took in the image. “No armor. No weapon pods. Only two drive shunts. This is very different from our seraphs. Is that sword acting as a chaos energy conductor?”

  “That’s correct,” Vorin said. “It appears the Grendeni have made an advance we lack. We’re still analyzing its capabilities, but it could make these archangels very dangerous in close combat.”

  The display flicked to a new image showing the vast cylindrical girth of a Grendeni colonial schism. Several small specks of copper light maneuvered in the space around it.

  “The Grendeni schism Righteous Anger.” Vorin
let out a disdainful snort at the name. “This schism appears to be the base of operations for the archangel field tests.”

  “Is one of our exodrones tracking the schism?” Quennin asked.

  “No. I will elaborate on that point in a moment,” Vorin said. The single external feed switched to what had to be an industrial area within the schism. Row after row of archangels were lined up outside a factory that curved with the schism’s inner wall.

  “How did we ever get images from inside the schism?” Seth asked.

  “That is why I have requested your presence here,” Vorin said. “Pilot Elexen. Pilot S’Kev. The source of these images is Pilot Jack Donolon.”

  “WHAT?” Quennin exclaimed. “I beg your pardon, Sovereign, but did I hear you correctly?”

  “Yes, Pilot S’Kev. After all this time, we have received our first contact with Pilot Donolon.”

  Quennin clasped Seth’s hand tightly. Their eyes met. “Jack’s back,” she whispered, smiling excitedly.

  Seth didn’t know what he felt. Joy, of course. The three of them had grown close in the years before Jack’s departure. But Seth had long given up hope of seeing him again. He felt numb with emotions he had buried long ago and forgotten.

  “It would be good to see him again,” Seth whispered, then said aloud, “What is he doing on a Grendeni schism?”

  “Apparently, he convinced them he has defected over to their forces,” Vorin said. “Pilot Donolon used his relationship with the traitor Dominic Haeger to gain their trust.”

  Zo smirked. “Now that is clever. And rather typical of the Grendeni. So quick to betray. So quick to assume betrayal in others.”

  “Is it possible he really has defected?” Seth asked. Out the corner of his eye he saw Quennin shaking her head. True, Seth found it almost impossible to suspect Jack of treachery. However, circumstances warranted an explanation.

  “I do admit this behavior upon his return is unusual,” Vorin said. “The Choir suspects he has a personal goal in this. After all, none of us know why he originally left. But at this time the Choir can see no possible motives for treachery.”

  Vorin looked to Seth and Quennin expectantly, but the two pilots merely shook their heads.

  “We have been separated for too long, Sovereign,” Seth said. “I can offer no insight.”

  “Of course. Regardless, his actions have proven quite advantageous to us. We now possess considerable data on the archangel program. In fact, he is scheduled to give us an update momentarily.”

  Quennin squeezed Seth’s hand. Seth knit his fingers with hers and squeezed back.

  “Could these messages be faked?” Zo asked.

  “Doubtful,” Vorin said. “Hypercast codes match Pilot Donolon’s personal seraph. To fake these transmissions, the Grendeni would have to capture his seraph intact. A daunting task indeed.”

  Quennin leaned over and whispered into Seth’s ear. “We’re going to see Jack again.”

  Seth smiled, letting some of his own excitement leak through. Indeed, he was probably happier than Quennin to hear he’d returned. Seventeen years had passed since Jack’s sudden and unexplained departure from the solar system.

  Seth recalled his last conversation with Jack aboard the Scion of Aktenzek. Jack had seemed distraught, perhaps even frightened. The three previous years had been painful for Jack. Psychological scars from the merger with his seraph ran deep, but Seth and Quennin had supported him every step of the way. Those trials had brought the three of them amazingly close together.

  And so it was a shock when Jack departed on his sabbatical without explanation and forbade his friends from following. Though it pained them to see him go, Seth and Quennin had honored that request. Seth had long suspected it was more a quest of self-discovery for Jack than a search for something tangible.

  What did you go searching for? he wondered. What did you find that brought you back?

  The complex eye of screens merged into an image of Jack in his pilot uniform.

  “Sovereign Daelus, I…” Jack realized who else was in the room. A thousand emotions played across his face.

  Seth dipped his head slightly. “It is good to see you again.”

  “Very good to see you again, Jack,” Quennin said.

  Jack grinned tentatively. “Seth? Quennin? Wow, look at you two! Look at you guys, all grown up. It took me a moment to recognize you. Hell, it’s fantastic to see you two again! I wish I had time to say more, but I must be brief. The Grendeni will get suspicious if I take too long.”

  “Of course, we understand,” Quennin said. “There will be other chances to catch up.”

  “Sovereign, the archangels are being readied for deployment. I think around twenty pilots are here on the Righteous Anger, but more will arrive in three days. There could be enough to crew all three hundred archangels.”

  “A formidable threat indeed,” Vorin said.

  “If you strike now, you could set their program back years, though I’m afraid you can’t stop their progress. The Righteous Anger is just a staging point. From what I understand, the factories and breeding centers are well distributed throughout the schisms.”

  At the mention of “breeding centers,” Mezen clenched his fists until his knuckles were white. His face remained unmoved.

  “I’m transmitting what little data I have,” Jack said. “Use it as best you can.”

  “Jack?” Quennin asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Jack grinned sadly. “Yes, unfortunately I did. I need to go. I wish you all well.”

  The screen turned black.

  Quennin and Seth exchanged puzzled looks. Just what had Jack meant by that statement?

  “We should act upon this information, Sovereign,” Mezen said, his deep, gravelly voice filling the silence.

  Vorin nodded. “Yes, I have to agree. This is an unexpected opportunity. Choir, your thoughts?”

  A personality rose to dominance within the Choir’s cacophony of thought. The hologram shimmered into existing next to Vorin, taking the form of a young woman clad in the grey and gold of a sovereign from Aktenzek’s past. When she spoke, her voice was ancient and devoid of mercy.

  “We concur, Sovereign Daelus,” the Choir’s representative said. “Attack. Make our Fallen brethren pay for their crimes.”

  “Then it is settled,” Vorin said. “Pilot Elexen. Pilot S’Kev. Let us plan the attack.”

  ***

  Jack pushed away from the console. He blew out a frustrated breath and rubbed his face, feeling dirty and disgusted. Both sides were in motion now, heading towards an inevitable collision. It had to be done, but that didn’t make the task any more appealing.

  “Well, here we go,” he said quietly.

  Jack leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. He wanted to focus on the now, to cleanse himself of these past attachments, but seeing those two again opened old wounds and dragged out forgotten memories. He tried to clear his mind of them, but it didn’t work.

  “I thought this would be easier.”

  The seraph did not respond.

  “I know, you’re right. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them.”

  Jack sighed and closed his eyes, letting the memories play out. His mind gravitated towards one particular event twenty years ago, the first of many times Seth and Quennin helped him battle his inner demons. It had happened shortly after they drove back the Grendeni at the Battle for Earth, amidst the jubilation of a great victory.

  And in the pit of his personal despair…

  ***

  Jack sidled up to the edge of the seraph bay’s catapult pit. His giant white-skinned machine filled the chamber. He looked down at the twenty-five-meter drop to the pit’s first shutter, his seraph’s feet resting on the armored pane below.

  “Shouldn’t feel a thing. Or, if I do, it’ll be brief.”

  The seraph said nothing.

  “For the last time, get out of my h
ead!” His voice echoed in the cavernous bay. “Damn it, I am so sick of you! It’s your fault I’m doing this!”

  The seraph didn’t speak.

  “You know what? Forget it. I don’t have to put up with your garbage. Not anymore. I’m going to solve this problem very shortly.”

  A lift opened.

  “Oh, crap!” Jack quickly hid his hands behind his back.

  Seth and Quennin stepped out, both dressed in storm-gray shorts and T-shirts. Jack still couldn’t help thinking of them as kids. Seth was, what? Sixteen? Quennin was barely older than that. They should have been in school having fun and making awkward mistakes. Not fighting someone else’s war.

  “What’s going on, Jack?” Seth asked, rubbing the sleep from an eye with his fist. “Equipment alarms keep going off in this bay.”

  “Jack?” Quennin asked.

  Her urgent, worried tone seemed to wake up Seth.

  “What are you doing?” Seth asked. “What’s going on here?”

  “Umm…” Jack wore a faux-perplexed face. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  Quennin glanced from Jack to the edge and back. Realization dawned on her face. “Now, wait a second. Don’t be hasty.”

  “You’re going to kill yourself?” Seth asked, walking slowly forward.

  “You make that sound like such a bad thing.”

  “By jumping?”

  Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Guess so.”

  Seth dismissed him with a wave. “Go ahead then. The safety fields will catch you.”

  “Yeah. About that.” Jack took a deep breath to steel himself. He opened his neural link and sent the buffered command.

  Lights in the bay switched off, casting them into total darkness. A distant humming vanished, only audible when it was no longer there. Backup lights switched on, painting the bay with a dim red glow.

  “What just happened?” Quennin asked.

  “I cut primary power to this bay,” Jack said. “The safety fields won’t work.”

  “You might still survive the fall.” Seth said, creeping forward.