by Jacob Holo
“Perhaps you have to reach a certain threshold before the effect takes hold,” Jared said.
“Perhaps,” Kiro said.
Seth stared at the numbers. What did they mean?
The other pilots turned expectantly towards him.
“Well, Seth,” Kevik said. “This was your experiment. Surely you must have some idea what it means.”
“Not really,” Seth said. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”
Seth departed without another word, leaving three confused expressions in his wake. He quickly made his way back to the medical ward and returned to Quennin’s side. She looked up at him and frowned when she saw his expression.
“Well?” she asked, her tone slightly worried.
Seth knelt beside her. “I ran the test, and none of us matched the control. We were all lower.”
“Your number was the lowest, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right. Do you know what this means?”
Quennin turned her head away from Seth and rested against the pillow. She nodded slowly.
“Then what is it?”
“My fears have been confirmed,” Quennin said.
“Fears? What fears?”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that the Bane can pilot a seraph?”
“Well… I suppose it is. I never gave it much thought. We were all too concerned about facing the Bane and not some other pilot.”
“And what about our resistance to the Bane’s attacks? How would anyone know this?”
“I…” Seth stopped and pondered the question carefully. “I guess I always took it as a matter of faith that the Choir and Original Eleven knew it to be true.”
“So did everyone else. But it’s an important question, and the answer is now clear.”
“What answer, Quennin? You can tell me.”
Quennin turned around and looked straight into his eyes. “Pilots can slow time in their bodies, Seth. We can affect the passage of time subconsciously. And this ability increases as a pilot becomes stronger. Don’t you see? The reason pilots can defend against the Bane, the reason the Bane can pilot a seraph, and the reason pilots can affect time is all the same. All these abilities are related. Chaos energy can combat chaos energy.”
“You don’t mean…” Seth began.
“We are all the thing we have been taught to hate. We are all banes.”
Seth turned away, the realization finally dawning on him. He clenched his fists and let out a jagged breath. Blood and rage boiled within him.
“That’s why Jack betrayed us,” Quennin said. “He figured out what he was becoming.”
Seth wanted to scream out at the cruel universe, to vent his anger at anything and anyone around him, but he held it in and let Quennin continue.
“Our leaders have betrayed us,” she said. “They haven’t been trying to make weapons to defeat the Bane.”
Tears now ran down Quennin’s pale cheeks.
“They’ve been trying to make more.”
Chapter 17
Birth of the Dead Fleet
Veketon turned from his fellow founders and surveyed the angry mob in the Great Hall. The enraged chatter from thousands of sovereigns assaulted his ears. Veketon had never seen them so unruly, though he understood why.
Sovereign Vorin Daelus stood shakily across from the Original Eleven at the base of the Great Hall’s circular auditorium. He had suffered grievous injuries in his battle against the still-maturing Bane Donolon. Yet despite his pain and weakness, he stood proudly with only a metal rod for support.
“Is this true?” Vorin shouted. “Answer the charges against you!”
“Has the Great Mission been about nothing more than creating banes?” one of the dead sovereigns shouted.
“Do not hide behind silence!” shouted another. “Answer for your sins!”
Veketon turned away from the mob.
“This is rather unfortunate,” he said to his colleagues. “We must do what we can to salvage the situation.”
“Can we not conjure up a suitable story?” Xixek asked.
“No,” Dendolet said. “The evidence against us is too great.”
“We should not have revealed the Bane’s existence,” Balezuur said.
“And what should we have done?” Veketon asked. “Wait for them to discover it when the Bane attacked Aktenzek? We only provided information they would have learned on their own. Nothing would have changed this outcome, only its timing.”
“Perhaps we should throw ourselves at their mercy?” Ziriken asked.
Veketon gave him a dry chuckle. “Their mercy? We would be fortunate to survive. Look around you. They will purge us if we submit.”
Ziriken shrugged his arms. “But surely we can come to some agreement.”
“No. The Aktenai have been faithful pawns for many long years, but their usefulness is at an end. And all is not lost. Far from it, for we have the thrones and our research safely on Zu’Rashik. It is time to make our escape and join our prizes there. We have planned for this, and I say we carry out those plans.”
Slowly and with some reluctance, each of the Original Eleven accepted this new direction.
“Excellent,” Veketon said. “The decision is unanimous. We have survived much, my colleagues, and we will continue to survive without the Aktenai.”
“Shall we leave now?” Dendolet asked.
“Not quite yet. I want a final word with these peasants.”
Veketon turned from the circle. He took several steps towards the center of the Great Hall and Vorin. The Sovereign held his ground and met Veketon’s harsh stare.
“You wish for us to answer your charges?” Veketon’s voice boomed over the noise. He passed his gaze over the surrounding stands. “You wish for us to answer for our crimes? What right do you have to judge us?”
“You have defiled the Great Mission,” Vorin said.
“And why not? We created the Great Mission and your entire society. Both were ours to use and defile from the very beginning.”
“Long have we walked the path you laid before us, only at the end to find you misled us every step of the way.”
“You think you understand what is happening? Look at you, nothing more than children scrounging around in the dark, cherishing whatever scraps we feed you.”
“We have grown beyond you,” Vorin said, his voice reserved but no less forceful in the Great Hall. “And we will survive without you.”
“Those are truly brave words, child, but they ring hollow,” Veketon said. “However, for the sake of clarity, I will answer your charges. First, you are only partially correct. The Great Mission does exist, and we intended to destroy the Bane. However, the only way to defeat such a creature is with another bane or even an army of banes. You yourself, Sovereign Daelus, like so many of your kin, are nothing more than a stepping stone in our weapons research.”
Shock spread through the Great Hall, and Veketon did not let it die out before continuing.
“You have always known that we, the Original Eleven, created the Bane, and that we were expelled from the Homeland for this sin. All of this is true. But did you know that we planned to return to the Homeland in order to conquer it? Imagine, returning to the Homeland with endless legions of banes at our command. Not even the Keepers could stop us!”
The anger built in the surrounding stands. Veketon watched with a sense of pleasure as Vorin’s face twisted in rage.
“You will be purged from the Choir for your sins!” Vorin said.
“I think not, child.”
With a thought, the transfer began. All around Veketon, light and sound dissolved to nothing, then snapped back into place with sudden clarity.
The Original Eleven were alone within the new Choir in Zu’Rashik’s Core.
“We must work quickly,” Veketon said, signaling his colleagues to begin.
Space exploded around them into large maps of tactical data. The solar system appeared with Earth, Aktenzek, Zu’Rashik, and the A
ktenai fleets all shown in vivid, hostile red.
“We are initiating the takeover,” Dendolet said.
Veketon nodded, watching the surrounding screens.
Zu’Rashik was the first to fall, its systems subverted by the Original Eleven. The entire planet changed in hue from red to green.
“We have complete control over the fortress planet,” Dendolet said. “Walls are in place to prevent the Choir from reentering. They will find them impossible to breach.”
“Excellent,” Veketon said. The plan was working. It had to work.
Slowly, the red icons of the Aktenai fleet changed to green as the Original Eleven gained complete control of the robotic ships. The subversive software spread across the entire fleet until nearly one-third of the ships were under his command.
“We are receiving interference from the Choir,” Dendolet said. “They are attempting to halt our fleet takeover.”
“They appear to be succeeding,” Veketon said.
More ships fell to the Original Eleven, but the rate dropped significantly. Great duels waged in space while ships once in formation now turned guns on one another. A few ships were lost when the Aktenai focused their fire on isolated craft, but not enough to disrupt the plan.
Wherever possible, ships folded away, rushing towards a rendezvous point that Zu’Rashik itself would soon join.
“We have a little over half the Aktenai fleet at our command,” Dendolet said. “Not as good as we hoped, but sufficient for our needs. The Choir’s response came faster than we anticipated.”
“Indeed,” Veketon focused on Zu’Rashik. “Why have we not folded space?”
“The Aktenai have deployed a negator on Aktenzek’s far side,” Dendolet said.
Fusion cannons all across Aktenzek opened fire.
“And they are now targeting us.”
“Return fire. Destroy the negator.”
Space between Aktenzek and Zu’Rashik erupted with tens of thousands of plasma lances.
“We will need to bring some of our fleet in to finish off the negator,” Dendolet said.
“Do it.” Veketon watched Aktenai and Earth Nation ships closing on Zu’Rashik. A group of six craft, small and hard to spot amidst the immense chaos, sped towards the Original Eleven’s final refuge.
“Six Earth Nation seraphs are approaching,” Dendolet said. “They are heading straight for a gap in the Armor Shell. Veketon, they’re going to get inside.”
“Let them. Open a path for them to the Core and see that they follow it. We’ll send the thrones out to meet them.”
“But Veketon, we cannot control the thrones!” Dendolet said.
“It’s too dangerous!” Xixek said.
“We don’t know what those creatures will do!” Balezuur said.
Veketon turned from the screens and appraised his fellow founders carefully. “We have nothing else that can match seraphs in battle. There is no option. Release six of the thrones. Hold the rest in reserve.”
The screen zoomed in on Zu’Rashik’s interior. Six red icons sped through the long stretch of shafts and corridors, guided by the Eleven’s lack of resistance.
From near the Core, six green icons came to life.
Dendolet leaned over to Veketon and spoke in a whisper. “If this goes badly, we will have to abandon the planet.”
Veketon ignored her. The two sets of icons approached one another, and he permitted himself a confident grin when they meshed. A screen appeared to his right, showing a live visual feed of the battle.
The thrones were roughly the size of seraphs, but where a seraph could be considered passably humanoid, the thrones were slender and almost human in shape. A single halo-wing spun rapidly behind each of their torsos, wider than their shoulders and not physically connected to the main body. The inner and outer edges of the halo-wings and vents across their bodies burned with blue fire. Their perfectly white mnemonic skin gleamed from nearby cavern lights.
The EN seraphs fired their rail-rifles and fusion cannons, but every shot rebounded off the thrones. Without daggers, the thrones tackled the EN seraphs. They pierced through the seraphs’ barriers with clawed fingers and ripped open their armor.
One of the thrones pulled a pilot free of the cockpit and crushed her in a spray of gore.
Veketon let out a satisfied sigh. “Ah, what savage beasts we have created.”
All of the Eleven turned from their tasks. Fluids sprayed from amputated limbs and disemboweled chests. The thrones tore through the seraphs. Only two managed to light their daggers, but the thrones caught their arms and ripped them free of their sockets.
“What have we made…?” Balezuur whispered.
“And to think that this is only a fraction of their power,” Veketon said.
The thrones finished the EN seraphs, leaving nothing but dismembered corpses and scraps of twisted armor.
Dendolet turned from the scene and reviewed the solar system’s fleet status. She cleared her throat loudly. “The fleet has concluded its destruction of the Aktenai negator.”
“Then let us fold.”
A moment passed, and fortress planet Zu’Rashik vanished from Earth orbit.
***
Assistant Administrator Dominic walked to the front of the Virtuous Executioner’s control room. A transparent dome on its side peered into the interior of the archangel carrier, where a full four squadrons stood ready in their bays. Dominic thought the design similar to the interior of a schism, with its open center and four neat rows of archangels lined up in different quadrants of the cylindrical hull.
Officially, Dominic didn’t have to risk his life with the fleet. Except for the archangel pilots and their support crews, the carrier was entirely automated. But he had a good reason for believing the carrier was safer than the schism Righteous Anger.
“Dominic, pay attention for a change,” Gurgella said. He eyeballed one of the carrier technicians who passed through his hologram.
“Certainly, administrator.” Dominic walked back to a wall of glowing screens showing Grendeni and Aktenai fleet positions. “I am, of course, as surprised as anyone.”
“Naturally,” Gurgella said. “The Aktenai are fighting each other!”
“Yes, it has all the appearances of a civil war. Though, unfortunately, we have no idea what the root cause may be or if one of the factions may be inclined to assist us.”
“That, Dominic, is wishful thinking. It’s bad enough we unknowingly sided with the Bane, of all creatures. No, I think the Executives will be extremely cautious with any future outside help.”
“Administrator, as I said before, we had no way of knowing Jack Donolon’s ally was indeed the Bane until we were able to analyze her attacks at Aktenzek. In fact—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Gurgella gave him a brusque arm wave. “That man provided what he promised. We now know the Gate’s location and can move to secure it, though the Executives’ impetuous decision to attack bothers me.”
“But administrator, surely there will never be a better time to strike Imayirot,” Dominic said. “With the Aktenai fleets concentrated around the fortress planet, we will reach Imayirot first and in greater numbers. This latest development only strengthens our position.”
“You forget the defenders around Imayirot. Our Forsaken brothers and sisters have activated the planet’s defenses.”
“I have not forgotten that detail,” Dominic said. Indeed, how could anyone forget the swarm of orbital weapons surrounding Imayirot? Year after year, Aktenai and Grendeni had met at Imayirot, adding and modernizing the weapons that protected this world. The history of Imayirot was etched deeply into both cultures, and it alone could bring together the Forsaken and the Fallen.
And now, even that has been betrayed by the Aktenai. To think that the Gate would be there. To think that we were duped into defending what we sought to possess.
And now those silent leviathans had come alive and would open fire on anything near Imayirot, destroying Grendeni and A
ktenai with equal prejudice. Dominic supposed it had been a necessary design compromise when constructing the defenders. Both factions could activate the swarm, which would stay functional for years before returning to standby.
“It is really academic for us to argue the point,” Gurgella said. “The Executives have already made their decision to proceed with the attack.”
“Of course, administrator.”
Dominic studied the long range exodrone images from Imayirot. The planet itself stood out against space as a small black sphere, completely devoid of light or life. A vast shade eclipsed the sun, preventing light and heat from despoiling the dead world now preserved at the moment of death.
The shade, a disc thirty thousand kilometers in diameter, held its position between the sun and Imayirot, anchored deeply into both gravity wells. Along the circumference of the disc were thousands of heavy beam cannons: the merest fraction of Imayirot’s military power. Around the shade and Imayirot floated thick clouds of orbital weapon platforms, many surpassing dreadnoughts in size, power, and resilience.
Those robotic defenses now stood at high alert, firing on any vessel that approached the dead world. Already, the first wave of observational drones had been mercilessly gunned down in an attempt to reach Imayirot’s surface and begin searching for the Gate.
Dominic zoomed in on a single dreadnought attempting to run the swarm’s orbital blockade.
Black spherical defenders spun in space, bringing their weapons to bear on this new target. Lances of white light shot out and savaged the dreadnought’s hull from every angle. Somehow, the dreadnought survived this first volley, its outer hull an ugly patchwork of white glowing lines.
The second volley came from the shade itself, more than one hundred fusion cannons firing in unison, focusing on the lone target as if through a lens. Not even a dreadnought could withstand that sort of punishment, and it blew apart into a cloud of glowing gas and debris.
“We did perhaps too good a job building the shade, I think,” Gurgella said.
“What of Jack and his companion?” Dominic asked.
“We’ve requested they land on the Righteous Anger so that we can coordinate the assault on Imayirot. So far, they seem to be cooperating.”