Before the Shattered Gates of Heaven

by Bryan S. Glosemeyer

  Daggeira took a deep, labored breath. “Let’s go then.”

  Grandfather would know what to do. They would find him, he would keep Daggeira alive, and then they would hide out and rest. And when they got back to the pyramid, they’d drink brew and brag about how many infidels they’d sent to hell. They’d play drums for Arrow and Cannon. They’d go on, conquering the stars and bringing Divine Will.

  They’d go on.

  But that felt like a lie. Suspicion whispered in the back of her mind that their struggle to keep going was futile. Yet, if there was a chance she could get Daggs out of here alive, she had to keep going, no matter how pointless it seemed. She had to find a way.

  Sabira again took point and led them around the bend and the dead vleez. This part of the pathway was dark, all of the illuminating globes either broken or missing from their alcoves. Thin artificial lights beyond the passageway defined its far entrance. Detecting the darkened environment, her visor automatically switched on low-light and heat-trace displays. Farther in, the heat-trace revealed plasma scorching and acid-melt scarring the walls. And then more bodies.

  There were four or five corpses sprawled across the length of the corridor, all vleez. At least one tendriled head lay severed from its neck. Dark blood was everywhere, splattered on walls like graffiti, pooled in the shallows between paving stones, soaked into the corpses' garments.

  Sabira flashed Daggeira the hand signal to mind her footing. Careful of her balance on her wounded leg, Sabira clambered across the corpses. Lifeless sense tendrils squished beneath their boots as they passed. At the feet of the last vermin lay a melted and distorted palukai. Arrow had his stick when he had rejoined them, which verified Grandfather Spear had done this. There was no sign of human blood in all the carnage, no human corpse among the dead. Spear had lost his stick, but he must have survived. This far, at least.

  As best they could, they scraped the soles of their boots against the pathway stones as they walked, trying to wipe the blood off so they wouldn’t leave a trail to follow. A few meters past the dead vleez, the walkway opened onto another terrace park. Sabira posted at the corner of the entrance while Daggeira continued to cover the walkway behind. Above, a three-paned arch dangled flowers and small leafy vines. The terrace park lay empty and dimly lit. The vista looked out over the south-facing slope and dark outskirts beyond. On the far southern horizon, the glow of another hive city illuminated the passing clouds below the cold, glittering arc of the planet’s rings.

  “Looks clear,” Sabira whispered, almost panting, exhaustion dragging at her every movement.

  She rounded the corner, trembling palukai ready. Daggeira followed a few steps behind. They kept their backs to the rear wall of the terrace, scanning the horizon and their flanks. All around them, sirens echoed and bounced across plazas and corridors. Nothing moved but the hanging vines brushed by their armor. To their left, the wall ended at a wide pedestrian pathway that lined the upper rim of the south-facing slope. To their right, the terrace opened to a wider, hexagonal plaza, a number of streets and pathways branching from it.

  Here and there, faint cones of yellow light shone down from alcoves. Between the scattered lights, shadows clumped and coagulated. In the shifting darkness, faces peered back at her; dead and bloody, Human and Vleez, their last moments of shocked terror frozen in lifeless, accusing stares. Dead mouths, gurgling with blood and muck, calling her name.

  Sabira.

  Sabira.

  “Sabira . . . Sabira . . . Godsdammit . . . Sabira," Daggeira spoke between gasps, her hand shaking Sabira’s shoulder. They would drop from exhaustion soon, the yarist gems kept them moving but burned away their bodies’ last energy. “There’s no sign . . . of Spear. We have to . . . find someplace . . .”

  “I know,” Sabira said, nearly panting as hard as Daggeira. Her chest burned and tingled. The breathers were wearing off sooner than expected. Cones of light danced across the horizon in every direction they could see, more sentries in search of invaders. Where could they possibly go? Where could they hide?

  The stealth field indicators in Sabira’s visor stuttered on and off, sporadically flashing red as if the sensor was unsure if it was detecting anything at all. Sabira pointed to just beyond the lip of the terrace. In halting, labored whispers she asked Daggeira to confirm if her sensors were picking it up too. She responded with a quick affirmative hand signal.

  Keeping as low and quick as they could manage, they stalked across the open park to the stone balustrade at its lip. The southern slope was much like the inner bowl of the hive city. Streets and walkways swooped across and down, lined with cone-tiled buildings and spilling into little plazas.

  Directly below the balustrade, about three meters down, lay a wide, flat roof covered with a mat of dark, tangled roots and vines. In the middle of the roof stood a golden dome, about a meter and a half in diameter. It stood about two meters tall, on a ring of eight pillars. There were some ornate markings on the dome she couldn’t make out in the dim light. Strange, alien-looking tech was attached around its circumference, though some aspects of it were almost recognizable. Her sensor alerts continued to flutter sporadically, but much more often now.

  “Some kind . . . field generators,” gasped Daggeira. “Jammers? Hide us?”

  It clearly wasn’t generating a stealth field, or else they wouldn’t see the building. Maybe the alien tech did something similar enough that stealth sensors detected it? Sabira scanned the skies again. The sentries weren’t close, but three steadily moved their way in a zigzagging search pattern.

  “I hope . . . you’re right,” Sabira answered. Gods see us, and infidels be blind, I hope you’re right. “No other . . . choice. Cover me.”

  Sabira reconfigured her stick to neutral and snapped it into her back holster. She swung her heavy left leg over the rail first, found a solid foothold, and swung her right over. Even with gem engaged, blasts of pain shot through her limb. After finding a secure hold with her hands, she dropped her legs over the edge until she dangled by her fingers. Daggeira gave her the clear signal, and Sabira let herself drop the last meter to the rooftop. Pain lanced from her leg into her spine. She stumbled and fell onto tangled vegetation.

  After a deep, labored breath, Sabira propped herself up on one knee, unsnapped her stick and configured it back into an assault rifle. She scanned the horizon and the dark sky as Daggeira followed her down. Even with her remarkable agility, Daggeira stumbled and fell on the dirt rooftop, grunting in pain. Sabira helped her up. Together, they half huddled, half crawled over to the dome. Intricate geometrical shapes covered its golden surface. They crawled between the pillars and collapsed, breathless and dizzy in the dirt. The dome’s underside and its support pillars remained free of vegetation.

  “Gems,” panted Daggeira, suggesting they should disengage before the last of their energy burned away.

  “No,” answered Sabira. “Wait. Sentry . . . flyby.”

  Exhausted and trembling beneath the alien dome, they didn’t have to wait long before the floodlights of the sentries probed the rooftop. Sabira and Daggeira lay on their backs in opposite directions, palukai shaky in their grips. The sentry came from the north. Its spotlight crossed the roof, bringing the mat of knotted vine roots into stark detail, before it poured harsh, blinding light over the dome. Sabira’s heart pounded. She thought for sure the sentry’s scanners would hear the panicked thuds in her chest. But the floodlight passed beyond the rooftop and moved on, a column of illumination fading in the distance. They both sighed, long and deep.

  Gods see you, Daggs, you were right. The alien tech created some kind of sensor-jamming stealth field, after all, one that wasn’t fried out by the pulse from the green orb.

  “Now,” gasped Sabira. After disengaging the yarist gem, the pain came searing back. She felt like her leg had been butchered off and a fire scorched the inside of her torso, burning its way to the surface. Daggeira lay curled and shaking on her side, h
ands clutching at the poorly bandaged wounds on her chest. She struggled for every breath. The mission clock showed over five hours left. Between the acid rounds in her chest and the taxing power of the gem, she must have burned completely through her breather already.

  Gasping for air herself, Sabira could tell her breather was still working, but only just. Each inhalation strained her lungs, but she could breathe. She popped out her tank and inserted it into the tube on the back of Daggeira’s helmet. With slow and careful movements, Sabira readjusted to sit with her back against a pillar. Daggeira lay to her left, resting her helmeted head on Sabira’s uninjured leg, but the pressure still added to the agony in Sabira’s right. What was a little more pain?

  Sabira sat facing south, the longest, widest possible view. Grandfather Spear had taught her what to do when the breathers wore down. Stay still. Breath slow. Be patient. Without the air tank, there was no need to keep her helmet on. She twisted the neckpiece and lifted the stuffy helmet free. She placed it on her right, beside her stick. She found it slightly easier to breathe and see their surroundings. But she wouldn’t see sensor displays and detection warnings. Wouldn’t see the mission clock ticking away.

  Without the helmet’s micro filters, Sabira could fully take in the scents of the alien world. The sweet musk of the dirt and vegetation, the acrid tang of acid-melted armor, the faint ambiance of a foreign world for which she had no reference.

  Daggeira’s hand moved toward hers, a slow, heavy motion. Sabira took it. They both squeezed as tightly as they could manage. “I see . . . you . . . Sabira . . . Stargazer,” Daggeira whispered.

  Sabira lifted her right hand and caressed her helmeted head. “I see you . . . Daggs,” she whispered back. “Hold on with me . . . We can . . . can make it. Hold on . . .”

  Is this how Daggs will die, hearing my lies?

  A flash of memories. Cannon dying in front of her, clawing at his melting face, only a breath after saving her leg. The young vleez, spasming at her feet, clawing at its hideous, dissolving mandibles. The nameless boy clutching his bloody leg, begging for mercy, dying as she plunged a spear into his heart. All dying. All dead. Who was she to think Daggs and her would get to live?

  The Divine Masters don’t see us. The Gods don’t see us. Only death sees. Only death knows.

  “Hold on . . . Daggs . . . Hold . . . on . . .” Sabira struggled to speak every word.

  The sky had grown less black, transformed to a dark-bruised purple. How long have we been hiding? Was I passed out for a while?

  “We’ll avenge . . . Arrow . . . Cannon . . . Spear . . . The vermin . . . will know us . . . We’ll . . . kill them . . . all . . . Just . . . hold on . . . Daggs . . . Stay with . . . me . . . Stay . . . Hold . . .”

  Why? What will vengeance do? More dying. More pain. Why live if only to kill? If the Gods never see us, then why?

  Why?

  What is all this for? Arrow is dead. Smoke. Vapor.

  Why?

  I’ll never prove to him that I belong in this crew. I’ll never feel his firm grip during the rites. Never kiss Daggeira again.

  Why?

  Never earn my rank. Never lead my own crew. Never.

  Why?

  Never be seen by the Gods. Only death. Always only death. Not She Who Waits, there was nothing divine about this. Only profane, messy death.

  Why?

  The sky changed color again, from dark purple to light, greens and yellows streaking the horizon. Sabira had no idea how much time had passed. The air was warm, heavy with humidity, as the local sun rose in the east.

  Across the violet sky, smoking, fiery trails marked the descent of Unity invasion forces falling from space. Servants and Warseers, granks and poisons, guns and bombs, the living weapons of the Gods, believing they brought Divine Will, brought Unity.

  Bringing only death.

  Daggeira’s hand lay limp and unresponsive in Sabira’s own. Daggeira no longer shook and trembled with each gasping breath. She no longer breathed at all.

  “Daggs?” whispered Sabira, so quietly she barely heard her own voice. She choked, sobbing, each breath a burning wheeze in her chest.

  “Should you . . . f-find . . . yourself . . . b-before the . . . Shattered . . . Gates . . . may . . .” A gasping sob choked away the rest of the prayer.

  The Gods don’t see us.

  21.

  “GODS SEE ME, you look like your blood-mother,” the stranger said. “Do you know who that is, little mine rat?”

  The girl looked down at her bare feet, shook her head. She didn’t understand why she had been pulled away from the other children learning about the drills and collectors from the hens.

  “Then you must not know me, either.”

  The girl said nothing. Still facing down at her bare feet, she peeked from the corner of her eye, spied her brood-sister staring from behind a pillarwood tree.

  The stranger’s hand, easily as large as her face and marked with scars and callouses, cupped her chin in a firm but gentle grip. The man lifted the girl’s face to meet his own.

  The girl had never seen so many glyphs on one head. Some were split by white, frightening scars. The man’s two ice-pale eyes were piercing, intense. Yet, even with his intimidating size and many scars, she thought he looked upon her with a rare fondness in his eyes. It was the first time the girl felt like anyone other than her brood-sister and hen-mother had seen her as a person, not just another nameless khvazol.

  “Look at me now, girl. Listen to what I tell you. I am your blood-grandfather. Your blood-mother was my own daughter. Your blood is my blood, as it was given to me by the Divine Masters. Your blood-mother’s name is Caller Gunna. My name is First Drum Spear. But you, girl, you can call me Grandfather. Grandfather Spear.”

  The little girl, though still confused, felt something she didn’t have a word for yet. Something exciting, and it made her smile. When the man smiled back, that strange new feeling grew warm and tingly in her chest. She could sense her brood-sister’s awed stare on the back of her neck. Even though he no longer held her chin, she could not pull her eyes away from the large man covered in glyphs.

  “Would you like to have a name for yourself?” he asked.

  “Yes,” the girl said.

  “Then you must be seen by the Gods,” he said. “Do you know what that means?”

  “No.”

  “Then I will have to show you. Would you like to come with me and see something new? I’d wager you’ve never been to this part of the Labyrinth.”

  “Yes,” said the girl, hopping in anticipation. “But . . .” She stopped her excited bouncing, looked over her shoulder, and turned back to Grandfather Spear. “Can my brood-sister come, too?”

  “You should understand that she’s not your blood, Granddaughter. Her shaft may very well be different than yours. But she’s welcome to come if she likes.”

  The girl waved her sister over, and the two of them followed Grandfather Spear away from the training dens, down unfamiliar tunnels, and through doors they’d never seen before. They held hands and strode quickly to keep up. Overseers saw them leaving where they were supposed to be, but none said a word or gave a command with their prod. The girl had never seen someone walk so freely through the tunnels and among the overseers.

  As he led them through the Labyrinth, Grandfather Spear spoke to the girls, his deep voice reverberating in the ceramic-lined halls. “It’s no small thing for a human to have a name. In the old times, it was forbidden to all the unseen as declared by Divine Will. But Mother of Life felt a small mercy and convinced Star Father that if even a human could be seen by the Gods nine times, then surely they had earned a name under Will.

  “The Divine Masters give us two shafts to be seen by the Gods. The Chosen and the Servants. Your blood-mother and I chose the Servants. When you girls are eighteen years, you’ll have your own choice between two shafts. Start thinking on it now, even if twelve years seems like forever
to wait. The Divine Masters bestow the gift of choice only once. Don’t waste it.”

  Grandfather Spear led them through a doorway taking them to an ancient part of the Labyrinth. Here the tunnels were no longer lined, but bare rock and masonry. It smelled different here, not like humans, but like something very old, mysterious. Other strange new scents awaited them. He paused before a triangle-shaped, clear door.

  “It’s amazing if you think about it,” he said. “The galaxy is vast. Wider and farther than the Masters created us to be able to comprehend. And yet, through all of it, the Gods can see even us. If Star Father wishes it, he will find you, no matter where in the universe. No matter how much rock and rubble separates you and the stars.”

  The clear door slid away. He led the girls through, and onto a small balcony. The triangular fighting pit fell away beneath them. The lights were dim, the bottom of the pit lay obscured in shadows. The girl thought she could see broken rock and old masonry piled into mounds around the pit floor.

  “If you choose to earn your name and be seen by the Gods, this is where it will be. Here, if you prove yourself, all the Unity may one day see you.” His deep voice echoed through the pit like his words were being spoken from every direction, as if the story came not only from the man but from the rough-hewn walls and the distant shadows.

  “Sit now, girls, and listen. There are stories you should hear before you die and go before the Shattered Gates.

  “When the Gods first came to Nahgohn-Za, They destroyed the mechanical armies of the Old Masters. They tore down their decadent cities and turned the planet’s surface to wasteland. A few of the Old Masters survived. They were starving and fearful, like animals, and they tried to hide from the Gods beneath the rubble. But there is no hiding from the Gods. Star Father found them and lifted them up. The Gods tested the Old Masters nine times, to know if their faith and their strength were worthy. Those who passed the trials became the first of the Nahgak-Ri, and the Gods bestowed Their Will upon them.