Sygillis of Metatron

by Ren Garcia

"Then justice shall be done upon this Black Hat Hammer. I say let her die in agony."

  "Right, Sister, and if she should lose control and her excess Shadow tech blast a hole in this ship and sink it straightway?"

  "Then perhaps we should simply execute her now and end her suffering."

  "And again, Sister, should she, whilst in the throes of her execution, lose control and blast a hole in this ship, we shall sink just the same. No, we must put to shore on Seetac 2 and allow her to be rid of this menace. She has sought our help in this matter and we, as League good and true, must assist her."

  "Captain, allowing the Black Hat to set foot on a planet is the heights of lunacy," a Marine said for a Sister. "She will Waft away the first moment available to her."

  "Yes, but this is Seetac 2, Sister; where is she going to Waft herself to? She will be marooning herself in any case."

  "Thus freed, she could conjure up an army of Shadow tech followers, horrid and winged, and will set herself up as a queen on a black throne amongst black legions. An unholy, dammed planet she shall create."

  Davage shook his head. "Sister, where do you come up with these machinations? Scheme after scheme, each more grandiose and cartoonish than the last. Sister, whilst she is being worshipped by her capering Shadow tech army, will any of these fiends be cultivating her a crop? Otherwise the Queen will be dining on bark off the tree and leaf off the plant, supplemented by the occasional reptile and muddy, stagnant water."

  The Sisters looked at one another. A few smiled and laughed. The Sister toward the back gazed at him in an approving manner.

  "Sisters, I believe she has made significant progress. I believe I am close to proving that she is not beyond redemption. I believe that the shell of evil around her has been broken."

  "Impossible."

  "Is it? She is no longer full of anger and hate. I've taught her to like coffee. I've taught her to laugh."

  "Captain, you are aware that she is plotting to kill you, correct?"

  "Is she?"

  "Yes indeed, Captain. She has thought of little else. Her thoughts are riveted on it. Your death is all she wants left of this world. The first two times you encountered her …"

  "The first two times?"

  "Yes, she was obsessed with your murder."

  "How about lately? Is my killing still at the forefront of her thoughts?"

  "Not quite so much, it is to be admitted."

  "Ahhh, so there it is. My killing is no longer an obsession for her … merely a passing fancy. Now, I call that progress. I am certain if you scanned the thoughts of my first officer here, you will find much the same."

  A few more laughs. Kilos shot him a look.

  "Perhaps she's infatuated with you. Perhaps she fancies a handsome face."

  Davage slammed his hand down on the table. "Yes, Sister—now I have you! Is infatuation not, oftentimes, the basis of love? And if she can love, then there is good to be had within her. Redemption is possible. The shell is broken, I am telling you!"

  Davage turned from the table. "Sisters, my friends, we will be entering standard orbit around Seetac 2 within the hour, and I will be taking her to the surface where she may, under full chaperoning, discharge her Shadow tech, I suggest you ready your Sisterhood to precede us and prepare the venue to your liking. The only other thing to do is abandon the ship and let her explode."

  The matter was settled. Davage had nothing more to say. He stood, still facing away from the table. After several minutes he heard the shuffling of chairs and feet. The room cleared.

  "You have missed your calling, Captain. You should have been a diplomat," came a lilting, musical voice."

  Davage turned. The Grand Abbess had remained. Apparently she didn't need a Marine to speak verbally. She sat at the table, beautiful, smiling.

  "No, Great Abbess, I have found my calling. I am a Fleet captain. I have little skill in matters such as these."

  "I disagree, Captain. You have done remarkably well. And please, do not be put off by the unpleasant tone of the Sisters—they are tired, astonished by this situation, and they are concerned for you. No one wishes to see you come to harm. You are our Captain too, and we cherish you."

  The Grand Abbess smiled. "Captain, please come to me, I wish to look at you."

  Davage walked toward her. Smiling, she stood and put her hands on his face.

  "My," she said, "you are the image of your father. I can say you are more handsome. Lord Sadric was a … good friend …"

  "And what do you think, Abbess? Am I in mortal peril by this course of action?"

  "The Sisters' assessment of the Black Hat's thoughts is correct, Captain. She has been planning to kill you—has thought of little else. However, as you pointed out, she has not been thinking of it so much as of late. She seems to be genuinely fascinated with you, Captain, and why not? You are, most probably, the only person who has ever willingly approached her, the only person who has ever looked her square in the eye, and the only person who has ever faced her and not been afraid. It must be bewildering for her, you can imagine. And perhaps the only thing she knows how to do at present is plot murder. But she saw your eyes today, glowing with that wonderful Sight you inherited from your father, and I think she thought they were beautiful—the most beautiful things she has ever seen, and she has not thought of killing you since. And that is cause for rejoicing—a Xaphan Black Hat who is reconsidering killing a prime target like a Fleet captain."

  "I was looking for a second thought."

  "I cannot go that far in assessing her thoughts as of yet. However, look what you have achieved to date: you have survived several encounters with a Black Hat, you have challenged her, engaged her in debate, provoked her thoughts—you've even brought a smile to her face, and a laugh too. You were kind at the right times, and you were stern at the right times as well. And when lost in the depths of her anguish and despair, look what she did. She cried out for you, and you did not fail her—you saved her life in a number of ways today. I allowed her that little bit of telepathy. A cry for help should not be punished with death."

  The Grand Abbess began walking toward the door.

  "We of the Sisterhood are powerful, wise … yet we could not have done what you have accomplished here. If our war with the Xaphans is ever to end, it is for someone else, someone like you, to pave the way for it. We are too close to the matter. It is in your power, Captain, to save her, though, as you already know, the process will be dangerous. Be assured that we will do all we can to protect you, and I will pray for you—and I will pray for her as well. I will pray that she remembers your light even when the darkness around her seems to have no end, and I will pray that you find what you are looking for."

  The Abbess turned and walked away.

  Davage called to her, pleading. "What am I looking for, Abbess? Tell me, please."

  Before she got to the door, she turned one more time. "Your father would be most proud of you. I believe in you, Captain. You will know."

  12

  "MAY I COME WITH YOU?"

  "Now, let's go over this one more time, please."

  Davage stood in Sygillis's quarters. He was thunderstruck. The change that had come over her since her fit of hysteria was remarkable to say the least.

  Sygillis stood in front of a mirror. It was broken; she had broken it hours earlier.

  She was dressed in a black Hospitaler Chancellor's bodysuit with a blue traveling shawl over the top of it. Davage had borrowed the outfit from Ennez—he didn't ask why he had such a thing, a lady's outfit, in his wardrobe. He didn't think it prudent.

  Davage noted, with some irritation, that she was fixing her hair in the mirror.

  "Lady Sygillis, I need you to focus. Please let us go over the procedures for this shore mission one more time."

  Sygillis turned to him and smiled. Not the ugly, malicious smile as before, but a bright, happy smile.

  "You needn't preface my name with a title, Captain. I am not royalty, and we don't bother wi
th such silly things. You may call me Sygillis, simply Sygillis. I believe I enjoy hearing you say my name."

  How can this be? Davage thought. Ladies have titles—how could they not? Kilos had no title other than her rank, but she was a Brown and therefore without title and was thankful for it. Marilith was a Xaphan and had a title, though she was of a royal House. But since Sygillis was a Black Hat, he thought it best to comply, however reluctantly, with her wishes.

  Xaphans …

  "Fine then, Sygillis," he said, his tongue badly wanting to add a title. "Again, the Sisters are most agitated about this launch to shore and will leave you no quarter."

  "Why, Captain … are you worried about me? Worried I'll be killed?"

  "Actually, yes, I am. We've come all this way, we're here at last. We might as well do this successfully. And my definition of successful in this case is that everybody returns to the ship alive after it's done."

  "You will be there to protect me."

  Davage noted the irony of it. "True. However, the Sisters are tired and a little trigger-happy. If you give them any provocation, any at all, it's lights out for you."

  "Does that distress you?"

  Davage rubbed his forehead. "You know, I think it does, actually. I've had very little sleep in the past week, I've been yelled at by just about every Sister within earshot, my first officer wanted to take me to the gym and beat me up, and I've had my life threatened, by you, more times than I can recall. I will hate to see the culmination of all that effort lying dead, brain-scrambled on the planet surface."

  Sygillis laughed. "You are a humorous man, Captain. You make me laugh. I find I like that. I find I like to laugh. I have laughed more with you than I have in my entire life. I suppose that is worth letting you live. Hmmm, was that a threat, do you think?"

  "Sort of. So, when the laughs stop, that's when the dying starts, is that it?"

  "Probably, and besides, how are we to become lovers if I kill you?"

  "We're not going to cover this ground again, are we?"

  "We are, sir. I've seen the future; it's going to happen, so why fight it? I'm not. In fact, I'm ready to begin immediately if you are."

  "There's nothing to fight. We are not going to become lovers."

  Sygillis laughed again. "As you like, sir," she said, bowing. She approached Davage and looked up at him; she was so short. "So that we may take a further bold step in becoming lovers, I will comply with your procedures."

  She cleared her throat. "I will not release my Shadow tech in the horizontal. I will confine it to the vertical. I will not combine the Shadow tech into a solid mass. I will not breathe life into the Shadow tech. I will not Waft, I will not Sign, I will not Point, and I will not Devine …"

  "You just made a rhyme. Was that intentional?"

  Sygillis laughed again. "You see … that's why you get to live. You are so funny."

  Davage straightened her cloak and noted to himself that she looked spectacular in the black Hospitaler bodysuit. "You seem fine now. Better than fine, actually, you seem—good. Are you sure you need to do this?"

  "The Shadow tech must be released. Previously, I did not know how to deal with the situation, and it was overwhelming me. But with your help, Captain, I am better able to control it for now. Still, if it is not released soon, I will die."

  "Well then, everything is prepared. Shall we to the surface?"

  She began walking to the door, and Davage noticed something. She wasn't wearing any shoes.

  "You appear to be missing your shoes."

  Sygillis looked at him. "I'll not be wearing shoes."

  "The ground will be rocky. You will need adequate footwear."

  "I will never wear anything on my feet again."

  "Your feet are still healing. You'll hurt them on the planet surface. A practical pair of shoes …"

  "No! I'll wear no shoes. You may carry me if you wish."

  Davage stared at her for a moment.

  "Captain, may I call you Davage?"

  "Of course."

  "Davage, I don't want to wear any shoes. The pain from the Dora, it was more than I could endure. The memory of it is most unpleasant. I should feel more at ease, for the time being, without any. Please …." She noted Davage's over-sized Falloon boots. "You appear to be wearing enough for the both of us."

  Davage thought about it for a moment.

  "All right, then. I shall carry you on the planet surface. But please, let us proceed."

  They exited into the hallway. Kilos was waiting, along with several other Marines. As they walked, Kilos moved in behind Sygillis, her hand on her SK, her large brown eyes fixed on the back of Sygillis's head.

  After a few intersections, Sygillis suddenly stopped, turned, and faced the much taller Kilos.

  "Boo!" she said laughing.

  Kilos, in shock, drew her weapon as Sygillis laughed. Kilos's eyes flared with anger.

  Davage waved her down. "At ease, Lieutenant."

  Slowly, Kilos holstered her SK. "That—that wasn't funny."

  Sygillis looked at Davage. "No?"

  "Possibly later, much later, it will be funny, but not at the moment," Davage said.

  She looked confused.

  "I'll explain it to you when we get back, all right? Now, let's look to the matter at hand. Let us go down and unload some Shadow tech."

  They entered the Ripcar Bay and mounted one—ripcar number 4, in this case.

  A ripcar was a thin, arrowhead-shaped vehicle used for both planetary and low-orbit actions. Noisy, fussy, and clanking, it was built to be fast, maneuverable, and rugged. As such, the crew compartment was little more than a slight hollow scooped out of the back of the car. The entire crew area was preserved in a containment field, but to the novice, sitting in a precarious hollow atop this bucking, snorting bronco could be a gut-wrenching task. He recalled Demona of Ryel, who was otherwise a courageous woman, was terrified of it.

  Davage wondered how Sygillis will do.

  Happily, she sprung aboard, Davage again noticing the tight-fitting bodysuit she was wearing.

  Kilos, not afraid of the ripcar, but not a great fan either, climbed into the back.

  Davage, eschewing the small, insignificant seat, preferred to stand while flying.

  He expertly engaged the controls, and in a few moments, the containment field hummed to life. He then rammed the stick forward and the ripcar lurched out of the bay with a clank into open space, the Seeker quickly falling away.

  * * * * *

  The surface of Seetac 2 was every bit as arid and unpleasant as Davage had made it out to be—hot, well above 100 degrees, rocky, and lonely in its lack of obvious life.

  Davage jumped down out of the ripcar and carried Sygillis. The ground was laced with volcanic rock; her bare feet would be cut to ribbons.

  Kilos jumped down, still eyeing her with an angry note. That "Boo!" thing had put a massive shock into her.

  Carrying Sygillis, Davage found a sandy bit of ground about a hundred yards from the ripcar and set her down.

  She looked around, sweating. "This will do. Please stand back a bit." She threw off her blue shawl, once again glorious in her black bodysuit.

  Davage and Kilos backed up. She still had her gun hand on her SK. Davage jabbed her in the ribs. "Will you get your hand off your damn pistol?" he snarled quietly.

  "Not a chance," she snapped back.

  "You're embarrassing me, and at this range, if she wanted to kill us, there isn't much we could do about it anyway."

  "I don't care!"

  Davage looked around. Far off in the distance, just within the edge of normal sight, he could see the Sisters, about twenty of them, spaced out evenly, forming a ring around them. He imagined they must be sweating buckets in this heat.

  "Davage," Sygillis called out. "I am ready to begin."

  Davage tipped his hat to her. "Let it fly."

  "So … `Davage,' is it?" Kilos asked curtly. "When the hell did that happen?"

  "Quie
t," he said.

  She raised her slender, pale arms into the air, threw her head back, and knocked her fists together.

  Nothing happened at first. Then, Davage noticed a black webbing of sorts forming between her fingers. Obviously, creating Shadow tech was a slow process.

  Then, like a blast from a cannon, a massive gout of black, twisting material shot into the hot air. The blast kept going up and up until it was thousands of feet high, a raging, twisting streamer of black.

  It was a little unsettling looking at it, like a great black cyclone. Davage, even a distance away, could feel his hairs standing on end. The power she was releasing was incredible. The brass buttons on Kilos's Marine uniform began to jump and spark.