by Ren Garcia
Back to the area where Triumph warped away, he trawled space looking for any clue he could as to its heading and possible destination.
He found no trace. In a near panic, Davage beseeched Lady Branna to look for it with her Venera ship, being frustrated by the lack of complex sensing gear on his own ship. She did, gladly, owing her life to both Davage and Syg. She locked onto Triumph's ion trail and followed it as far as Hoban, where, apparently, it failed, the missing port tach drive overloading the system. But, as Stellar Mach was available, they blinked away, their wake already too far degraded to follow further.
He checked with Fleet, but the wires were dry. Kilos inquired with various Marine installations. They had lots of information on the usual suspects—raiders, pirates, disreputables, and the like, but no Triumph, no Princess Marilith, no Syg. Ennez checked with the Hospitalers, but they too had heard nothing.
Every ship, every outpost, was looking for Triumph, but it, as a ghost, had simply vanished.
Having nowhere else to turn and going mad with worry, he turned to Kilos, to her husband—that wondrous little man in Tusck. He begged Ki to ask her husband to look for clues as to the Triumph's whereabouts. It was against Fleet regulations to solicit a civilian source for information without Admiralty approval, but Davage didn't care. He didn't care about any of that—he wanted Syg back.
He could find out anything, Ki's husband. All Ki had to do was ask.
* * * * *
The Zen-La …
He tried to sleep, to calm his thoughts. He hoped the Zen-La worked, that he could reach her mind and determine where she was.
And then he will go to her and blast Marilith out of the sky. This time, there will be no kindness, no holding back … this time Marilith was going to die.
This time Marilith truly was his mortal enemy, and he was going to kill her.
So he tried to sleep, tried to reach Syg. As he drifted into exhausted sleep, the Zen-La worked.
And it was horrible.
He saw what Syg was seeing. He saw the Fanatics, all still Cloaked to look like Marilith.
She appeared to be tied down, restrained. They stood over her, leering, taunting, spitting on her.
And then, the knives came out, the instruments of pain and cruelty. The look of glee on their faces.
He saw Syg try to lift her arms to protect herself, but they held her down … and set to work on her.
The knives coming down.
"Daaaaaaaaavvvvvvaaaaaaagggggeeee!" she screamed.
And he could sleep no more …
* * * * *
"Dav?" Kilos said, walking into his office.
Davage sat behind his desk, large black bags under his eyes, his screen lit up with maps and charts. He looked thin and drawn.
Syg had been gone for four days. He hadn't slept, and he hadn't eaten. The memory of the Zen-La—it was unbearable.
No word … nothing. He'd rather he had a corpse to mourn than this emptiness, this lack of information, knowing only that she was in agony, crying out for him … and he could not help her.
She was gone … lost to the void.
Kilos sat down in front of him, and he barely acknowledged her presence. Never much for sentimentality, Ki nevertheless felt like crying; she couldn't stand to see Dav like this.
She wasn't around when the Marilith thing happened, but she remembered him with Captain Hathaline. That was bad; that was gutwrenching.
But this … she'd never seen him so laid bare, so bereft of hope.
"Dav, are you all right?"
He didn't respond.
"You haven't slept in days, you haven't eaten. Why don't you turn in? Let me help you to your quarters."
Nothing; he just stared at his screens. The Zen-La. She didn't understand.
He was lost in misery.
Ki sat there and stared at him.
"Dav, I just got a Com from my husband. I thought you'd want to know that right away," she said after a bit.
Dav flinched, as if pulling himself from a trance. "Oh, your husband? Has he—has he found anything?"
"Maybe, I don't know."
He rubbed his tired eyes. "Well, let's see it. I trust your husband."
"This is probably nothing," Kilos said, handing him a small file of maps and pictures she'd received from her husband. "I debated telling you about it until I knew more."
He gratefully took the materials and started looking at them, a bit of hope starting to form somewhere in his soul.
"Gelt, Dav. My husband caught wind of something strange recently happening on Gelt. It's a remote, pretty backwards sort of place, and the locals are about as simple and easily startled as they come."
"Gelt?" Dav said. "I've not heard of it before."
"Nor have I."
Dav thumbed through the files, but his eyes were so tired, his mind clouded by lack of sleep, lack of food. He looked without seeing them. His Sight was down to nothing.
"Can you tell me what he's got, Ki? I'm so tired."
Ki got up and came to his side, patiently arranging the files for him on the desk.
"This one here, Dav, says the locals on Gelt are talking about a fiery mountain … one that came from the sky. They say it came down in a great, flaming heap and hit the ground in a huge explosion.
"Then, this one here states that, the next day, shepherds heading out into the wilderness in an area of seven earthen hills called … the Seven Wives, I think, and saw a great 'statue' sticking up out of the ground. A gigantic statue."
Ki stopped and swallowed.
"Go on."
"Then they say the shepherds saw hundreds of bodies, quivering, screaming, impaled on black stakes all around the statue, like a great dying forest. The impaled cried out for mercy. And there was a demon, in black, putting more bodies on stakes. A demon that was crying— screaming. The Wailing Demon they called it."
Dav sat for a moment and thought.
"It's all pretty gruesome … pretty fanciful. I think it's a highly suspect story and …"
"Com," he said, talking past her.
"Com here, sir."
"Com, send to Navigator. I want solution plotted for the planet Gelt immediately and wind for Stellar Mach by the count."
"Gelt, aye, sir."
Davage weakly stood up and began fumbling with his shirt, trying to straighten it, trying to make himself presentable. Ki moved his shaking hands aside and did it for him.
"Dav, it's just stories told by an easily scared local population. Please don't get your hopes up too much until we know more. We should send scouts."
"It sounds right, Ki. It feels right, and I trust your husband."
Even though the story was a grim one, Davage seemed to brighten a bit; some news, even bleak, horrific news, was something. "Has he ever considered working for Fleet Intelligence, your husband?"
"He loves that old school in Tusck. I guess he's pretty plugged in over there."
"He's amazing, Ki, the things he can do. You should be most proud of him."
"I am, Dav. You know me, though, never one for too much sentimentality."
"I should grant you more time off so you can see him more often."
Ki smiled and finished straightening his shirt. "I love my husband very much, but he is devoted to that old school, and I am devoted to this ship and to you. One day, I know this will all end and I will go home and be his wife and bear him his children. But for now, we are both right where we need to be."
She put her hands on his face. "I will one day tell my children about how I was there, on the Seeker, with Captain Davage, the Lord of Blanchefort, and how he was a great Elder, how he was a great Lord in every sense of the word … and how he was my friend."
"There's no 'was' about it, Ki. You will always be my friend—my truest, bravest friend."
Through the windows, the stars heeled around. They looked at the stars, all the tiny points of light. Syg was out there somewhere.
The Com opened. "Com, sir. Navigation r
eports Gelt is the third planet in the Theta Ferenz system. Solution for Gelt plotted and laid in. Engineering reports we will require three Stellar Mach jumps of ninety seconds, plus four for safe arrival."
"Very well," Dav said. "What is the count?"
"Twenty-two minutes until first Stellar Mach jump."
"Thank you. I'll be there shortly."
"Aye, sir. Com out."
He turned to Ki. "It appears Gelt is quite a ways in the weeds for three Stellar Mach jumps."
He picked up his hat and put it on. "Your husband—I'm grateful to him, Ki."
"Don't be too grateful yet. So, I suppose I'm not going to be able to talk you into getting some rest, am I? You've got twenty-two minutes."
"No, Ki—I'm fine, thank you."
"Well, then, if I can't get you to rest, will you at least eat a little something? Come on, I'll get you a cup of coffee in the mess. It'll make you feel better."
"Will you be having one with me?"
"If that's what it'll take to get you to have a cup, then yes, I'll choke some down."
Together, they left the office and went to the mess.
14
GELT
As the Seeker blasted out of Stellar Mach, the lonely world of Gelt loomed ahead, third planet of the Theta Ferenz system. It was a gray, rain-swept, moonless world.
It was about as backwater a place as you could get. Sort of like Mirendra, out in the middle of nowhere, yet another forlorn place where Davage had lost someone dear to him.
The ship settled into a standard orbit and began scanning the surface, the Seeker's sensing equipment being maddeningly basic. Though his eyes were as tired as they had ever been, he wrenched his Sight in focus and scanned the surface himself. It took about fifteen or twenty minutes, but eventually, he Sighted something.
The Triumph.
"There, there it is, on the western continent using standard bearings, about eighteen degrees north by west."
"Captain," Sasai said from her sensing position. "Ventral Sensing does not detect anything on the surface in that area."
"It's not on the surface, crewman, it's buried … about fifty feet down."
"How'd it gut buried?" Kilos asked.
"Don't know, but that's what I'm going to find out. Lieutenant Kilos, you have the bridge. I'm headed to the surface."
Davage went into the lift. Kilos followed him in.
"Ki, what are you doing?"
"I'm coming with you."
"You're staying here. You're in command."
"I called down to engineering and put Mapes in command. He's on his way to the bridge now. I'm coming with you, Dav."
"Ki … Syg, if she's down there, then she is …"
"Maybe, and if that's the case, you'll need my help."
"Ki, I need to do this alone."
"She's my friend too, Dav. I'm coming with you."
* * * * *
The ripcar broke the thick gray clouds; the muddy plain below was dirty and lonely.
Davage dropped containment so that he could Sight clearly without the containment field's shimmering lines of force getting in the way. Sheets of cold rain pelted them square in the face.
"The Triumph's buried under that?" Kilos asked, buttoning her coat against the rain. Looking down, all she could see through the layers of rain was a vast expanse of brown.
Davage looked down and Sighted. Buried about fifty feet in the mud, was the Triumph, nose down at a forty-five degree angle, its brand-new hull hopelessly battle-damaged and scorched from a fast re-entry, its port warp nacelle missing—shot away by the Blue Max's canisters. He could even see the layer of long grass that used to be on the surface, now covered for all time.
There, on that doomed ship Syg, all alone, fought Princess Marilith and the Fanatics of Nalls, the fury of their battle knocking the great ship from orbit—the "fiery mountain," the locals called it.
The nearby hills that he had seen on a topographical map, the Seven Wives, were missing.
Ki noticed it too. "Where are the hills? Aren't there supposed to be a bunch of hills around here?"
"Yes," Davage said. "You're looking at them. Down there— pulverized, all that mud." Apparently, they had been leveled and used to cover up Triumph's sorry grave.
Ki's brilliant husband had said it.
The locals already lived in terror of this site.
The fiery mountain that fell.
The fields of impaled bodies, quivering and screaming.
The "Wailing Demon" in black that haunts the site, the Demon searching, in a daze, for its "love."
"It's there, Ki," Dav shouted over the pounding rain. "It's buried in the mud."
"And the bodies? What about those?"
Davage closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes, your husband was right about those too. They're down there—hundreds of them."
"Can you see Syg down there anywhere?"
Davage looked around. Sure enough, moving with wet, boneless movements was a figure, semi-Cloaked, wandering around aimlessly in the mud, walking in a large, endless circle.
"There, Ki—there she is!"
Ki looked hard, and still couldn't see anything.
"Dav, if what my husband said is correct, then something's wrong with her. She might not be in her right mind."
"Would you be … after such an ordeal? You heard your husband. She was in a terrible battle, wounded, forced to kill over and over again."
"And then she flattens the place to try and cover it up?"
Davage didn't reply. He rolled the roaring ripcar and sat it down in the muck, engines thundering and struggling for compression in the rain. The skids dug in deep; soon the smooth bottom of the ripcar touched the mud.
Dav jumped out, boots sinking in the ooze.
He was standing over the Triumph—standing on its grave. Born in Provst not long ago, dead on Gelt.
Ahead, in the rainy, wet grayness, a black figure emerged—a figure wearing a drenched, hooded black robe.
He took a few tentative steps forward.
The figure stopped and stood there, rocking slightly, elbows out, hands held at mid-riff. Its face hidden under its large hood.
"Are you my love?" it said in an ephemeral voice.
A stake made of Shadow tech emerged behind it and stuck in the mud with a splat.
It was black, the silver gone. Back to Shadow tech. Davage felt his heart break.
"Yes, I am your love. Sygillis, Sygillis of Metatron, it's me—it's Davage."
"My love … my love?" it said.
"Syg, it's me … I've come to take you home. I've come to take care of you."
"Home?" it said.
It reached up and pulled its hood back.
Syg's face emerged into gray light: wet, wounded, thin, as though she had not eaten in some time. Her hair a long, red, wet smear. Her eyes were glassy, distant, her expression confused.
Her face crumpled into misery and anguish. "Home," she repeated with longing, "I want to go home … I want to see my love … I want to explain …"
He lit his Sight, hoping to pull her out of whatever state she was in. She looked at his eyes, and her expression brightened a bit, but still, she seemed lost.
"Syg, it's me. I'm right here. Wake up. Wake up, my love."
Weeping, rain-soaked, she wheeled around in a dazed panic.
"I … I did this … all of this, for my love. Look what I have become. Look what I did!" She pointed down at the mud.
He glanced down.
The Triumph was in its muddy grave far below. All around it, the hundreds of impaled bodies on Silver and Shadow tech stakes, buried forever under the earth that once made up the hills of the Seven Wives. Buried, covered up.
He shuddered.
"How will my love accept me? I did it for him … I did it all for him!"
She looked at him, eyes lost in darkness. "You! You'll tell him for me, won't you? Tell him how I love him … tell him how lonely I am. Tell him how I want to come home."