Red Sky in the Morning (The Covenant of the Rainbow Book 1)

by Elana Brooks

  That must have been the correct action, or at least close, because Lammess didn’t raise an alarm. Glancing back, Adrian saw him transform into a patch of stars. He kept heading for the ship, swallowing as it loomed larger and larger before him. He hadn’t fully realized the true scale of the thing. It really was as big as Manhattan. At least.

  All around, other Seraphim converged, zooming intently toward the ship. Adrian matched their speed and direction. Glowing streaks of tethers stretched before them. Adrian made sure his true tether, stretching off toward Earth, was hidden, and projected a false one heading toward the ship with all the others. Tethers tended to fade out of awareness unless one was specifically looking for them, but no use taking chances.

  The great mass of Seraphim swept though the outer hull of the ship and flickered through chambers and walls within. Adrian concentrated on matching the pace of the others, even though that kept him moving so fast he couldn’t take in much of the ship’s interior. Many small chambers, mostly deserted. Large ones packed with containers of various shapes and sizes. Medium-sized ones filled with astral Seraphim. The guards flitted ghostlike through all of them, heading for the lowest part of the ship.

  They broke through into the biggest chamber of all. A huge low space filled what seemed to be the entire base of the ship. If Adrian was correct in his estimation, the other side of the floor, or at most a few decks further down, was the level surface where millions of Seraphim pushed the ship. Sturdy metal columns marched in evenly spaced rows, supporting the ceiling and the deck above. The entire floor was carpeted with a grid of capsules identical to those in the last Memory. But where the scout ship had held twenty-seven, here there were thousands upon thousands, stretching as far as Adrian could see in every direction.

  The mass of guards scattered, each Seraph going to its own sleeping tank and plunging within. Adrian hesitated, at a loss. How was he to know which was Fereel’s? He would have to pick one at random, duck inside, then camouflage himself somehow before the real occupant showed up.

  He was about to carry out this plan when a large Seraph zoomed up to him. “One demerit, Fereel. It’s not like you to let your mind wander and miss your turn. You’d better watch it. Three more and you’re up before Corrections.”

  Surely this Seraph must be of a higher caste. Adrian made the veiling gesture. “Forgive me.”

  The large Seraph scoffed. “It’s not my forgiveness you need. Get to your tank. I can’t wait to hit mine as soon as everyone’s in. Don’t forget, you still owe me a bout during training. I can’t let your last win go unavenged.” It gave a friendly-seeming flick of a middle fin and zipped off.

  No one seemed to be looking at him. Adrian picked a random tank and dropped toward it. Maintaining the intangible state he’d used to pass through the rest of the ship, he slipped through the outer casing and the hibernating Seraphim body inside. Either the real inhabitant wasn’t there yet or was already within its body, because Adrian saw no astral presence. He moved a little further down, passing through the deck into the chamber below. It was identical, with its own vast expanse of sleeping tanks. Although these apparently didn’t hold guards, or at least not those on the second shift, because all was deserted.

  The deck between chambers was nearly six inches thick. Adrian made his astral form broad and flat to fit inside it. This was a good hiding place. He could even spy, by protruding a bit of astral flesh out and focusing his vision there. Staying out of his natural form so long was starting to wear on him, though. Maybe he could find a secluded spot big enough to take human shape for a while.

  The chamber above emptied as all the guards settled into their tanks. After it had been clear for a good long while, Adrian took the risk of emerging to explore, though he kept himself camouflaged by taking on the color and texture of the floor.

  While carefully examining one of the tanks, Adrian made a discovery. Engraved on a metal plate bolted to one end of the tank was a word in the flowing Seraphim script. He wasn’t as good with the written form of the language as the oral, but there had been enough shown in the Memories for Covenant researchers to decipher it. Luckily it was a basic sound-symbol system. Adrian sounded out the word in front of him. Nomeel.

  A name. With mounting excitement Adrian moved from tank to tank. They all bore names. Even more promising, there seemed to be some sort of alphabetical order at work, because all the tanks in this section had names beginning with the “n” symbol.

  Adrian set about a systematic search, beginning at one side of the huge chamber and working his way across. Eventually he found the row of tanks with names beginning with “m.” The first group of names ended with “er.” They were followed by a series ending in “eel.”

  Adrian worked his way down the row one tank at a time. How many different combinations of the limited number of vowels and consonants could there be? They only ever seemed to use one syllable before the caste indicator. Considering the population of the ship, names must repeat. Did he even have the right Miheel?

  His blood ran cold at the thought, but he sternly told himself to stop inventing trouble. Gabeel had said Miheel was a guard. Fereel had known who he meant. There must be only one Miheel among the guards.

  He slipped into the tank marked with Miheel’s name. It was big enough for him to revert to his human shape. Staying insubstantial took no effort. It felt creepy to be occupying the same space as Miheel’s physical body, even though it was too dark inside the tank to see it. But he ignored the emotion. Actually he was in the portion of the astral realm congruent with that part of the physical realm, so there was no reason it should bother him. Or Miheel, when he showed up.

  That wouldn’t be for a long time. The full length of the shift. There was no way he could miss the shift change—the blast of telepathic messages would ensure that. Did all the Seraphim aboard the ship endure that every few hours? Maybe that was how they marked time, like a whistle blasting through a whole town to call factory workers in.

  Other telepathic alerts kept interrupting his attempts to catch a nap. None of them were quite as strong as the guard captain’s voice, but still impossible to ignore. The shift on impulse duty was called in, and the next shift sent to replace them. Repair technicians were called to fix an equipment malfunction on the eighth deck. Winners of some sort of competition were announced. Adrian carefully filed every bit of information away. If he survived to bring a report back to the Covenant, who knew what detail might prove vital to more fully understanding their enemy?

  At long last—Adrian estimated it had been at least eight hours—the guard commander’s voice slammed into Adrian’s brain, calling the first shift to duty and ordering the third shift to report. Adrian was relieved to notice a few small breaks in the staccato rhythm of the “all clears.” Evidently his mistake wasn’t so unusual as to raise undue suspicion. He supposed the guilty Seraphim would also receive demerits. What sort of punishment did “Corrections” deal out to those who accumulated too many? Hopefully he wouldn’t find out.

  He withdrew into the floor under the tank when the order was given for the third shift to return, leaving only a tendril of astral substance behind. Through it, he observed when the glowing astral form of a Seraph dropped into the tank and aligned itself with the waiting body. Keeping his voice as soft as he could, he hissed, “Miheel?”

  The Seraph froze, its eyes darting around, trying to pierce the darkness. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Fereel.” Adrian didn’t think it was a good idea to reveal his true identity until he’d had a chance to feel out what Miheel’s reaction might be. “Can we talk? Privately?”

  “Why?” Miheel bristled with suspicion. “You know it’s against the rules for me to communicate during my down shift. And you can’t stay on the tank deck during your free shift. We’ll both get Corrections if we’re caught.”

  “I know.” Adrian moved a little more astral substance into the tank and formed it into the shape of Fereel’s head. He locked eyes wit
h Miheel. “I need to ask you some questions. I—I’ve been thinking a lot lately, and I heard rumors that made me think you might be able to help me.”

  “What rumors?” Miheel glared at him, but Adrian picked up undercurrents of both fear and hope behind the aggression.

  “Rumors that you know how to get in touch with those who practice the Bleater religion. Rumors that you could help people who want to learn more about what Bleaters believe.” Gabeel’s information had included the fact that while Bleaters didn’t actively seek converts, their faith required that they respond to seekers and give honest answers to their questions.

  Miheel remained wary. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Please, Miheel. I know you have to be careful.” Adrian tried to squeeze his fins into the tank so he could wave them in a calming gesture, but there wasn’t sufficient space in its narrow confines. “Um, it would be a lot easier to talk somewhere with more room. Do you know somewhere we can go where we won’t be discovered?”

  After a long, searching look, Miheel gave a curt jerk of his head. “Follow me.” He dropped through the bottom of the tank.

  Adrian trailed him through the floor and a series of walls. At last they emerged into a compartment half-filled with small metal containers. Miheel put his back to one wall, his body a taut s-curve, his fins held stiffly close to his body. “Only Eek-caste cleaners ever come in here. We’ll be safe enough. Go on.”

  Adrian spread his fins wide and ducked his head. From his interaction with the real Fereel, he felt safe making some assumptions about him. “I may not give the impression that I care about anything of the sort, but secretly I’ve wondered for a long time if the Bleaters might have insight into certain issues that have been troubling me more and more.”

  Miheel looked Adrian up and down, still clearly suspicious. “If I were able to help you, how could I trust you were honestly curious, and not seeking to trap me into admitting my—connections?”

  Adrian fluttered his fins, at a loss for a way to convince him. “I don’t know. I swear, though, that I am telling the truth.”

  Miheel turned away. “Why would one of the Guard wish to learn about the beliefs of weaklings?” he asked bitterly. “Beliefs that condemn anyone who embraces them to persecution and hatred? Beliefs that the strong denounce as primitive superstitions?”

  Adrian softened his voice. “Why did you?”

  Miheel remained stiff for a long moment, then his body curled inward and his head drooped. “Sometimes I wonder,” he muttered. “At home they seemed high and beautiful ideals. I loved the idea that every being had worth, weak and strong alike. I wanted to help work toward a better world for all Seraphim, of every caste. It was such a revelation to speak with Ess- and Een- and even Eek-castes as equals, and find they were no different than me. There was even one Er-caste among us, back home. Desser truly seemed able to forget that we were of different castes. It was amazing.”

  Miheel turned back to Adrian, and his tone became sharper. “Desser was one of the few Er-castes left behind to perish in the sun-death. He was publicly known as a Bleater, so of course the Ex-castes found an excuse to exclude him.”

  His voice went dull again. “Not that it matters. What hope have we that the high-castes will ever listen to our message, when they’re able to contemplate wiping out a whole species of thinking beings without a qualm? Just because the creatures have no access to the astral realm? As long as it was only the survey ship report, I could hope that Gabeel was wrong and they really were merely animals. But once we started picking up their electromagnetic transmissions, the truth became obvious.”

  Adrian bobbed his head when Miheel hesitated, eager to keep him talking. “Go on.”

  Miheel’s fins trembled. “That’s when I realized our leaders aren’t just misguided, but evil. When they observed the creatures those transmissions showed, who are obviously just as intelligent and self-aware as we are even if they are body-bound, and declared that their intentions remained unchanged. That we would continue with our plan to transform their world to accommodate us, even though it will kill vast numbers of them and probably destroy their civilization.” The Seraph ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I doubt any of this makes sense to you.”

  Adrian considered whether to reveal himself, but decided to keep up the ruse a bit longer. “Actually, I’ve had many of the same thoughts myself. It’s exhilarating to hear them voiced by another.”

  Miheel blinked at him, brightening, though clearly trying to stay wary. “Truly? I would never have guessed it of you.”

  That didn’t surprise Adrian. “I kept my doubts well hidden. But when we drew near the new planet, I knew I had to finally act.”

  Miheel deflated again. “Act? How can we act? Our numbers are so few, and of such low castes. We have no hope of stopping the high-castes from doing their will.”

  Adrian tilted his head to the side in a gesture he’d observed in the Memories. “What do the Bleaters know of Gabeel?”

  Miheel peered at him, puzzled. “Only what’s commonly known. That he sided with the aliens against the rest of the crew of the scout ship and sabotaged the mission.” He huffed his breath out, his nostril flaps staying open a moment longer than usual. “We celebrate him for it, instead of reviling him as most do. He was my good friend, back home. And we consider friendship a precious thing, not a weakness. I was shocked when I first heard of his actions, but proud. I hope I would have had the courage to do as he did, had I been in his place.”

  The opening was too good to resist. “Have you ever considered following Gabeel’s example? Allying with the aliens to prevent the high-castes from conquering their world?”

  Miheel stared at him, shocked. “I never thought to hear you of all people advocate treason, Fereel.” He backed slowly away. “Is this a trap, after all? Are you feigning interest so I’ll condemn myself with my own words?” He glanced frantically around the room as if expecting to see hostile Seraphim burst in from every side.

  “No!” Adrian made a split-second decision. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not really Fereel.”

  Miheel froze. “What?”

  “Fereel is dead. I’m using his form as a disguise.”

  Miheel’s fins shook violently. “Who are you?”

  “Please, don’t panic. I’m from the world you’re approaching. Earth. This is my true form.” Adrian allowed his astral body to revert to its usual shape. He spread his hands wide, hoping Miheel would pick up the meaning of the gesture from his mind. “I’ve come to ask for your help. Gabeel sent me.”

  Miheel’s whole body remained tense, his fins still shaking. “Gabeel has been dead for thousands of years. And how can you be from the new planet? It’s still far beyond the range of even an Ex-caste.”

  “A few of the strongest of us can travel this far. We’ve kept Memories of Gabeel through many generations. He left us your name and two others. He told us you would help our people, as he did.” Adrian projected earnest friendliness as hard as he could, though he feared Miheel was too overwhelmed to perceive it.

  Miheel ducked his head and brought his upper fins to cover his face. “How can I help you, who are so much stronger than the greatest of us? I am nothing. Only a lowly Eel-caste.”

  “So was Gabeel, but my people would have been wiped out eight thousand years ago if he hadn’t acted to save us.” Adrian groped for words that would help Miheel come to terms with what he asked. “We hope he’s still alive. In the last Memory we have, he leaves on his ship with the promise to return when you arrive. He hasn’t yet, but that’s probably because you’re ahead of schedule.”

  Miheel poked his head out from under his fins. “Gabeel lives?”

  Adrian nodded encouragingly. “Look. We’ve got plenty of time, right? Will anybody miss Fereel if he doesn’t show up wherever he usually goes during his free shift?”

  Miheel considered. “Probably not. Unless he was scheduled for a training bout. And even then, he’ll just be registere
d as a forfeit and no one will go looking for him.” His voice went bitter. “Fereel was never afflicted by the weakness of friendship.”

  “Good.” Adrian stretched a hand toward Miheel. “Will you open your mind to me so I can show you the Memories we have of when the scout ship came to our world?”

  Miheel stared at his proffered hand for a long time before cautiously extending an astral fin to brush it. He took a deep breath, air hissing into his nostrils. “I will. Please show me. I want to see what my friend did.”

  The blocks on his mind opened before Adrian’s tentative probe. Miheel’s mind felt different from a human one, but not as alien as Adrian had feared. It was fairly easy to establish a firm enough link to allow the Memories to transfer. “Here you go. This is the first of three.”

  Adrian lived through the Memory with Miheel, while at the same time listening to the Seraph’s reactions. A surge of recognition swept through Miheel when Noh saw Gabeel for the first time, tinged with old sorrow and painful new hope. When the first Memory ended, Adrian launched straight into the second. The visions of the Seraphim home world raised a deep ache in Miheel’s mind, and the sight of their sun exploding sent a sharp shock of pain along the link.

  When the Memory ended, Miheel broke their contact. His voice soft and musing, he quoted, “‘Our spirits are much alike, despite the difference in our bodies.’ Gabeel was always one of the wisest of us.” He looked directly at Adrian. “You know my name. What’s yours?”

  Adrian formed the human syllables. “Adrian.”

  “Ad-rrreeen,” Miheel mimicked.

  Adrian grinned. “Better than I can say yours with my human mouth. Miheel.”

  Miheel’s snout emitted clicking Seraphim laughter. “Not bad.” He looked at Adrian speculatively. “You can shape your soul into our likeness. I wonder if I…” He twisted his head and laughed again. “Adreen.”

  At Adrian’s inquiring look, he explained, “You’re much too strong to bear an Een-caste name.”

  Adrian didn’t quite get the joke, but the feeling he got from Miheel reminded him of the bit in Harry Potter where the gigantic three-headed dog turned out to be named “Fluffy.”