Sins of Angels (The Complete Collection)

by Larkin, Matt

  She couldn’t do this. Shouldn’t…

  She leaned back, pressing into the couch as he straddled her and began unbuttoning her shirt. Warmth and hunger and even pain filled her as he squeezed one of her breasts hard.

  It had been so long.

  Knight was dangerous. This was wrong. She still loved David…

  “I can’t give you children…” she heard herself say. Not now. Not like this… Someday. Maybe.

  An edge of disappointment jabbed at her, like stepping on a barb, but it faded. His hands grabbed her hips and pulled her to lay flat on the couch, then began to pull off her pants.

  “There’s time for that later,” he said.

  It was all too much.

  It was all too much what she needed.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Everyone reads the Codex, but most never truly think about what it says. Mankind was supposed to live on a paradise called Eden, our homeworld. They said waters ran clear and humanity lived in peace, spreading to the edges of our solar system. Eden represents the dream, the delusion that there was once a time and place where humanity stood as one. We are taught we were cast from Eden for our sins. I doubt not that Eden existed, but rather whether it was truly paradise.

  The last of the smuggler ships had thought to escape around the black hole at the center of the Milky Way. Maybe they thought their ship’s lower mass could break free more easily than the Logos. They were wrong.

  David sat in the pilot’s chair, his teeth clenched, watching the smuggler ship fall into the hole. One agonizing second at a time its light faded away, slipping into the void of nothingness. Oblivion. David’s stomach lurched, though he tried not to show the crew.

  Captain Waller stood grimly for a moment. At well over 200cm, the Anakim was like a pillar of power when he stood on the bridge. Everyone looked up to him—literally. “Well, that’s done. Maybe now we can get some real orders.” With that, the captain strode off the bridge.

  But David remained where he was, eyes fixed on the horror before him. His mind knew he’d never really see them fall in—the ship grew dimmer on the boundary of the event horizon, but the process would seem to take eons to him. The black hole was distorting time from the perspective of those outside the event horizon. The smugglers fell slower and slower, until their motion stopped altogether.

  At least, that was how it looked to the crew of the Logos. From the smugglers’ perspective, though, he knew they were falling. They’d know by now they could never escape. Nothing escaped. Not even light. They could delay the inevitable, but sooner or later, the tidal forces would rip them apart, stretching them like strands of noodles. And then all they were would feed the singularity, becoming one with the nothingness. Become the void.

  “Commander?” Lieutenant Dana asked, her voice chipper. “Are we leaving? Because I’d be very happy to go, much as I’d miss this place.”

  David swallowed, looking at the cold-worlder just to force his eyes from that thing. Her skin was pale, nearly white. Cold-worlders—Icies as some insultingly called them—had no natural color to their hair either, but Phoebe had dyed hers with pink highlights. “Aye, Phoebe. We’re going.”

  A twist of his joystick brought the Logos around, heading back for the Conduit Gate. Man wasn’t meant to understand Angels, he knew, but still, he had to wonder why they’d ever build a gate to the galactic core—a supermassive black hole that would devour all matter, even light itself. He tried to remind himself that the singularity wasn’t evil, it just was. A smaller version in the ship’s core was driving all the systems of the Logos, was driving all full-size ships. They were necessary forces of creation, harnessed by the Angels. Like a sun. Vital to life, but don’t get too close. That was all.

  There was no reason for his nightmares about falling in. About the slow descent into inevitable oblivion. About knowing all he was would slip out of existence, perhaps his very soul lost. No one was sure if even a soul could escape to heaven from the event horizon. The Codex only ever said not to cross one. Good advice.

  The Conduit gate opened. It revealed a tunnel through space, shimmering in every conceivable color, some mankind had never named. The Conduit always reminded him of ice caves on Ekron, though iridescent and almost liquid-liked.

  He punched the joystick forward, diving in, his psionic senses immediately flaring to life. Tame outside the Conduit, they became super-charged in it. It was the network connecting the universe, and he was a part of it.

  Infinite passageways unfolded in his mind. He had to choose quickly, because tidal forces here would drag them off course if they dawdled. In the Conduit you always had to be moving forward. Falter, second-guess yourself, delay—and you could be lost forever.

  This was no place for doubt. No place for questions. This was the depths of the universe. A non-psychic trying to pilot this would become overwhelmed, lost or destroyed in moments. But people like David—or Rachel—they could feel the way through. They could see the paths as they opened, react quickly enough to choose the road.

  He pushed her from his mind. No place for questions.

  Time began to lose meaning here, too. Lost in infinite pathways, his mind so deep in the psychic trance, it could be easy to lose track of passing hours. It was like dreaming—you could never be sure if you’d lost a minute, an hour, or longer.

  He pulled on the joystick, taking a fork toward the Ekron System. It was close, and they could use the relays there to get new orders from the Sanhedrin. The ship lurched as he approached the Gate. There was little visual marker, just a variance in the shimmering of the Conduit, but a Psych could feel the Gate.

  As he approached, it burst forward like a bubble breaking, revealing normal space. The Logos jumped out of the Conduit and his ears popped. Their motion didn’t really slow, but it felt like it.

  The sudden diminishing of his psionic senses was like being submerged in water, and it always left him woozy for a few heartbeats. For the infinite instant he flew the Conduit, he was one with the universe—like an Angel himself. And the sudden loss of it always made him want to weep, at least for a moment—that transition back to reality. No one spoke.

  He shook it off and rose.

  “Lieutenant, you have the bridge.”

  “Yup, yup,” Phoebe said.

  David found the captain in the war room. Waller always liked to wait in here. He was seventy-five, but his Anakim strength and stamina made him seem younger, and David had seen the fire in his heart. He had a thick salt-and-pepper beard and a strong head of hair.

  “We’ve reached Ekron,” David said.

  The captain scrubbed his beard. “Send a message to the Tabernacle.”

  “Sir.” David turned to leave.

  “McGregor,” Waller said, and David turned back. “Is this how you want to spend your time? Chasing smugglers into black holes?” Waller leaned heavily on the table, as if weighed down by his own words.

  David turned. “Sir?”

  “This ship was meant for more than that, don’t you agree?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Waller sighed and sat at the table. “I should have been admiral by now. I was up for it last year, did you know that? Passed me over for… well, that doesn’t matter. Why should they choose me? What have I done lately but chase petty criminals around? We should be out there on the border, preparing for whatever the Asheran Confederacy plans.”

  The Asheran Confederacy. Bloody bastards violated the First Commandment. Everyone knew it, even if the Sentinels lacked hard proof. For decades they’d pushed the boundaries, and sooner or later, someone would have to push back. Someone had tried.

  “Sir. You know about my mother.”

  Waller fixed him with an unnervingly steady gaze. “Everyone knows about it, McGregor. But I’ve seen you’re a good officer, and I’d wager what happened to the Balthazar wasn’t her fault. I knew her, you know, and she was a fine captain. It’s Asherah. They’re to blame for the whole incident.”

  “Aye
, sir.” David had never doubted it. Naomi McGregor had been a hero until the Balthazar Incident, and everyone blamed her for the loss of the ship to Asherah. Maybe he’d never know what happened, but David knew it wasn’t her fault.

  “It should have been considered an act of war,” the captain said, then sat down. “I lobbied for it back then—I wasn’t a captain yet, so my voice didn’t count much. Instead we continue this half-wit standoff. They’re heretics, rebels. Mizraim is the legitimate heir to the Days of Glory, and all humanity should be united under us.”

  Was all this an invitation to sit? David decided to take it as one, and sat across the table. “I’ve got more reason to hate Asherah than most, Captain. But you can’t really be suggesting we start a war? The Days of Glory ended six hundred years ago. The Asheran Confederacy may only control four galaxies, but taking those from them would be—”

  “Glorious. That’s the kind of act one needs to draw the eyes of the Sanhedrin. You think an Imperator cares about what we’re doing here?”

  “Aye, I suspect Vibbard does.” Imperator Vibbard oversaw the Milky Way, and would look kindly on Sentinels helping keep order there.

  Waller waved the comment away. “McGregor, you know which captains they watch? Those on the borders. Those making strides for the Empire, not chasing down smugglers.” Waller paused. “I feel you disapprove, Commander.”

  Shite, was the captain in his head? David thought he’d know if the man was actually reading his mind, so probably he was just sensing his emotions. “Sir, I don’t disapprove, I only feel it’s not our place to question our orders. The work we’re doing here isn’t glamorous, but it does matter. We’re keeping order in the Empire.”

  “You have to be bold, man. You know that. After what happened with your mother you still joined the Sentinels. So what? You got where you are at your age by playing it safe, by doing only what others asked? You want to make captain yourself someday? Trust me, it’s the bold actions those politicians see.”

  The shift in the conversation had become a wee bit too uncomfortable for David, but what could he say? He doubted Waller would actually disobey orders, but his words certainly tread close to that line. “Aye, Captain.”

  Waller sighed. “Get me a line to the Tabernacle, McGregor. Dismissed.”

  David rose and returned to the bridge, passing the order to connect the Mazzaroth to communications. The twenty-three Imperators of the Sanhedrin would inevitably bicker over where to send the Logos, ignoring any input Waller gave. They each had their own galaxy to worry about, and rarely took the big picture into account. Maybe that was why the Shekhinah was in charge. Still, part of him hoped they’d listen and send the ship to the front.

  Or to the Pegasus Dwarf. Out there, beyond the Empire, Rachel was liable to get herself killed. If they sent the ship there, he could look in on her and her insane plans. And maybe, just maybe, he could save more than her life. Maybe he could salvage what they should have had.

  He headed down to his quarters and sat on his bunk. His uniform—really a nanomesh armor suit—wasn’t too uncomfortable, but best be out of it. He drew his thumb along the line of the chest piece and it separated, the nanobots unbinding so he could remove the jacket, then did the same with the pants, careful to remove his pulse pistol from the thigh holster first.

  It came down to that uniform, didn’t it? It had meant so much to him, he’d lost Rachel. Sure, there’d been others before and since, but she was something special. Infuriatingly special, sometimes. She always knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling, and not just from being an empath.

  Once, she’d rented rafts for him on his birthday, to ride the canals across New Rome. Out there, on the canal, alone with her, that had been peace. And he’d buggered it all up.

  Or she had.

  But the truth was, he still couldn’t see why. Most Sentinels had families back home. Waller had five children, didn’t he? If Rachel would have waited for him… but that wasn’t who she was.

  Maybe he loved her for that, too.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  September 26th, 3096 EY

  Eden was destroyed, or so the Codex tells us. The Adversary came and wiped out all of our off-world colonies, then moved in on our homeworld itself. They, or It, killed three quarters of all humans in the universe, and then the Angels came. They fought the Adversary and drove it off, then ignited the Exodus, taking mankind from the smoldering wasteland that had been Eden.

  Waller had gotten his wish, or else he’d made an impression on one of the Imperators, because the Logos had been sent to the outer galaxies. David wasn’t the only one who could pilot the Conduit—Waller could do it himself if he wanted—but he was the best, which meant by the end of the day he was exhausted.

  Flying between galaxies was exhilarating, but a long process, and draining. Every second required precise concentration. The Conduit branched endlessly, and though there were fewer branches between galaxies, the price for a wrong turn was even steeper. A single mistake could throw them all so far off course they’d be lucky to ever find themselves again.

  David caught himself working his way down to the Med Bay, as much to work out the mental tension as anything. He couldn’t sleep so soon after flying. His psionics were out of whack, and his adrenaline pumping, his nerves shot. A day like this meant either winding down first, or lying in his bunk awake.

  Leah was there, bent over her data pad. So preoccupied in her research her hair had fallen to one side, revealing her gills, which she usually tried to hide.

  “What’s a nice lass like you doing here at this hour?”

  She spun on her chair, immediately patting her hair back in place. “David. Hi. I, uh… I was just studying those samples we picked up back in the Milky Way. You want to hear about it?”

  “Alien bacteria… Not really my forte, lass.”

  Her face fell a bit, and she just nodded. “Right, of course. Did you need something?”

  “Just to relax a bit.”

  “Oh. Well then… Uh, sit down. You want to sit?” She waved at another chair and flashed a warm smile.

  David took it and kicked his feet up on her table, earning a slight downturn of her mouth. He laughed, but it felt forced.

  “Something’s on your mind, David. I can always tell.”

  “I told you about Rachel…”

  She sighed. “Right. Your ex.”

  “She’s in a spot of trouble, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

  “You could try,” she mumbled.

  “What?”

  Leah shook her head, then folded her hands behind her back. “As your doctor, I’d advise you to let the past go. Stress causes most of the medical problems we see in Sentinels, and it’s one of the hardest things to treat well.”

  “Aye? That simple, eh?” He smirked. “Might be, save she called me a bit back. She’s caught herself up in investigating the Sefer Raziel, if you can believe that.”

  “Sorry?”

  “A book, probably a myth, anyway. Point is, she’s just as likely to get herself killed as find it.”

  Leah leaned forward. “I’d say the point is how you feel about it.”

  “I dunno, really. She’s still doing all the same things that drove us apart. She’s got to push every boundary.”

  “Huh. I know a Calnehian commander kind of like that.”

  Oh, wonderful. Now she was comparing him to Rachel. “It’s not funny, all right?” And he was nothing like that. He worked hard to prove himself, to redeem his family name. Not to unravel the fabric of society. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, right?”

  She nodded. “Always.” Something tingled at the edge of his psionic senses, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.

  “So tell me what to do.”

  Someone coughed. David spun to see the captain, and rose quickly with a salute. “Sir.”

  The captain waved them to their ease. “Just a headache.”

  “Yes, sir,” Leah said. “Where?” The cap
tain indicated his temples, and Leah pressed a pain tab to the spot.

  It dissolved instantly, and a look of relief washed over Waller’s face. “Thank you, Suzuki. Carry on.” The captain nodded at David, then left.

  David fell back in his chair. Just what he needed. The captain overhearing his romantic woes.

  Leah flashed him an awkward smile that pretty much summed up how he felt. “Look, David. If it’s over, it’s over. Sometimes things just don’t work out no matter how much we want them to. Everything seems like it’s going great, seems like it’s time for marriage, the Third Commandment maybe, and then… But sometimes it just isn’t what we thought and the other person is…” She sighed and shook her head. A throbbing built in his psionic senses, a sudden awareness of some buried pain. Odd, now he thought about it, Leah rarely spoke of her past.

  And he didn’t usually read people like that. Situations, immediate threats, sometimes warnings about the future. And of course the Conduit. But even Rachel was a better empath than he was. David rubbed his temples. Maybe that was what gave the captain these headaches. Uncontrolled, unexpected bursts of emotions from members of the crew.

  Leah talked like someone speaking from experience, but he didn’t want to press. If she wanted to tell him about it, she would. They’d known each other a long time. She was in his class at the Sentinel Academy, even though she was several years older. She’d started later than most, but he’d never asked why the sudden career change.

  “You still love her?” Leah asked after a moment.

  “Aye, I think maybe I do. Seeing her again, all those old feelings came back and I just… No matter what, even if it is over, I don’t want to see her get hurt. But I also don’t approve of all she’s doing.”