by Larkin, Matt
Finally, they were here. The Gate opened not into a system, but into deep space, on the edge of a black hole so massive it defied belief. Caleb slowly walked to the window, transfixed by the horrible gaping void before him. The accretion disc stretched so far beyond the range he could see, he might almost not recognize it for what it was.
But this was it. The Great Attractor. It truly was a black hole. In this case, the name fell utterly short. This was … the void itself. It was a tear in reality, consuming the universe. It was like looking into the eye of God and seeing something so alien his heart clenched and his breath failed.
But he … could not … look … away.
He tried to speak, but no words came. Even this far out, the singularity’s gravity was pulling the ship. Probably dilating time, too. God knew how much time would be passing every second they spent here.
An alien presence pressed against the edge of his mind. There was something … alive out here.
The Angel space station. It had to be. Caleb swallowed and tore himself away from the window. Scanners were having trouble picking up anything out there in … that thing.
Why in God’s name did the Angels build a Conduit route here? Why build a Gate or a station at the maw of something so monstrous?
On the edge of the scanners, he picked up a reading—not so much a station he could detect, but a break in the surrounding light.
“Ezra, bring us around there.”
The Icie shook himself, and told the pilot to do so.
As the serpentine ship turned, Caleb tried to focus on the station. He tried to pretend the abyss outside was just a background nebula. Best to forget the end of existence waited just outside.
The station was black, shimmering like the Ark, and vaguely resembled an Angel itself. It was taller than it was wide, ending in a point-like tail. From the upper tiers stretched seven arched pylons like arms—or wings.
“Angels above, that’s the thing?” Ezra Dana asked. “It’s … marvelous. Has to be ten kilometers tall.”
Caleb sighed, trying not to shudder. “Don’t use that expression.”
“What?”
“Angels above. The Angels have become our enemies. And we’re here to destroy the damned station. Assuming you have any way to do that.”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, we stole a QI prototype weapon. Apollo was kind enough to tip us off a while back. Takes too long to charge to use against a ship, but that thing’s not moving.”
Caleb kept his eyes on the Angel station. Something was tingling on the edge of his mind, though he was no Psych. Was the Angel station alive, like the Ark? It would make sense. And certainly it would be less horrifying than even considering that the Great Attractor itself might … No. Focus on the task at hand.
“What kind of prototype?” he asked.
“Antiproton cannon. Apparently QI tried to modify the enhancements Asherans made on ion cannons to increase explosive potential.”
A new line of destructive weapon. Designed to fight the Ark?
“Power it up.” He wanted to get the void away from this place as soon as possible.
“Charge the cannon,” Ezra said. “Give it a couple of minutes.”
The lights dimmed throughout the ship. Several consoles went dead, including all the other weapons. The ship’s Singularity Drive must not have been large enough to power the weapon effectively. He supposed it was a small comfort that most ships wouldn’t be able to operate this latest doomsday device.
“Ever wonder what lies beyond a black hole?” Ezra asked. “I mean, if you stare deep enough into it …”
“Don’t. Only oblivion lies beyond. The tidal forces would rip you apart long before you reached the heart of the singularity.”
“But some say it could lead to another universe.”
“Even if that’s true, there’s no way to survive the journey. Focus on the task at hand.”
Caleb felt sick. This place was not meant for humans. He could see why the Angels never showed mankind the route out here. They had opened the Local Group to human exploration, but nothing beyond. Someone like Rachel Jordan might consider that a shackle placed on humanity. After seeing this … thing … Caleb wasn’t sure he still did. Maybe the universe was greater, larger, than people were ready for.
He shook his head. When had he become so philosophical? All he used to care about was money and what his assistant had between her legs. And here he was, two hundred million light years from known space, preparing to destroy an Angel station. And staring into the maw of oblivion.
He just wanted to go home. He wanted to kiss his wife and hug his children. He wanted to wash his hands of politics and power and war. But he had opened a door that couldn’t be closed. He couldn’t go home to Ayelet until he could be sure she would be safe from Apollo and the Sentinels and the Angels and everyone else.
“We’re ready to fire,” Ezra said.
“Then do it.”
The ship jerked violently as the cannon discharged. It fired a stream that looked like an ion beam, instantly impacting the station. A cascade of antimatter explosions engulfed the outpost. And then, just as the power was completely draining from the pirate ship, the station imploded. The singularity core almost immediately began to merge with the greater black hole.
A shockwave escaped the implosion, washing outward in a blast that made Caleb’s ears pop.
“Get us the void out of here,” he said.
“We’ve got minimal power,” Ezra said. But at least the pilot limped the ship away.
Something shrieked in Caleb’s mind, and he stumbled to the deck. Several other crewmen grunted, and the Psych pilot sobbed. Was that the death rattle of the station? Caleb pulled himself back over to the window.
The accretion disk looked like it was spinning faster. As if something had awakened it.
And Caleb couldn’t blink, couldn’t turn away from the maw of the beast. It was like an eye, watching him, looking right through to his soul, petty shriveled thing that it was.
And judging his sins.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR
February 24th
The Codex has a phrase … Yetzer Hara, which is usually translated as a ‘will toward evil’. I’m sure the Angels would claim the Asherans, and all humans, had been tempted by evil. In their blindness and arrogance they see themselves as supreme, and fail to consider their own actions might stem from that same dark will.
David dared not arrange more than a handful of Sentinel ships together. After the disaster in the A3, he couldn’t risk someone informing the Angels. Instead, he’d called only four captains together, into his war room on the Wheel. Those in charge of four battleships—a commodity Sentinels were beginning to run low on.
Waller came—to David’s chagrin. Hertz was here too, and having a heated debate with Captain Tong.
“Nice to see you survived a battle that killed thousands of our people,” John Tong said. “It’s not like it’s a Sentinel’s duty to defend his brethren at any cost.”
“Enough,” David said. “There was nothing Hannah could have done, and neither could you. The Ark let her escape so she could warn us—frighten us. Don’t let it work.”
“Too late,” Tong said. “Have you seen the men? Everyone is frightened.”
Aye, and so was David, but no one needed to hear that. What they needed was a new strategy. Something bold and unexpected. Something to turn the tide, and sentiment.
“Look, now we’ve got QI on our side. And Raziel assures me they’re working on prototype weapons—state of the art—”
“Right,” Waller said. “So now we’re fighting the Angels and you’re working with one of them. And apparently you’ve had him for some time. Why does it not surprise me you’ve been holding out, McGregor?”
David glowered. There had been no keeping that quiet, so he hadn’t tried. The moment an Angel roamed free on the Wheel, he knew his crew would spread the word to their friends and lovers on other ships. Forbidding it w
ould have only weakened his authority by giving people cause to violate his orders.
“Raziel is here to help us, against his kind. We have no choice but to trust him, and I could not afford to reveal such an edge until the time was right.”
“You mean until desperation forced your hand,” Waller said.
Aye. That was pretty much the truth of it.
The door opened and Phoebe entered the room, her face a mask of uncertainty. “Sir, the Tabernacle has reappeared. The Shekhinah is making a broadcast.”
David balked. In six hundred years the Shekhinah had never directly addressed the public. It had acted through the Imperators, giving a human face to its rule. The Imperators were all dead now, but if the Shekhinah had survived, he would have expected it to appoint new ones or arrange an election.
“Mazzaroth on,” he said. “Display Tabernacle broadcast.”
A digitally created woman’s face filled the screen. It was silver, clearly intended to mimic human features, while giving no illusion the speaker itself was human.
“This is the Shekhinah, final authority of the Mizraim Empire. All Sentinels are hereby ordered to submit to Angel authority. All Sentinel ships are to return to the Tabernacle to await further orders. The Angels, rightful lords of humanity, have returned. All action against their will is to cease immediately. I repeat—stand down and return to the Tabernacle. Coordinates will follow.”
The transmission cut off.
David stared at the screen, at a loss. The computer must have heard about the massacre at Andromeda III. It had decided its authority was lost in any event, and the best chance for its survival was to submit to its former masters. The cold logic of a machine, albeit one with sentience and emotion. And fear? Might it fear for itself? Or did it truly believe this was the best choice for its people? After all, the computer’s mandate was to bring order to humanity.
“I guess that’s that,” Tong said.
“I … I don’t know what choice we have now,” Hertz said.
David shook his head. “Of course we have a choice. The Shekhinah may have been the authority of the Sentinels in the past, but things have changed.”
Waller shoved him, and David stumbled back. “Listen to this treason! How many ways are you going to break your oath, McGregor? You should have been spaced already, and now you want to act against the Tabernacle?”
David rose to his full height, and though he was a tall man, Waller still dwarfed him. But he looked his former captain in the eyes. “It’s not treason, Captain. It’s revolution. The Shekhinah has been forced to capitulate. It feels a return to servitude is better than risking the further wrath of the Angels. I do not. I am not willing to surrender all we’ve made for ourselves to accept them as our masters once again.”
Rachel had shown him the error in that way of thinking. The Angels were arrogant, violent. They refused to see humanity had grown in their absence. And if mankind simply submitted, they would never stand on their own. The Angels would ensure an eternity of servitude. Even Raziel felt they had gone too far—and that was all the proof David needed Rachel was right.
Waller pointed a finger at his chest. “You will get what’s coming to you, McGregor. And I, for one, am leading my ship back to the Tabernacle. I truly hope they send me to bring you in for trial.” The Anakim stormed out of the war room.
For a split second David considered having his Sentinels restrain the man. But that would violate the spirit of these talks, and only lead to a shooting battle with the Logos. The Wheel couldn’t afford that right now.
“Waller’s right,” Tong said. “It’s over. Sorry, David.” The other captain departed as well.
David frowned and shook his head, then looked to Hertz. “Hannah, please.”
“David … I saw the Ark destroy a thousand Sentinel ships. I watched the biggest disaster in Sentinel history.”
He could understand her fear. She had more reason than anyone to want to submit. She had witnessed the undeniable power of the Angels. She had felt their total lack of remorse. He couldn’t blame her.
But he needed her. He needed every ally he could gather. “If you give in now, what do those deaths mean? Is it enough that those hundreds of thousands of men and women died to prove an Angel point? Is that the message?”
“So you would have us fight to the last, whittled away to our own extinction? You would have us all die in futile defiance?”
David thumped his chest. “What does this uniform mean, Hannah? We protect mankind from any threat. We walk in the dark of space to guard against foes within and without. We do not bend. We do not break. We are the first and last line of defense against the night.”
Hannah sighed. “All right, David. But you know it may mean fighting some of our own people, now.”
He knew it. He would need to act fast, to sway as many Sentinels to his cause as he could. If they submitted, it would be too late.
Mankind was fast running out of chances for freedom.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE
March 10th
We are watching Armageddon unfold around us. The death toll is already almost beyond measure. And despite it all, I feel hope.
For weeks David had traveled from system to system, slowly building his alliance. Rachel always did a good job of inspiring people. Most of her life, she’d been telling them things they didn’t want to hear. Now, she spoke truths they had to hear. And David was grateful to have her by his side, not only for the sake of his heart, but for the sake of the cause.
Almost two hundred systems had signed on in a pact to stand against the Angels. He had to pray all of them were true to their word, and none secretly feeding intel to the Angels. But the truth was, even if they were true, signing the pact made them targets. The Ark had already taken out one of the member worlds, and it made it increasingly hard to sign others.
“We’re not going to win this, are we?” Rachel said. She sat on David’s bunk, topless, leaning on her elbow.
He drank in her rich, beautiful skin with his eyes. Even after making love, he still couldn’t get enough of her. But fear clouded her face, tension creasing her forehead. David shifted closer and took her face between his hands.
“I don’t know, lass.” It wasn’t what she needed to hear, but she’d know if he lied. And he owed her the truth—the horrible truth that, maybe, they could not win this. More than half the Sentinel fleet had obeyed the Shekhinah’s command. Which meant they now faced not only the Ark, but his own former brothers-in-arms. Word was, the Tabernacle had begun sending Sentinel ships out again, establishing the new Mizraim Empire. An Empire ruled by Angels.
He had heard the rumors from worlds he’d visited. People were calling it the Empire of Returned Glory. Some even welcomed the Angels back. For so long they had been conditioned to worship them … Now, seeing their terrible fury, they also feared the Angels. Reverence and terror intermingled to create a subservient population.
A year ago, David would have lined up right along those people, to kneel down before beings he had believed were saviors. Now, the universe had grown too complex.
His door buzzed.
He shared a look with Rachel, who grabbed an undershirt and slipped it on.
David did the same. “Open.”
Raziel strode into the room. “The time has come.” The Angel’s eyes lingered on Rachel a moment before locking on David.
Not for the first time, David wondered how Raziel felt about Rachel. Through her, he had been imprisoned. He had manipulated her, but she had turned the tables on him in the end. But now they were all stuck as allies, and he had no choice but to trust the Angel. “Time for what?”
“We are near the Laish system. There is a secret QI outpost there. Set a course immediately.” Raziel didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and left.
David scratched his head. He’d never heard of the Laish system, but it was hardly surprising. If it had a small population, it wouldn’t have come up in his duties.
He looked to Rachel, who just shrugged. All right, then. “McGregor to Dana,” he said over the comm. “Take us to the Laish system.”
“Sir. Aren’t we supposed to be meeting the convoy?”
Damn. They had been en route to meet a Manna Products convoy. David wanted to set aside hostilities with the rest of the Conglomerate—they’d make powerful and necessary allies against the new Empire. But whatever Raziel wanted was probably urgent.
“Tell them we’ll be late.”
“Yup, yup. Gonna be late for dinner. Got it.”
He glanced back at Rachel, who had already put her uniform back on. He did the same, and they went up to the bridge. Raziel stood there, motionless.
By the time they arrived, the pilot was already jumping out of the Laish Gate.
“We must take my ship down to that moon,” the Angel said, indicating one in the distance.
David looked to Rachel, who nodded. “Knight, you’re with us. Phoebe, you have the bridge.”
They descended to the hangar, then Raziel piloted his own ship toward the moon. It was far out from the Conduit Gate, but his ship was swift.
“What’s down there?” Rachel asked.
“The moon is hollow. It serves as a concealed construction base for prototype projects. Eventually, some of those were sold to the Sentinels.” The Angel steered them toward an opening, one David realized was actually a hangar. A seal opened beneath them, and the ship descended through an airlock.
From the window, David could see a full battleship beneath them. It was black, and shimmered like the Ark, albeit much smaller. The ship was just over a kilometer in length. Its hull pulsed and shifted as Raziel’s ship landed nearby.
“Bugger me,” David said. “Is that another Angel ship?”
The Angel rose and walked toward the hatch. “No. That is the Sephirot. It is the first of a new line of ship QI intended to market to Sentinels a few years from now. It has, however, been modified with an organic self-repairing skin similar to that used on the Ark. Come.” He led them out across the hangar.