by Larkin, Matt
“Aye,” he said, at last. “We have to act quickly. And we’ll need to work together. Can I count on you, Aluf?”
The man slowly reached up and detached his helmet. A hiss of oxygen escaped as he lifted it away, at last revealing his face. Cybernetic protrusions that reminded David of the frozen Angels poked out in place of one of the man’s eyebrows. His face was worn, scarred, and older than David had guessed.
“I am a man of my word, Captain. And I give you that word. If you are true, I shall be as well.”
David supposed it was the best he could hope for.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-ONE
March 20th
I asked the Angel, this morning, whether he hated his own kind for their actions. ‘Do you hate your species for wrongs it has done?’ he asked me back. I suppose his decision to be here is as difficult as any of ours. We betray our gods, and he betrays his own kind.
The men and women sitting around the table had become David’s inner circle. Rachel, the love of his life, sat on his right, manipulating a holo display of Andromeda.
“This is where we think the Tabernacle is located,” she said.
Knight sat beside her, taciturn and solemn, casting barely perceptible glances at Phoebe across the table. And, of course, Leah was there, next to Phoebe. He’d had less time to give the Amphie of late, and he hoped she understood. Her friendship meant more to him than he could tell her.
Raziel stood at the other end of the table, finding no chairs easily accommodated his wings. Sooner or later, David would have to make special arrangements for the Angel. Despite all odds, Raziel had proven an ally, and deserved to be treated as such.
“The Tabernacle is a very important symbol to Mizraim,” Leah said. “If we could take it back, it would send a message.”
“Yup, yup,” Phoebe said. “It’d tell everyone we’re badasses. On account of it’s liable to be guarded by a sizable fleet and possibly Angels. And basically impossible to take. So, we’d be doing the impossible. Always looks good. You know, if it wasn’t impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible,” Knight said.
“In that case, how about I knock you up, and you have the babies, ninja boy?”
David smiled, trying to savor the moment. The people he cared most for were all here in this room. It was near impossible to make peace. Their lives were in his hands. His next decisions could cost any or all of them those lives. He’d always borne the burden for the lives of those under his command, and he’d always accepted that. But this was different. Captains were usually discouraged, although not forbidden, from having romances in their own crew. He could see why. He’d never let anything happen to Rachel. He never wanted anything to happen to anyone here.
“Leah is right about the Tabernacle,” he said at last. “The symbol aside, we cannot allow the Angels to continue to use the Shekhinah.”
Rachel waved away the hologram. “Why not? What does that computer have to do with anything now that the Angels themselves are back? I mean, it ruled Mizraim, so people followed it, but it’s been supplanted.”
He sighed, and Phoebe cleared her throat. When he’d promoted her to first officer, he’d had to tell her something she hadn’t been thrilled to hear. Usually only Captains and XOs were meant to know, but the time for military secrets may have passed.
He scratched his head, then turned to Rachel. “The Shekhinah was the ultimate commander of the Sentinels, the final authority over us.”
“And?”
“And every Sentinel ship in the fleet is equipped with a secure transmitter beacon. Through Conduit Relays, the Shekhinah can monitor the location and condition of a ship, no matter where in the universe it is. If we tried to congregate a fleet, it would know where we were staging. It’ll make organizing the Sentinels against the Angels next to impossible.”
“So we destroy it,” Knight said.
“What, the beacon?” David asked. “It’s not a single device, but a fully integrated part of the ship. Disabling it would mean frying the main computer and half the systems onboard. We’d be left blind and adrift.”
“Then take out the Shekhinah,” Knight said. “Remove it from the equation.”
Leah scoffed. “The Shekhinah has stood as the symbol of Mizraim for six hundred years, Knight. We can’t just blow it up.”
“Why not? I have nothing personal against it. The only order it ever gave me was to have lots of sex. Which works. But it’s a computer, and it’s in the way of our plans.”
“Technically,” Phoebe said, “it ordered you to have sex with lots of women. Not the same as just have lots of sex with one woman. Which means, I kinda do have a personal problem with the computer.”
David held up a hand. “Look, what Knight says is true. Not long ago I couldn’t have even imagined doing this, but … we have no choice. The Shekhinah, whether out of fear or cold logic, has sided with the Angels. And it gives them a tool we cannot allow them to have. It has betrayed mankind, and our only remaining option is to take it out.”
“Yup. M’kay. But how are we going to do that if we can’t get close without it knowing?”
“The Sephirot was never fitted with the beacon,” Raziel said. “Nor, obviously, were any other QI ships.”
David swallowed. This was it, then. This was the moment he crossed the line and could not even pretend an illusion of loyalty. “Nor are the Asheran ships. I’ve been in contact with them. We can give them the coordinates and they can strike with us.”
Leah moaned. “David, you know what it’s going to mean if an Asheran fleet destroys the symbol of the Mizraim Empire.”
Chaos. Rampant fear. Maybe civil war. “It’ll mean a terror slightly less than what the Angels are raining down on the universe right now. It’ll mean we deal a blow to them, and to their authority. And with any luck, it’ll mean we earn back the Sentinels to our cause. Because we cannot fight both the Angels and the Sentinels.”
He looked around the table. One by one, each of his companions nodded.
So it was decided.
God forgive him for what he had to do.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-TWO
The Angels are calling it the Empire of Returned Glory. But there was no glory. There was apocalypse. I suppose that’s what Raziel sees. The things he spent six hundred years building are ablaze. And, at this rate, humanity will be back where it was three thousand years ago. Reeling from a brush with extinction.
Rachel felt chilled, despite the heat of the war room. She rose from the table, hugging herself. The day she had left home, her father had told her defiance would have severe consequences. He had been right. If she had stayed there, or even had acquiesced when the board at NRU told her to curtail her lectures, maybe none of this would have happened.
In her quest to save the human race, she had brought about Armageddon. She guessed one person really could make a difference in the universe. And she wanted to cry, though she dared not let any of the others see her.
One by one, they filed out of the war room. Except David. He just sat there, watching her.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Aye, lass. Stay a wee bit, please.”
Rachel slumped back into the chair beside him and took his hand. He felt the weight, too. It drifted off him like toxic vapors, threatening to suffocate her. The weight of destiny, the weight of choices that could not be unmade. Decisions he made, even now, knowing the cost would be high—maybe higher than could be borne. And he made them anyway, because he saw no other way.
And buried under all that, he felt something else. A surge of comfort when she held his hand. He deserved whatever small comfort she could give him. He’d sacrificed so much for her. She’d brought this about, and still he stood by her.
“You know, lass, I realized something. It took me a long time, but I finally understood why you did all the things you did. Before, I thought I knew, but I didn’t. You didn’t give up your home and career because you don’t care about th
ose things … You did it because you had no choice. That little voice in your head that just wouldn’t be silent. Your conscience, telling you something was wrong with the universe. And if no one else saw it, you had to be the one to fix it.”
What was he saying? That he … Could this …
Her mind wouldn’t work right. Her chest seized up, overcome with a torrent of emotions. And for once, she didn’t have to wonder whether they had come from someone else. A tear streamed down her face.
“You don’t know …” she stammered, knowing she sounded like a blubbering child, but unable to stop. “You don’t know how long I waited to hear … to have you …”
“Aye. I do. Now.” He threw his arms around her and held her close.
And for a moment, all that fear and pressure fled. Finally … finally he was with her. He had been by her side all along, but he hadn’t understood her. And she’d known that and loved him anyway. But now … She couldn’t cope with the unleashed river of emotion, and so here she was sobbing like an idiot.
David brushed her cheek, rubbing away a tear with his thumb. She kissed him then, hard, pressing her lips on his with a hunger that threatened to consume her. For a lifetime she had waited to know she wasn’t in this alone.
He pulled away and looked deep into her eyes. “Rach … We could all die soon. And I’m so sorry I have to place you in such danger.”
“It’s all right. I understand.” She laughed, sucking away the last of her tears. “I get … the weight.”
“Aye. And I can’t go into that without you knowing the depth of my heart.”
She smiled, and punched him on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’m an empath.”
“No. Sometimes you need to hear the words, lass. I love you.” He dropped from his chair onto one knee. “And I want you to be my wife. And I know not everyone believes in this kind of thing, but I do. I want you and only you, forever. I want to finish this and build a life and a house and have babies. Lots of babies. And you know I’ve wanted it all before … But it’s more now. I’m ready to burst for the want of it. Be mine and mine alone, lass.”
Her breath caught and she stammered, further cementing her performance in the halls of idiocy. Of course, David had always wanted kids with her. And she had wanted it, too … A part of her. She’d raged and railed against the injustice of the Third Commandment. Against the sickening thought of being told she was obligated to have children, of being ordered what to do with her own body. And in that rage, she had feared she refused to do what her own heart wanted, out of pure ornery defiance.
But the Angels had made the Second Commandment to protect people. Just as they had made the Third. They told humans to populate the universe, because it ensured the survival of the human race. And because they were poor rulers, arrogant and self-righteous, they made Commandments. Rather than discuss, they chose to demand. And she, in her own arrogance, had refused on principle. A stubborn child, holding her breath as if to punish her parents.
For years she had drawn David close and pushed him away. She’d loved him, he’d loved her, and still she’d refused. Because she hadn’t been ready. She’d never understood what was wrong with her … Except, maybe she was waiting for him to understand. And he finally did.
“Rachel?”
She nodded, slowly, unable to get her mouth to work. “Y-yes,” she managed, at last.
“Yes?” His face broke into a nervous grin. “As in …”
Rachel chuckled. “As in aye, laddie, I’ll marry you. Soon as we can get a state official to draw up the papers.”
David grabbed her, lifted her in his arms, and spun her around, shouting.
And she laughed.
He was right. They might die tomorrow. But she felt freer than she had in a long time.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-THREE
March 24th
I’m getting married soon. Assuming I don’t die a horrible death tomorrow, of course. I’m getting married! Kind of hard to wrap my mind around it.
The Sephirot jumped into the Hazaroth System. David considered it poetic justice to stage an assault on the Tabernacle in the very location the Angels had destroyed the Sentinel training world. And so, he had ordered a small Asheran fleet to form up here.
The moment he entered, though, he spotted Sentinel cruisers drawing in on the Aab-e Hayat, Aluf Mishma Lamport’s ship, and the others.
David watched the advance of cruisers, unable to bring himself to intervene. He’d known waging this war on the Angels would mean fighting his former brothers-in-arms, those who served them. But how could he take them on in favor of Asherah? These were Mizraim citizens … They were Sentinels.
“You don’t have a choice,” Knight said.
David jerked from his stupor to look at the Gehennan. The man had crept up close enough to whisper in his ear and David hadn’t even noticed. He hated that Knight could do that. Not that having the bugger read him had him doing a jig of joy either.
“You gave your word to the Asherans. If you want them to aid us …”
“I bloody know that, Knight. It’s not so simple.”
“Kill a few to save the many.”
“Some of those few are my friends.”
The Gehennan leaned even closer. “Not right now they aren’t. Push it down and get this done. Remember where you are.”
Hazaroth. A world destroyed by the Angels. The monsters his former allies now served. They knew who their masters were and what they had done. And Knight spoke the truth … The Sentinels had left David no choice.
He dove in toward the attacking cruisers.
“Pulse cannons,” he said. “Wide barrage. Wear out their shields. Then concentrate MAG fire.”
He strafed between a pair of cruisers. The Sephirot’s cannons flared, flinging plasma pulses so quickly it almost seemed like a continuous stream. Explosions ruptured the Sentinel ships’ hulls. Then the MAGs ripped through the weakened inner bellies, popping out the far side. Thousands of tiny breaches all over the cruisers led to rapid decompression, and the Sephirot broke away even as the Singularity Drives imploded.
No one would have escaped.
“Mac,” Rachel said. “The Aab-e Hayat is hailing.”
David waved the holo display on, and Lamport appeared, once again wearing his helmet. “Thank you for the assist, Captain.”
“Aye.”
“You have located the Tabernacle?”
“Aye. They’ve moved it into the Achshap System. Nothing there except a Sentinel research station.”
“Good. Then you are ready to strike?”
“Soon.”
Hertz and the other captains loyal to David had agreed to stage up in the Milky Way. The Shekhinah would detect the cluster of ships, and with luck, the Ark would be drawn off to engage them. When the Ark showed, he’d told her to run like the Adversary itself was at her bloody heels. All she had to do was keep it busy.
And still, it was best not to invest too heavily in one strategy. “I need your ships to prepare a strike on three different Sentinel defense stations. I’ll be sending you coordinates.”
“I thought we were going after the Tabernacle?”
Leah had been right. If an Asheran fleet destroyed the Tabernacle, it would symbolize the end of Mizraim. It could mean civil war. He couldn’t allow that. Which meant the best use for the Asherans was to draw as much attention as possible.
“Aye. The Sephirot and the QI fleet will be. We just need you to clear the way by stirring up as much trouble as possible. And Aluf—avoid civilian targets whenever possible.”
The man crossed his arms. “I am a soldier, not a murderer.”
David suppressed a snicker. All his life, that’s exactly what he’d thought Asherans were—murderers. And now, having met one, the man was different than he’d expected. Not bloodthirsty. Not … a monster. Just a man, fighting for his nation. He was a cyborg, and the thought made David’s skin crawl … but maybe that was only because so many generations had conditioned
that response into him.
“Good hunting, Aluf,” David said.
The Asheran nodded. “Make this worthwhile, Captain.”
David was sure as the holy universe going to try. He transmitted the coordinates of the Sentinel stations he’d selected. He’d tried to choose those with small crews. Minimize the loss of life, while hopefully drawing as many of the Angel forces off as possible.
The channel cut off, and the Asheran fleet entered the Conduit. A couple of hours, and they would move in on Achshap.
He tapped the PA on his console to address the ship. “This is Captain McGregor. Very soon we will strike at the heart of the Mizraim Empire. We plan to destroy the symbol of the nation we have served and protected all our lives.” He swallowed, his throat dry. However difficult it was for him, the crew would feel the same. They would question this treason, deep in their hearts. And their doubts would slow their reactions, jeopardize their lives and the mission.
“I know how difficult this is for all of us. We want to believe in the Shekhinah. It was our leader. But the Shekhinah has fallen, been coerced by enemies who would enslave mankind. Angels might once have been our saviors, but that time has passed. They have become something else … Something we cannot abide.” He looked to Rachel, who nodded at him. “And when you cannot abide something, you must do all in your power to change it. And that means showing the Angels the time for us to kneel has passed. Now we stand.”
He released the PA.
At this very moment, Hannah Hertz and other ships loyal to him were likely running for their lives. Some of them would fall for this. It could not be helped. The Ark was a monstrosity he would one day have to face. Before he could do that, they needed to take the Shekhinah out of the equation.