Gramm wanted to change the subject. As much as he missed and cared for Rico, he had become a very scary person. “How do you feel now?”
“I think I'm ready,” he said. “Okay guys, hold on.”
* * * *
A blink later they were in a white, opulent room, so different from the last the disorientation staggered Hitomi as much as the first time. She dropped her periscepter into a lavish rug. She quickly snatched it back up and brought it to her chest.
“We all alive?” Rico asked.
“You have to teach me how to do that teleport thing,” Gramm said.
Hitomi looked up. They weren't alone in the room. Sitting on another couch were seven or eight completely naked women with white hair and pale skin. At first she thought they were mannequins. They stared back at the three impassively.
A fat older man appeared from the single door in the room. He wore an open red robe, and underneath he was naked. His gray beard hung down past his waist, only partially obscuring a penis so large it was like a caricature. A steaming drink was held in his hand. He had a bemused expression on his face. For a moment his eyes met Hitomi's. His pupils were impossibly small. Moloch.
“You had success?” Moloch asked, taking a long draw from his drink.
“Yes,” Rico said. “They were captured by the Wuj.”
Moloch stepped forward, patting Rico on the shoulder. “You did well.”
Rico beamed. He introduced Gramm and Hitomi.
“It's a very crucial time, and I must make many appearances. You and your friends stay here for now. I will return soon.”
“I don't want to stay here,” Rico said. “What about their periscepters? We can get them.”
“There's no need,” Moloch said. “We have two. With you and this girl you will be your own army.”
“What about Dave and Indigo? You wanted me to gather them too.”
“Let us wait. The demons are fighting amongst themselves, and when the smoke clears, we may be able to find what has become of the ones you lost. And the lost periscepters. I know many who may be able to use them.”
“They belong to me,” Hitomi said, finally standing up. Her entire body ached. “To us. They were left for us to find by the angels, and they are our property. If you find them I would like you to bring them to us.”
Moloch laughed. It was a deep, hearty laugh, but laced with malice. “She would be a spirited fuck, wouldn't she, Rico?”
“Hey,” Gramm said. “Don't you fucking talk to her like that.”
Rico said nothing. Just hung his head low.
Anger flashed in the eyes of the older man, but then they softened. “I apologize,” he said. “That was rude. I've been so long out of the company of a real woman, I sometimes forget my tongue.” He turned and left the room, leaving them in a complete silence that was almost overwhelming.
Still sitting on the couches were the eight naked woman. None of them moved, completely oblivious to what was happening. Hitomi wondered how long they'd been sitting there. She had the urge to sit next to them, rest her head on one of their shoulders, and cry and sleep and wish she had never met Nigel or fallen so deeply in love with him or taken it upon herself to end her life so soon.
* * * *
“Soldiers, wake!”
Ko groaned. Captain rushed through the barracks, smacking each of the beds and nests with the butt of his rifle, causing some to ring like a bell. Ko's head ached. Though he was gaining a tolerance for the berry extract, he could still be brought to the edge of oblivion by trying to match a Shishi drink for drink.
“We gear up for battle. This is not a drill,” Captain said, his voice straining.
Ko jolted fully awake. He took several deep breaths. He'd been drilling, preparing himself mentally for this. He slid his stump down into the waiting gun. It clicked as the metal bracelet slid into the groove. When the nodes attached, the lights on the weapon switched on. It was one of the most up-to-date weapons a soldier in the Dominion army could wield. Daityas had been rumored to cut off their own hands just so they could get one implanted.
“Where we headed?” Tix asked. She was a Shishi, the platoon's Arms Officer. Ko was very fond of her.
Captain was already in his full combat gear, and it made the Daityas look indestructible. His wide blast gun was slung over his shoulder, longer than Ko, and his deadly whip hung coiled like a snake in his belt.
“This is going to be more than just a skirmish with the angels,” he said, his voice a low growl. “With the storm came an attack on several fronts. It appears the Dahhak have decided to rebel, and they've slaughtered every Overseer they could find. A Molochite contingent have taken over the council chambers and are declaring themselves the new leaders of the Dominion. The Asag have declared fealty, and great numbers of Dominion citizens of all races are raising the banner of their Moloch deity over their shops, barracks, and homes.”
“By Jehu,” Ko said. “They killed the Overseers?” Oh no. His thoughts immediately turned to Qulp. In the face of such betrayal, the Overseers would do something drastic. Ko knew them well. This would degrade to full out war, and that meant his family was in danger. His son would be forced to carry a weapon. He would be forced to fight. He could very well be killed.
This is your fault. You had the rector killed. It was the spark that started the fire.
No, he told himself. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't. Even if the death of the rector caused this, it still wasn't him.
Her name was Ungeo G'sslom, and he swore to himself at that moment, he swore on the name of his son, that he was going to find her, and that she was going die by his hand.
Captain nodded. “All forces loyal to the Dominion are gathering in staging areas across the city to fight back.” He paused. “If anyone plans upon professing loyalty to Dahhak rule, I will hear it now. On my word I grant you free passage from here.”
Cytusa stepped forward. She was a Gorgon; quiet and unassuming and slight, but deadly with a pair of hand artillery. The worms in her hair thrashed about.
“My true god is Moloch,” she said. “I do not wish to fight against my brothers and sisters here, but I must find a temple now.”
“Cytusa,” Captain said, surprise evident. “I had no idea.”
“There are many of us. More than you know.”
Captain unslung his weapon and fired directly into her chest. The roar shook the walls of the barracks. Cytusa flew backwards, flipping feet over head onto her bed.
“Loyalty to the Dominion is above even our own personal word. Remember that if you find yourself face to face with a friend in battle. A transport is waiting. Gear up.”
They raised their fists and cheered, all of them. Ko stood with Shishi, Marid, and others. The remains of their Gorgon companion stewed on the bed, threatening to catch on fire. He tried not to look at her. She was his friend. But still he cheered, for she was also his enemy.
“Stupid Molochites,” Tix muttered as they quickly pulled on their armor and checked their weapons. “You were right, Ko. I wish we had killed them all when we had the chance.”
“Me too,” Ko said, and he meant it.
Before rushing out to the transport, Ko paused to look one last time at Cytusa, still smoldering on the cot. She had died because she believed in a false god. The thought made him angry. This religion was like a disease, preying on the weak-minded. This Gorgon was more victim than enemy.
Once loaded in the transport, he sat up front with the captain and the other Daityas. The landscape of Cibola spread out before him. The usual chatter was gone. Just the hum of the engines and the rain. In the distance, a detonation.
Revelations
Derkea. Seraphim. Indigo rolled the words and images in her mind. As they waited to hear if anyone found their message, she began to dwell on it. Piece by piece, moment by moment slowly began to gather in her memory. She focused on Derkea's death, and gradually, like the tides, it came to her. Slowly and steadily.
It was still more
of a disembodied memory, like watching a movie you know you've seen before, but didn't actually experience. She was more Indigo than Derkea, and she would remain that way. Some of the knowledge and attitudes of the Seraph were gone forever, replaced with the humanity of Indigo.
Her last moments as an angel were desperate. She had returned to the Tower, fighting through the hordes of demons, only to find it abandoned except for the lone Ophan gatekeeper. She found Selaphiel's journal and learned Illian, Cabael, and Truet had each left to find the periscepters, but none had returned. The weapons were hidden throughout the city, and Derkea knew they could only guess where some of them were. Each of the Seraphim knew where only one was hidden, but over time most discerned where many of them were. Each Seraph was very close to the others, and they knew each other terribly well.
Her periscepter was hidden in the wall in a utility room of the Propylaeum, the first beacon. She had told no one where it was.
Derkea had wanted to use the communications machine, but in all of her idiocy, she never learned the code. So she left. She gave strict instructions to the lone Ophan guarding the Tower and set out using the high entrance, high above the ceiling and view of the wretched demons.
But it wasn't out of view of the demons, and they fired upon her using great shells of metal that exploded and filled the air with ripping fragments of death. With all the speed she had, she rose and fled, but they continued to fire upon her until her body and robes were a bleeding mass. Finally free, she came to land in the southern forest. Alive only by the thinnest of threads.
There she rested for a long time, occasionally fighting off predators by simply showing them her true form. But that took its own toll, and her body didn't heal.
She gathered her strength and forced herself to take short flights, ever inching closer to the Propylaeum. Eventually, long after she had set out, the tree line disappeared and revealed the flatlands that presented the edge of the world.
Only they were no longer flatlands. She hadn't been prepared for what she saw there. She lost all hope at that moment, presented with a sandy graveyard beyond even her own comprehension. Their entire civilization burned away.
She found the top entrance to the pyramid, and she wearily climbed down.
She cursed on His throne. She'd been so preoccupied with the graveyard, she'd forgotten what she'd find here. The main chamber. The murals of the original war.
It shook her even more. All this death and pain was because of that war. If it had never occurred, the Sphere would never have had to have been created. The second angel war would never have occurred, and the balance would never have been so upended, causing the True Light to lash out at the demon worlds.
The mural depicted the fallen angels as turning to demons, though this wasn't a literal interpretation. Those who perished remained dead. The survivors of the rebels were cast into the ether, and since their hearts were so dark with their evil, the lack of the True Light didn't kill them outright. Most believed they'd eventually die. But several cycles later, with the discovery of demon worlds existing below, the theories began to rise. Were these demons actually the fallen angels transformed? Or had they always been there? Only He knew for certain.
What Derkea discovered in the small room was another surprise, one that would change everything. Truet and Cabael were there, both more injured than her. They were peppered with festering wounds, and disease was spreading throughout both of them. Derkea gasped at the sight of them. Both were on the edge of death. Naked and bloodied.
“My brothers,” she cried, rushing to them. She had known and loved both of them longer than the existence of Cibola.
“I told you she'd come,” Truet said to Cabael, smiling weakly. Both were in angel form, the easiest to maintain. They appeared as dark, middle-aged angels with graying hair that hung in tatters around them. Their words came in wet gasps. “We came here to find your periscepter ... and were ambushed on the way. But we made it. Didn't we, brother?”
Cabael groaned, blood seeping from his mouth.
“You know me too well,” Derkea said, smiling weakly.
Truet lifted a standard tracking device. “We had help. Our Selaphiel didn't trust us.” Derkea blinked at that. If each of the periscepters had tracking devices built into them, it was a terrible risk.
“How long have you been here?” Derkea said, struggling to wipe the blood from her brother's chin. Struggling to maintain the tears. His skin was alarmingly cold.
“The energy of the beacon keeps us alive. Barely. We're slipping. I fear if we're removed, we will be lost.”
“I'll get help,” Derkea said.
“We have them. All twelve,” Cabael said, speaking for the first time. He whispered the words. “Between the three of us ... we found them all.”
Illian. The third Seraph to leave the Tower. “Where is our sister?”
“She died protecting us,” Truet said. The words were like knives. “She turned to the dragon as they came. She devoured scores of them even as she plunged to her death.”
“The prophecy will come true,” Cabael said, speaking into the air. “I know it will. He has promised it.” He coughed. “We will wait here for them. When they come, we'll guide them. This is where they'll appear. It has to be. And the periscepters will be here. I've brought other supplies for them, too. Like those wretched armored suits the young ones insist....” He trailed off, his eyes glazing. There were several supplies littering the room, though she knew little of such things.
A moment later, Cabael turned to Derkea. “Have we failed? Have we brought darkness to everything He made?”
“No,” Derkea said forcefully. “I'm here now. I'll take the periscepters back. I'll place them in the plinth myself.”
Truet rolled onto his side. The skin of his back was mottled and marked with death. “You old fool,” he said. “You and Selaphiel always think things to be so complicated.”
“What do you mean?” Where Selaphiel had intelligence, Truet had wisdom, a way of figuring out even the most difficult of puzzles.
But Selaphiel was dead. The three here were the only ones left alive.
“Putting them together and placing them in the plinth will only destroy all of us. There's another way to assure His return. It will still result in the destruction of the Sphere and the demon worlds, but much more slowly. It will give them time to prepare.”
Derkea stroked Truet's forehead, and she kissed him. “Even now you worry about the humans.”
Cabael laughed weakly. “I told you they'd be the death of all.”
Cabael had. He had raged against the creation of the Sphere, even though he knew it was necessary. Derkea reached down and kissed him, too.
Truet spoke. “If the mouth of the Tower is opened, and if the light of all twelve is simply directed upon the Tower at the same time, the True Light will return to the world. They only need to be less than ten sections away. It will hasten the melting of the ice and the cracking of the Sphere, but not nearly as swiftly as it would if you burst the light onto the demons with the plinth.”
The mouth was a light at the very top of the Tower. It couldn't be seen by any angel, but they all knew it was there. It turned off and on at random, a pattern only known to Him. There was only one way to manually open it.
“And the demons on this world would perish anyway,” Derkea whispered. Of course.
Even though it had seemed so complicated at first, it was in fact surprisingly simple. All twelve periscepters needed to be turned on at once, all aimed at the Tower at the right time, and the True Light would overwhelm Cibola, killing the demons.
She reached down and began to gather the periscepters scattered about. “Well I'll do it right now, then,” she said. But even as she collected them she knew it wouldn't work. Only those with souls burnt by darkness could get them to release their light.
“We will remain and guard them, keep ourselves alive until these humans come,” Truet said. “You haven't the ability to use them, my s
ister. You can remain with us. It will give both of us great comfort.”
So she did. The three strongest living angels huddled like lost children in the small room of the Propylaeum. She transferred strength to them by connecting their wings, but even that stopped working after some time. They slept and talked. Derkea finally learned the password to the Critical Action Machine, and she told her brothers of the secrets she knew. They told her all about their tracking of the twelve periscepters, and their harrowing adventures getting to some of them. They became closer than ever. Laughing, crying, hoping, praying. They did them all.
“What would you change?” Truet asked once. “Other than the invasion.”
“The first and second rebellions,” Cabael said immediately.
“I'd wish He would show Himself,” Derkea said. “I'd wish He made Himself more known to us and the angels. More involved. They love Him, but they don't know Him. Things would be different.”
Truet nodded slowly, but then said, “It's not for us to question His ways.”
“I know,” Derkea said sadly. “Of course I know.”
Cabael was the first to die. He had been steadily worsening, the skin-wasting disease devouring him. Finally he raised his hand into the air, eyes already closed.
“Father,” he said as he burned away.
Soon thereafter, Truet smiled sadly at Derkea. “It's my time now.”
“No,” Derkea said. “No. Do not leave me here alone in the darkness. I can't be the last. I can't.”
“My sister,” Truet said, looking up at her. “My dear friend. You are our hope.”
But Derkea didn't listen. She thought wildly. The meat of an acorn from a gray oak. It was said to have healing abilities. It certainly wouldn't cure him, but it could prolong his life perhaps. Just maybe. Why didn't I think of this before?
Derkea jumped up. “Don't die on me, Truet. I will return shortly. I will get medicine to help you.”
“No,” he said. “What are you doing? Don't make me die alone.”
“I won't,” she said. “I promise.”
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