Her father gazed down at her with a somber look on his face. He dropped his hand to the small of her back and turned her toward the door. “Let’s talk in my office,” he said.
As they walked out of her parents’ bedroom, she turned back and saw her mother sit on the bed and sob into her hands. It was silent and heart wrenching to see her mother break down like that. Being strong and unemotional was Elizabeth’s normal behavior. Evangeline felt the conflicting desires between personal time with her father and comforting her mother.
They walked down the short hall into the room that served as her father’s office when he was home. It had always been one of her favorite rooms in their home. It was full of books, papers, and anatomical diagrams. The most memorable aspect of this room was that it smelled like her father. The odor of ancient leather books mixed with the slight acrid scent of his lab equipment was unique. She could never prevent herself from taking a deep breath the moment she crossed the threshold.
He sat down in his office chair, and Evangeline sat down on the small sofa that often became her napping place when she fell asleep reading her father’s books. Once they had settled in, her father unplugged his spectacles from the ports in his temples, placed them on the desk, and began rubbing the bridge of his nose.
It was always the signal to the beginning of an unpleasant conversation. It was like the time he lectured her for sneaking out of their apartment at night and a security patrol brought her home.
“Have you ever heard of the Dissidents?” he began with no other pretext.
Evangeline knew the term, but little else about it. “They’re the people that kidnap the Angels, right? Perform horrible experiments on them?” she offered like a student doubting her own accuracy during an oral examination.
Matthew smiled. The journal networks had circulated the same description about the group. Unknown members of an organization that abducted Angels, the kindest and most generous people she had ever known, right off the street without warning.
Her father sat still in his chair and pressed the tips of his fingers against each other. “What do you know about where the Angels came from?” he asked. His question took Evangeline by surprise. She learned about their origins since pre-school.
Evangeline thought for a moment, trying to remember her history lessons. “They’re refugees. They arrived in a caravan of alien transport ships… from beyond our galaxy or something, about six hundred years ago.” Matthew did not react, but remained passive as he awaited a more detailed answer.
“They were the ones that taught us how to fold space and travel beyond our solar system.” Evangeline added as an aside, trying to impress her father with typical academic recitation. “They were escaping a horrible planetary war between two factions that were fighting over religious beliefs. They just wanted to live their own religion in peace. Once they landed, they asked for asylum and in return all they wanted was the opportunity to serve among humans.”
After finishing her answer, Evangeline looked to her father, but he just sat there with an amused look on his face. Flustered, Evangeline asked, “Isn’t that right?”
Her father barked out a short, humorless laugh. “No, that’s exactly what has been taught for the past six hundred years. Whether it’s the truth or not…” he shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands palm-side up. “Well, we only have the words of the Angels themselves and historical reports to rely on.”
He slid toward the edge of his seat and leaned forward with an intense look on his face. Evangeline felt the seriousness from her father and mirrored his posture on the edge of the sofa. “Do you know how they got their name? Angels?”
She answered her father’s question in her head. There was no question. Angels, since they had first started interacting with Humans, showed generosity and kindness beyond anyone she had ever known. They were selfless, and preferred to live modest lives. They dressed in simple attire -nothing flashy- and never drew conspicuous attention to themselves.
Angels believed that one true God created all life in the universe. Which, according to them, were the reason Humans and Angels looked almost identical in appearance.
Their main distinguishing characteristic was their milky white skin, like alabaster. It was flawless. Their hair was also white, like baby powder, and their eyes were dark blue like the sky on a clear evening.
However, the most distinctive characteristic shared among all the Angels Evangeline had ever seen was their beauty. It was like looking into the face of a newborn baby. Even into their adult years their purity remained. No one could help but show reverent respect to an Angel.
Another interesting characteristic to Evangeline was that Angels preferred to live apart from humans until their elders deemed them mature. They wanted to raise their own children to be of service to humankind, and in order to do that they had to kept away from the temptations and ideologies of their new world.
No one, to Evangeline’s knowledge, had ever seen an Angel child, not once, in six hundred years. The predominant rumor was that their children remained secluded, within their enclaves, nicknamed Cathedrals. At which time they joined the other adults by offering their gifts of service to humanity. Upon reaching adulthood, they left their enclaves and become nannies, like Crystal, the Angel who watched over Evangeline as far back as she could remember.
Most became simple laborers within Olympus, collecting trash and cleaning floors. Others, the females, become surrogate mothers for women unable to bear their own children. Some ventured out to offer service in the Low Technology Zones (LTZ) as farm hands, factory workers, and other manual laborers.
She cleared her throat, readjusted her position on the sofa, and fidgeted with her hands with her next thought. “Some of my friends at school say the Dissidents kidnap the Angels to experiment on them. Trying to find out what makes them so different from us. They say Angels are here to take over the world. They’re trying to see what makes them tick.”
“That’s a common thought to explain their motives,” he said smiling, trying to ease her discomfort. “What the Dissidents are doing, in their eyes, is trying to understand the Angels. They believe the Angels have been manipulated into, well, slavery. They believe the Angels wouldn’t be so generous with themselves if they had another choice.”
Evangeline’s face contorted. She looked around the room, at nothing in particular. Matthew watched his daughter process this new information like a puppy adjusting to a new food dish. “I don’t get it,” she blurted out. “Angels are always the ones volunteering to help others. No one forces them to do it. They just do it! They offer their skin, organs, even their lives to save human beings. I always thought that was why they were so special. I thought that was why they were better than we are. They’re not selfish like people. How can it be slavery if they’re volunteering to do it? It was my Angel who offered herself to get my leg fixed.”
That was true. Crystal, her Angel nanny, watched over Evangeline while her parents were working. The memories brought up bittersweet emotions.
Crystal was the kindest person Evangeline knew. She never got angry. She never yelled. She was always patient, even to the point of taking abuse from Evangeline. As she grew older, Evangeline learned to show Crystal some respect. Crystal was there for Evangeline all day every day. Crystal took Evangeline to the hospital after the accident. When the doctors discovered the irreparable damage to Evangeline’s femur, Crystal offered to donate her own bone to repair her leg.
Crystal hobbled after that tragic day. Still, she never got angry. She never yelled. She was always patient. Crystal left their home when she volunteered to donate her liver to Evangeline’s ailing grandfather. He was suffering from liver failure and it was Crystal’s liver that saved her grandfather’s life.
“The Angels…” he paused with a deep breath, “…are more different than most people know. How they are different, I can’t tell you right now, but your mom and I are going to be doing some research to try to understand what make
s the Angels so special. Can you accept that?” he asked with tender sincerity in his voice. Evangeline could tell by his tone that this was the end of the conversation and more information was not forthcoming.
“Yes, Dad,” Evangeline sighed in defeat. She did not like unanswered questions. What made it more difficult was that answers from her parents had never been hard to obtain. “But I want to know what you’ve found out when you get back. Okay?”
He gave her a wide smile, impressed at the maturity beyond her years. “There’s one thing I want you to do for me.” He walked out of his office and returned with his briefcase. He set it on the desk, opened it, and pulled out an envelope. He held it out to her and she saw her name on it. “I want you to hold onto this letter until I get home.”
Getting a hand-written letter was rare among the citizens of Olympus. Digital correspondence had taken over the written word long ago. Perhaps that was one of the endearing aspects of her father. She loved his fascination with old paper books you had to turn by hand instead of the auto-pan function of her tablet.
“What’s in it?” she asked as excitement crept into her face.
“You’ll have to wait to find out. You’ll know when it’s time to read it,” he said with a distinct sadness in his voice. “Now, I need to help your mom finish packing our gear and equipment, or we’re going to miss our transport off-world.”
He got up from his chair; she followed his lead and stretched as she arose from the sofa. He took her in his arms and embraced her. He held onto her long after she was done hugging him in return. “I love you, little star,” he said with a tear in his eye. Seeing her dad cry was a common occurrence, but she had no idea it would have been the last time.
THREE
Evangeline’s attention returned from her memories as her HUD refreshed with new information.
“DESCEND INTO OPENING AND INVESTIGATE. WEAPONS FREE. ENGAGE AT YOUR DISCRETION.”
She hated the vague orders from Graham. They may as well have said, go into that room and check it out. Oh, and by the way, there may be people waiting to kill you, so go ahead, and be ready to defend yourself, or just go ahead and kill everyone if you feel like it.
The disposable nature of her existence was one part of the military that got under her skin. Millions of dollars’ worth of equipment, years of training and in the end, she still felt like cannon fodder. If she had a better option, she never would have enlisted. It was either a life in the corps or a life in the LTZ. She had chosen the option where she understood, to a degree, what to expect from the world around her.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time!” she grumbled into her headset. “Our mission is to investigate this sinkhole.”
“Captain, are you serious? We fly all this way to check out a hole in the ground on some rock in space?” It was Corporal Paul Harper. He was young, the newest member of the team and the undisputed ‘voice’ of the squad. Always saying what everyone else was thinking. Training could never disconnect the constant stream of unfiltered verbal diarrhea that spewed out of his mouth. “Why not just send down a drone or something?”
Harper’s analysis was over-simplified, naïve and, as usual, accurate.
“Because,” Weston growled, “a drone can be fooled.” Lt. Eric Weston was second in command. He was older than Evangeline, but she out-ranked him because of his lack of ambition towards advancement. He was a simple man. Content to serve in whatever capacity asked of him. “Drone sensors can be tricked easier than you, dummy. And that’s not saying much. Martian said we investigate, so we investigate. Now, stow it, soldier.”
Weston was the only one, aside from Evangeline, that Harper did not sass back to no matter what they said. Perhaps it was the scar across his face that he refused to have fixed. Perhaps it was his quiet stare without saying a word. It made you feel like he was deciding to whether to fix someone a sandwich or step on his or her throat.
“Exactly, Harper,” Evangeline sighed into her headset. “So, we’re going to go down there and investigate. Olympus thinks it’s important enough for an eyes-on mission, so that’s what we’re going to do. Is everybody ready? Sound off,” she ordered.
The five other members of the team spoke into her ears. “Weston, ready.” “Lennox, ready.” “Dunbar, ready.” “Hicks, ready.” “Harper, ready, willing, and able.” Everyone chuckled. Typical Harper, Evangeline grinned to herself, always needed to put in one last remark.
Sam Lennox, Tishia Dunbar, and Riley Hicks were quiet. They never said much, even for soldiers on alert. Beyond what was in their files when they transferred to her unit, Evangeline knew little about them. What she did know was they were good soldiers nearing the end to their tours of duty.
Hicks had made it into the TRTV program with the lowest score on record. Despite his low scores, he was a skilled technician. He was brilliant when it came to getting past security systems and demolitions.
Lennox, a man, and Dunbar, a woman, grew up in the LTZ together. Cousins who were neighboring farmers or something like that. She guessed they just wanted a better life than the LTZ had to offer. They worked hard, obeyed orders, and never seemed to sleep. They were good soldiers to have on guard duty.
“Alright, let’s make our way to the precipice,” Evangeline ordered. The squad fanned out so they were standing side by side and began to walk toward the edge of the sinkhole. Harper could be heard singing under his breath ‘Walking in a Winter Wonderland’ over the channel and the entire team chuckled at the way he could relieve the tension in the air. The sun-bleached rock formations looked like sandstone versions of the Earth’s polar glaciers and, according to her atmospheric analysis, it was even colder than the polar continent in winter.
When they reached the edge, Evangeline launched a sensor beacon down into the sinkhole. It scanned the walls as it fell and relayed the data to Evangeline’s topographic map. The dimensions were far too consistent to be a natural sinkhole.
When the beacon reached the bottom, the final scan showed a large hangar door set into the side of the chasm wall, large enough for a small shuttle if it could descend through the opening on the surface. The scans confirmed her suspicions as to why they travelled to that particular lifeless rock in space. There was someone down here. Who they were, and what they were doing there, remained a mystery.
Evangeline encoded a visual burst to the Chiron.
“PREPARING TO DESCEND INTO SINKHOLE. SCANS CONFIRM IT WAS ARTIFICIALLY CONSTRUCTED.”
Graham sat at his large wooden desk. His quarters aboard the Centaur class cruiser were decadent by military standards. However, as an ambitious man with hopes of one day obtaining the position of Mars at Olympus, he indulged in a few fineries. Even among the Spartan requirements of military service. If he were right about the intelligence that led to their mission, he would be off the Chiron with a promotion before it reached Earth’s orbit.
Evangeline’s HUD flashed a short message.
“GOOD HUNTING.”
FOUR
Evangeline stared down the wall face. “Well, it’s not like a freefall from a drop ship, but it should still be fun,” she said to herself. The hangar door was below and to her right. She launched herself off the edge with a boost from her engines and started falling toward the center of the chasm. The rest of the team followed her lead and maneuvered into a semi-circle facing the hangar door below.
The descent to the bottom took an agonizing ninety seconds. The six pairs of engines loosened the dust and small chunks of rock from the walls as they dropped further into the gaping hole. Swirls of rust-colored clouds blasted past Evangeline’s cockpit and up above the surface. She imagined it looking like the blowhole of a stone whale from the surface. The team touched down at the bottom, shut off their engines, and activated their searchlights.
Small bits of debris rained down causing their lights to bounce back against Evangeline’s eyes. The canopy glass darkened in response to her pupil’s dilation. Once the dust settled, and Evangeline could
see to the sidewalls of the sinkhole, she discovered that the floor was smooth, constructed from the indigenous rock, as if carved to its existing condition. There were still charred areas from rocket engines burning the rock during take-off. Across the bottom of the chasm was a pair of hanger doors. It was obvious, from the clunky fabrication, that they were ancient.
It looked like someone placed them against the wall of the sinkhole and pushed inward as if it was made of clay. The seam between the rock wall and the door was flawless. Evangeline doubted a piece of paper would be able to slide between them. The massive doors, twenty feet wide and ten feet high, looked old, beaten, and neglected. The only illumination at the bottom of the chasm came from their searchlights.
“There doesn’t seem to be any power down here, Captain.” Weston spoke into her headset. “Dunbar, do you detect any power signatures running to those doors?”
“Scanning…” Dunbar’s voice broke across the channel. “If there are, they’re negligible. It must be an abandoned station of some kind, maybe a mine. I’m not reading anything.”
Evangeline used the instruments on her HUD to zoom in on the doors. “Weston, do those look like winch-holds where the doors meet?” She flashed her spotlight at a point between the doors. “Maybe that’s how they got in and out.”
“Yeah, maybe…” Weston grunted. “It’s worth a try, anyway. Lennox, Harper. Get down there and attach your winches. Stand on either side of the doorway and get those doors open.”
“Roger, that.” Harper and Lennox said in unison. The two TRTV’s lumbered into the doorway at a snail’s pace. It was a tight fit. There was little clearance overhead. The two soldiers had to hunch down a little to make their way down the short passage. Once they got to the doors they tried to attach their hooks to the winch-holds, but they could not make any headway.
Avenging Angels (The Seraphim Chronicles Book 1) Page 2