Star Angel: Prophecy

by David G. McDaniel

  She started walking toward it. “I have a feeling this may not be what we think.”

  “Jess!”

  She kept walking. Striding, nothing fancy; no leaps or bounds, no flying or anything else. Just a human girl in dark armor, making her way across the white snow. Whatever traumas transpired on the field that day, whether bones were broken or not, there was nothing within her now but a persistent tingle and she felt no physical pain. The opposite, actually, a continuing rush of potential and she walked easily, without haste.

  No one followed.

  Ahead, across the white distance, Kel began to descend the ramp. Small figures against the dark, colossal mass. The black warship dominated her vision, filling the field and dwarfing the forest. Only the mountains were bigger.

  But not, seemingly, by much.

  The Kel reached the snow. A veritable army. They continued toward her. Walking, as did she, not running, directly for her. No guns that she could see, and as she drew closer that was confirmed. They were helmetless, though armored; they were warriors, yet they carried no weapons.

  She, too, was unarmed.

  Closer still.

  She saw faces. It was clear they had other things in mind, as she suspected. Each maintained the same methodical pace, packed snow crunching audibly but it was the only sound, and as the gap narrowed they had more than enough time to study each other. By the time they were paces away Jess had determined the leader and angled her approach.

  As one the large group stopped. This was not a marching column, not a perfect formation, nevertheless the body of Kel came to a halt efficiently as a unit and waited. Jess took three more steps and completed the face-off. If it was to be a showdown, it was an odd one.

  The leader came forward and looked into her eyes. Tall, at least a foot taller than her, regal—they were all regal, every Kel—handsome, fine, chiseled features, elfin tips to his ears, thin, dark tracers like tattoos along his jaw, white hair pulled into the same high queue they all wore, blowing gently in the cold breeze. The thin fog of a hundred breaths, including hers, filled the air. All was quiet. The leader’s glinting yellow eyes studied her own, and she wondered just what he was about to say.

  “Do you understand me?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “You are from Earth?”

  “I am.”

  He looked to the assemblage, to the side, behind and all around. So many there to meet her.

  Then, to her great surprise, he went to one knee.

  And the others followed. A hundred bodies, as one, silent yet filled with the volume of mass, and, suddenly, she was standing before a hundred kneeling Kel.

  The leader bowed his head. “We know the words of the priestess,” he said. “We have been ready for this moment. She predicted you would come. You, in turn, have done what she said you would do. It is clear you are the one. We stand ready.

  “We are here for you.”

  Many things, in that moment, raced through her mind. There was, however, only one correct thing to say in response:

  “I welcome your help.”

  “There are others,” the leader informed her. “The word has been passed. Changes are in motion.” Then, eyes still to the ground: “You have killed the queen?”

  “I have.” Short answers seemed best.

  Now the man looked up. He stood, and the others followed.

  “Come then,” he said. “We must begin.”

  The group continued across the snowy field, on foot, Jess pacing the Kel leader, and they reached Bianca and the others, her motley group of friends wide-eyed and in a steady state of shock as the small army of enemy soldiers approached. They gathered them up as they went, heading on toward the fortress. The stunned looks on everyone’s faces remained as they moved along, past the Reaver and on. Heath and Pete split and took Zac to the ship, and as Jess watched them go she noted how bad were the scars on the ancient Kel warship. The mighty Reaver looked as beat up as she felt, and as they marched her gaze lingered on that kindred spirit. Inanimate yet filled with a life of its own.

  We made it.

  They swept into the fortress, through an entrance that opened on their approach and Jess was sure, then, that this group had been laying plans for some time. Whatever coup appeared to be happening she was right at the center, and it looked as if the events that day had probably driven it to its culmination.

  There was a keen sense of accomplishment among them.

  Whoever this group was they had allies and they were proceeding—with her, apparently, as the face of their insurrection—to carry out their plans. They collected more support as they went, each of them more than interested to see her at their fore. Skirmishes erupted—not all within those walls were allied to the cause—but there in the Citadel more were than were not, and those engagements took place at distance and away from the growing body of troops and it wasn’t long before they reached what seemed to be their destination. A small cell with a single occupant. From what Jess could tell it was the first stop on the road to revolution.

  Satori recognized immediately the man they came for. There was no love lost between them, Jess could tell, but as this important Kel whom they’d made a beeline for, Voltan, was introduced, he seemed almost apologetic to the red-headed girl. Not totally, but there was a sense of that in him. Voltan was a tall Kel, taller than most, broad shoulders with the bearing and presence of a great general, and as that moment evolved, and passed, him with his eye patch looking down on Satori, making their peace; she looking up at him with a matching eye patch of her own—Jess felt a small flash of interest to see the two one-eyed warriors regarding each other.

  She was introduced to Voltan and he, too, kneeled, and of them all she felt the most honored to be so acknowledged by this man, who was now being spoken of as the new Tremarch of the Kel. He would take the place of the queen and it was all as they’d hoped, and Jess had made it possible and the feelings of loyalty crammed into those small spaces were overwhelming. Voltan was allied with the revolutionaries and so, quite suddenly, she and her friends were in the midst of an army of Kel, in the heart of their empire, and they were, incredibly, on the winning side.

  From there events unfolded according to what were, by all Jess could tell, planned contingencies. The resistance of the humans on Earth, the degree of it, was never anticipated and was—the heat of that still in full swing—the first order of business. Even as battles began and raged around the Kel homeworld, the coup turning rapidly to war—though it was insisted that with the highly-regarded Voltan as the new Tremarch that would not last—orders were sent to the fleets abroad for a cease-fire. Jess and the others monitored those events, transmissions and conversations, tensions rising as the score of the battle that had been taking place in the Earth system became known and it was clear just how close her world was to total annihilation. The cease-fire took, and it held, but the temporary armistice would not be smooth. An eventual treaty might be struck, the new Kel leaders seemed to believe, but for now, at least, the fighting would be on pause.

  One event to the next. It was a whirlwind, a chain reaction, and as it went Jess realized the lynchpin Voltan had probably been all along. A man she knew little about, and yet here he was, a wild variable, not unlike Kang, that was yet playing a major part in her Prophecy. His actions were driving the locking of these final pieces into place. The coup, so necessary, so key to bringing the larger elements together, and it was happening, and there was hope.

  Voltan, in turn, saw her. His own belief, weak but there, that the Prophecy was upon them, and she recognized how through it he had likely applied just the right amount of restraint, at each critical juncture, visionary among the entrenched warlords of the Kel, perhaps, and he might well have been the one that saved them all.

  Jess did not yet know what eventual demands might be placed on her, as the heart and soul of this massive shift of direction, but she’d made it. She’d made it through, all of it, and she was there. All t
his, the entire coup, was driven by the Prophecy, and she was the Prophecy, and she had no doubt the day would come, and soon, where she would be called upon to produce the promises on which they staked so much.

  But that day was not today.

  That day belonged in the future, and today marked the beginning of a New Age.

  **

  Three full fleets went to Earth. Jess went aboard the flagship, with Voltan and other commanders, the Reaver in formation at the head, Nani and Bianca and the rest. Upon their arrival, an overwhelming presence of nearly a hundred capital ships, starships, warships, flanking the ones already on station that had been engaged against the rag-tag handful of Kel ships seized by the humans, Jess had the immediate thought that there was no combat-driven reason for the Kel to be doing this. None whatsoever. No reason to call for this cease-fire and come to the bargaining table.

  Earth had nothing.

  Further, Anitra, Earth’s only ally, could bring nothing else. There was absolutely no threat from the humans. Despite the amazing things they’d pulled off, staging a surprise raid, a blitzkrieg that commandeered Kel resources and turned them against their own, a clean sweep on the ground with superior numbers—a shortfall that had everything to do with lack of Kel preparedness and nothing to do with what they could actually bring to bear—there was nothing humanity could do. Nothing. Nothing they’d done, miraculous though all of it was, would last. The war was over for mankind.

  And as Jess saw all this a fresh wave of sadness swept her, and a swelling, bursting sense of pride that her people, her fellow man, of Earth and of Anitra, had gone to such lengths to stand against something that could not have, in the end, been stood against.

  But the Kel came to bargain.

  Driven, all of it, by the orchestrators of the coup. Jess could scarcely wrap her head around the epic events tumbling ahead all around her, but this group of Kel was using the symbolism of her, of what she represented, backed by the fantastic things she’d done as the centerpiece of their rise from the shadows, to drive change. This group, engineers of the coup, had taken the words of the Prophecy to heart, bent on sweeping aside the old, and with the powerful Voltan in support of their cause they were making strides. (Even if, partly, Voltan used these circumstances merely to gain his own footing—Jess suspected, in some sense, he was more of an opportunist than a believer; still, she detected sincerity in his overall thrust.)

  The seeds she’d planted and the threads she’d laid way back then, as Aesha, leading into this future, into the Now, were turning out to be incredible. Each thing, playing out across the centuries, expanding as if one giant, interlocking puzzle, and she could hardly believe, at times, during the monumental scale of events taking place so rapidly, that it was ever her doing. It was equal parts prescience, equal parts planning and intrigue, and it was her, and it was amazing, and as the whirlwind continued she had the crashing fear that she, Jessica, in her current form, could never live up to herself. Kang, as with Voltan, was such an anomaly, yet both were the perfect catalysts for disruption, and how either could’ve been seen in advance, how Kang in particular could’ve been known of and yet been such an unexpected threat, such a thorough driver of events—the culmination, perhaps, that sealed the perception of who she was … Kang, among everything, was the wildest of the impossible variables.

  But it worked. The confrontation with him was the final straw of belief, and from that point the Kel who rose from the shadows to declare the Prophecy manifest had all they needed to surge into the light with confidence. Everything they needed to point to in order to gain critical mass for this titanic swing. To execute their plans. She was here. She had arrived. In their eyes she was the herald and she signaled change, and in their plans they saw the way forward with alliances not conquest. The Prophecy dictated that the New Age was for all, and so this mighty force of Kel starships came to meet the weakened, beaten humans and begin a discussion of the way forward.

  And as those events continued their dizzying roll Jess felt unable to catch her breath. After everything she’d done, after every incredible thing that had happened, as these massive events cascaded too fast to process anything else, driven by so many others, she found herself feeling more and more—incredibly, in view of all she’d done—small. Though she knew the exact opposite to be true she was humbled at the center of it all, even as she told Voltan where to begin. With Drake, at first, the most connected one on Earth she knew, who in turn got them to a man named General Peterson, the designated interim head in the loss of other world leaders. Peterson was an American, the highest remaining, and though the future of America as an entity was uncertain, those divisions were still so fresh it was hard not to think in those terms. The world still very much did. And so two new leaders, General Peterson, chosen head of the Free World, and Voltan, recently named Tremarch of the Kel, would spearhead the truce.

  It broke everything free.

  In what was to come Hamonhept would suffer most, perfect and virgin and naïve as it was. Jess resolved to go there. Soon. Find Galfar and begin an understanding of the Codes. That brought up new fears, in the face of all that was happening, that there was no way she could keep them safe, she saw the greed all around, but she must, she must find a way, and she realized she had no plan for what came next. Soon enough the Kel would expect things. They would want their New Age.

  She would be called upon to deliver.

  A summit was convened. Anitra was involved, Lindin and Yamoto and others, the beginnings of a fresh union, structured and agreed to with so much more to go. On Kel civil war was spreading, revolt to this split in allegiance. Word was the established ways would not overcome this titanic shift, and that the things Voltan and the followers of the Prophecy worked toward would hold and become the future. Jess wondered how integrated their worlds would become.

  An amnesty to wipe the slate in certain areas was proposed. These were interesting times. The world had been turned completely upside down, but maybe that was for the better.

  More uncertainties waited now than ever.

  At last, at some point, as the machine continued to hum, change unfolding at a rapid clip, Jessica had time to be alone. Truly alone, her desperate need for peace and introspection acknowledged and respected.

  She cried for what felt like days.

  After the demands, the things that had to be seen to, Zac’s death set aside by necessity when all she wanted was to mourn, aching through it all but doing what had to be done … the dam burst. Too much in motion, no way to walk away and grieve, and when at last that moment came she gave herself over to it, completely, and she talked to no one and saw no one and she cried and she cried.

  **

  Her reflection in the bathroom mirror came into focus.

  It was Thursday. Jess had been making it a point to keep up with the days, the dates—the Earth calendar, that had become so lost, so unimportant for so long. Today she was at Bianca’s house, in Boise, a gathering of the adventurers that made it. There was Mom and Dad, Willet, Satori, Bianca, Nani, Bianca’s mom and dad, her brother and Jessica’s sister, Amy. Their voices were loud a few rooms away, across the house in the dining room. The muffled sounds of their laughter through the bathroom door made it sound like a party.

  For most of them it was.

  She steadied her focus. Tried not to drift from her reflection in the long mirror, refusing to let the sadness take hold. As those strong emotions came flooding in she resisted their tug and felt herself skirting that familiar, dangerous slope. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Time to get back among people.

  In the hall she turned left, furiously blinking away tears. She headed on through the den, back down to the end of another hall, through the living room and to the dining room and the gathering of friends and family. As she entered she walked directly toward the kitchen, fielding random comments from the boisterous group as she passed, all of them sitting around the long dinner table, making her excuses as sh
e continued on to what had been her refuge all day. Nani asked for another waffle as she went. Dad politely for more bacon, flashing a smile of gratitude and calling her honey like always. “Honey, can I get some more bacon? Extra crispy.” They knew Jess was trying to keep herself distracted. By then they were all probably full.

  “And juice.”

  Satori, warrior princess, wanted juice.

  Jess noted their requests and continued on into the kitchen. Satori’s bright red hair and black pirate’s eye-patch were the only things that made anything about this gathering even remotely fantastic. Everything else looked so normal; normal people having a normal good time at the dinner table in a completely normal house, though there was, in truth, nothing normal about them. Collectively they’d accomplished the fantastic.

  In the kitchen all the items she needed were out and everywhere, dirty pots and dishes and all the ingredients of a massive meal. It was breakfast for dinner, her favorite, and by then everyone had stuffed themselves. Most of the afternoon and all evening she’d been cooking and cleaning and keeping busy.

  She poured batter in the waffle iron and got it going, then gathered a few strips of bacon, extra crispy, onto a clean plate and set it on the warm stove. It had been a feast. She’d insisted on taking charge, making pancakes and waffles and bacon and even her specialty, bacon eggs Benedict with homemade hollandaise. Not Canadian bacon but regular, breakfast bacon. Everyone had been raving all evening what a great cook she was. The only one she’d allowed into the kitchen was Bianca’s mom—it was her kitchen, after all—and she’d prepared an Indian egg dish to go with everything else. Otherwise Jess ran the show, working hard and fast to serve up a fantastic meal for that many hungry people, getting the timing right, keeping everything hot, fulfilling every special request. It kept her mind off everything else, and out of any painful conversations or reminders.

  She flipped the waffle iron. As she waited she turned her gaze up, to the pretty little flowerbox window and the beautiful dusk sky outside. It was nearly dark; the gray-gloom of late evening lighting the land with its final glow. The imbalance of light between the kitchen and the fading day showed her reflection in the glass. If she looked past it she could see the yard outside, the trees and the approaching serenity of night.