by David Tucker
The event, Osiris knew, was what caused many of the wrinkles on the old man’s face, which had seemed to somehow deepen over the past century, the death of his former student plaguing him through years of sleepless nights, chafing his soul.
Osiris gazed over at his friend’s scarred and cheerful old face. Gladarch was one of the oldest Historian Immortals, as his silver hair testified. But still … his friend was a powerful man and could use his foresight power brilliantly. He was nearly two metres tall and had a large frame to fit. His face, well, it was a face that always brought comfort and could summon warmth when it was needed most.
Yet there was another element to his persona that nobody would pick up on, unless they knew the man as well as Osiris did. If one were to look into Gladarch’s eyes, they would see a pain within … along with great sadness. An entire realm was behind Gladarch’s eyes, a realm he doubted any mortal could penetrate.
Unfortunately, Osiris knew of this same realm, only too well …
Gladarch had divulged the story of his forecasts only once, and to this day Osiris remembered his own horror at looking into that possible future, a future they both prayed was not real and was just an echo from another dimension or falsehood.
Gladarch had tried to move on from that, and he was more focused on the present than the future these days. He loved his new assignment and pupil like a daughter … Zariah did at times allow him this one vice. But Osiris knew the memory still haunted him, as it did himself, and neither had mentioned it since that day from fear it might come to fruition.
Osiris gazed upon Zariah, thinking of her kindness to his old friend. Her face radiated a stunning, yet natural, beauty which was, without exaggeration, one of the most beautiful he could imagine. Her dark black hair glistened even now as it was fashioned back into a long but practical style. He’d seen great art inspired by faces like hers, it belonged to some goddess dreamt up and romanticised by smugglers and pirates in dingy space-ports and bars …
Osiris let himself indulge in her youth, taking in her femininity. Her eyes were as green as emeralds, and her lithe body sparked aching in most men. And yet, however beautiful, her beauty had always been a nuisance to her. She was a warrior, not a vulnerable woman to be exploited or needing to be saved; unless she staged an act benefitting her mission. The slavish eyes of men were easily distracted if she needed them to be, and after much time honing this skill, she’d learned it gave her a powerful tool.
She entered many missions looking small, fragile and innocent, or, if the situation warranted, lustrous. She lured her targets – the ones who saw her coming – into a false sense of security before ripping their bedazzled heads off.
Osiris knew better than to be misled by Zariah’s innocence, she was far from any definition of the word. In battle she was just as capable as any other Immortal, and was renowned for her ability to contort and flex past her enemies’ defences and into the most impossible deadly positions and strikes; usually utilised by hurtling herself completely, unrestrained and headfirst, into the fray of the bloodiest of encounters.
Osiris knew her true nature well. She was the embodiment of a goddess, yet she had the disposition of one of the deadliest creatures from the depths of the nine realms. Many a man had fallen to her ploy, and many missions had been spared by sending Zariah in. She was the apex of all infiltrators, and she was only getting better at it.
She was easily the fastest of their kind on record when it came to sheer reflexes and speed, and she was able to use her unusual Sacred weapon, a long bow, at a speed that even he struggled to see.
But these talents notwithstanding – he thought again with a shudder – it was her temperament that was her deadliest weapon. She had a scary methodical calmness about her that could keep her in check, patiently awaiting the perfect moment to strike; hitting her targets when they least expected it, not that dissimilar to the aloofness cultivated by the likes of Justice, his own pupil. However she could do this from a distance that boggled his mind—
The ferry bumped Osiris from his thoughts as it started its descent to the SINAI; he noticed awkwardly their group had gone silent, all most likely still wrapped up in thoughts about the portal, a quirk he thought was more in tune with his personality than others. He thought it was just him who tended to forget the niceties of general conversation – it seems my personality is rubbing off.
The station’s AI spoke again, rising above the engines and bringing some relief, “Departure for the Sacred Intercessor of all Nations and Artificial Intelligence is imminent; ETA twenty-two minutes.”
Gladarch chuckled as he led the group in conversation. “Now that’s a mouthful eh …” in the same breath he continued speaking, “so, what do my brothers and sister make of this portal then eh? Any clues from the ever-contemplating mind of Osiris?”
Gladarch confirmed what Osiris had correctly guessed they were all thinking about, his friend continuing without pause.
“So Osiris, what can you tell me, I’m sure you at least have some theories! As far as we’ve been told, they’ve found a new Temple, I could barely believe it but I’m sure that’s not the sum of it all?”
Osiris responded, trying hard to fit in normally with the conversation and not sound too pious.
“Yes, I gathered as much also, it all sounds too good to be true, but unfortunately that’s about all we know as well. The SINAI contacted Justice and said they’ve found the new portal and facility and that we were to report immediately … and that was it. We too were left in the dark about what all this is about.” Osiris shrugged off Gladarch’s disappointment.
Gladarch’s forehead wrinkled as he frowned and eventually replied, believing Osiris was not trying to cover anything up.
“Yup and that’s the horse-shit we got too, Zariah and I were inbound for Planet-Ship 2 when we got the call. We were even close to catching some local pirates who’d been holding up SED supply lines and then … well, we were told to haul ass and get back pronto. Damn, the Fiscion military were reeeeal happy when we left them to deal with our mess. The SINAI was real insistent too, it’s almost as though it hadn’t seen a portal before; but to have us leave our mission like that, then I’m gathering they’ve encountered something … unexpected.”
As normal, Gladarch left no room in the conversation for anyone else, frustrating Osiris as he went on.
“If you ask me, which I noted you haven’t, it’s all no good, something isn’t right about this one, I can feel it deep down, like a storm’s comin’.”
Osiris was surprised to hear Gladarch voice his own opinions for once. Normally they saw things very differently and they deliberated over the interpretations of Rieft foresight with great, yet constructive, debate.
Osiris managed to grab hold of the slight pause and interject his own thoughts.
“Yes indeed my old friend, we all feel it, unusual forces are at work here. I just hope our young brother, Genesis, is alright; he last reported in two days ago, only a few parsecs from the same location, and we both know what he’s like. He has a knack for being right on the tide of just such storms,” Osiris glanced nervously at his brethren, “and I’m afraid, one of these days these storms are going to be bigger than he can handle.”
Gladarch’s wrinkles deepened, “Well Osiris, let us hope not, I don’t want to see the storm an Immortal can’t handle, and I definitely don’t want to have to miss yet another disciple of our faith.”
Gladarch’s wrinkles turned his face a little darker as he passed his gaze through the window thoughtfully, obviously reflecting over his personal loss. Osiris noticed Zariah’s interest had also picked up; he was aware of their unusual, history – volatility towards each other – which usually meant, in his understanding of the foreign sensation, that on some level she most likely, locked far within her guarded femininity, had some shard of feeling for the weaker brethren.
Noticing the glance, Zariah settled back in her seat pretending she didn’t care, flushing a little as she spoke
curtly, and interpreting Osiris surprisingly intuitively.
“Do you know what the nature of Immortal 05’s report was, Sovereign Osiris?”
Osiris laughed inside, definitely something there, he noted perceptively. That she wasn’t even using the Immortal’s name said nothing and everything about her hidden conflict and defensive stance, one she probably didn’t even recognise herself.
He smiled reassuringly as he answered, “I think it has something to do with intercepting some of the Skink military arms in the Outer Rims, but other than that, I’m unsure I’m afraid.”
Zariah looked off through her viewport, ceasing conversation. Osiris tried clumsily to ease her mind.
“I’m sure he is fine Zariah, he is quite capable of taking—”
Zariah spun her head around, eyes blazing incredulously as Osiris kicked himself for being too transparent and as her words almost frosted in front of her.
“Okay … I’m fine … there’s no reason to explain.”
Osiris noticed her face was fully flushed now and she glowered threateningly. Justice also caught on, enjoying her awkwardness, but likely not understanding why.
“And how are we to know that for sure? He has no Sovereign, he has no pupil, and he is completely alone, if he screwed up no one would know and his weakness would most likely mean he would not recover, nobody could know for certain how he is faring.”
Osiris swore he heard Justice mutter, “Or care”, but he couldn’t be sure. Zariah was though, her head snapping back towards them.
Her eyes changed from embarrassment to heated cattiness.
“I’m sorry, is that a wish, or concern Justice.” She twisted his name as if she loathed to even say it. They glared at each other for a few seconds until Justice turned away; Osiris doubted Zariah would have broken the confrontation. Eventually she turned back to Osiris and Gladarch, speaking a little more softly as she gathered her wits.
“Sorry, just out of curiosity … I still can’t understand why in the name of the Sacred that the Elders allowed him to neither become a Divine Wielder nor a pupil of another Sovereign! At least that way he would have the blade of an Immortal guarding his back, rather than the cold gauze rounds of an enemy tearing it apart. You yourself say Osiris, that none of us are truly Immortal – we can be killed.”
Again Osiris saw the conflict in Zariah’s eyes. Her feelings for Genesis were opening the door to emotions she’d likely thought long since purged, or at least buried along with her identity. But he’d been wrong about a lot lately so he guessed she very well just might be concerned for a fellow brother … this close the SINAI, they were all becoming a little undone, so he guessed it could be any one of a hundred possibilities. He replied without giving up his suspicions.
“I understand your frustration Zariah, but it is not ours to question, only Genesis can do that if he feels wronged by his position. He’s clearly shown the Elders that he has no intention of conforming to their sanctions … he has rejected me, or any other Sovereign for that matter … and he is adamant that he belongs only to Zeal and he will not submit to another’s custody – I mean since his being denied to lead a mission through slip-space to the Cen’Shur’a sector, his acts have become borderline insubordination. You know this Zariah, as do the rest of us. We all feel for him, it is only natural, but at some point he has to let go. His master left, he is not coming back.” Osiris let his tone sooth.
“We all heard with our own ears when Genesis put the request in, and that he understood full well these experimental long-range jumps were a suicide mission. I mean, most crafts even jumping past the Outer Rims are either never heard of again, or simply implode on departure. His blind misplaced devotion did, and still does, guide him. That mission is far beyond the means of our ships and would end in only one conclusion … noble yes, but suicide, and in contrast to his and our ways.”
Zariah folded her arms over her chest, her eyes intimating that she was about to respond in defence. Osiris remembered that the issue of a lost master also plagued her. He quickly continued before her lips could part.
“Zariah, you know his insistence is the reason he has been denied divinity … and because of his refusal to let go of his old mentor and accept another, the Elders have one limited choice; either banish him as was done to Odin, or send him out alone. So, rather than lose yet another Immortal in these dark times, the council obviously chose the latter, they were doing him a favour – do you see or understand this?”
Before she could reply, Justice broke back into the conversation, showing little tact.
“You know they had no other choice Sister Zariah, I don’t understand why you still question them – he’s been given more than a fair judgment – that much should be clear even to you.”
Osiris watched the change as Zariah went back into defence mode. She wasn’t arguing the decision anymore, she was now protecting her own feelings and struggling to hold her unravelling emotions … something Osiris had not seen before as a sliver of her femininity wriggled free. Zariah was also unaccustomed to it and looked uncomfortable as she shifted heavily in her chair.
“I question them Justice, because I may not be able to change their decisions, but that doesn’t mean I always have to like what the outcomes are. He is our brother and we need to show, even our weaker subordinates, compassion … which I know you find so hard to do with your excessive skills.”
Before Justice could make things worse, Gladarch intervened, knowing better than to allow this to happen.
“Now, now kids, settle down or I will have to smack you both.”
Zariah turned on Gladarch, “Just you try it,” she snapped, only half-jokingly.
Gladarch, a little shocked and unsure of what to say next, just smiled sheepishly … looking somehow stupid instead. Yet it was something Osiris knew that he used intentionally – defusing many a hostile situation – as who could remain angry with a big idiot grinning at them witlessly. It took Gladarch a while to formulate his response.
“No, no I think I will keep my arm attached thank you, but still … with a fine arse like that it might just be worth—”
Zariah’s elbow found her mark before Gladarch’s sentence had finished. Gladarch gave a wheeze as he began laughing and started to jest with Zariah some more, obviously not understanding Zariah’s real feelings.
Happy to see his old friend’s ploy had worked, Osiris forgot the two Immortals as he focused on Justice. His pupil had unbuckled and walked over to the side viewport to speak again with Sladdent, who approached him cautiously. Justice felt the two connect through telekinesis … suspiciously keeping up a block to counter any attempts from others to link in with the conversation. Osiris gathered whatever he was discussing was obviously only intended for Sladdent and which, non-judgmentally, he thought, was probably only about his commission over Pavise security – which was recently given over to Justice to help oversee.
Or maybe from the strain it took to use even the simplest of skills in the presence of the SINAI; telekinesis wasn’t overly simple.
As a distraction, he decided to unbuckle his harness as well – safe now to do so – and he walked towards the forward viewport, leaving Gladarch to make amends with Zariah, and his pupil and Sladdent to their privacy.
He noted his negative feelings disturbingly still sat in his gut, and as they sped towards it the feeling grew, his sense of dread heightening as he came nearer to their Sacred place. He mulled over his feelings as the giant expanse and awe-inspiring view of its thousands of conductors and receivers running throughout the SINAI’s entire length, absently caught his eye and imagination—
He stood with his hands behind his back as giant lightning storms flared over the entire surface of the SINAI. Osiris watched on as its insurmountable power surged and directed itself towards all humanity’s endeavours, dwarfing their craft as they headed towards it; endless power and information for humanity’s eternal protection was just a few minutes away.
Its shape was hard
to describe Osiris thought vaguely, it was cylindrical in appearance at one end, from where it arced across space to form large domes covered in millions of sharp, kilometre-long aerials and power nodes. Its opposite end was just as complicated, littered in sophisticated interlocking disks that ended in its spherical, single ion core, and also covered in millions of sensors, antennas and power-nodes.
Osiris thought about the colossal telekinetic energy pouring out like an overwhelmed sponge, far into the Terithian territories and beyond; searching desperately for humanity’s saviour and path – the Sacred Facilities.
For unknown reasons he imagined the force beaming out at this very moment, as it focused largely on the reopened portal … the same portal that he feared with every gram of his being and each kilometre that he drew closer to his deity. Osiris felt his Rieft waiver as terror crept into his heart, increasing the closer he got—
The distracted Historian jumped as a squadron of Paladin fighters screeched overhead; it took him a moment to relax his Rieft talent, instantly summoned in his fright. The crafts were merely doing their mandatory visual check of their vessel; their greyish forms sending crazy flickers across the ship as they whizzed past. For a second Osiris thought he saw in the corner of his eye one of the shadows linger for a brief moment next to him, but as he turned it was gone. He relaxed as he realised he was too jumpy – he needed to calm down.
He settled his thoughts as he watched the dagger-like appearance of the fighters speeding past again – unmistakable as their down-curved wings defined their shape as the hilts of a blade rather than the wings of a fighter. Their formation cut gracefully through space as each looked as poised and deadly as the next, the squad wheeling birdlike in unison in a tight arc towards them.
Even Osiris, an Immortal of great power, felt his throat tighten at this sight. He made himself stand firm, with an effort, as the elongated front ends and rear-seated cockpits became visible and hurtled directly towards him. From his vantage the crafts looked like they were going to plough straight through their ship, but at the last second they banked and headed towards their originating hangar, the shadows flickering past him again.