by M. R. Forbes
The Covenant shuddered lightly, just enough that she could feel it. She refused to open her eyes. She refused to acknowledge it. She maintained her posture, her position, her intent. She wasn’t giving in to her fear.
The ships drew closer to them. She knew instinctively when they were in range of the Prophet’s larger warships, and she let them go, using the Focus instead to put a shield around them, a massive wall of energy that would deflect whatever weapons the enemy had to offer. She could have used the Focus to destroy the Nephilim craft, but she didn’t want to risk the purity of the Blood. Maybe one day there would be a need, but it wasn’t today.
“Keeper, guide them in,” she said.
“Aye, Queenie. Standby.”
She did, holding the shield as one after another the slave ships’ thrusters were ignited and they vectored smoothly to the landing bay, setting down as tightly packed as possible. It seemed like it took forever until finally, Keeper announced that they were all inside.
“What about Imp?” Abbey asked.
“He is also on board,” Keeper replied.
“Get us out of here,” she said.
“Where would you like to go, Queenie?”
“Anywhere but here, just do it.”
“As you command.”
She opened her eyes, looking down at her hands. The naniates had run over them, fusing them to the Focus. She tried to pull them away and couldn’t.
She told herself to stay calm. It was another stupid test.
“Abigail.”
She heard her name and shifted her gaze to the face of the Shard. His eyes were open. He was looking at her.
“What the hell?” she said.
“You’re going to die,” the Shard said. “You aren’t strong enough. You aren’t clean enough.”
“Clean enough?”
“Your violent nature will be the downfall of your kind. It will be the destruction of all I have worked to achieve.”
“Your man started it,” Abbey said.
“You will fail. You will fall. You and all of your Rejects.”
It wasn’t real. She had almost forgotten. Fear came in all kinds of disguises.
“No, we won’t,” she said, looking away from him.
She felt the power of the Focus begin to subside. She lifted her hands from the surface. Jequn was standing beside the Focus, concerned and afraid.
“I think we did it,” she said, beginning to feel lightheaded.
“We did,” Jequn said. “The Covenant is in FTL. The slave ships are on board.”
“Good. Let’s get back to the landing bay. We have a lot of work-”
Abbey tried to take a step toward Jequn. A wave of dizziness washed over her.
“So fragging cliche,” she said as she collapsed.
31
“Good morning, Queenie,” Gant said.
He was sitting on the floor, opposite the door to her quarters, waiting for her. He had a scrap of metal in his hands.
“Gant,” she said. “You didn’t have to wait here.”
“Yes, I did,” he replied. “Your door was locked, and I thought it would be rude to override it.”
She laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant. How long was I out?”
“Long enough, but don’t worry. We’ve got everything under control.”
A noise echoed through the corridor, something that sounded like the roar of a thruster, only louder.
“Well, almost everything.”
“What is it?” Abbey asked.
“Your pet. I think he’s getting restless.”
“Pet? What are you-” she paused. “Oh. I remember now.”
“He’s been thrashing around in the shaft and howling. I think he can smell all of the slaves we brought on board.”
“Former slaves.”
“Whatever. I’m guessing he’s not opposed to eating meat.”
“How do you know it’s a he?”
“I have a fifty percent chance of being right.”
“You don’t know that. Look at Keeper.”
“Ugh. Not another one like that? Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but…” He held out his hands, making a face that made Abbey laugh.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“The Liliat Empire,” Gant said. “Near the border with Thraven’s holdings.”
“Did you find out where Azul is going to strike?”
He nodded. “I had to stretch my memory to work out the systems on that old thing. You’re lucky I’ve read manuals on outdated shitbuckets. Of course, there was no data on the vessel itself, so I had to hack into the Prophet’s network and eavesdrop on some of the traffic.”
“Sounds impressive. Maybe you aren’t losing your smarts after all?”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but I couldn’t remember the chemical structure of maitotoxin this morning. Besides, it wasn’t all that impressive. Everything about the Nephilim is behind the curve. Their tech is shitty and old and borrowed from Republic scrap heaps. Their system of government went out of fashion six thousand years ago, and ten percent of the population rules over the other ninety percent.”
“I don’t think that part has changed all that much.”
“Maybe not. Their weapons are also inferior. Tega’s ships were firing missiles at us. Missiles! Not the torpedoes like on the Brimstone, but standard guided projectiles. If the Covenant wasn’t so large, they never would have been able to hit us.”
“Did we take damage?”
“Keeper said it was minor, and apparently it’s already been repaired.”
“How long was I out again?”
“Fourteen hours or so. How are you feeling?”
“Like I missed a lot.”
“You did. But it was worth it. You saved thousands.”
“Not all of the ships made it.”
“No. You did your best.”
“So, you’re saying the Nephilim military sucks?”
Gant laughed loudly. “That’s an understatement. The only reason they’ve been able to own the Seraphim is because the Seraphim suck even more. Mainly because of the Gift.”
“Which is why Thraven was building his new fleet in Shardspace,” Abbey said.
“And why he manipulated the idiots at our end of the universe and hardly brought any of his minions with him from this side. He knew that even with the Gift if he made a straight assault on the Republic with what he has here he would have been completely embarrassed.”
“You think my plan is bad?”
Gant hesitated and then shrugged. “I don’t know. The Covenant is worth at least a dozen Republic battleships on its own. But these rustbuckets we pulled in? Maybe Keeper can work some magic on them and turn them into something useful. The slaves you set free? Only about a quarter of them volunteered to join the war effort, and none of them are anywhere near healthy.”
“Which doesn’t make for the best reinforcements.”
“It does offer a lot more targets for Thraven’s side to shoot at.”
“You could have let me be awake for a few more minutes before you shattered the illusion that we have a chance of winning this thing.”
Gant put his hand on her leg, squeezing it affectionately. “We do have a chance, Queenie. Like I said, the Covenant is worth its immense weight in a fight, and what you did with the Focus? That was brilliant. In fact with Thraven gone, if we could find a way to neutralize the Prophets’ Gift I think we could take the entire Nephiliat.”
Abby considered it for a moment. “Tempting, but Hayley is there, not here.”
“I know. So are billions of others who are counting on us and don’t know it.”
“I wish we could reach back to the Republic. I’d love to know what’s happening with Olus and Hayley.”
“I’m sure they’re doing fine, Queenie.”
Abbey nodded. “I hope so.”
Another roar echoed through the corridor.
“So we know where Azul is going to strike,” Ab
bey said. “What else do we know?”
“That the Nephilim idea of a raid is equivalent to the Republic concept of an all-out ground assault. Based on the communications we intercepted, there are going to be at least three companies of soldiers involved. They’re aiming to lead some of Rezel’s units into the fight, and then ambush them from behind and wipe them out. Honestly, it seems like a solid plan.”
“But Rezel’s units are all slaves,” Abbey said.
“Other than the Venerants keeping them moving forward,” Gant replied. “I’m pretty sure that’s why Azul can do it without angering Thraven. The individuals he kills count for less than nothing here.”
“Queenie, you’re awake.”
Abbey looked up past Gant. Bastion was jogging down the hallway, a big smile on his face.
“And you’re alive,” Abbey said, returning the smile.
“No thanks to that steaming pile of metal turd I planted myself in. If I weren’t such a good pilot, I’d be dead right now.”
“And so modest, too,” Gant said.
“Look who’s talking,” Bastion said, switching over to a bad impression of Gant. “I just solved the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture while I was taking a piss.”
“It took me three days to solve the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture, thank you very much.”
“I was coming to check on you,” Bastion said. “Keeper is being impossible.”
“What do you mean?”
“He keeps asking Ruby if he can upload her operational protocols. If you ask me, that sounds way worse than having sex with her.”
“It’s a good thing nobody’s asking you,” Gant said.
“I assume she’s refusing?”
“Yes, but he’s asked at least twenty times already. Oh, and your dragon is getting antsy.”
“I heard. Where’s Okay?”
“He’s been hanging with the slaves we freed. Once he took off the spikes, they started clinging to him like he was some kind of celebrity or something. It’s kind of cute, now that I think about it.”
A third roar echoed through the corridor.
“It’s getting worse,” Bastion said. “He’s going off every couple minutes now.”
“How long do we have?” Abbey asked.
“Before Azul’s assault?” Gant said. “Not long.”
“What’s our play, Queenie?” Bastion asked.
“Get all of the Rejects assembled in the conference room. Invite Helk and Herschel, and that kid from Tagael. Oh, and Shidel. Is he behaving?”
“Nobody’s seen him since you brought him on board,” Bastion said.
“He probably wandered off and got himself killed by an Asura,” Gant said.
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”
Abbey groaned. The last thing they needed was a Gifted Nephilim Apostant running around loose on the Covenant.
“Gant, see if Keeper can locate him. If it can, go and retrieve him.”
“Aye, Queenie,” Gant said.
“I’m going to head down to the Focus for a drink, and then I’m going to see if I can calm the dragon down. Thank you both for helping keep things running smoothly while I was offline.”
“No problem, Queenie,” Bastion said.
“And Gant, thank you for worrying about me and keeping me company.”
“You’re welcome,” Gant said. “Though I wish you would bring me with you more often. It’s a strain on my genetics every time you leave me.”
“I know. We don’t have to try to hide who and what we are anymore, not now that the whole Nephiliat probably knows we’re here.” She reached down and put her hand on the side of his furry face, enjoying the softness. He started to purr lightly.
“Not in public,” he said.
Abbey pulled her hand away and looked at Bastion. “Not a word.”
He put up his hands. “We’re all family here, right? By the way, I stopped by more than once.”
“Thank you,” Abbey said, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “Now get your asses moving.”
“Aye, Queenie,” Bastion said.
“Aye, Queenie,” Gant said.
32
Abbey entered the Shard’s tomb. Her mind was alert, her body rested, but she could tell the Gift was weak in her. The transfer of power between herself and the Focus had destroyed countless naniates, and while she knew they would regenerate naturally with food and more rest, she knew they didn’t have time for that.
There were times in the past when she had ingested blood to survive. She had tasted it for the first time from the tip of her finger, after dipping it in the blood of Emily Eagen, the Venerant who had helped Thraven build the Fire and the Brimstone. She had drunk more freely of it in the compound on Azure when it was the only option she had for survival. She had been drawn to it both times. She had been disgusted by it both times.
While the Light of the Shard had cleansed her, and she had, in turn, used her purified blood to remove the stain of the Seraphim’s failed experiments with the naniates from the Focus, at the heart of it the Focus was still filled with blood. The Blood of the Shard, whose mind was dead but whose body was kept alive by machinery, continually producing the fuel that had the potential to save the galaxy or destroy it. The source of all of their troubles? Or the origin of their salvation?
Either way, it was still blood.
Either way, she felt nauseous as she dipped her hand into the fountain at the head of the Focus, cupping it and bringing it up toward her mouth filled with the white liquid. She didn’t want to drink from it. She didn’t feel as if she had a choice.
“They call it the Milk of the Damned.”
She paused before she took her first drink. Shidel’s voice was easy to recognize, his Nephilim speech patterns occupying the background behind the translated words.
“They say whoever drinks from it can no longer discern truth from fiction. That the Dark One sought revenge for the death of his Disciple by tempting the Seraphim in this way. That the Milk corrupted the children of Elysium and prevented them from hearing the truth of the Father.”
Abbey tilted her hand, spilling the Blood back into the fountain. She turned around, finding Shidel coming toward her from the shadows.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked.
“Looking for answers,” he replied. “Seeking the truth.”
“Did you find it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only ever known one truth, and then you came. At first, I hated you. And then you spared my life. The Prophets would say it is a trick, but you brought me here and didn’t lock me up. You didn’t enslave me. Your Keeper gave me a room. A place to sleep. He didn’t lock the door. I prayed to the Father for guidance, and he told me to walk. He delivered me here.” He paused, looking past her to the Focus. “I’ve been sitting here for hours. Praying. Thinking. Questioning. Before today, I thought the stories of Gehenna and the Dark One were myths my mother told me to scare me into behaving. But now here you are, and I find myself questioning all that I have known.”
Abbey took a few steps toward him. “I know the feeling. I didn’t seek out any of this. I’m a mother, too, and all I want to do is go home to my daughter. To be honest, I don’t care about the Father, the Dark One, the Great Return, the Shard, or any of this bullshit. I believe in freedom, free will, dignity. Simple things. Thraven came to my home. He’s attacking those simple things. He says it’s in the name of the Father, and he acts as if he’s better than us when he knows damn well that he was one of us. You want answers? Figure out what you believe in, and follow that. Don’t let anything get in your way. Don’t let anything stop you.”
“That’s easy to say.”
“And hard for you to do. I know why. The Gift.”
“What about it?”
“The Gift was only ever intended to belong to the Shard. Lucifer stole it. He changed it. He altered the programming. It feeds on your emotions, especially your anger. It uses you to survive. It changes you into w
hat it needs you to be.”
“I control the Gift.”
“No, you don’t. Nobody does. Even the Blood of the Shard has its own agenda. You have to be strong, but you can fight it.”
“How?”
“I can heal you. I can open your eyes to the plainest truth there is.”
“What truth is that?”
“The one you make for yourself.”
Shidel looked intrigued, but also hesitant. “What is your truth?”
“I already told you. Protect my family. Protect the innocent. That was why I became a soldier. That’s who I’ve always been, and I won’t let Lucifer, the Shard, the One, or any other asshole in the universe change me.”
He was quiet for a moment, and then he nodded. “I want simple things, too,” he said.
“What are they?” Abbey asked.
“I want to be important. I want to be heard. I want to be followed. I want to be remembered.” His face lowered, his expression turning dark. “I want power. I want control. I want what I want when I want it.” His chest heaved, his breathing becoming heavy. He took a step toward Abbey. “I want revenge for my imprisonment.”
The Gift rose within him, flaring out. His body lit in orange flame that quickly burned through his clothing, leaving him as an effigy in the center of the tomb.
Abbey backed up a step, surprised at the reaction. His Gift had become more powerful, multiplying in intensity. Had he taken Blood from the Focus? Was this the result?
“I want to be free of this prison. I want to be released from these chains. I want you to die, Abigail Cage. I want all of you to die.”
The flames launched from him, directly toward her. She put up her hands, calling on her Gift to stop the attack. It responded, forming a shield that deflected the flames, spreading them around her.
Only the fire kept coming, and she was weak. It pushed back at the shield, causing her to strain to hold it in place. She clenched her teeth and planted her feet, knocked back by the force of the attack, trying to hold her ground.
“I want you to die,” Shidel repeated. Only his voice had changed. It had become darker and deeper, replicating the voice of the creature she had seen in the Focus.