The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

  Lucifer wasn’t amused. “Stop running and surrender, Yahweh. This is something you won’t win.”

  “You used to tell me I could do anything.”

  “You can, including getting yourself killed.”

  “If that’s the stake, then so be it.”

  Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Listen to me, you need to surrender. Between here and the Junah-Tehlor border there are three townships, each with roughly twelve thousand demons. I’ll keep pursuing you if you run, but it tears my heart out to think about battling over civilian land.”

  I stared at him, silent. He seemed surprised by the unmoved look on my face. “If you’re willing to sacrifice thousands of lives just to defeat me, then by moral law alone I cannot surrender and give you The Atrium.”

  “You don’t seem yourself.”

  “It’s amazing how much can change after you’ve dangled from the edge of death.”

  “Praetor Delvori was only supposed to detain you.”

  “Yes, I know, yet she’s still your Praetor.”

  Lucifer sneered. “And I have two dead Archdemons. We’re both guilty of having dogs whose leashes aren’t short enough.”

  His sneer took me off guard. I hadn’t seen that look for hundreds of years. “That’s fair.”

  Lucifer caught himself and reeled it in. He leaned back in his seat, studying me. “Qaira seems well.”

  “I’ll pass that along to him,” I said.

  “So it means nothing to you, does it? What he did to them, to us? All’s forgiven?”

  “It means everything. Enlisting Qaira shows how much I don’t want this war. I never did. I begged you…”

  And, that was it. Everything I thought I’d gotten past came erupting out.

  “I begged you not to do this! Don’t you dare try to blame me for the monster you’ve become!”

  Lucifer flinched.

  “You’re not my father. My father died the moment this war began. I will never surrender.”

  He said nothing and his face was unreadable.

  And then he cut the call. I stared at the swirling stand-by icon long after Lucifer had gone, my eyes blurring with tears. I wiped them away and then grimaced at the red smears across my cuff.

  The particle smasher.

  “General Trede,” I called into my headset, hurrying back to the lab, “how close are we to the nearest township?”

  “Four hundred cetas. At our speed, about an hour away.”

  Drat. “Adjust the course north-east. We need to avoid any civilian deaths.”

  “Yes, sir. Is there an ETA on the smasher?”

  “Soon.”

  ***

  Lucifer Raith—;

  I stared at the flashing signal lost message. A sharp pain in my hand caused me to look toward the stimulus. Blood ran down the wrist of my enclosed left fist; I’d crushed my glass.

  I winced, throwing what was left of the glass to the ground. The bandages were soiled with blood and wine. Had I not been what I am, my hand would have needed sutures. Lucky me.

  I tapped into Gomorrah’s confidential line. Ava received my call.

  “It’s worked,” I said. “The angel fleet is headed toward your team.”

  “Are you certain, Commander?” asked Praetor Delvori.

  “I am. Why?”

  “We’re picking up a signal on our halo-rad. A cloaked angel flag craft is heading toward Gomorrah.”

  “… Just one?”

  “So far.”

  “Shoot it down, with normal artillery.”

  XXI

  CARNIFEX

  Qaira Eltruan—;

  GOMORRAH WASN’T A COMMAND SHIP. It wasn’t anything I’d ever seen, or expected.

  A giant beta-metallic spear, cast-iron black, alit with flashing blue lights and crimson haze. Its image cut through all the fog like a battle-axe, and we were left gaping in awe from our position: a flimsy flag ship.

  But the flagship wasn’t meant for combat; it would only get us most of the way. It also gave us a chance to see our enemy and do some research.

  It’d been twenty minutes since their last bomb. That meant it was a weapon with a cool-down, recharge function. I could do a lot of damage in twenty minutes; things were looking up already.

  Our cloak wouldn’t help us anymore; we were close enough that their primary halo-rad could pick up our heat signature. Belial and Michael were revving their auto-raves (aRAVEs) for a quick escape once Gomorrah opened fire. The angels had placed some funding into single and double flying craft. Adrial planned to ride with Belial, while I chose to fly solo—;

  Until Oran magically showed up; then I became her ride.

  Her disguise was Leid—in that white coat with the fur collar, a black combat suit hidden beneath. She sucked on a malay cigarette and blew the smoke at me.

  I wanted to hurt her, throw her off the ship and watch those ugly black eyes disappear into Junah’s mist. But I couldn’t.

  So all I did was offer her ice and continued to charge my weapon. Oran would get nothing out of me.

  “Gomorrah is priming an automatic weapons system,” cautioned Seyestin. “You’re about to experience some heavy rain.”

  “It’s time to get off this thing,” I told the others. We spoke through voice-link technology embedded into our protective masks, or else I’d have had to compete with the wind and engines. Not to mention the air was so cold that nearly any natural exposure would freeze our lungs within minutes. The cold temperature aided Gomorrah’s secret weapon—anywhere hotter would have set the bombs off much sooner, blowing them up in her face.

  Adrial and Belial needed no further cue, and off they went, vanishing into the aerofrost.

  Michael, the acting pilot of the ship, threw the system into auto-ride and then he, too, soared off on our secondary aRAVE.

  Oran threw the cigarette over the rail. The ship jolted as wind abraded the hull. No one was manning the pressure buffers any longer and we were about to figure-eight.

  We united, as if this had been a practiced procedure. I knelt and spread my wings as she glided behind me, wrapping her arms around my neck. I rose and she curled her knees across my hips, locking ankles. Another jolt made me stagger, but I managed to lift off right as the ship capsized, spinning like a pulsar.

  “Tell me why you couldn’t have just teleported onto Gomorrah and wasted the ship by yourself?” I asked.

  “You’ve seen my power. It’s not guaranteed the ship is all I’d waste.”

  “Now isn’t really the time to pull your punches.”

  “Where’s the fun in ending it so soon?” Oran said, laughing softly. “This is the most excitement I’ve had since eviscerating Calenus’s sister.”

  I said nothing, chewing on that statement for a while.

  It was getting difficult to see; the freezing air was forming a layer of frost against my armor. My visor was fogging up, even with its antifreeze mode activated. Scrolling geometric data told me it was two hundred points below freezing. Even Oran had suited up for this.

  Thunder shook the sky as Gomorrah’s rapid-fire cannons incinerated our spinning ship. This was the most dangerous part; flying out in the open. The command ship was already readjusting their weapons trajectory, noticing our approach. All we had to do was get on that ship and the rest would be history.

  “A thousand meters,” announced Belial from somewhere ahead. “Hopefully they don’t drop another bomb anytime soon.”

  “We’re past that point already,” I said. “We’re too close for them to fire. It’d tear them apart in the process.”

  “If I saw you approaching, I’d commit suicide too,” stated Michael, to which Adrial and Oran laughed.

  I didn’t. I was sure Lucifer had other things up his sleeve; he knew we would be the only ones able to stop Gomorrah. “Stay focused. I don’t want to hear any jokes until our feet hit Ezekiel’s deck.”

  “Still attached to our bodies, might I add,” said Belial.

  Michael chuckled. I
sighed.

  “Gomorrah has barbed her halo,” warned Seyestin. “It’s emitting a plasma shield. You’re going to feel some heat.”

  The aRAVEs had ion shields of their own, a much stronger intensity than the ones generated from celestial armor. It would soften the blow for sure, but by how much? If their rides didn’t overheat, I’d be surprised. We were about to dive into the surface of the sun.

  And there were other things to worry about, like the spiked metallic spheres that were spraying from Gomorrah’s pores, polluting our path with serrated mines. Belial and Michael’s aRAVEs opened fire, trying to cut a path, but it was difficult—like a supersonic rocket attempting to carve its way through meteoric debris. Speed had sacrificed almost all of our precision.

  I felt Oran’s lock tighten across my shoulders as I rolled to avoid Gomorrah’s traps, some whirring by with only a meter’s distance. The command ship’s shadow darkened the sky as we closed the distance; the heat from the plasma shield spiking alarms from my visor. I couldn’t tell whether the sensation of my skin burning was real or imagined, but I clenched my teeth anyway.

  “Impact in ten, nine, eight,” announced Seyestin.

  We were in for a rough landing.

  ***

  Avarice Delvori—;

  The angel flagship had been destroyed, but there were three more approaching objects, moving even faster than before. Lucifer ordered us to boost our halo and release the calitrops. That might slow them down, but wouldn’t stop them. He and I both knew who we were dealing with now.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I promised my Commander, getting ready to close the comm-channel.

  “You won’t be able to take on more than one Vel’Haru,” interjected Lucifer, making me pause. “Ava, you’re not as strong as you think.”

  I smirked at that remark, and he saw it. “I already learned that lesson, Commander Raith. I had Caelis give me four more tranqs before I left Judas.” I held up my gun, for emphasis. “Don’t worry, I won’t waste any this time.”

  Lucifer seemed surprised, almost betrayed. “Good luck, Praetor.”

  He cut the call.

  “Praetor,” someone called from the command room doorway. I turned; it was our flight director, looking shaken. Before he could explain, two men pushed by him, entering the room. My eyes rose with their height.

  The one with fiery eyes hung back, the other with icy eyes stepped forward. He had long black hair, longer than Lucifer’s even, twisted in a braid. My gaze lingered on the insignia emblazoning his coat.

  “Avarice Delvori,” he said. “A pleasure to finally meet you.” He sized up my weapon, then surveyed the blaring alarms warning of approaching danger. “It looks like you may need some help.”

  “How did you get on this ship?” I demanded. “And why would you want to help me?”

  “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t be interested in helping you,” he said. “But right now, numbers and power mean everything—for both of us.”

  He didn’t require an introduction. I cocked my weapon. “Aren’t you angry that I killed your friend?”

  “Anger is an illogical, lesser emotion. At least, it is in the way you’re referring.”

  “Good,” I said, confused. The god killer behind Calenus said nothing, continuing to stare me down. We locked eyes. “And how exactly do you plan to help?”

  ***

  Qaira Eltruan—;

  My eyes opened; sparks marred my vision. A deafening ring invaded my audio sensory, and I cringed. The smell of smoke and burning flesh lingered in the air. A blurry landscape of fire, horses, catapults and rag-covered men swarmed around me.

  The ring faded. Replacing it, gunfire.

  Jerusalem evaporated. The visuals of Gomorrah’s deck roared in.

  I scrambled from underneath a wrecked aRAVE. Pulse rifle tail-sparks whipped by as I sprinted out of crossfire. Belial and Michael manned the deck, their meager team holding off the defending soldiers with surprising talent. Adrial was already hacking his way toward their command center and invited me to join.

  Oran didn’t answer my call. That cunt had left me laying on the deck.

  I’d follow Adrial in a minute. My first objective was to kill Gomorrah’s primers.

  I kicked open the barracks metal door, the lock-disengage panel sparking over the frame. I ditched the two-handed firearm, instead sliding an ion blade from its titanium sheath on my belt. Unleashing a scythe, I activated my armor’s defense system and headed for the hangar.

  The doors slid open. Two dozen armed soldiers were waiting for me at the dock; twenty-four targeting lasers appeared on my chest. At least one of them belonged to a tranq gun.

  My eyes rose to the second story armory window, overlooking the dock. Praetor Delvori, fully geared, watched the scene with a metallic finger hovering above her headset.

  I snarled.

  So, let the games begin.

  ***

  Adrial Trisyien—;

  “I’m a reasonable man. All you have to do is walk through that door and let me take your place.”

  One soldier was locked around my arm, my scythe pressed against his neck. My other hand held a pulsar hand-cannon, taken from a friend guarding the door, now aimed at a shaken demon analyst. All of her friends were dead, scattered at my feet.

  To my relief she conceded, tearfully raising her hands and ducking away to the elevator hall. I shoved my hostage in the same direction, and he fled too. I dropped the gun and headed for the central command board. Here it was; the key to the city.

  Now I had to figure out how to dismantle the bombs. Qaira really should have been here for this.

  I heard the door hiss open behind me.

  “Walk away, friend,” I warned, not bothering to turn around, “unless you want to join the ranks.”

  “Which rank is that?” asked a very familiar voice. My breath caught in my throat and I spun.

  Zira smiled at me, crossing his arms. He studied the massacre at our feet. “And what little plotline does Leid have you playing in this time?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “We wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he said. Zira entered the room, stepping over bodies until he was beside me. His orange eyes drifted over the central command screen, sprawled across the span of an entire wall. “Everyone seems so interested in this Lesser war. Leid, Ixiah…”

  His stare sliced into me like a piece of glass.

  “The demons killed him, not us. So vengeance isn’t really the reason you’re standing aboard this ship.”

  “Astute observation,” Zira nodded. “But it’s all a pointless measure to stall for time until Qaira gets here. Or Oraniquitis. But both of them are a bit tied up right now, so we should be able to catch up without anyone disturbing us.”

  My senses went wild with caution. I backed away from Zira, raising my scythe. His menacing glare followed me. The rest of him didn’t move.

  “I can understand your displeasure, but I wouldn’t have thought it enough to find any personal vendetta against me.”

  “Displeasure is an underwhelming word to describe my feelings toward those who’d willingly serve the Scarlet Queen.”

  “No one’s willingly serving her,” I snapped, insulted. “She would ruin this world if we didn’t comply. The only one on board with Oraniquitis is Qaira, so take that up with him. I’ve been assigned damage control, nothing else.”

  “After everything you’ve lost,” murmured Zira, “I’d figured you’d be the last to fall in line with the rest of these pawns. I always felt sorry for you and Zhevraine, forced to serve that flawed, inept mistake of a noble.”

  Anger. “I was never forced to serve Leid. Unlike you, I was given a choice to become what I am. She didn’t choose me because she wanted a plaything or an obedient puppet.”

  “And that is why you are trapped here in this never-ending loop of loss. We aren’t designed for Lesser emotions. Your noble failed you.”

  “I’m tr
apped in this loop because I won’t leave her. Not yet.”

  Zira cocked his head. “Why? Can’t you see that she’s gone?”

  “I promised her.”

  “Promised her what?”

  I said nothing, lowering my gaze. Zira let out a dry laugh. “It’s irrelevant, anyway. The Violet line must end. They can’t go on; not with their flawed programming. I’m relieved that I don’t have to kill Zhevraine, but am very sorry that I must kill you.”

  I crossed my scythes as he lunged at me.

  Everything became a blur.

  ***

  Yahweh Telei—;

  Although we shared no true familial genetics, my father, Lucifer, was identical to me.

  Anti-matter architecture had been banned after misuse and genocide between nations on Felor. I’d still been in school but had managed to procure some of its properties and practical designs from security heads within Jehovah’s ranks. The chip had since been kept away, archived within my secret stash of ‘probably-not-good-for-the-world’ technology.

  Lucifer had done the same, it seemed.

  But he had gone one step further. He’d brought anti-matter to fruition once again, using it for the very thing that had gotten it banned in the first place.

  Would I have done the same, had I felt cornered?

  The chip was now being used as reference, my team of high-ranking engineers working quickly to assemble the last of the particle smasher. Connecting it to central command energy and defensive systems would be tricky, but an analyst promised it could be done. Reversing our shields would render the demons’s anti-matter weaponry defenseless against Ezekiel, but keeping the shield from tearing our own matter-adorning vessel in the process was still a concern. I delegated finding a solution to our atomic weapons specialists.

  I really wished Qaira was here.

  “Sir,” Seyestin called.

  “Yes, almost done,” I said, growing annoyed by his constant pressuring.