“I’m Stage with the Templars of Olympus. We’ve taken the ship, and you’re free to go.”
The prisoners cheer and jump excitedly in their cells. Stage holds up a hand to silence them.
“That being the case, we’re still in outer space, and there’s the potential that miscreants are still about the ship. I’ll allow you out to roam the ship, but you must follow any of our orders. Once we determine it to be safe, we’ll transport you back to your individual homes.”
The cheers continue as Stage opens their cells. All eight exit, and each takes a moment to shake his hand, yet all avoid Caliber’s hand. Her orange armor doesn’t make her look inviting. They run out of the prison as a group, despite not having any better place to go on the ship. The chance of freedom is the only reason they seem to need to explore.
A nurse wipes Tina’s brow with gauze held by surgical instruments. She leans back over the opened back of a small girl. She isn’t even a teenager yet. Tina uses magnifiers to see the delicate nerves in the girl’s spine. Three of her vertebrae are shattered. She uses tools to pull out each bone splinter, piece by piece, and sets them on a tray to her left. The slivers accumulate. There’s no end to the job in sight. Tina knows that after this surgery she has four more scheduled.
“How was she injured?” Tina asks her nurse.
“It wasn’t even an accident,” the nurse answers. “She was attacked by her classmates because they accused her of being a duplicate.”
“What?” Tina asks. “This girl can’t be older than ten. Why would she be a duplicate? The Templars aren’t that young.”
“I can’t explain it. I don’t understand these auggies. People are scared. I almost didn’t come into work today, but my own children begged me.”
“My son begged me to stay away.”
“I wonder how many people stayed with family or went to church? About half of the hospital is AWOL.”
Tina sighs. “Great. We’re never gonna leave here, are we?”
“I’ll stay as long as you do.”
“Thanks, Margaret.”
The two continue their delicate task. The sole people in the operating room besides the victim.
Smith approaches Votary and Flaimeson on the bridge. Jillarni is no longer present. Nijigen took him to the prison cells that are now vacant.
“The ship’s clear,” Smith answers the unspoken question. “Unfortunately, Guntho got out with at least two other augments.”
“I’m aware,” Votary says. “How’s Karmic?”
“Amine’s taking Gabriella’s death pretty hard. He’s in med bay with DJ to make sure he didn’t breathe anything toxic.”
“Any improvements with Lottery?”
“No, he’s unconscious right now. Kimmy’s shook up. She doesn’t think his mind survived the number of times we forced him to multiply.”
“We had to,” Votary says.
“I hope you’re right. DJ sacrificed nearly as much as Curtis, Zoe, and Gabriella did.”
“Alright, see if you can help with repairs,” Votary says. He turns back to his conversation with Flaimeson.
“No,” Smith says.
“Excuse me?”
“We’re good right now. I need to see Mitch. I have to let him know all is well. I’ll tell Claire, too. The world needs to know we won. It’s tense as hell down there.”
“That’s not important right now. We need to repair this ship before the full Malignant fleet gets here.”
“You’re wrong. We need to give them hope.”
“That’s not why you’re doing it. You’re just love sick and hoping to squeeze in something personal. You’re acting beyond selfish right now!”
“How dare you! I’ve had your back this whole time. You pushed DJ too far and his mind is gone. People died, but I supported you. You’re going to let me go home. It’ll just be a few hours, and I’ll come back.”
“No!”
“I don’t need your permission!”
“I won’t let you leave!”
“You can’t stop me! I’ll take the Valhalla if I have to, but I’m going.”
Smith turns to leave. He hears the compartments in Votary’s leg armor slide away. He knows this means that Votary has pulled out weapons on him.
“It’s like that?” Smith asks with utter contempt for Votary.
“No, it isn’t!” Abel shouts.
The sound of his voice and sudden presence shocks Votary, Smith, and Flaimeson.
“Father!” Flaimeson shouts.
“It’s good to see you again, Flaimeson. How long has it been?”
“Close to four thousand years, I think.”
The two Gudz share an embrace of friendship long overdue.
“Father?” Votary says.
His voice betrays his sadness. The sound of hurt and tears is evident to the others on the bridge.
“Father? You’re finally back. Did I do something to offend you?” Votary asks, a child wanting the respect of a stern parent.
Abel tears up, then cries when he looks at Votary. Pure emotion appears to pour from the ancient Gudz. He quickly crosses the floor to grab Votary in a fierce hug. Votary appears to shake as he returns the hug.
“My Votary, thank God you live. If you had perished, I would never have forgiven myself.”
Abel’s body shakes as he cries and embraces Votary. The other Templars appear unnerved by the emotion that seems to only apply to Votary.
“Did I do something wrong?” Votary repeats.
“Of course not, Votary. You’ve made me proud. All my Templars have. If anything, I should have to ask for your forgiveness.”
Abel releases Votary and wipes more tears from his eyes.
“Never, Father. I owe everything to you. You never need to apologize.”
Abel finally acts like his normal, omnipotent self.
“Good, but you do need to apologize to Bill. The battle is won. Let him see to his friends. I was just with them, and they asked about him.”
“Really?” Smith asks. “Who?”
“Your Mitch, for one, and Sally and Carlos. I spent many hours with them while I processed my grief over Sister’s passing.”
“The red armored woman?” Flaimeson asks.
Abel nods.
“I was not aware she was related to you, Father. I am sorry for your loss and my own inability to warn you earlier of the spy. I was not aware we had one until it was too late.”
“I do not blame you, Flaimeson. As they say on Earth, ‘we’re good.’ ”
“Father, the fleet is on its way. We’ve already lost three Templars to this fight, plus Compel and Constructor. We won’t be able to hold off the fleet,” Votary implores.
“Leave that to me. For the time being, all is good. Apologize to Bill, and I’ll send him to his friends.”
“I’m sorry, Seal Pup.”
“Just let me go,” Smith says through clenched teeth.
“Please forgive Votary. I put too much on his shoulders at the most inopportune time.”
Smith sighs. “I accept. Now please let me go.”
“I will. Make sure to let Claire Kennedy know of your victory.”
“I will, Abel.”
Abel creates a portal, and Smith walks through it with his helmet in hand. The blue armored Templar vanishes from sight.
Smith appears in his own apartment. He remembers that his motorcycle is parked outside a fast food restaurant. He wonders if it’s still there, but he doubts it. He adds “file insurance claim” to his list of things to do. Smith further wonders if anyone will care about his policy since his identity as a Templar is now common knowledge.
Smith locks his helmet into place and cloaks his armor. He walks out his front door and flies to Mitch’s house. His boots carry him the distance quickly, and he
lands in front of the home. He de-cloaks and takes off his helmet.
Here goes everything, he thinks.
Smith rings the doorbell. He hears footsteps on the other side of the door and soon it opens. Mitch stares in surprise at Smith. His eyes well up.
“Hey–” Smith begins.
“Just shut up and kiss me,” Mitch begs.
Smith wraps Mitch up in his arms and kisses him deeply for nearly a minute. The two look at each other. Both have fresh tears on their faces. Sally, watching from a short distance, also wipes tears from her cheeks.
“You forgive me?” Smith asks.
“You standing here means you just saved the planet. It’s kinda hard to hold a grudge after that.”
“I don’t know if it’s saved. It’s just not ending today.”
“I’ll take it,” Mitch says.
“Me, too,” Sally adds.
“Did everything go as you planned?” Mitch excitedly asks.
Smith glances at the ground and shakes his head slowly.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Mitch says as he grabs Smith in another firm embrace. “Come inside and tell us about it.”
“You really want to know? It isn’t all pretty.”
“I need to know all about this part of your life. It’s the only way we can be together.”
“Okay,” Smith says.
He walks into Mitch’s home. The smaller man closes the door behind him.
“Do the Templars need a house mother?” Mitch asks as the door shuts.
Sirens ring on the Vengeful ISH. Flaimeson rushes to identify the reason. Votary and Abel stand by.
“What is it?” Votary asks.
“Mother is here,” Flaimeson answers.
“Indeed,” Abel says.
Outside the bridge, the Templars see several hundred ships appear. They’re numerous in size and variety. The Templars can’t even defend against one of these ships in the current state, but Votary is willing to try.
He speaks into his helmet’s communicator to the rest of the Templars. “Everyone to the Valhalla now! Knight Terror and Gallery, you know your job. The Malignant are here, but we’ll take some with us first!”
Votary knows it’s a lie. He turns to run toward the bay, but Abel’s hand stops him.
“Cancel that order. I’ll handle this.”
Before Votary can question Abel, the Gudz disappears.
The Flagship of the Malignant Empire, the Womb, is massive. It carries a crew close to a million. It floats in space like a giant gray beehive. It can’t hide behind the moon because it will eclipse it.
Inside the massive ship, Mother sits in a regal silver throne. She wears flowing orange robes and is a handsome woman who appears to be forty years old, albeit with short cropped, snow-white hair.
Abel appears suddenly in her throne room mere steps from Mother. Her honor guard draw elegant spears and point them at Abel, but they immediately stand down and kneel before him. Mother holds an amused expression when she sees Abel.
“Father, this is unexpected, yet I hear you are full of surprises these days. I was informed that you have chosen to disregard the rules of Our Contest.”
“Hello, Ot Her.”
“You will not use my given name! You will address me as Mother.”
“I will not. I had a mother, and you are not her.”
Mother is annoyed, but decides against pressing the issue.
“Why are you on my ship? Do you plan on disregarding any more rules?”
“No. On the contrary, I’m here to ensure that you obey them.”
An officer approaches Mother. “I am sorry to interrupt, Mother, but the ISH have taken control of the Ahika. Shall we have the fleet engage?”
“In a moment, Drorus. I will entertain Father first,” Mother says and turns her attention back to Abel. “I assume you are here to beg me not to?”
“Astute as always, Ot Her. However, you may not attack the victor of a battle, per the rules of Our Contest.”
“The battle is not over. We are here as reinforcements.”
“Reinforcements that arrived too late. My Templars have full control of the ship and have rechristened it the Vengeful ISH. Hence, the battle is over.”
“How can I believe that they did not win without your assistance? I was told what you did to one of my agents. Very childish, Father.”
“He killed my sister. I overreacted.”
“I was not aware you found a relative. Curious that she would mean so much more than the people you abandoned when you came here.”
Abel does not respond.
“Do you know that Our Contest is over? There are no Gudz anymore, besides you, of course, and perhaps a spy or two. All are Malignant now. They lost the will to fight when you fled to this pitiful planet of ISH. Why stand in my way?”
Abel looks unaware that the Gudz were defeated without him. The news seems to impact his emotions, but not his resolve.
“We are here, so Our Contest is not over. I have more agents spread throughout your fleet than you realize. Speaking of, you brought a lot more than was necessary for a planet you hold such contempt for. Do I really mean that much to you?”
“Coelum is lost,” Mother blurts.
The revelation clearly wounds Abel further.
“How?” he asks.
“The animals are stronger and more united. Without Gudz to train with, we lost our edge and they pushed us out. I had to bring all our people here. Their expansion is constant. So, you see why you must come back. They are not part of Our Contest and you will be able to push them back. It is that or never see your home again.”
“This is my home now. Perhaps it is Coelum’s destiny to support new life.”
“That is not the way things are meant to be. We all have our place. They have crossed over onto our side with little regard for the rules. I will not have that form of anarchy.”
“It is not anarchy. It is free will.”
“I will not have this debate with you again.” Mother turns to her admiral. “Prepare to fire, Drorus.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“If you ignore the rules of Our Contest, then I will again. I will liquefy your entire fleet. I will kill everyone here before anyone twitches so much as a finger in offense against the Templars and humans under my protection.”
Mother is truly shocked by this declaration.
“You bluff! You would not turn on your own kind.”
“My kind is human now.”
“The rules say that I merely must wait a suitable amount of time for celebrations and repairs. Tell me, Father, how many celebrations are required?”
“I lost five Templars.”
“That is all? We can accommodate such a brief mourning period. You have your one thousand hours. At which time I will destroy their single ship.”
Admiral Drorus nods as he accepts the implied order. The Malignant fleet stands down from their battle stations.
“Thank you, Ot Her. I will inform my Templars of the time they have to prepare to meet you in combat.”
“Would you care for repair parts?” Mother gloats. “I would hate to be threatened again if you feel the game was unfair.”
“That would be nice. Thank you for the gesture,” Abel says with an obnoxious bow.
“They will be delivered with qualified technicians to repair your single corvette. I will even send over a fresh pair of fighters. That will change your odds of success to only zero point zero zero zero zero one.”
“I appreciate your generosity.”
“I will take the next month to study this planet that you seem to love so much. It intrigues me.”
“I suggest addressing the people on one of their information-sharing reports. You will get your best response from a woman named Claire Kennedy.”
“Until our celebration,” Abel responds.
Abel appears on the Vengeful ISH. Assembled on the bridge and awaiting Abel’s return are Votary, Flaimeson, Millantra, Patrick, Julie, Gallery, and Power.
“Did it go well, Father?” Votary asks.
Abel nods. “We have one thousand hours until they’ll attack us.”
“What?” the assembled Templars shout as one.
“That’s the amount of time afforded from the rules.”
“You say it so matter-of-factly,” Julie says.
“We will not even be able to repair the ship in that time,” Flaimeson complains.
“Ot Her is sending over repair parts and supplies,” Abel informs.
“Why would we trust that shit?” Power asks.
“Mother cares too much about her honor to betray us with simple sabotage,” Flaimeson answers.
“That’s not good enough for me,” Gallery says.
“I threatened to break the rules again,” Abel announces. “I could eliminate their fleet with a thought. She won’t risk me following through with that threat.”
“Damn, Abel, you went gangsta on them? You couldn’t get us any more time than a thousand hours? That’s only a week or two,” Power complains.
“It’s six weeks, you moron,” Julie insults.
“You’re really working my last nerve, bitch!”
“Silence!” Abel yells.
The raise in his voice is surprising to all of them, especially Votary.
“We have six weeks. We will not waste a second with in-fighting,” Abel says. “We have too much to do.”
“So, what’s the first step?” Votary asks.
“You all need to get some sleep. I’ll put you under myself if I must. Go to sleep, and we’ll start fresh tomorrow. I’ve convinced Ot Her to plead her case on D2I. She’ll undoubtedly tell the augments to let her kill everyone else.”
“Why would she do that?” Patrick asks.
“Because she’s that arrogant and thinks it akin to asking a person to put down a diseased pet. Her ignorance will be her undoing.”
Sleepers and Scouts Page 31
