by Tom Julian
He leaned forward, wiping the windscreen with his sleeve. A beep from his proximity monitor told him there was something close, but all he could see was Nina above him, a trail of vapor and debris coming from the listing ship.
Salla pulled Achilles up from his chair. Timberwolf heard them shouting about something, about getting the rig onto Santa Maria, the other shuttle, but he couldn’t focus on them.
Timberwolf felt the presence. The grinding. Kizik was back and showing him memories again. Jesus, I don’t have time for home movies right now!
Timberwolf was back in his apartment on Earth. It was right after the suicide attempt that Kizik had prevented.
There was the smoking hole in the wall that peaked through the bathroom and into the hall…The plasma pistol that had been set up on a tri-pod was knocked over…Timberwolf found himself in the shower like nothing had happened, the hole in the wall letting water leak into the common hallway outside…He calmly toweled off and found Conrad and six security men training rifles on him in his living room…What? he had asked like they were interrupting his breakfast…
Before the lackey could answer, there was a knock at the door and it creaked open…Kizik scurried in, was slipping on the tile floor…Conrad and the security men were frozen like statues…
I don’t remember it this way. The giant spider showing up after I tried to kill myself.
This was much more than a memory. Kizik had inserted his presence into this pivotal moment.
I was here. Inside.
What do you want?
What you want.
I want you to fucking die. I want to know where the hell my brother is.
Kizik ruminated, buzzing and shaking. Even in memories, or whatever this was, the creature was shockingly disturbing. Its head pulsed and expanded as it “spoke” to him. Timberwolf recalled the odor of the Arnock; burnt cinnamon infused with a heady earthen musk.
Timberwolf could tell he had amused Kizik.
That’s not why I am here. Gray, he is a small man.
How about you kill him and I kill you? Spreads around the work a bit.
He is yours to kill.
Bullshit. You kill him now. You can attack the Nemesis any time.
Kizik didn’t respond. The time wasn’t right for Gray to be out of the picture yet. He needed Gray to clear the path below down on Highland. There were more security systems still operating and Gray would be useful to trip through them.
Timberwolf felt an uncommon frustration in Kizik. Usually his psyche floated above petty things, but Timberwolf could feel him stumbling.
Timberwolf pressed him again.
Why won’t you kill Gray now?
For a moment Kizik considered stepping back and letting events take place as they would. Let Timberwolf die here and then take his chances against Gray on Highland. But Highland was too uncertain and Timberwolf was his senses, his eyes and ears. He needed this to go on for a bit longer, until things were safer.
It felt like Kizik slammed the door on Timberwolf and suddenly the presence was gone, Timberwolf’s suggestion unanswered. The memory Kizik had co-opted was replaced by the chaos on Nina. “We’ve got to go!” Salla was practically dragging him from the bridge. He snapped awake again and just looked at her for a moment.
“Wait…” Timberwolf said, almost like it was a question. The wrecker was drawing closer again, just a thousand yards away.
In the space between the wrecker and Nina, a white glow coalesced, the center of it gleaming and becoming solid and spreading out. Kizik’s massive command ship dropped its cloak and faded into view. Its off-white, snail-shell shape, both organic and mechanical, was suddenly just there, hanging impossibly where just a second before there had been nothing.
The pilot hit the retro-thrusters on the wrecker, but it wasn’t enough. The Arnock vessel glowed casually for just an instant and the wrecker disintegrated, turning into a string of debris, its power core flashing before going dark.
The Arnock vessel remained for a moment, listing to the side before slowly dissolving away. Salla turned to Timberwolf. “What was that? It’s gone. Did you see? Was that an Arnock command ship?”
Timberwolf’s eyes were far away. “It’s gone.”
The three of them were silent for a moment as the space cleared in front of them. In the distance, the white disc of Highland was a dull half-circle, part of it hidden by its own shadow.
“We have to leave.” Timberwolf said, breaking the silence. Achilles stared at him. Achilles’s fears about Kizik’s connection to him were much worse than he thought and the Arnock were here now. This cannot go on.
For an instant, one of the screens on the dark bridge came to life. The arc that appeared when Penny booted up displayed and then quickly faded away. No one else knew what that meant, but Achilles did. Penny was using the last of the ship’s power to send Achilles a message. You’re not to kill Timberwolf. Not now.
ACT OF WAR
Conrad sat at his station and searched every data source he could find for the name Jude Izabeck. He found what he had expected. He came from a wealthy Believer family with strong ties on Earth, Mars, and some of the core worlds. His siblings helped run the family’s business concerns and his parents were retired, invested in the arts and gave generously to mission work. He had chosen a life of relative poverty as a Brother on Haven.
He had risen fast and entered Cardinal Jacob’s inner circle, becoming the cardinal’s body man, but Conrad wondered why. The man seemed dull, a true closed-eyed Believer in the worst possible sense. He wrote often and posted his thoughts on God and the faith to Believer message boards under several aliases that Conrad quickly uncovered. His writings were didactic and absolute, simple like all Believer texts, and he wrote with the utmost conviction. If God says to take off my hand, it comes off. If he says to put it back on, I’ll trust he’ll give me the means to do so. Conrad winced when he read his writings and couldn’t help rolling his eyes.
Conrad deduced that Izabeck didn’t care about his own fate. That he would be certainly willing to die for whatever ends Cardinal Jacob set him to—maybe someone who aspired to martyrdom. This made him a dangerous fool in Conrad’s mind, but the question was how was he dangerous? What could he do to disrupt Gray’s mission? He was about to begin scanning through the security videos from The Outpost when he saw something else.
His news feeds were suddenly blasting with chatter from the Assault Corps command at Tach-One station. There was something huge going on. The pure volume of traffic moving before him was breathtaking. He was able to read most of the messages. A lot of ships were being diverted. He could tell that several of them could be headed to no other place but Highland. He called Dr. Tier and she answered immediately.
“Dr. Tier, I have reason to believe we should look at Secretary Bozeman’s communications.”
“Get in here,” she said.
In her office, she stood with her arms folded, waiting. “That’s bold,” she said to him.
“How far out are we from Highland?” he asked.
“A day and a half.”
“We need to read Secretary Bozeman’s communications now.”
“No. That’s an act of war,” she huffed, perhaps speaking literally. The D.P.E. had the capability to decrypt and read almost any message they got their hands on and it was generally assumed that they did so up to a certain level. Reading the private messages of the secretary of defense was extremely dangerous. If they got caught reading Bozeman’s messages it would destroy the already tenuous relationship the D.P.E. had with their comrades in the Assault Corps.
“Then I need forgiveness.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did it so you didn’t need to. I resign.”
“Since it’s your last day, what did you find?”
“It’s from Gray to Bozeman.”
Conrad saw something on Dr. Tier’s face he had never seen and never expected to see. It was fear, the candid fear of someone who was trul
y looking into the abyss. “What did it say?” she finally got out.
“‘The broadcast is singing. Come get your arms.’ And by the way, I’ve found Highland.” He sent the coordinates to her smart device.
Tier’s eyes went wide and a pit grew in her stomach. Highland was closer than she could have possibly imagined. They were just seventy-three hours out. “Okay, you’re re-hired. Fine work.”
He shuffled, satisfied with himself. “Now I am seeing at least five ships headed towards the place. Fast ones. And Gray seems to have reprogrammed a series of security rings to send out Highland’s location over a military channel. That’s how I found it.”
“So Gray’s really done it? And the Assault Corps is jumping onboard to support him.” She looked out the window, to the pure blackness that was their sub-light stream. “This is a failure of our basic mission. They’ll be streaming out to Arnock Prime within a week and they’ll swing by to wipe out the D.P.E. on the way. I want you to get me Bozeman on sub-light.”
“Contact him now and he’ll know we read his messages,” Conrad said. She just raised an eyebrow. “But that doesn’t matter now, does it?” he murmured.
“No. It doesn’t.”
Conrad sent her Bozeman’s private handle and then she asked him to leave. She thought long and hard about what she wanted to say and decided to skip the pleasantries.
TheaTier965: Secretary. I have two words for you. Back Off.
After only a few moments, she got a message back.
SecJasonBozeman: That was fast. There are no secrets from you.
TheaTier965: It’s a bad idea to throw in with Gray.
SecJasonBozeman: I think he has an ace up his sleeve.
TheaTier965: He doesn’t have half a deck.
SecJasonBozeman: Highland will fall. There’s nothing in our way.
TheaTier965: I am in your way.
SecJasonBozeman: Please Thea. Protest all you want.
TheaTier965: I am going to be over Highland when you get there.
SecJasonBozeman: You think you can stop us?
TheaTier965: Timberwolf Velez will be down below.
There was no response for a while.
SecJasonBozeman: He’s one man.
TheaTier965: I’ve heard that before. I don’t believe it.
Dr. Tier shut off the connection and put her device away. She’d meant to rattle Bozeman and Timberwolf would certainly be down on Highland when she got there. It just wasn’t clear if he was going to be trying to knock her out of the sky when she arrived.
SILENT PARTNER
“I’ve turned the reactors up manually so they’ll blow,” Salla said to Achilles as she settled into a bench opposite Timberwolf on the Santa Maria. Achilles sat at the controls and nodded, head in hands. He was still beside himself since hearing about his brother’s death. Salla stared daggers through Timberwolf. “How long have you known they were here?!” she demanded.
“Look…” he began.
She stopped him. “You said it was in your head, not that it was following you around!” He didn’t answer, just stared at her dead-on. “You listened for them and the Arnock followed you here!” she accused.
Timberwolf’s eyes flashed angry. “The mission’s the same. I’m going in after Gray. Alone.”
Salla wasn’t done. “You told me, yourself, that Arnock, Kizik, was in your head. Maybe you’re working with them and you don’t even know it! How long have you known he was here?”
“Forget it.”
“You said that you just wanted that thing out of your head. How long?!”
“Since The Outpost!” he responded. “Is that good enough for you?”
Achilles cringed as he listened to them argue, knots filling his stomach. A million thoughts went through his head about his brother. What happened? How? Was it really an accident? An awful thought came to him. Gray would never have killed Ivan on purpose. Sergey said it was an accident. But Achilles wasn’t sure. He went through the scenario in his head, thinking about what he might have done if he had been in Sergey’s shoes—if he had been captured and Highland was threatened. It took the DNA from two live keys to access the control room. Oh no. It came to him. He winced, almost choking on the realization. Sergey killed Ivan and I would have too.
“A moment for the dead, please?” Achilles snapped at Salla and Timberwolf. “I can’t stand listening to you! Not now. Not with Ivan dead.” He leveled his finger at Timberwolf, his jaw solid with unexpected conviction. “I know who Timberwolf’s not working with. He’s not working with Gray and he’s the threat right now. Wheels are in motion. He has to go down there. I wish there was another way.”
“How do we know we can trust him?” Salla asked. The question hung.
“You can’t,” Timberwolf responded.
TRUTH
Frigate Nemesis—Over Highland
A single drop of blood fell to the floor, splashing into a small puddle. A Phaelon stepped in it, tracking it along the floor as he walked. Three skinned pigs hung from the rafters of the galley on Nemesis, the place now thoroughly taken over by the Phaelon. A large pot of foul-looking stew simmered and they made cups with their hands to take portions directly from it. Axes, spears, harpoons, swords, nets, and exotic rifles leaned up against each other in clusters.
Warner and Michael took in the spectacle. Behind them a Phaelon in a hammock rustled, hissed, and dropped down to the deck. Two Phaelon threw what looked like half-opened bowie knives at the wall. The knives bounced back from one to the other. A clumsy catch from one of them and lime-green blood spurted. The other one laughed, back scales fluttering.
A Phaelon had her arms raised. She held her breath in and hissed, long female tongue extending. On that signal several others beat her mercilessly with batons. She doubled over and stood up straight again, signaling for them to repeat.
In the adjacent galley, rows of prayer mats were rolled out, candles burned and most of the lights were turned off, a stark contrast to the Phaelon spectacle. Gray stood before a small window, looking out at Highland below, the dark side of the world crowned by a bright crescent. The planet was almost entirely covered in thick clouds as he had suspected. Sergey had told him that atmospheric regulators made sure of that to obscure the surface. Infused into the clouds was a sea of nano-machines that scattered any scans and sensors.
Michael appeared beside Gray. “Any word on the Nina?” Gray asked.
“No. We lost contact with the wrecker pilot,” Michael responded. “It could be interference from the plasma cascade. The ring defenses are inert now. The broadcast is singing.”
Gray smiled. He noticed the men waiting in the hall and beckoned to them.
“Come in, men.”
Gray looked to his reflection in the window and put on a white priest’s collar. He had thought long and hard about what to do with the men after The Outpost. Did he need them? He had considered leaving all of them on Golgotha with the wounded. He prayed on it and God had told him nothing. Maybe he doesn’t answer the first time you knock, Gray had thought. He’d never tried praying personally to God before, when not in front of others, when not playing the part of Bishop Gray. It had been isolating not to receive a response. He felt like he was begging God to wake up. He’d spoken plainly and from his heart, but nothing came back. No feedback, no words.
He’d decided that no answer and no sign meant that these men were to remain part of the story, at least for now. They were here to witness these deeds, as part of what Izabeck was writing. Windwhistle and the others filed in. They were tentative and meek. Some looked out the windows to Highland below. It was an unimpressive world on its own, no surface features visible through the thick white and ashen clouds. Still, they pressed their faces up to the glass, amazed. “It’s what’s been promised by Bishop Gray!” Izabeck said to them. “It’s the first part of heaven!”
Gray tilted his head, unsure of what Izabeck’s remark meant. Izabeck had retreated to his bunk after Golgotha. He’d scribbled
constantly in his notebook and avoided Gray. Gray had no idea what he’d been writing, but the man held his electronic notebook to his chest as if its embrace made him holy. Gray beckoned him over.
“You’ve been busy,” Gray said to him. Izabeck held the book close, like it was an infant he was protecting. “Can I see it?”
Without a word, Izabeck handed it over and stepped away, rubbing his arm as he’d been doing constantly for the last few days. He closed his eyes and a calm smile took over his face. The man’s devotion still made Gray uncomfortable, even as Gray sought to feel the genuine Word pulse through him. Gray thumbed through the pages, skipping the parts he’d read before. Then he reached a new chapter of the book with three words in large print stacked on top of the other.
WRATH
LOVE
JUDGEMENT
He read further, devouring the pages quickly, his eyes growing wide. This wasn’t the pedestrian drivel he was used to from Izabeck. There was something moving in him, a spirit Gray had no idea he carried. What he’d been looking for from God was right before him now and it had been delivered by Izabeck, of all people. This is…
“Truth,” Gray said to Izabeck, suddenly finding the perfect word. Gray squeezed Izabeck’s arm; the man smiled deeply and traced the Believer symbol on his forehead as he kissed his prayer beads. Gray moved to the podium, pausing a moment as the men took their places on the prayer mats in front of him. He knew that if he told them what was in Izabeck’s book, it would set off a fury maybe he wouldn’t be able to control. He considered not saying it, just giving them a sermon about being strong and carrying the Believer banner. But looking out over the men, a righteousness rose inside him. He would give them Izabeck’s third testament, whether they could handle it or not.
Gray began, “The first testament was God’s wrath. The second testament was God’s love. The third testament is God’s judgment, a living book! We’re in the midst of it now, writing it with our works and deeds. The ending is…God’s forgiveness.”
