by Tom Julian
“Praise be to God!” Cardinal Jacob took in the spectacle of wealth around him, the myriad objects of immeasurable value from throughout the galaxy. “I am in possession!” He exhaled. He sent a message to the other cardinals still loyal to him. Come to Highland. Bring empty vessels.
Cardinal Jacob sat on a huge chair made of gold, the handiwork of a species much larger than a man. Warner pulled himself up on a similar chair opposite him made of platinum. The wealth gleamed around them, illuminated by small floodlights floating like fireflies around the space. “I am in possession!” the cardinal said again, smiling to his guards. He knew he had to move the items out of here quickly before other parties arrived to challenge him, perhaps from the Assault Corps.
“You’re the pope, right?” Warner asked, squinting at Cardinal Jacob sitting on his golden throne.
“Something like that.” Cardinal Jacob nodded with a tolerant smile.
“Bishop Gray was a great man. He wrote a whole new testament,” Warner said. Cardinal Jacob’s eyebrow rose slightly. Warner continued from his platinum seat. “Got any water? I’ll tell you the whole thing.”
“Please,” Cardinal Jacob said, his narrow smile not betraying the sudden knot in his stomach. One of his guards handed Warner a canteen.
The old man took a sip and licked the water from his dry lips. “It’s about forgiveness…” he began.
On the other side of the room though, something stirred. Wrath awoke and pushed himself up with his one good limb, opening an eye. He was no longer alone.
THE GIFT
Kizik had no illusions about what had happened, about how he had failed. He couldn’t even go home. He was the sole survivor of this expedition and he would be greeted by revulsion. If he went home, he would be forced to walk the twilight ridge, a monster. Farhallen. Creature of the badlands. Beast of the wind.
He had managed to do a few things, though. He sat in his shuttle and looked over at the Phaelon he had captured. Back on Highland he had managed to lure Droma aboard and incapacitate her. He would study the creature he now kept in stasis. It would keep him occupied if he was to wander the galaxy alone. He’d also retrieved the order he had placed to Highland a year before. The small, awful box sat next to him.
Radem, don’t let me use it.
He didn’t want to think of the power that it had or what using it would entail. It could only bring pain to his species in the end, but there it was—a great equalizer in a box that would fit a pair of human shoes.
His shuttle was cloaked and approached Archangel. He had accomplished one more thing, the counter to the destructive force that sat beside him. It was a gift.
Relaund.
Even as Highland had fallen apart, he’d ordered that his medics protect Relaund Velez and all had died in the effort. The man lay in a pressurized chamber next to him.
Relaund. Wake up.
The man stirred, opening his eyes.
I said we’d talk again after the assault. Things haven’t gone as planned for anyone.
“What the hell do you want?” Relaund said aloud, stirring awake.
I am giving you back, better than I found you.
“I can feel my fingers. I just moved my thumb!”
Your muscles are severely atrophied. They should come back. I mended your spinal nerves with technology you don’t have.
“I don’t understand,” Relaund said, his words soaked in innocence.
I don’t either.
Kizik opened the back of the shuttle, a force field holding in the atmosphere. Just a hundred yards away was the bridge of Archangel. He could see human figures walking about, but they couldn’t see him.
He pushed the pressurized chamber out into space. It sizzled as it passed through the force field and became visible outside of the shuttle’s cloak. Kizik could see the people on the bridge rushing about now, trying to determine if the chamber was a threat. Then Archangel caught it in its tractor beam, holding it while sensors scanned its every molecule.
Kizik backed the shuttle away, never exposing his presence. He hoped that they would accept his gift, but didn’t wish to stay here any longer. He looked down at the box again at his side. On its top it read Thanatos. Kizik had learned that was a word from an old human language.
Thanatos, he thought. The personification of death.
I’LL FLY AWAY
Gray felt like he was in the womb. When the tower had collapsed, the Sabatin container he was inside tumbled in the wreckage, but he’d been protected. When the life support had come online, it generated a living membrane that embraced him. An organic vessel attached itself to his stomach like an umbilical cord. He’d been in the box for two hours now and he felt neither hungry nor thirsty. But what was connected to him now was not meant for a man, but for a Sabatin, a programmable beast.
The membrane wrapped around him and he’d stopped fighting it a while ago. It squeezed him tighter and tighter and he felt blood swelling in his head. A strangeness flowed through him that he knew was connected to the membrane. He wondered if he was about to die or be reborn. No prayers came to mind and he knew God wasn’t interested in hearing from him. He decided to sing the Assault Corps mourning song for himself.
“Some bright morning when this life is over I’ll fly away. To that home on God’s celestial shore I’ll fly away.” He wondered whom he was singing to. To himself, to his conscience?
“When I die hallelujah by and by I’ll fly…” Suddenly he stopped. He couldn’t remember the next line or where he was and what sequence of events had brought him to be trapped inside a small box. He struggled for a moment and then, without knowing why, he was calm again. The membrane gave off a soft, red glow and he looked at his hand. He could see the light coming through it and almost make out the blood vessels pulsing within.
He felt himself regressing, unlearning, like something was clearing the table of his mind. His consciousness was simpler now, awaiting instructions. His hubris fled him and his pride. A small kernel of guilt, buried deep inside of him, faded as well. He saw faces one last time before they disappeared; a tall man with dark hair, a woman with angular features, a man with hair to his shoulders and burns on his face. Who were they?
He saw the world of Highland, a black disc covering it but for a crescent sliver. He existed one second to the next, not comprehending the moment before.
Then a flash of recognition came back to him and he twisted around and pulled a knife from his pocket. He scratched a message on the inside of the box, struggling to remember the letters and words. Then his faculties were gone again and he closed his eyes. From the deepest part of him, the simplest twinkle of a lullaby passed between his lips. “When the shadows of this life have gone, I’ll fly away. Like a bird from these prison walls, I’ll fly. I’ll fly away.”
And then Emmanuel Gray was no more.
If you’ve enjoyed this book, please leave me a review on Amazon! That will help me sell more books, bringing me one step closer to writing full-time.
Thank you!
Tom Julian
Author Bio
Tom Julian works days at pharmaceutical company, helping to support research in to new cancer drugs, and nights and weekends as an author. He enjoys traveling, long-distance cycling, and waking up early to brew the perfect cup of coffee. He’s an unabashed beer snob and native of Trenton, New Jersey. Tom’s first novel, Timberwolf, is a military science fiction story originally envisioned as a film. The author worked hard to transfer its cinematic qualities to the page and hopes that Twolf is the best science-fiction movie you'll ever read! Tom is the father of Izzy and Liam and husband to the lovely Brenda-Lea. He writes while warming his feet under his Bernese mountain dog, Maggie May. Favorite movie/book/food = O Brother, Where Art Thou?/The Sirens of Titan/Trenton-style tomato pie.
Note from the author about publishing
So if this title looked a little familiar, it’s because Timberwolf was originally published in late 2015. Soon after, as Murphy’s Law wo
uld have it, the publishing house went belly up and Twolf never got a chance to get in front of a significant audience. After shopping the book around for about a year without any luck (re-homing a previously published book is like trying to sell a gently used banana), I decided that I was the best person to take control of selling my book.
So this self-publishing move is a bit of an adventure, but at least I can put the energy I was expending in to contacting publishers in to getting my book out there. I just want people to enjoy it! If you’ve liked this book, please leave a review on Amazon. If you didn’t like it, leave a review anyway – I’m confident enough to take the good with the bad.
Make sure to come hassle me here... www.facebook.com/Timberwolf and here... www.twitter.com/TimberwolfNovel
Best - Tom Julian
