Sygillis of Metatron

by Ren Garcia

  Before she could answer, Ennez rose up in shock. "Captain!" he cried.

  Davage approached him. "Have you found the problem?"

  "I have." Ennez put his scanner back into its pocket. Slowly, carefully, he took the hem of her scarlet robes and lifted them past her shins.

  "There, Captain. There's the problem."

  Davage looked at her feet. "Her shoes, Ennez?"

  On Sygillis's feet was a pair of strange black-heeled shoes. Aside from being ugly and unfashionable, Davage at first couldn't see anything wrong with them. They looked like shoes House Grenville ladies wore—singularly unappealing.

  "Sight them, Dav, for Creation's sake," Ennez said. "See for yourself."

  Davage sighted the shoes … and was horrified.

  These weren't shoes; they were torture devices. The interior, aside from being cramped, was lined with metal ribs, pins, and small blades. Her toes were extended into all manner of hideous exertions and held in place with what appeared to be screws.

  And there was blood everywhere inside.

  "Dav, she's close to blood poisoning. These things have got to come off. But it's going to be hard, and it's going to be painful."

  "Cut them off."

  "I can't. They're composed of some sort of dense alloy."

  "All right, I will hold her. You pull them off."

  Davage approached the head of the bed. "Wait a moment," he called back to Ennez. He leaned down and whispered into her ear. "These things on your feet are killing you. We are going to remove them; however, it will be painful. You must ready yourself. You must keep your thoughts and your powers in check, Lady Sygillis. Do you understand?"

  She looked at him and said nothing.

  "Do you understand? I'll not go through this exercise only to have the Sisters execute you in the end anyway for fear of your power."

  "I … will try."

  Ennez sprayed a mild topical analgesic on her ankles to try and deaden them a bit. Davage hauled her up by the torso and held her like a rag doll.

  "Ennez, do it."

  With a firm tug and a jangle of tools, he pulled her left shoe off. A spray of blood and the stench of decay came with it.

  Davage looked at Sygillis. She did not move. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. Tears came freely from her eyes; she was in agony. She held onto him with all her strength.

  A light ballast popped.

  A second, then a third … pop!

  Davage couldn't help but feel sympathy for her, for the pain she was in.

  Ennez pulled the other one off. His helmet dented and flew off his head. Davage's hat went flying also. His CARG rang.

  Sygillis, the Black Hat, without a word, fainted.

  Davage looked down at her feet: two bloody, swollen stumps, ragged flesh, the smell of rot profuse.

  Ennez got his scanner out and waved it around. "Broken, her toes, Captain … all ten, and in multiple places. Her arches too. Good Creation …"

  He picked up his dented helmet, popped it on his head, and headed for the door.

  "She's going to need a lot of work. I'll be back with my medical cart." Don't go anywhere. Do not leave this room."

  "Ennez," Davage said. "Well done, and thank you for not making me order you to come in here."

  He clanked his silver helmet and left.

  Davage sat there in the dark. The door opened, and Kilos came in, her left hand on the grip of her holstered SK pistol.

  "What's going on in here, Dav? The Sisters are—by the Elders!"

  She had seen the bloody, stinking shoes and knelt down to look at them more closely.

  "What are these?" she asked, horrified. "Eugghh!" she recoiled at the smell.

  "They are evil, Lieutenant," Davage said. "Plain and simple."

  8

  A BOWL OF OOUST

  Ennez packed up his equipment. "Her feet will be fine, Dav. The threat of blood poisoning has been arrested. I've repaired the bones in her toes and stitched up her lacerations. Her arches were a bit more difficult to fix and will require some time to heal. She'll need to stay off her feet for a few days."

  He straightened his helmet. "Oh, you know she has a fresh wound on her right shoulder that looks an awful lot like a bullet hole, though there's no bullet in it and no traces of powder or scorching."

  "Really?"

  "It's very small but it goes deep, like a MiMs shot. Also, a couple of other things. She had a broken arm. I fixed it too, and virtually all of her teeth are badly damaged and will certainly rot if I don't take action. I'll prepare my enamels and repair them tomorrow. I'll expect you to be here with me as I perform the work. To stick my hands into a Black Hat's mouth—imagine."

  Davage looked at her feet; they were encased in neat white bandages. Ennez did excellent work.

  "I guess you were right, Captain. Xaphan and Elder-Kind … we are the same people."

  "Very enlightened observation, sir."

  He dinged his helmet again and pulling his medical cart, left the room.

  Davage pulled up a chair and waited for her to awaken. Ennez had removed her robes and dressed her in a pair of white pajamas. Her red hair was still tied back with the black felt bow.

  Davage mused: a black bow. Hath never put such things in her hair … her beautiful red hair.

  Oh, Hath. He missed her so. He prayed to her for guidance … to her hero's tomb back on Kana in the House Durst yard, to her elusive ghost.

  He received none. Hath's shade was silent as usual.

  Marilith—Hath's killer whom he still loved. Is this the person Marilith said was calling out to him? Certainly she had been fairly hostile to this point, but perhaps—perhaps she'd come around.

  The Black Abbess's Clutch—could it be broken? Was it already? Had he somehow broken it? Her reaction to the pastry and the coffee and to his cologne was telling.

  He watched her sleep. Hathaline … she could be Hathaline. He wanted her to be Hathaline. He wanted his friend back.

  Soon, she opened her eyes and looked at him.

  He smiled. "I might ask you what in the Name of Creation you were doing wearing those hideous contraptions on your feet, but I am certain I'd not receive an answer."

  Sygillis sat up in bed. Free of the shoes and the pain they kept her in, she seemed a bit more eager to talk.

  "Pain," she said. "They are meant to keep us in pain."

  "Why?"

  "Pain, Captain, is an essential component in the creation of Teneramus—Shadow tech you call it."

  "So, you wear these things …"

  "Dora … they are called Dora."

  "You wear these Dora so that you may create Shadow tech?"

  "We can create Teneramus without Dora. But with Dora, they are stronger, more potent, more lasting."

  "Seems a bit counterproductive, seeing how the Dora just about killed you."

  "They are not meant to be worn for more than a few hours at a stand. I had worn them for days in your capture."

  "Why didn't you just take them off?"

  "I cannot. They are snared. Another must remove them—a safeguard ensuring that we perform our duty."

  "Why didn't you ask us to do it for you?"

  "We do not ask the League for anything. You are our enemy."

  Davage smiled. "I see, and you're welcome, by the by."

  He stood and went to the bathroom and poured a glass of water. He brought it back and set it down on the table next to her. "Here, in case you're thirsty and refuse to ask for a glass of water."

  She looked at the water and after a moment, picked it up and began drinking. She finished it, and Davage got her another one.

  "My Hospitaler also tells me that your teeth are badly damaged. He will be returning tomorrow to perform the repairs. May I expect that you will behave and allow him to repair your teeth in peace?"

  Sygillis reached up and felt her teeth. She winced. "You fix them," she said. "I will allow you to repair them."

  "I do not know how to repair teeth. He
will repair them tomorrow. I shall sit nearby if you wish."

  Davage smiled. "Do you realize that we have been talking for several minutes now, and you have yet to threaten to kill me?"

  She carefully felt her mouth with her hand. "Oh, I am going to kill you, Captain, make no mistake, at the first convenient moment that I get. I simply haven't decided how, that is all. I haven't decided what will be … fitting for a man such as yourself. I have, however, determined that you have earned a good death, one that will be talked about and remembered in both Xaphan and League Society. You appear to have courage and a bit of wit. I feel you have earned that honor. Rest assured, in any event, my final judgment for you will be spectacular."

  Davage puzzled over what she had just said. "Lady Sygillis, was that a compliment of some sort?"

  "Yes, the highest I can offer you," she said as if it should have been clear.

  "Why should you choose to compliment me?"

  Sygillis thought for a moment. "I suppose … because you faced me like a man."

  "Has nobody ever looked you square in the eye?"

  "No … nobody."

  "Then why do you wish to kill me?"

  "Because it's my duty. You are the League. You call yourself Elder, and you must die. I have to kill you." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "I have to kill you."

  "Fine," Davage said. "I'll have something to look forward to then. Why don't you try using the Dora? Just slip them on my feet, and a few days later I'll be dead. Or if you wish it to be quicker, you could just beat me with them and—"

  Sygillis, the Black Hat, made a noise, a soft snorting sound that she quickly suppressed. Davage paused, wondering what the sound was.

  It was a laugh.

  Sygillis had just laughed. Just a tiny, short giggle, but still, a League Elder had just made a Xaphan—a Black Hat for that matter—laugh.

  Davage was astonished.

  Sygillis sat there in bed and also seemed astonished.

  Slowly, his thoughts racing, he headed to the door. "I'll leave you to your sinister contemplations."

  Sygillis watched him walk to the door. "Captain?" she said.

  He stopped. "Yes?"

  "You had mentioned previously that, should I desire anything in particular from the galley, you will have it prepared for me. Correct?"

  Davage was intrigued. He stepped away from the door and approached her.

  "I did, I did indeed. Is there something that you have in mind?"

  "Ooust, I want a bowl of Ooust. With coffee to drink and possibly some pastries for desert. I will require your assistance in properly preparing the coffee."

  He sat back down in the chair next to her. He didn't bother to point out that she, a Xaphan, has just asked him, a League, for something— yet another first.

  "Hmmm, Ooust—I'm afraid that I don't know that particular dish. However, Lord Ottoman, my chief chef, has a vast knowledge of dishes." He looked up at the ceiling.

  "Com," he said.

  "Com here, Captain."

  "Get me Lord Ottoman right away please."

  "Aye, sir."

  After a moment, a jolly, beefy voice filtered down through the com. "I'm here, Captain, what can I do for you?"

  "Ottoman, my friend, I've just had a special request for a bowl of Ooust. Can you make such a thing?"

  "Ooust? That's a new one on me, and that cannot stand. I won't have a dish floating around out there that I don't know. If you give me the recipe, I'll be happy to make a batch. I'll call in the whole staff if I have to. I must prepare this dish, this Ooust, or I shall not sleep tonight. It's a scandal."

  Davage turned to Sygillis. "Can you assist Lord Ottoman with the ingredients? He appears most distressed. I am asking for your help."

  Sygillis thought a moment. "Well, I believe it has …"

  "Speak up a bit, please, so that Lord Ottoman can hear you plainly."

  She cleared her throat and spoke up. "I do not know the exact proportions."

  "Well, ma'am," Ottoman said cheerfully. "Why don't you just give me the basics, and we'll wing it from there."

  "It has a broth of …"

  And as she recited the ingredients, Davage realized that he had never heard Sygillis's voice before. No longer an aloof, ugly whisper or a mocking, threatening shout, her voice rang out, clear and true.

  And Davage thought it was a beautiful voice … it was Hath's voice. He closed his eyes and listened.

  9

  THE SEEKER

  Davage sat in his office, signing reports, looking over ship stores and crew complements. Outside, through his window, stars soared past. He could feel the thrusters tick as the helmsman on the nearby bridge moved the wheel.

  * * * * *

  The Seeker, Captain Davage's ship, was fifteen years old. Built to Straylight-class configuration, it was a League Main Fleet Starship. It was twenty two decks in all. Fleet vessels were never more than twentyfour decks in height. It went back to the Elders. Their number was twenty-five and the Fleet, not daring to consider itself equal in any way with the Elders, always made sure their ships were decked out a little less than twenty-five. It was a very different philosophy, say, from the Stellar Marines, who made it a point to have twenty-five of everything: twenty-five soldiers to a squadron, twenty-five shots to their SK pistols, twenty-five buttons on their coats, and so on. The first seventeen decks of the ship were twelve feet high, and the last five decks were eight and a half feet, with four and a half feet of inter-deck crawl tubes between each. The Seeker was about three hundred and fifty feet tall at its highest point and fifteen hundred feet long. It was designed by the legendary civilian Lord Milos of Probert—the House of Probert being known for generations for their engineering skills. Lord Probert's father, Wadlow, had designed the earlier Webber class of ships and his sister Rhondo had created the Tekel class of scout vessel, all workhorses of the League.

  Outwardly it was a beautiful, swanlike, predatory-looking ship. It was sectionalized into three main components: the head of the ship, the long neck, and the large, winged rear section. The spade-shaped head of the ship contained most of the command sections and crew quarters. The front section was dominated on the outside by a large, circular sensor that threw out a long shaft of glowing light, giving the ship a rather "one-eyed" look. Farther back, the long neck of the ship consisted mostly of structural components. Finally, the rear section of the ship was the largest and the deepest. It was designed in a winged shape, with the wings being cranked or bent in two places to resemble the articulation of a bird's wing. It was topped with a tall tower containing various bays and the main mess.

  As a Main Fleet starship, it was built to engage and defeat the Xaphans. It was fully armored with duraplate, which had a high level of resistance against Xaphan cassagrain weaponry. Its hull and superstructure were so rigid and stiff that the Straylights were often known for ramming enemy vessels—the infamous "Slap" that was so feared and dreaded. It mounted a complement of five hundred canister missiles in fourteen different bays. Although nothing more than a guided missile, the Elder technology it contained made the canister the League's "ace" weapon, making them virtually unbeatable. Each League captain swore an oath to never lose a canister to the enemy; its Elder tech was a closely guarded secret. A captain will sacrifice his whole command, crew, ship, and all to protect the canisters.

  The Straylight also mounted twenty Battleshot batteries. Battleshot was a massive gun emplacement that fired short-range explosive shot. A single Battleshot battery could unleash half a million rounds of explosive ordinance every minute—a withering wall of fire that could sink any Xaphan vessel set against it at a close range.

  The Straylights were also fast, strong, and maneuverable. They revolved sixteen Stellar Mach coils buried deep in the rear section of the ship. Winding just four of these coils pushed the Straylight at blistering, sub Mach speeds, winding ten was standard for a safe Stellar Mach. Winding all sixteen, the ship "blinked" out of existence and re-emerg
e elsewhere, navigation impossible. For planetary excursions, the Straylights had ten gas-compression engines that were very reliable but known for being deafeningly loud. It could also float, submerge, and land like a transport vessel. Additionally, a wheel-helmed Straylight could out turn a much smaller Xaphan X-2 craft without much effort. Captain Davage, a former Master Helmsman, was nothing short of a magician with the helm wheel.