Sygillis of Metatron

by Ren Garcia

  "That's all I want … to know that I have your forgiveness. All else is meaningless. And if you cannot, then kill me. Take your CARG and pierce me through the heart. Pierce it true; it would be an act of mercy."

  He had once been asked to forgive someone. He failed to do so. Davage took a cloth and wiped the tears from her face. Her Black Hat mark was wet with them. "There's nothing to forgive. It was a misunderstanding, nothing more, and I consider the matter closed. But if you must hear me say it, then be it so. I forgive you, Sygillis."

  It was like a barbed chain had been removed from her chest. More tears. She held her arms out, seeking an embrace.

  "These tears," Davage said. "Are they all for me?"

  "They are only for you …"

  Davage stepped forward and embraced her. The strength in her arms was more then he could have imagined—it took his breath away.

  "Know this," she whispered in his ear. "I will never raise my hand to you ever again. You have my word, my solemn oath. Do to me what you will. I will never harm you again."

  "Fine," Davage said.

  She released him. "And the Marine that I Stenned, is he all right?"

  "He is. He is fine."

  "Perhaps when he is better I might be able to apologize to him in person."

  "I think Deon will like that."

  She lay back down and held her head. It pounded. "And since I'd not see you accused of lying," she said, "I, Sygillis of Metatron, formally ask you, Davage, Lord of Blanchefort, Captain of the League vessel Seeker, for asylum. May I please have asylum aboard your ship?"

  "Asylum is granted."

  Ennez came into the dispensary, his popcorn hair jutting out of his helmet.

  "How's she doing, Ennez? How's our lady here?" Davage asked.

  He checked his screens. "Fine, fine. I don't see any permanent damage." He opened his cabinets, and after rummaging through a series of colored bottles, poured her a small glass of clear liquid. "Here," he said, offering it to her. "Drink this. It'll help the pain."

  She drank it and sighed.

  "Captain," he said. "She's going to need rest."

  "I don't need rest. Don't go, Dav, please!"

  Ennez looked dubious. "Dav, she needs rest."

  Davage stood up and straightened his hat. "So, then, I'll be off. Get some sleep."

  "Dav," she said, "can I hope to see you later? You'll come back, won't you?"

  "Ennez shall have to lock the door to keep me from visiting you."

  Sygillis beamed and covered her face with her hands. She had gone from the dregs of fear and despair to sheer joy in a matter of moments.

  "Well now, since you are no longer a prisoner of this ship, per se, I shall order new quarters for you. Something bigger, with a view with no more cramped interiors and clanking pipes of Deck 13. Something in the front section of the ship, I think. Now you'll have a spacious sitting room, a small kitchen, a workstation with a terminal, and an adjacent bedroom, and you'll be able to see the stars. I've also granted you access to the ship's library. So, from your terminal, you can read all you want, and catch up on League society, if that sort of thing interests you. I am certain we will share lots of laughs there."

  Sygillis smiled brightly. "Thank you, Dav, I look forward to it."

  Davage left.

  Sygillis of Metatron, a scourge and accursed enemy, murderer, feared by League Admiral and warlord alike, sat in her small bed smiling.

  Future's end? Future's beginning—the corner turned.

  She could feel her heart beating in her chest.

  * * * * *

  In the days that followed, Sygillis made great progress. She discovered that she could go five days in between Shadow tech offloads. On the fifth day she began to feel "twitchy," become forgetful, and be prone to those fainting spells she was suffering from earlier. Instead of putting to shore on a planet as they had done on Seetac 2, they had devised a simple but effective solution to the problem. Davage ordered Ripcar Bay 4 cleared. There, standing against the far bulkhead of the empty bay, Sygillis sent her Shadow tech out of the contained open bay doors. Navigation reported that, during these offloading periods, which lasted about ten minutes at a stand, the ship picked up a great deal of sub-Stellar Mach speed. Intrigued by this phenomena, Davage one day ordered the ship set to stop. He wanted to discover just how fast she could propel the ship. Sygillis then released her Shadow tech, and they were amazed by the results: the Seeker quickly accelerated to 0.25 percent of the velocity needed to reach Stellar Mach—a phenomenal rate of speed given the fact the method of propulsion was a living being.

  The Sisters also, with the Captain's supervision, tested her abilities with The Gifts. They determined the following:

  The Strength: Master

  The Waft: Master

  The Sight: Nil

  The Cloak: Journeyman

  The Dirge: Guild Master

  The Stare: Guild Master

  And for the illegal Black Hat Gifts:

  The Point: Guild Master

  The Mass: Guild Master

  The Sten: Guild Master

  Shadow Tech: Guild Master

  Without question, her reputation as a "Hammer," one of the

  Black Hats especially suited to fight, to battle whole armies at once, was earned.

  She moved into her new quarters—it was a much brighter, happier place than the cramped, windowless room she had in the bowels of the ship. As the days moved on, Davage began taking her on walks, showing her various parts of the ship, and slowly introducing her to the crew. She initially got a lot of strange looks from the crew, but with the Captain at her side, they slowly grew to accept her; if she was good enough for Davage, she was good enough for them. One of her first new friends was Lord Ottoman, the ship's cook. When he discovered that all of the novel dishes he had been preparing for her—ooust, caratine pie, zork, and kilfre pudding—were Xaphan dishes and the strange woman he'd been serving was an ex-Black Hat, he lit up the Com-waves with chatter, boasting to his legions of friends that he was the "personal chef " to a Black Hat. He even began serving the dishes to the rest of the crew, designating one night a week as Xaphan Night in the mess.

  Davage even gave her a job; she had complained about being so bored during the day when she was confined to her room. The Sisters still did not allow her full roam of the ship. He assigned her a junior stocking position under Pay Master Milke—a man afflicted with Vithianstromata, as the Hospitalers called it—essentially he grew old, his face aged, his body bent, and his hair turned white. It was an uncommon but not unheard of affliction to old Vith families that were a little too Blue, a little too close to the hip, so to speak.

  Certainly a novelty, it didn't seem to bother Milke. Despite his frail look, he was a vigorous man, and he kept her busy filing, checking up on errors and pay disputes, and issuing back pays.

  Sygillis, the Black Hat, had become a part-time junior accountant.

  As time passed, Sygillis became a more common sight. The crew, following the Captain's and Ottoman's and Pay Master Milke's lead, began taking to her and greeted her as she passed by.

  All the crew except for Kilos, who seemed to badly mistrust her.

  Davage began catching wind that the two of them were frequently engaging in loud, chiding, insulting arguments. There was word that they were actually coming to blows in the corridors and in the gym.

  Davage tried to visit her every evening after his long shift in the bridge was over. If he didn't he found she would be rather cross and unpleasant in the morning. He also found he enjoyed visiting her. Kilos, in a chiding manner, called Sygillis his "girlfriend," and though he reacted badly to the term, Dav had to admit that that's basically what she was—his girlfriend. They spent a lot of time together, they ate dinner together most of the time, they strolled the ship together, and they bickered endlessly in a good-natured way, debating this and that. She had also requested permission from the Sisters to engage in telepathy with him—a simple non-sympath
etic link so that she could talk to him whenever she wanted, which was a lot. The Sisters, after some debate, agreed.

  Davage was shockingly bad at telepathy, and though she could speak to him, he had difficulty talking back. Her sessions trying to teach him how better to use telepathy had tested her patience on several occasions. Eventually, he was able to respond back, though it was a halting, gibbering sort of mind-speak.

  One evening, as Davage visited her in her quarters …

  "Dav, I wish to touch you. May I touch you?"

  Davage put down his coffee cup. "Pardon?"

  "I was thinking today, back to when I was out of my head with Shadow tech, when I embraced you I began to feel better. And when you carried me on Seetac 2, I recall enjoying you carrying me."

  "We are Elder-Kind, Sygillis. We enjoy the touch of another. Here, give me your hand." Davage held out his hand for her to take.

  She looked at it, smiled, and threw her arms around him.

  "I was hoping for a bit more than just a mere handshake, Dav."

  At first, Davage didn't quite know what to make of this. She constantly talked about becoming his lover—it seemed to be one of her favorite topics—but she'd always managed to keep her hands to herself.

  Gently, Sygillis snuggled into him, smiling and sighing. "Oh, yes, I like this. It feels so good. It feels so good to touch you, to feel you next to me."

  "Did you never hug anyone before? Do Xaphans not do such things?"

  "No. I've rarely touched anyone. I didn't realize …"

  She reached up and touched his face, her fingers soft, probing, eager. "I didn't realize what it is like."

  Slowly, without even knowing he was doing it, Davage began stroking her cheek and playing with her hair. It smelled good. She sighed with pleasure.

  She swung her legs over his and snuggled in further, her bare feet dangling off the floor, rubbing the backs of his boots.

  "Sygillis, may I call you Syg?" he asked.

  "You may call me anything you want, Dav …" she said leisurely.

  "Syg, then perhaps I should go."

  "Why, Dav?" she said quietly. "I just got comfortable. Stay here a bit with me. Let me touch you a little longer."

  "Syg, you are a guest aboard this ship, and I am its captain. It is not seemly to behave in this fashion."

  "Not seemly … I'll be sure to … remember … that …" she repeated in a voice becoming groggy with sleep.

  "No, it's not. I should maintain a more respectable bearing toward you. Indeed, what will you think of me should I not?"

  She didn't answer. Sygillis of Metatron, a Black Hat, a Hammer, was quietly asleep in his arms, lost in his touch.

  Davage sat there on the couch and felt uncomfortable. He smelled her hair again—it smelled like rosewood. It was a good smell. He wondered what Hath's hair used to smell like. He'd never smelt it before. He had a small lock of it in his quarters, but it didn't smell like anything.

  He tried to roll back a bit and slide out of her arms, but as he did, she, asleep, matched his movements, and he was stuck beneath her. He could feel her warmth, hear her shallow breaths.

  Resigned, he allowed himself to relax, to enjoy the smell of her hair and the feel of her touch.

  Soon, he was asleep too, lost in her touch as well.

  15

  HUNTING THE CAPTAIN

  "Syg, this has got to stop," Davage said

  They sat on the couch in her quarters. She had decorated her quarters with colorful fabrics and self-made trinkets. Her terminal chattered with League programming. Hearty coffee brewed in her pot.

  "Aww, Dav, it's just something we have to work out."

  "Ennez tells me that he has had to replace four of your teeth."

  "Yes, that's true."

  "And he says that he's had to replace two of Kilos's teeth and fix four cracked ribs."

  "See, it's fine—he fixes us up good as new."

  "Why are you two fighting in the gym?"

  "Why do you fight with Kilos in the gym?"

  Davage shrugged. "Because she's a head case who needs a good knocking around every so often. And I don't knock her teeth out, though she sometimes deserves it."

  Sygillis scooted in a little closer to Davage and put her legs across his lap. "Well, there you are. She doesn't like me, and I don't think I like her, so we go to the gym to settle the problem."

  "Kilos is a tough lady."

  "Sure, she hits very hard, but I'm a better wrestler—I cracked her ribs squeezing her with my legs."

  "You did?"

  "Yep—remember in the brig when I told you that I'm not as helpless as I look. Shadow tech makes you strong. Real strong."

  She leaned up next up to him and put her hands on his chest. "Hey, Dav, wanna wrestle?"

  "No, thank you." Davage put his arms around her, and she snuggled in. Anymore, Dav and Syg were quite literally inseparable. Kilos would never approve.

  "You sure? Sounds like fun. I'll bet I'll win."

  "Look, Syg, I do not want you fighting with Kilos anymore, yes?"

  "Why not?"

  "Because I am worried about the both of you. I don't want anyone getting hurt."

  She laid her head on his chest. Her bow was gone, replaced with a colorful beaded barrette that she had made.

  "Why don't tomorrow night I'll take you to the mess, and we can spend the evening hoisting our cups and share some good cheer with the crew. Would you like that?"

  "Sounds like fun. Can I sit in your lap in the mess?"

  "No."

  "Will Kilos be there?"

  "Probably. I'm hoping a little good fellowship will help bury the hatchet."

  "We'll get into a fight. Also, I don't want to share you. Kilos gets you all day. I want you all to myself in the evening."

  She sighed.

  "Are you planning to sleep here again, Dav? I hope so. But I'm sick of sleeping on the couch. Let's go to bed, but first you're going to have to take off your scratchy uniform, and you are certainly going to have to take your boots off. You should bring some pajamas or something, or I can go and buy you a pair to use when you're here. I've saved my money working for Pay Master Milke."

  "Keep the money you've earned, Syg. I have plenty of pajamas."

  She looked down and gave his boots a kick. "You and your boots. I never wear shoes and you're never without them. Take them off."

  "No, thank you."

  "I want them off! I want you to relax! I want you to stay a while!" Syg jumped off and started pulling on his left boot. Before long, they were engaged in a full-fledged wrestling match, laughing, rolling around on the floor, locked up, Syg determined to get his boots off and Dav equally determined to keep them on. Syg was incredibly strong for a woman her size and could wrestle, but Dav, being extremely strong himself, was, with difficulty, able to control her without having to resort to using his Gift of Strength.

  He lay on top of her, and she stared at him with deep eyes.

  "You got me," she said softly.

  "I don't think Kilos likes me coming here," he said, climbing off of her. "I should return to my quarters and turn in. I'm tired."

  "Is Kilos your mother?" she asked, sitting up. "That's another reason why she needs her teeth knocked out. What we do together is none of her business. I only get to see you in the evening, and I'll not have her cutting into that time. Come on, round two—let's wrestle some more. I want another crack at you."

  "We've been through this before, Syg."

  "That's right, Dav, we have, and we'll go through it again."

  She kissed him on the cheek. She'd been kissing him a lot lately, but he never kissed her back—he clung to his coy elusiveness with annoying tenacity.

  "You know I love you. I love you so much …" She pulled him onto the couch and wrapped around him.

  Dav said nothing and looked at her in the dim light: coiled against him, strong arms around his neck, lovely red hair, eyes big and green, full of genuine love.

 
"I've already offered my Zen-La, years ago, to Princess Marilith."

  Syg got close and spoke into his ear. "And so," she whispered.

  "I am therefore lost. I cannot hope to offer it to another."

  "Zen-La is not forever, Dav, that is a myth. Do you still dream of her?"

  Davage said nothing.