by Larkin, Matt
“I’m sensing more than I should at my level. Like I did when I—”
“David, you’re thirty-two. That’s a little old for another ascension. You’ve reached your limit.”
He scratched his head. A migraine was building behind his eyes. A sudden warmth radiated off Leah, a single heartbeat of caring, deeper than he realized their friendship stretched. His vision blurred and the pain increased.
He took her hand, though she tried to slip it away, as if still afraid of the webs between her fingers. “Thank you for everything.”
“Of course, Commander.”
Commander? He withdrew his hand, unable to sense anything more from her. It was like an ascension, but she was right, he had to have reached his full psionic potential already. His last ascension had been, God, six years ago, maybe seven?
It was just the stress.
“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?” she asked.
David shook his head. He couldn’t even remember. Not since Rachel had called. She was going to get herself killed, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was a Commander in the Sentinels, a rank four psychic, and a Rephaite class pilot. And he was powerless.
“I’m going to give you something to help you sleep, David.” She handed him a tab. “Press this to your neck just before you lie down. And be sure to drink lots of water.”
“Aye, Doc.”
“And David… You know you can come to me with anything, right?”
“Aye lass, I know it.” He rose and returned to his quarters. Using chemical sleep aids wasn’t the best idea. Pilots sometimes had to take them, he knew, especially if they spent too much time in the Conduit. It could inflame psionic senses, but it’d never happened to him before. He was born to fly.
How long would it take to reach Gehenna? Ten days, at the most. And then he’d have to get that damn Sefer. He’d have to take it, and take away Rachel’s dream. And she’d never forgive him for that, would she?
He pressed the tab to his neck and fell back on his bunk. His consciousness fled quickly, but in the space between waking and dreaming, his mind’s eye filled with a vision of a blasted red world. Rachel held a book…
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Trying to decode this book is maddening. For two thousand five hundred years, Angels ruled us, and yet, I cannot even find any pictures of them. Why? There are drawings of winged, beautiful people, but no true photographs, no recordings. When I questioned this at NRU, I was told mankind was not meant to capture recordings of such glory. Instead, we saw the horrors of their creations, the Gog and the Magog, men and women as much animal as human.
Cryptic symbols swam before Rachel’s eyes. This had to be the Sefer Raziel, but the code was almost incomprehensibly dense. Either the Angel had intended for no human to decode the Sefer—which threw into question why he had left it at all—or else it was meant to take humanity a lengthy collective effort to unravel.
Rachel didn’t have time to allow for either possibility.
Knight’s small apartment had grown crowded quickly. He stayed out of her way, mostly, training on the mat in the corner, or disappearing outside for long stretches. But sleeping was an issue. There was only one couch, and as Knight had put it, it belonged to him. The moment of warmth they’d shared had evaporated like mist in the morning sun, and he’d become even more guarded than before. The wall was back around him, and twice as strong.
Angels above, why had she slept with him? Had she done something wrong, to drive him into darkness again? When she sensed anything at all from him, it was a mess of confusion and fear. And the truth was, she wasn’t sure what she’d wanted. She certainly didn’t believe in the Third Commandment—sex could be just sex. She’d needed the release, the intimacy. DNA was written like that. That was all.
Rachel found herself tossing and turning on a hard floor of questionable cleanliness, and waking with neck and back aches.
She sat on the couch at the moment—he let her use it during the day, thank God—rubbing her neck and looking at the same data for the thousandth time. She was an Angelologist, not a cryptologist.
She switched on the Mazzaroth and browsed her news feeds. It was still awash with reports of a skirmish between a Sentinel ship and the Asheran Empire. The doomsayers claimed war was inevitable, but Rachel had heard that before. Asherah and Mizraim had been on the edge of another war for decades, but neither side was likely to give up forty years of relative peace over a single engagement.
Was David involved? Was he safe? The reports said an Asheran battleship was destroyed and claimed a mining vessel took heavy damage. No mention of exactly which ships, or the fate of the Sentinel battleship involved.
“Mazzaroth off.”
She rubbed her eyes and turned back to the tablet before her. There were at least a thousand distinct symbols, which meant if this was any kind of alphabet, it was impossibly complex. There had to be some kind of reason behind the assignment of the symbols. They had to mean something.
The door opened, and Knight slipped back in, carrying dinner again. He’d gone to get more Asheran hot noodles from that place in Babel Bazaar. Really, Rachel preferred the experience of going out and trying new restaurants, but they’d agreed it was safer if she stayed out of sight.
He set her plate on the table and glanced at the holo coming off the tablet. For a moment he looked at the seat right beside her, and a slight but definite wave of pain radiated off him, making her queasy. He sat on the opposite side of the sofa.
What the void did he want from her? “See anything?” she asked.
He grunted, then looked down at the table, avoiding her gaze. “You owe me fifteen kesitahs for dinner.”
Rachel groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Just put it on my tab, Knight.”
He tore into his own plate of noodles. With a sigh, Rachel did the same. This was getting her nowhere. And neither was she making any progress on that book. “Knight,” she said between bites. “I think we might have been too hasty in withdrawing from the Lazarus compound.”
“Ten more seconds and we’d have been found by that Gibborim. I’m thinking that didn’t make us hasty.”
She slurped another noodle, almost unable to believe what she was about to say. “They’d been working on cracking this code for a while. A lot of people, maybe a team of cryptologists, using sophisticated equipment.”
“Obviously.”
Okay then. “If I had their research, it would make this go a lot faster.”
Knight looked up from his noodles and stared at her. “Yeah. You should have thought of that before we escaped, huh?”
“Yeah… I really think I need that research, Knight.”
He sat back and folded his arms over his black coat. “Shame about that.”
Damn, he wasn’t going to make this easy. But she was the one paying him. Why should she feel bad about ordering him to work for it? She’d tried to bring them closer. At least she’d keep telling herself that was the reason… and the man made her sleep on the floor, for God’s sake. “Let me say this again. I need to go back and get their research, Knight.”
“I figured if I just let you talk long enough, something stupid would come out of your mouth. What makes you think there’s anything left to find? The government was there, and if they didn’t want the research, they were after you. If they wanted the research, they have it. Either way, they sent a Gibborim, and you want to go back? There are less painful ways to kill yourself.”
She shook her head, trying to tune out the waves of irritation coming off him, but unable to cut out the anger, the hurt that lay beneath them. “Knight, otherwise this could take weeks or months to decode.” Or years.
He glared. “We don’t have that much time! It’s time we both got off this God-forsaken rock. If you can’t decode it, fine. Leave, bring it, whatever. Just get us out of here.”
“Really?” She rolled her eyes. “You think I paid you to come this far and give up? You th
ink I went through the danger, the hell on this planet—”
“You have no idea what hell this planet has yet to show you.”
She stood, her heart racing, and glared down at him. He worked for her. So why was it so damn hard to just give him an order? “Knight, I need that research. You want your money? I need this job finished.”
For a moment, he watched her, eyes seeming to look deeper than she felt comfortable with. “Fine,” he said at last. “I’ll go. You stay here. If there’s anything left in that lab, I’ll find it.”
“I should come with you—”
“I’m better alone. You’d slow me down, and they’re already looking for you. Everyone is looking for you. You’re not to leave this apartment while I’m gone.”
She jerked back. Better alone? So now he didn’t even want her around? And who did he think he was, giving her orders? And yet, she found herself unable to argue. His emotions were cold, dark, and set. If he didn’t want her anymore, if they weren’t going to be friends, even, then so be it. Who was he to her anyway?
“Look, I’ll raise your pay another ten thousand—”
“More than that.”
God, she had to hope Galizur was going to cover this. “Twelve thousand, then.” Her own resources were running out, so if Quasar Industries didn’t pay she was out in the void.
Knight picked up his plate, then set it back down with a sigh and stormed out.
Rachel watched the door a long time after it closed. She’d lost her appetite, too.
CHAPTER TWENTY
October 3rd, 3096 EY
Oddly, I find myself missing Knight. It does, however, give me more time to think of him. There are eleven distinct subspecies of humanity, if one counts Psychs like myself—which is perhaps inappropriate given that Psychs now appear among all the Races. Regardless, not one race is supposed to have Knight’s level of reflexes. At least no Race supposed to be real…
The iridescent walls of the Conduit soared past the Logos. David was dimly aware of the barrage of colors as his mind reached out, combing the network of passages, seeking the pathways. Intergalactic space was so vast, but there were fewer branches in the Conduit out here.
Part of his mind remained locked on the unfolding paths before him, but part wandered, even when he tried to focus. Just as the Conduit amplified his psionic abilities, those abilities amplified his awareness of his own memories.
The Testament Flight School, in New Rome. Rachel was there, in a pink jacket with white pants. The zippers on her jacket sparkled like diamonds. He’d forgotten that.
“So I’m going to get a private lesson now, Mac?” she said, flashing him a smile. “What are you going to teach me? Any special maneuvers in mind?”
David had lots of maneuvers he’d like to go over with Rachel, but this morning really was supposed to be a flying lesson. “Slingshot around the moon and back. You ready to take the controls the whole way, lass?”
Rachel puffed out her lower lip. “Mac, I’m always ready to be in control.” She laughed and took off running toward the shuttle. As a senior trainee—not to mention a Sentinel—the school let him check out shuttles without an instructor. Once, Rachel had seen him as a rival. Now, though, she seemed to enjoy these private lessons as much as he did.
One day, he’d take her to the Conduit. That was the real test of a Psych pilot. But you couldn’t fly a shuttle in the Conduit. It wouldn’t even reach the Gate on the edge of the system, at least not in a timely manner.
David followed her, watching her hair stream behind her as she ran, laughing.
The shuttle was twelve meters long, a sleek, triangular wedge with a double seat cockpit. He pressed the key to pop the latch, and Rachel climbed in ahead of him.
The shuttle could hold eight passengers in the back, but it was empty today. Just him and her. He climbed in beside her. “Strap in.”
Belts secured them across the chest, then Rachel tapped the panel to close the cockpit. “Nervous?” she said.
David snorted. “I believe in you, lass. Besides, I’m here to take over if you bugger it up too badly.”
“Wow. Thanks for that, big guy.” She powered on the engines, grabbed the throttle, and started them down the runway.
“Start easy. Just get us in the air.”
“Not my first time, Mac.”
He raised his hands in surrender. Aye, she knew what she was doing. He snuck a glance at her thighs, shapely in her skin-tight flight pants.
“I felt that,” she said.
Damn empaths. But two could play at that game. David focused his psionic senses, projecting waves of sensual energy at her.
Rachel gasped, jerked back on the throttle, and hurtled them airborne. Her breath came in sudden gulps, and she looked over at him, pupils dilated. “Maybe not a good idea while I’m flying.”
“Aye, lass. Keep your mind on the task at hand.”
“Keep your mind to yourself, then.”
“Just be glad I’m not a telepath. I’d show you some things you’d not soon forget.”
Rachel leveled out the shuttle, building up speed. “Preparing to enter orbit,” she said.
“Aye, get your angle right.”
She adjusted their pitch a bit, then revved up the power. They shot through the atmosphere. A sparkling canopy of stars materialized before his eyes, offering him the same peace and wonder and awe they always did. Here was where mankind belonged. Planets had their own beauty, of course, but out here, in the vast stretch of the cosmos, it was like you could see the mind of God.
David swallowed and glanced at Rachel. She’d gotten caught up in his emotion, and was barely controlling the shuttle at all. “Rach.”
She shook herself and steadied their orbit around New Rome. Dozens of other shuttles were up here, not to mention hundreds of satellites, so she had to plot their course carefully. No one liked it if you flew too close.
David scratched his head and resisted the urge to offer advice or orders. This was her show. On the far side of the planet she broke away, heading for the larger of New Rome’s two moons.
She set a slow, steady pace, so he settled in. It would take several minutes to reach the moon at this rate. “Doing great, lass,” he said.
“There’s something so romantic about the aloneness up here, isn’t there?” she said. “I mean, you look out the window and there’s a billion stars and nebulae and all, but we’re thousands of kilometers from any other person. Just the mystery of the cosmos spreading out before us.”
He vaguely wondered if those were her feelings originally, or if she’d picked up his and made them her own. It didn’t matter. “Aye.” Because out here, there was something special. Out here, where the Angels had come from. Out here, where you could touch something so much bigger than mankind. It was… cosmic. There was no other word for it.
“Time to check the hold,” she said, her voice low and breathy. “I’ve got a maneuver to teach you now.”
David flipped on the autopilot.
He shook himself, jerking out of the memory and focusing back on the Conduit. He knew what came next, and indulging in it while flying, however pleasant the memory, was not a good idea. Captain Waller would not be pleased if they wound up in the wrong galaxy.
For hours, he stayed on the bridge, until at last the ship jumped through another Gate. It was still a ways to Gehenna, but he had to rest. He’d fry his psionics if he kept this up. There was only so much time in the Conduit a pilot could take. After almost a full day’s flight, the whole crew might be fatigued. The non-psychics much less, of course, but they’d feel it.
He left the bridge to Lieutenant Dana and retired to his quarters. Those had been his best days, back with Rachel. Aye, he’d never give up his uniform—that was who he was. He was one of the youngest commanders in the Sentinels, and he hoped to make captain by the time he was forty. His career was more than just a career. It was a definition of purpose.
But it might have cost him Rachel. He’d though
t he’d come to grips with that long ago. But now they were flying to Gehenna. He was going to see her again, and most likely not on friendly terms. Would she ever forgive him for trying to take the Sefer Raziel away from her? If it existed, Waller would find it. David had no doubt.
He sat at his table and gingerly opened the Codex. There were always answers, if you knew where to look. He turned beyond the Covenant, to the later chapters on the purpose of humanity. The Angels claimed mankind was God’s great experiment. A test. Everything was a test. And that had always been a comfort before.
“Following the Age of Repopulation the Shekhinah was established to assist in governing the rapidly growing numbers of humanity…”
He couldn’t focus. This was supposed to be relaxing. Instead, his head throbbed. There was no sleeping, not so soon after dropping out of the Conduit.
Rachel.
He’d done his duty in telling Waller. He was a Sentinel, like his mum before him. He was a Commander, an officer. He had to follow his duty.
Rachel.
His heart raced. Focus on the words.
“The Shekhinah carried the voice of the Angels to the people, tapped directly into the Conduit…”
Damn it.
Rachel might die, and he was helping her toward it!
He flung the Codex aside and it collided with the wall. God, she’d never forgive him! All of this meant nothing—he was going to destroy her dreams.
A tremble ran through him, and he turned, realizing what he’d done.
The Codex, the words of the Angels, lay on the floor, its pages bent and splayed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Most of the subspecies of mankind, the Races of Man as some call them, were designed to adapt to extreme environments. Amphies could live underwater, making them ideal for deep-sea mining. Cold-worlders were adapted to frozen wastes. The Anakim could tolerate planets with extreme gravity. And Smoggers like David could survive almost any atmosphere, as could Smolders. And Knight… Why would the Angels adapt someone to be a killing machine? It sounds more like something I’d expect from Asherah.
