by Larkin, Matt
Raziel laughed. “The essence of humanity? You think before we came you were ideologically free? You think your own ancestors acted differently? You claim you were bound by mental chains because it is human nature to trust the teachings of your forbearers, and we indoctrinated your ancestors. Do you think those who lived on Eden in all the centuries before we came lived so differently? Not ruled by the beliefs their own culture and ancestors had imposed on them? Unaffected by the twisted, contradictory mores of social and religious tradition?”
Rachel paused, unable to answer that. Maybe humanity had always been like that—following what it had been told in the past. Maybe Raziel was saying the Angels had done nothing worse than what humans had always done to themselves. “You were an outside force that came in and overshadowed us. You denied us our true destiny.”
“We saved you from extinction. Your destiny, without us, was oblivion.”
And surely life was better than death, no matter what they had done. “It doesn’t give you the right to act however you please, Raziel. This war we face now is of your making. The doom we face is because of the ideological divide you created in mankind. And yes, maybe we would have had other divides if you hadn’t done so. Maybe mankind would be fighting over now-dead religions or beliefs or cultures, or just over territory. But you denied us the chance to find that out.” She stepped back from the glass. “Still, one day I hope I can expose you and all your kind for the false prophets you are. Then maybe, when mankind’s eyes are open at last, we can finally rise and stand on our own feet.”
She stormed out, trying not to let him get another word out.
You may yet fall under the weight of your own mistakes. Trust me. We would know.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOUR
Raziel must have had other guises besides Galizur Blake. For six hundred years he pretended to be human while the other Angels slept. He didn’t wake them, though he could have. And I need to know why.
Rachel paused outside Caleb Gavet’s cell, trying to collect her thoughts after her run-in with Raziel. Despite being locked away in an isolation wing, the Angel was able to get inside her head. If she didn’t find a way to block his telepathic invasions, he could well cripple her at an inopportune time. Or perhaps he had chosen her, but he could reach any of them. The thought that the Angel could target any member of the crew, test any of their resolves, left her cold. How long before he found someone sympathetic to his plight? Even among Sentinels, most saw the Angels as divine.
She blew out a breath and tapped the smart glass, revealing herself to Gavet and allowing sound to pass. “Good morning, Mr. Gavet.”
“Is it morning? How can you even tell on a ship that never varies the lighting?”
She folded her hands behind her back and stared at the Jericho Chairman. Despite focusing all her attention on him, she couldn’t pick up his emotions. Odd, considering he was looking at her like he saw her naked. But not even a hint of lust wafting off him? Or fear, arrogance? Anything?
The bastard smirked and rose from his cot, then walked over to the glass. “When you look at me like that, I feel I owe you something. If you want to come in here, we could get to know each other better.”
“You know observation cameras watch your cell?”
“I can perform in front of an audience. In fact, I’ll bet some of the crew would pay to see the show.”
Rachel gave up trying to read the arrogant prick. Maybe he was a telepath and able to block her. It would explain how he’d gotten so far ahead in his company. But there was more than one way to get through to someone. Instead, she paced in front of the cell. Gavet watched her without moving.
“So, Mr. Gavet—”
“Please, call me Caleb, my dear.”
Fine, whatever. “All right, Caleb. Tell me what the Conglomerate is planning here.”
Caleb smiled and chewed on his thumb for a second. “You really have no idea what you’re dealing with, Rachel. Can I call you Rachel? Yes, of course I can. I’ve been hearing about your exploits for quite some time, you know. Wandering blindly around Gehenna, stirring up trouble with … well, basically everyone, everywhere. I met your brother, you know. Charming chap. Absolutely no sense of humor. Or style, but that’s another issue.”
Jeremiah? The thought of her brother working with this suit was almost amusing, except … except her instinct told her Jeremiah would crush this pompous ass like space gunk under his boot. But then, the more she watched Caleb, the more she began to wonder if it was her brother she should be afraid for. This man had the air of a buffoon, but he was something else.
“You’re working with my brother?”
Caleb chuckled. “Well, not anymore, my dear. When the Conglomerate joined Asherah, the Redeemers and Quasar Industries broke away. Actually, I hear the Redeemers have struck out on their own to hunt you now. They’re employing the Gogmagog. Maybe they think to usher in their own new Days of Glory, using the Ark as a launching point. Imagine a universe ruled by the Redeemers and policed by the Gogmagog. Actually, there’s nothing funny about that at all, is there? Petty, humorless punks with neither the wit nor the vision to rule themselves, much less anyone else.”
The Gogmagog? The Angel’s secret police were working for the Redeemers now. What the void was her father thinking? He must be off rotation if he thought he could control the Gogmagog. The two races were hated and feared throughout the universe, and for good reason. They were spies and assassins—the Gog were all but invisible, and the Magog were merciless trackers. Together they represented one of the darkest creations of the Angel theocracy, and one of the first to fall after the Vanishing. No one, not even the religiously devout, wanted them around. In some circles, she’d even heard whispers of people wanting to hunt them down and destroy them.
No organized genocide had ever followed, of course. They were created by the Angels, and to systematically destroy them would have been blasphemy in the eyes of most of humanity. Nor could someone undevout as Rachel sanction the unbiased destruction of sentient beings. But rumors always popped up about members of one of the two Races becoming a victim of hate crimes. And slowly, over the last six hundred years, they began to disappear into the shadows of society, eking out a small existence in the dregs.
Of course, the Gogmagog still existed—the organization no longer served a real purpose, or not its original one, at least. Now, she’d heard rumors of them working with Sentinels. She couldn’t say whether them serving Redeemers was more terrifying or less than the idea of them serving Mizraim.
“Are QI and the Redeemers—”
“No, dear,” Caleb said, and chuckled. “You don’t really see those two sticking together without the rest of the Conglomerate, do you? A marriage made in the void if I ever saw one. Speaking of which, last I heard you were an outlaw, a fugitive from the Sentinels. And yet here you wear their self-righteous uniform.”
Rachel scowled. There was nothing self-righteous about the Sentinel uniform. It was an honor, a symbol of those who put their lives on the line for the betterment of mankind and Mizraim. And putting it on, though it felt odd, had given her the smallest glimpse of the pride David felt in wearing it.
“You do realize what it symbolizes, Rachel, don’t you?”
“Black-on-black. A symbol of those who work in the darkest reaches of space to protect mankind from any threat.”
The Chairman shook his head, still smiling a little. “It symbolizes stagnation. Ties to ancient, antiquated traditions of the past. The Sentinels, like the Empire they serve, are bound to the Shekhinah. Yet another relic left behind by our former masters. You of all people should see the horror that represents. In remaining bound to the Angel device—to that machine—and to the Covenant itself, mankind is held in the same ideological chains that have enslaved us for the last three thousand years. Isn’t that what you were fighting against?”
It … It was what she’d been fighting against. But the universe had become so much more complicated than that. She’d pr
omised David to help defend Mizraim against Asherah. She’d thrown herself to his cause because … because she loved him? Had she chosen a side based on her heart, not her convictions?
“You know I’m right, don’t you?” Caleb said. His alarming insight left her on edge. “Do you know what you’re even fighting for anymore, Rachel? Do you believe in the Covenant? I don’t think you do. Isn’t that what you were preaching against back at New Rome University?”
“I don’t preach! I was an instructor. I was trying to let young people think for themselves!”
“And do you? You condemn Asherah for what? For abandoning the Covenant? For thinking for themselves. For deciding the Angels were gone, and their rules and limitations should be as well.”
“Rampant cybernetic implants?” she asked. “Genetic modifications. God knows what else they do there.”
“Indeed. God does, and the Angels don’t. Nor should they. Asherah has cast aside the chains those false prophets placed around our necks. They stand or fall based on their own choices and actions. Maybe they will make mistakes, maybe they will push technology too fast. But they at least push it forward. This Empire you have thrown your lot in with represents the past you so hate. It is the next thing over from the Days of the Glory. So why do you side with them? Why follow blindly—the very thing you thought to save mankind from?”
Rachel tapped the smart glass to cut off the sound and backed away, shaking her head. No. No, she wasn’t following blindly. She had made a conscious choice to help David protect her people from … Asherah. From cyborgs. Because … Because of David. The truth was, the fear of cyborgs was so ingrained in Mizraim citizens, in even her, she experienced a visceral fear at even the thought of a human with machines running through him or her. And she took it for granted, despite all her lectures against Angel doctrine.
She’d condemned the Covenant, but in reality she’d only had the strength to try to break away from the Third Commandment. Man Shall Populate the Universe. The arrogance of it offended her. To tell humanity they had a duty to breed was … was …
She slunk away from the cells. But the other Commandments. Man Shall Adhere to the Bounds of the Conduit. Man Shall Not Alter the Form of Man. The Angels had condemned human cybernetic and genetic alteration because … because they had done it to themselves. But they’d done it to mankind. It set them apart from humans, made them like gods before men.
And maybe it was fear that bound them. The fear that humanity, given time and technological advancement, would become their equals. So they limited mankind’s ability to augment its basic nature, ensuring no one could challenge them. Ensuring Angels would remain gods before them.
And the Shekhinah, Mizraim itself, as the continuation of Angel rule, remained loyal to those precepts. So loyal that she, a Mizraim citizen, had grown up hating and fearing the Asheran Confederacy for rejecting the rules she herself loathed.
The sick realization of her own hypocrisy, her myopic vision of reality, left her weak, and she had to lean on the wall.
Was it even possible Caleb Gavet, that corporate suit who had dogged her steps from the day she’d arrived on Gehenna, was it possible he was … right? Was it possible he was the real hero of mankind? The one who could finally break them free of the mental chains that held them back?
And then, what was she fighting for?
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVE
December 18th
I can tell David has severe doubts about keeping Raziel prisoner. Despite the Angel having acted against us on the Ark, David’s heart begs him to release the creature. I can only imagine how the rest of the crew would feel if they knew. How long before Raziel decides to contact one of them telepathically?
Six Sentinel captains sat at the table in David’s war room. He knew three of the others, but it was Jonathan Waller who drew his eyes. His former captain stared at him with the unveiled hatred of a man betrayed. Waller was a telepath, and David could feel the man’s wrath tingling at the edge of his mind—for certain, a deliberate sending. The Anakim was trying to intimidate him. And consider the size of Anakim, he imagined Waller did intimidate most men.
David tore his eyes from Waller and focused on the screen displaying the Eden System. “For the moment we’ve secured the planet. Imperator Vibbard has approved a research colony to be stationed on Eden itself to study the planet for the possibility of rehabilitation.”
Captain Hertz cleared her throat. “The reports I read said the planet was rife with … ghosts.”
Aye, which meant people probably did not really belong here at all. It was without doubt the reason Angels had hidden the world from mankind. But they couldn’t unfind the planet, and it represented a symbol. A symbol Mizraim needed to control. “They’re not ghosts, exactly, Hannah. Its psychic impressions left behind by so much death all at once. And that’s part of what the research colony will be studying. They’re going to limit Psych exposure to the planet and see if the energies can be cleansed or not.”
“Pointless posturing,” Waller said. The way he continued to glare at David made it all too clear who he blamed for everything wrong in the universe. “This planet has no strategic value. We waste our time here when we should be striking at the heart of the Triangulum galaxy. Take the fight to Asherah itself, before they expect it. Some of us real Sentinels belong on the front lines.”
“Eden does have value,” he said. “Not strategic, perhaps, but it serves as a beacon. In controlling it, we prove Mizraim is the rightful heir to—”
“Mizraim was always the rightful heir to the Angels,” Waller said. “We never needed proof before. Neither would you, if not for that thrice-damned empath you’re running around with. Angels above, what possessed command to make her a Sentinel is beyond me.”
“Rachel Jordan was given a commission by the Shekhinah itself!” David said. “Her appointment is beyond question.” Waller might doubt him, but no one, no Sentinel, could side against their supreme commander. The Shekhinah was their reason for being. It was the crux of their existence, and it made no mistakes.
“So you would have us fortify this system?” Captain Bloomer asked. David had heard of the Amphie captain, but never worked with the man. Bloomer had a reputation for running by the book, and tolerating no deviation from it. Which probably meant he didn’t think much of David, either.
“Aye, Captain. Secure the Conduit Gate and begin construction of a defense platform around it. Asherah will try to take Eden again for the same reason we need to hold it. Morale. Whoever has Eden serves as a beacon to the rest of humanity. Imagine the blow to the Sentinels under our own command if we heard the Asheran Confederacy held mankind’s homeworld.”
Waller slapped the table. “This world means nothing! It’s long dead. The Logos is going to Triangulum. To fight the real war. And every ship that remains here is a ship denied us on the front lines. While you play Angelologist, soldiers are dying. While you squabble over an uninhabited system, real planets are being won and lost. Time to look at the big picture, McGregor.”
“I’ve already been ordered to the front, by the Shekhinah,” David said. “We stopped over at Eden to secure it against the Asheran invasion. And some of these ships need to remain here to continue that mission.”
“And has the Shekhinah weighed in on the matter?” Hertz asked.
David nodded. “It said to use the minimum necessary resources to hold Eden against Asherah. We cannot allow them a hold so deep in Imperial space. Forget Eden for the moment—this is the Milky Way. If we allow even a single system in this galaxy to fall to the enemy, we lose face and they gain a staging ground for a great invasion.”
“Don’t count on the Logos to stay here and watch a dead system,” Waller said.
Bloomer sighed. “The Eternal Light will remain. We’ll begin construction on the defense platform, as you suggest, Captain.”
Good. It was a start. “It would be best if at least one battleship remained.”
Captain Yale, a Norm who h
ad thus far said nothing, chuckled. “Which I guess means the Resplendent Glory, eh McGregor? If you’re taking the Wheel and Waller is taking the Logos, mine is the only other battleship here. And you’re asking me to stay behind. To let my brothers and sisters in arms go into danger without me.”
David had met Jasper Yale twice before. The man liked to drink, tell stories, and live it up. They’d toured the town on a world in the Pegasus Dwarf, before Yale was promoted. David had always meant to stay in touch, but reality had a way of interfering with most friendships.
Now he turned to him, hoping their past enough to go on. “I’m asking you to protect the research colony of Mizraim civilians, Jasper. I know you, and I know you want to be out there with the rest of us. But we need this system. We need this planet.”
Rachel was right. Eden wasn’t just another world. Mizraim had millions. This was Eden. This was home. It was a symbol of where they had all come from. And he would not leave it to Asherah.
Jasper drummed his fingers on the table before nodding. “All right, Mac. But you’re going to owe me a round next time we’re planetside.”
Which was Jasper’s way of saying he hoped David survived an assault on Asherah. From what he’d seen of the latest Leviathan upgrades, that was anything but certain.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIX
January 8th, 3097 EY
Still we have heard nothing of the Angels. I feared the deafening echo of their voices when they would at last speak again. Now I fear their silence even more. Is it possible I was too late, and the Conglomerate took the Ark before they woke?
