by M. R. Forbes
Those estimates had been a few dozen years too early and didn’t include an ancient race from another universe.
The crew rose as she entered, a mix of fear and anger crossing them. She could tell immediately that some were more than willing to submit, while others never would. Hands fell to sidearms, drawing them and taking aim. Other hands went into the air.
A sweep of her hands tore the weapons from the loyal soldiers, pulling them past her and out into the corridor. Two of the crew members tried to charge her, and she let Bastion move ahead, slamming one in the face with a hard fist, grappling with the other for a moment before getting him down as well.
“The Prophet Azul promised me this ship if I defeated him in single combat,” Abbey said. “His son, Aqul, has reneged on our deal. I’m here to settle. Does anyone else want to question me?”
The remaining crew members didn’t move.
“Imp, stay here and see if you can get the fleet out of FTL,” she said.
“Roger, Queenie,” Bastion replied, motioning to the bridge commander to get out of his seat. “You, take a hike.”
“Do any of you know where Aqul ran off to?” she asked.
“The Font,” one of them replied. “Be careful. His Immolents are with him.”
“Where is the Font?”
“Out of the bridge. Left. Down the corridor. Take the tube up to the top. The Prophet has his personal quarters there. The Font is with him.”
“Thank you,” Abbey replied.
The Nephilim soldier bowed her head.
Abbey put her hand on Bastion’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
He smiled. “I’ll be here.”
She left the bridge, following the soldier’s instructions. As before, she didn’t meet much interference, making it to the tube without having to kill anyone.
She paused before entering. Azul had four Immolents on the ground with him. She expected to find the same when she arrived in Aqul’s quarters. The warriors were resistant to the Gift, and the numbers would be a challenge. She reached to a tightpack on her demonsuit, withdrawing her Uin. Claws were nice, but they didn’t have the same defensive capability.
She closed her eyes, thinking of Hayley. Her body was burning, the Gift a storm within it.
The tube carried her to the top deck, where she stepped out into a large, circular space. The floor was covered in multicolored furs from a creature she had likely never seen, the sides constructed of transparencies that allowed the fullness of space to enter. There was furniture spaced around the room. Chairs and a table. A long couch. A bed. She quickly found the Font in the center of the room, an ornate golden urn with tubes trailing in and out of it. Aqul’s Immolents were standing guard around it.
The new Prophet was taking a bath.
The fury drained from her almost instantly, replaced by her surprise and confusion. If Aqul’s plan was to knock her off-guard, it had worked.
“My Queen,” Aqul said, standing at the sight of her. The blood ran thickly from him, revealing his nakedness beneath. He put his hands out, motioning to the Font. “Care to join me?”
“What is this?” Abbey asked, her eyes still trained on the Immolents. She didn’t trust this at all.
“An invitation,” Aqul replied. “You wanted my father’s Font. You made such great effort to reach it. Here it is. Drink, if that is what you desire. I’m here if you desire more.”
“Not in a million years,” she said, not moving. “I told you the Morningstar was mine. Where the frag do you think you’re going?”
“There is a higher power in this universe than you, Queen of Demons. A higher power than all of us. The call has gone out. The time is coming, and Gehenna has betrayed you.”
“What do you know about that?”
“It is a miracle, Queen of Demons.” He smiled. “The Father is reborn.”
Abbey felt the Gift freeze within her, every nerve in her body going cold. “What?”
“So it is written in the Covenant, so it is coming to pass. When Gehenna rises, the Father will come and bring with him the true Day of Reckoning. Armageddon. The End of Days that precede the Great Return. The war to end all wars. You can’t stop it, Queen of Demons. You can’t stop him. Your ship is lost. Even if you take the Morningstar, it won’t save you or your galaxy.”
The Father was reborn? Lucifer? He was supposed to be insane. Violently insane, held in stasis somewhere in the Extant. Worshipped and adored, only to return when his mind could be restored. At least, that was the story she had been told.
She should have guessed not all of it would be true.
“You look shocked,” Aqul said. “To be honest, so am I. None of us expected the Father to lead us to victory over the Dark One, though we should have. He has always kept his Promises.”
Abbey didn’t know what to say. Lucifer had taken the Covenant? How was that possible? She was the Chosen, damn it.
“It isn’t too late,” Aqul said. “You bear a striking resemblance to Lilith, the Father’s eternal love. You could join him, Queen of Demons. You could be a true Queen. The Mother of the Nephilim. All of this would be yours. All of this and more.”
He stepped out of the Font, walking toward her, the blood absorbed by the rugs. She didn’t move as he approached. She was frightened. Angry. Sad. Scared. Too many emotions were coursing through her too quickly to manage. So many people depended on her. So many lives were at stake, and all of the rules had just completely changed.
“There is the Font of my father, my Queen,” Aqul said, putting a hand on her arm to guide her toward it. “There is the new Covenant. Drink, if that is what you desire. Gain the strength you will need to serve at the right hand of the Father. Become that which you were intended to be.”
Abbey stared out at the Font. The blood was calling to her. The Gift was beckoning to her. It wanted to merge with the naniates already inside her. It wanted her to give in. To forget about the Republic. To forget about Hayley. It was too late to save them, anyway.
Power. That was the promise. Endless power over endless time.
All she had to do was submit.
She allowed Aqul to lead her, bringing her toward the Font a step at a time.
“Where is the Morningstar headed?” she asked, though it felt as though it was someone else’s voice she heard.
“The Father has called for the Prophets to gather.”
“Where?”
“The Shrine, of course. We will go there together. I will introduce you to him, and he will reward me justly for bringing him his bride.”
Abbey opened her mouth. Bride? She didn’t want to be Lucifer’s bride. Yet her body kept moving, kept walking toward the Font. The blood was calling to her. The Gift within her was on fire, the tingling inside her near to orgasmic. She had never felt desire like this.
Control. The naniates always sought to control. They were symbiotes, not servants or slaves. The more of them she absorbed, the stronger they would push against her.
They reached the edge of the Font. Aqul climbed over the lip, entering first to help her in.
“You should remove your suit, my Queen,” he said, smiling.
She glanced down at herself. Her body was shaking. She was on the verge of losing herself to the pleasure, the need, the desire.
Her eyes shifted to the viewport ahead of her. She felt the sudden change as the Morningstar came out of FTL and pushed through the disterium cloud.
Aqul looked surprised. Too soon. They had come out too soon.
Bastion.
It was the word that brought her back to the present. The thought that saved her from losing herself completely. Bastion. The Rejects. Jamul. The Asura. They were in trouble. They were going to die. Hayley. The Republic.
What the frag was she doing?
Sneaky, dirty, fragging naniates.
NO!
She growled as she exerted her will on the Gift. She was in control, and she was going to stay that way. No matter how hard it tried.
She wrenched her arm away.
“My Queen?” Aqul said, frightened at last. “Wait. You could have everything.”
“I don’t want everything,” she said. “I just want peace for me and my daughter.”
The Immolents moved on her then, blades coming to hand. She spread the Uin at her sides, ready for them.
“If I have to go through them. If I have to go through you. If I have to go through the damned Devil himself, then so be it.”
Aqul’s eyes narrowed. The Gift flowed around him, clothing him in armor that matched her own. His fingers extended to claws.
“Then so be it,” he said.
She crouched, ready for their attack. Hungry for their blood.
Aqul looked up, a fresh expression of surprise replacing the first.
“No,” he said.
The roar of gunfire responded, a cacophony of deafening sound that filled the room. The Immolents were thrown backward by the force of it, dozens of holes sprouting in their armor within an instant, the rounds defeating their black shells and entering their flesh, tearing them apart.
Aqul dove at her, claws slashing. She raised her Uin, blocking the attack, turning him to the side and following as he rolled to his feet. She pressed her assault, Uin a blur as they moved in multiple directions, the fanlike blades whistling through the air. Aqul put up his hands. The Gift deflected the first of the strikes, but only until Abbey countered, pitting her power against his.
He had only just drank from the Font. He was weak.
Pitiful.
His defenses evaporated under the pressure of her Gift, and a motion from her hand gripped his body and spread it wide. His eyes watched the trajectory of her Uin as it slashed neatly through his neck, removing his head.
She growled again, more like an animal than a person. It was trying to take her again. In violence and in pleasure. It would test her every chance it got.
She recognized it now. It wouldn’t fool her again. If it wanted to control her, it would have to try a lot harder than that.
She turned back toward the Immolents, finding them buried beneath a mix of soldiers and slaves, all of them armed and in the midst of a mutiny, eagerly removing the threat.
Bastion stood closer to the tube, a heavy rifle cradled in his hands, the heat of its use still escaping from the muzzle.
“You were taking too long,” he said.
She smiled, taking a few tired steps toward him. The Gift was putting her through the ringer, but she had held out so far.
“We need to get back to Jamul,” she said.
“Honorant Iona is already taking care of it.” He reached out, taking her arm and helping to support her. “Hey, is that a tail coming out of your ass, or are you just happy to see me?”
“What?” She turned her head, looking behind her. A ten-centimeter growth of flesh had emerged from the back of her demonsuit, ending in a spiked point. It shifted slightly at its base, drooping as she groaned. “I don’t want a tail.”
“It’s kind of sexy,” Bastion said. “And definitely unique.”
“Everyone’s going to tease me.”
“Yeah,” Bastion agreed, putting his arm around her shoulders. “But that’s what family’s for.”
12
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” General Sylvan Kett said, walking through the corridors of the Brimstone with Quark and Olus, headed for the bridge.
“Risk and reward, General,” Quark said. “You have to take the first to get the second. And trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
“Will it?” Kett said. “The Brimstone is our best asset by a wide margin. We’re cutting the strength of the fleet in half to let her go.”
“With a metric shit ton of potential gains,” Quark said. “Like I just said.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet, General,” Olus said, eyeing Sylvan.
Kett had been a tougher sell than he had expected, but he had managed to convince him of the importance of both their plan and the value of the Brimstone in executing that plan. Oberon was going to be well-defended, but they couldn’t bring a whole fleet to challenge it. As soon as Thraven’s forces knew they were there, they could destroy the AI passing itself as Dom Pallimo and ruin everything.
That couldn’t happen, or they were all fragged.
“My feet never got warm, Captain,” Sylvan replied. “I’m going on your reputation for getting the job done mixed with my gut instinct. My brain is telling me I’m making a huge mistake.”
“But you’re doing it anyway?”
“I let Charlie send Abbey into the fire. I have to do something. This is something.”
“Well, we damn well appreciate it,” Quark said. “And we’ll bring her back in one piece.”
“See that you do, Colonel.”
They reached the bridge. The entire crew stood as they entered.
“General on the bridge,” Dak bellowed, his deep voice echoing in the space. He turned to face them, saluting the General.
“At ease, Dak,” Kett said.
The Trover relaxed his posture.
“I’m turning the Brimstone over to Captain Mann, effective immediately,” Kett said. “You’re to follow his commands, and his commands only.”
“Sir?” Dak said.
“Those are your orders,” Kett said.
“Aye, sir.” Dak looked at Olus. “Captain Mann. Your reputation precedes you.” He paused and then smiled. “Excuse me for asking, but have you ever commanded a starship before?”
Olus returned the smile. “Not exactly, but I don’t intend to be giving too many orders. I’ll leave that to my associate here, Colonel Quark of the Riders. His ship and crew will be joining us shortly.”
“And then what?” Dak asked.
“And then we’re going to the Outworlds. Oberon, to be precise.”
“Oberon?” Dak said. “What for?”
“You swore loyalty to Abigail Cage, did you not, Commander?” Olus asked.
Dak nodded. “Yeah.”
“That’s what for,” Olus replied. “Do I need to say more?”
“No, sir,” Dak said.
“When is the fleet heading out?” Olus asked.
“One hour,” Sylvan said. “It’ll be two days to get into assault position, and then another hour to make the jump to Earth. I hope there’s something left to save by the time we get there. And that Thraven continues to keep his personal battle group out of the fight. Without the Brimstone, we have zero chance against his ships.”
“Do your best General,” Olus said. “That’s all any of us can do.”
“Agreed. Good hunting, Captain. Colonel.”
General Kett put out his hand. Olus took it, shaking firmly. Quark followed suit a moment later.
“Good hunting, General,” Olus said. “We’ll link back once we’ve completed the mission.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Kett turned, leaving the bridge without looking back. He had his own part of the war to prepare for.
“Thank you, Captain,” Dak said as soon as Kett was gone.
“What for?” Olus asked.
“I hate that asshole.”
“He’s on our side,” Olus said.
“Is he? We’ve been fragging around out here when we could have at least been harassing the enemy. He’s too damn cautious.”
“He has his methods; I have mine. Besides, you don’t have to like him. You only have to follow me.”
“Aye, Captain. Gladly. So why are we going to Oberon?”
“Have you ever heard of Don Pallimo?”
“Everybody’s heard of Don Pallimo,” Dak replied. “What’s that got to do with it?”
“Everything. Set a course. I want us underway as soon as Kett’s transport is clear and the Quasar is aboard.”
“The Quasar?”
“My ship,” Quark said. “Name’s Quark.” He put out his hand.
“Dak,” Dak said, swallowing it with his own. “I’
ve heard of the Riders and of you, though I don’t believe half of the stories.”
“You should, soldier,” Quark said. “They’re all true.”
Dak laughed. “Yeah. Right.”
Quark didn’t smile. His face was flat and serious. “I’m going to tell you one more time. They’re all true.”
Dak stopped laughing, his expression changing to match Quark’s. Olus had no idea what stories Dak had heard, but the reaction told him the Trover had a new level of respect for Quark. He would have to ask for himself once they were underway.
For now, he satisfied himself by moving further into the bridge and looking out at the fleet surrounding the ship. He could only hope it would be enough to challenge Thraven for control of Earth’s orbit.
He could only hope he was doing the right thing.
Risk and reward. He had another idea, one he hadn’t mentioned to Kett or Quark. Not yet.
First things first.
13
“Father, we have arrived,” Keeper said, at the same time the Covenant came out of FTL.
Lucifer wasn’t on the bridge. He was too large to fit into the compressed space, and Belial was certain he had no desire to fly the starship, anyway.
Besides, his Master had seen the entirety of the Shardship before, having lived and worked within its confines for dozens of years before the rebellion. There was nothing new to show him. Nothing he hadn’t seen before or didn’t understand. At least not on the inside.
Unlike the Father, all of Gehenna’s changes were on the outside.
Keeper had been busy in the three days since they had left the Shrine, continuing the work it had started for the Chosen, adding more weaponry to the frame of the moon-sized ship. And not only plasma cannons. The Keeper had studied the warheads that had struck it, breaking down their composition and engineering its own version that was smaller and more powerful. Even now, processes deep within the ship were manufacturing more of the projectiles, stockpiling them for the battles it knew were to come.
