by M. R. Forbes
After all of these years, they were finally going to finish this war.
“What is your report, Keeper?” Lucifer asked, his voice echoing across the bridge.
Since he wasn’t present, he couldn’t see the projections from the sensors, or look out of the forward viewport.
“There are thirty-six ships orbiting Tigrul,” Keeper said. “They are beginning to take a defensive formation in response to our arrival.”
“Shall I hail Prophet Tega?” Belial asked, remaining calm as he watched the ships begin to change course on the projections.
“No,” Lucifer replied. “Not yet. Show me what Gehenna can do.”
“Yes, Father,” Keeper said.
No sooner had Lucifer given the order than a burst of projectiles launched from the Covenant. The small spears traveled separately at first before altering their vectors and moving into a pattern that brought them close together. They were streaking across the black of space in that way, breaking apart again as they neared the targets, spreading to allow two missiles for each of six ships.
The first missile created a flare of light as it hit the enemy ship’s shields and detonated. The second projectile entered the destructive field of the first, using the momentary draining of the energy field to pass through unharmed and strike, digging deep into the warships’ armored hulls. A few seconds later, they detonated, the force of the blast tearing huge, gaping wounds into the ships, sucking the oxygen from them and turning critical systems to slag.
Six ships went dark, debris trailing out of them, no longer a part of the fight.
“One hundred percent hit and kill rate, Father,” Keeper said.
Lucifer laughed. “Excellent. Keeper, hail the Prophet.”
“Of course, Master,” Keeper replied. A moment later, Tega’s heavy face appeared in a projection near the front of the bridge.
“What is the-” Tega’s face changed immediately when he saw who had hailed him. “Belial? I. I don’t understand. This act of aggression is forbidden by Thraven’s Pact.” His face changed again, registering a deeper level of confusion, followed by a vague level of understanding. “Gehenna?”
“Indeed,” Belial said. “Gehenna has risen, Tega. Are you familiar with the Promises of the Covenant?”
“Of course I am,” Tega said. “I heard the Chosen had found her way to the Extant, and that Gehenna had come with her. My Gloritant reported that one of my markets had been destroyed and my product taken. But how is it that you are in control? Have you joined the enemy?”
“Don’t be an imbecile,” Belial said. “This is all as it was Promised it would be.”
“But. But you attacked my fleet.”
“Do you know how many years it has been since the Father was laid to rest?” Belial asked.
Tega froze, trying to count the passage of time. It was too great a number for him to handle easily.
“Too many,” Belial said. “You and the other Prophets squabbled over their share of the planets in the Extant while the Father slept. You forgot about the Great Return. You forgot about the plight of our brothers and sisters in Elysium.”
“I didn’t forget,” Tega said. “I swear I didn’t.”
“Then why did it take a Terran slave to bring these days to pass? Why did it take so many years?”
“The Ophanim,” Tega said. “You know what they did. You know how they used the Focus against us. It took time for the stock to replenish. It took time for the resources to become available once more. Even for Prophet Thraven, it took time.”
“And yet he is in Shardspace, and you are here,” Belial said. “You should be with him, preparing for the Great Return. All of the Prophets should be.”
“I’m awaiting word from him that the time has come. That the Gate is complete and Elysium is within reach.”
“I am bringing word in his stead,” Belial said. “On behalf of the Father. The time has come. Elysium is closer than it has ever been.”
Tega flinched slightly. “It will take me some time to prepare my fleet, and I will need a Harvester to carry us across.”
“Gehenna can assist your crossing.”
“I can’t just abandon my Empire because the Caretaker asks it,” Tega said. “The other Prophets will claim my worlds within days.”
“If you believed in the Covenant, you would have no care for your worlds, Tega,” Belial said. “We are returning home to free our people. This universe is nothing to us.”
“But.” Tega froze, trying to come up with another excuse.
“I have heard enough, Belial,” Lucifer said. “Even after you come with proof of the validity of my Promises, he still does not believe.”
“I am sorry, Lord,” Belial said.
“It isn’t you who will be sorry,” Lucifer replied. “I will finish what Gehenna has started.”
“As you wish, Master.”
“Caretaker?” Tega said. “Who are you talking to?”
Belial looked at the projection and smiled. “You will find out in time. Keeper?”
Keeper disconnected the link, Tega’s face fading with it. Then both Keeper and Belial turned to the viewport, both the planet Tigrul and Tega’s fleet around it visible ahead.
“What do you suppose he’s going to do?” Belial asked the intelligence.
“Worse than what he did to Judas,” Keeper replied.
Belial nodded somberly. He hadn’t asked Lucifer about Judas, but his disappearance made his fate obvious.
“Belial,” Lucifer said, his voice piercing the bridge of the Covenant. “Observe the fate of those who have disbelieved in me, and in us. Those who have forgotten their brothers and sisters and the slavery they endure.”
Belial continued to stare out at Tega’s fleet. At first, there was nothing. Then, the smallest of shapes appeared near the closest ship, a web of darkness that blotted out a portion of the planet behind it. It changed shape constantly, morphing and growing as it approached. When it reached the ship, it wrapped itself around the bow, pausing there while electrical currents ran through the vessel. Flashes of bright light, blue and orange and red followed, and then the growing darkness split off, breaking into a hundred smaller shapes and moving toward the rest of the fleet. At the same time, the first ship broke apart; its superstructure reduced to dust in front of his eyes.
“Belial, we are being hailed,” Keeper announced.
“Tega?” Belial guessed.
“Indeed.”
“Ignore him. He has chosen his fate.”
He couldn’t help but smile as the smaller spots of darkness headed on to ships of their own, attaching themselves and sending gouts of energy into the vessels, each one blowing apart in turn. Very soon, debris littered the orbit of Tigrul, slabs of metal and corpses of the unbelievers.
The projection on the bridge illuminated, though neither he or Keeper had activated it. Tega was visible in the projection, on his knees, hands raised and clasped together, pleading with someone they couldn’t see.
Belial didn’t need to see to know.
He didn’t need to see to believe.
He never had.
“Please, Father,” Tega said. “I did the best I could. I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what, Tega?” Lucifer said. “That I was still alive? That I had yet to lose myself completely? That I would return to keep my Promises?”
“No. Father, I didn’t know it was time.”
“It was time years before. A slave has more loyalty to me than you, the direct descendent of the first of the Nephilim. A Terran slave, Tega!”
Lucifer’s shout made the projection vibrate, and Belial put his hands to his head, feeling the blood begin to run from his ears. Tega felt the effect more strongly, shouting as his eardrums exploded.
“Father,” he cried.
Lucifer did something out of their view, and the wounds to Tega’s ears were healed.
“Do you know why I returned your hearing to you, Prophet?” Lucifer asked.
&nb
sp; “No, Father,” Tega replied. “Certainly, I don’t deserve it.”
“No, you don’t. But I want you to be able to hear your own screams.”
“Father, wait.”
Tega’s hand bent backward, the bones breaking. He shouted in fresh pain, clutching at it.
“I don’t have as much time to make you suffer as you deserve,” Lucifer said. “Be grateful for that.”
“Please, forgive me,” Tega said. “I will take my fleet wherever you ask.”
“You have no fleet left to take,” Lucifer replied. “You are an example to the Prophets I have decided are worthy. Those who were the first to ally with Thraven, who didn’t need to be beaten into submission like the beast you are. They will follow without question, or they will lose everything.”
“My son,” Tega said. “My daughters. Please, Father. It is not their fault.”
“You have only yourself to blame.”
Tega’s other hand snapped, the bones shattering. His elbows followed, and then his shoulders. He cried out in pain each time, though his Gift began knitting him back together.
“I’m sorry, Father,” Tega said. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes. You are.”
Tega fell as his feet shattered, followed by his knees and hips. He laid on the ground, writhing, his Gift overpowered by Lucifer, only fixing him enough to keep him alive and in pain.
“Turn it off,” Belial said, looking away.
He didn’t blame his friend for treating Tega this way, but he had no need to watch it. Lucifer’s enjoyment of the cruelty was a byproduct of his change, and it would get worse over time.
They had to destroy the One before it did, or their Father would destroy them all.
14
The Shackle dropped from FTL in a cloud of disterium, quickly emerging from the gas and into the black, near to the Father’s Shrine, which had lain dormant and ignored by most for thousands of years.
Cassandra had been there only once since she had seized control of her Prophetic, going to visit the Father to seek his unspoken blessing on the murder of her husband, the prior Prophet. It was against the Covenant to seek power in this way, but the Prophet Gaziel had been cruel and unjust in a way that went beyond all sense of normalcy, also a stain on the Father’s Words.
She had done what needed to be done. That was all. The Father hadn’t spoken. His corpse couldn’t speak, but she had been comforted by her visit, and her fears had been cast aside. She had done the right thing, and the Prophetic was better for it. She had restored order to her worlds, quelled a number of uprisings, tripled the number of Unders in her stable and increased trade sevenfold. She had become the definition of a successful Prophet.
Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the Shrine ahead, a small, dark asteroid hanging in orbit around a dwarf star. She wasn’t alone here. She wasn’t the only Prophet who had been summoned.
What did the Caretaker want, that he had urged her to visit? What was he up to, that he had brought the others as well? The Prophets hadn’t gathered like this in millennia, had never converged in this way within her lifetime.
A few had met here some years ago, but she had ignored Thraven’s call. She hadn’t gained the power just to turn it back over to another, after all.
She couldn’t ignore the Caretaker. Every Prophet knew that would be unwise.
“Raise shields,” she said, not trusting in the other ships around her, five in total.
Were the rest of the Prophets coming? Or had they been selected for a specific purpose? She didn’t trust it, or them. She heeded the Caretaker, but she didn’t trust him either. She had accomplished much with her distrust.
“Shields are raised, Empress,” her High Honorant, Laisha, said.
“Who else is here?”
“The Gul. The Ashtar. The Kronos.” Laisha named each of the ships in turn. Of course, Cassandra knew them all.
“Bring us closer.”
The Shackle continued toward the Shrine, closing on the other vessels. There was no activity at the asteroid itself. No indication that the Caretaker was even expecting them. It was an odd situation, but she remained calm. Her ship was one of the newest in the Extant and could jump to FTL within a dozen seconds, much faster than any of the others. If she had to run, she could run quickly.
“We’re being hailed, Empress,” Laisha said. “The Prophet Kron.”
“Open the channel,” Cassandra said.
Kron’s face appeared in the projection ahead of her. The deep scar along his cheek always drew her eye. It hadn’t been earned in battle, but delivered by one of the Lessers in his harem. The woman had died for the effort, but at the same time earned her eternal respect.
“Kron,” Cassandra said coldly.
“Cassandra,” Kron replied, smiling. “I see you received the same request I did.”
“From the Caretaker,” Cassandra said. “It was not a request. It was a demand.”
“Isn’t it ironic how we act of our own accord, ignoring the Father and yet jumping at the demands of his keeper, as though there will be consequences for disobedience?”
“Are you suggesting it’s a weakness?” she asked.
“Yours perhaps. I came out of curiosity, not because I feel beholden to the past. Otherwise, I would have joined with Thraven in his madness.”
“And why do you think I’ve come?” Cassandra said. “Not because I had to come. Because there was no reason for me not to.”
Kron laughed. “Of course.”
“Do you have more to provide me than this imbecilic conversation?” Cassandra snapped. He was testing her limited patience.
“I don’t know what the intent of this meeting is, but if the end result is chaos, we’ll fare better if we’re aligned.”
Of course. Kron wanted to ally with her because she had the best ship in the field. She was silent to his request at first, considering the position of the rest of the Prophets. Was Kron the best choice for an alliance? Should she reach out to any of the others? She hated the Prophet, but she couldn’t deny he was a good choice to join forces with.
“You’ll deliver two tier-three orbital vessels and two dozen Unders to me within the next three weeks,” she said, stating her terms for the agreement.”
“Two tier-five vessels,” he countered.
Tier-five ships were of the lowest quality, and nearly useless.
“Do you truly want an alliance, Kron, or is your goal to waste my time? I’m not in a bargaining mood.”
Kron laughed again. “Have it your way. I agree to your terms.”
“Laisha,” Cassandra said.
“Recorded and noted,” Laisha replied.
“Then we are agreed. I will move the Shackle closer to your position.”
“No,” Kron said. “Circle to the opposite side of the field. We can keep our enemies in a crossfire.”
“Very well.”
The Shackle altered course, skirting the edge of the field. The other Prophets either weren’t aggressive enough to contact her about an alliance, or they had determined they had nothing to offer.
“What do you suppose we do now?” she said, once the Shackle was in position.
“Wait for the Caretaker?” Laisha offered.
Cassandra gained her seat at the command station, putting her feet up on the console ahead of her. She hated waiting for anything.
Nearly two hours had passed when another ship joined them in their orbit around the Shrine. The Mezel. A seventh Prophet had arrived.
The vessel was approaching the Shrine when Laisha looked back at her.
“Empress, sensors are reading a sudden power spike from the Shrine,” she said.
Cassandra jumped to her feet. “What kind of power spike?”
“It is unclear.”
There had been no word from the Caretaker about any of this, and now the asteroid was emitting energy?
“Prepare to jump to FTL,” she said.
“Empress?” Laisha replied.
“Do it.”
“As you command.”
Kron’s face appeared ahead of her. “What is this, Cassandra? You’re leaving?”
“Are your sensors reading the power spike?” Cassandra asked.
“Yes. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“No?”
“The Shrine has no weapons. It’s a tomb, not a warship.”
“Eight seconds to FTL, Empress,” Laisha said.
Cassandra looked down at her station. The sensors were showing a massive energy field expanding within the Shrine. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. Where could that much power even come from?
“You’re crazy to stay here,” she said. “Look at your readings.”
Kron glanced away, and his face changed. “What is this?”
“The end,” Cassandra said, her eyes shifting to the viewport of the Shackle as the sensors suddenly went offline. The energy of the Shrine had pierced its stone shell, expanding outward in a fiery ball of death.
One they didn’t have time to escape.
She leaned on the console to keep herself from falling over in sudden fear and despair.
The fire overtook the Shackle, ripping into it, sending shreds of slagged metal exploding away, quickly approaching the bridge. She was overwhelmed by the sudden bright light of it, and the pain of the hot fury as it reached through the hull, tearing it away.
“Why, Father?”
The fire touched her, and then everything was calm.
15
The Morningstar came out of FTL in orbit around Jamul, a little over an hour after it had left. Abbey rose from her seat on the bridge when it did, looking down at the planet below.
“Sensors?” she said.
“Everything appears calm, my Queen,” Honorant Iona said.
Iona was the bridge member who had given her the directions to the Font, a weakly Gifted soldier whose turn to be transported hadn’t come when Aqul gave the orders to renege on his father’s agreement. Abbey still wasn’t sure if her new loyalty was one of fear, respect, or opportunity, but at the moment she didn’t care.
