Damned If You Don't (Chaos of the Covenant Book 5)

by M. R. Forbes

  Thraven stood up, letting the Blood run off him while he reached out for his robes. He knew Carsyn could see the lack of manhood at his groin. He could tell that she was looking. He didn’t care.

  “Where is Honorant Devaille now, Evolent?” he asked, taking the robes from Bashir and unhurriedly wrapping them around himself.

  “After Cage escaped, he set about dismantling the Crescent Hauler launch site to prevent other nearby ships from using it to reach orbit. Then he focused on quelling the rebellion.”

  “Was he successful?”

  “Yes, Gloritant. While surface fighting has continued to intensify, we are making positive gains across the planet. We expect to have asserted full control within two weeks, though of course, it will take longer to put down what we expect to be numerous uprisings.”

  “Until the true power of the Nephilim can be revealed to them,” Thraven said. “Why did the Honorant not make this report himself?”

  “Your Eminence, he is still in the thick of the fighting.”

  It was the only answer he would have been willing to accept. The only answer that would have prevented him from ordering the Honorant’s death. It was enough that Devaille had failed to capture Mann and Cage. He could accept that perhaps the fighting around the launch site was too intense. Barely.

  “Your Eminence, what of Captain Mann and the girl?” Carsyn asked.

  Besides, he already knew where they were headed. Don Pallimo believed his alias was a well-kept secret. He believed he was untouchable. Untraceable.

  He was wrong.

  “Don’t concern yourself with them,” Thraven replied. “I know where they’re headed.”

  “As you say, your Eminence,” Evolent Carsyn said, bowing her head.

  “Do you have anything else to report?”

  “No, Gloritant.”

  “Then continue on the path I have set for you, which is the path the Father has set for me. Glory and honor, Evolent Carsyn.”

  “Glory and honor,” Carsyn said.

  The link disconnected and the projection vanished.

  “Honorant Bashir, how long until we reach the Gate?”

  “We will arrive very soon, Gloritant,” Bashir replied.

  Thraven crossed the room, heading for the exit. His replacement Immolent trailed behind him, a few steps too far. He noticed the error, reaching out with the Gift and taking hold of the Immolent’s mind, pulling him forward like a misbehaving animal. He had been a Lesser before, so in a sense he was.

  “Connect me with Honorant Freich,” he said.

  “Yes, Gloritant.”

  Bashir returned to the projector, using it to open a channel to the Asmodeus, one of the remaining Nephilim ships traveling beside the Promise.

  “Your Eminence,” Freich said when Thraven’s projection appeared on the bridge of the warship. “How may I honor you?”

  “Honorant Freich,” Thraven said. “We are nearly at the Gate. When we arrive, I want you to take your ship and set a course for Gamlin.”

  “Gamlin, Gloritant? I didn’t think that world was part of our strategy.”

  “It wasn’t until Olus Mann escaped from Earth with Cage’s offspring. He’s heading there in a Crescent Hauler freighter to meet with Don Pallimo.”

  “Are you certain, Gloritant?”

  Thraven’s face twisted, and he started to raise his hand to choke the Honorant for his question. He stayed himself. There was no need. Not yet.

  “Very,” he replied. “Are you familiar with Korvin Layle?”

  “I’ve heard the name before, Gloritant. He’s an inventor if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Yes. He’s also known as Don Pallimo, though it would be very difficult for anyone else to prove.”

  Thraven could tell that Freich wanted to ask if he was sure again, but the Lesser smartly held his tongue.

  He has an estate near the edge of the city,” Thraven continued. “Do I need to say more?”

  “No, Gloritant. It will be as you command.”

  “Good.”

  He didn’t even have to signal Bashir. The Honorant knew when to cut the link.

  “Return to the bridge,” Thraven said. “I will join you there in time for our arrival.”

  “Yes, Gloritant,” Bashir replied, falling to his knees again before retreating from the room.

  Thraven turned to his Immolent, looking at him closely. He was still too mindful. He would need to do more to break him before he would be ready.

  But not yet. They would be arriving at the Gate within minutes. He had been waiting millennia for this moment, and he wasn’t going to miss it.

  He hurried to his quarters, quickly dressing himself in his finest uniform, including the sash he had received when he had been ordained an official Prophet of the Nephilim. He checked his reflection, smiling at himself with a pleasure he rarely felt, adjusting the sash across his chest and then making his way toward the bridge. His Immolent didn’t fail him again, following close behind.

  The Promise was still in FTL when he reached the bridge, the crew standing at attention as Bashir announced him. He didn’t grant them their release as he normally did. Instead, he made his way to the command station and then fell to his knees, spreading his arms wide.

  “As you have Promised, my Father. So have I delivered.”

  The fleet fell out of FTL, quickly clearing the disterium cloud it left behind. Thraven’s arms shook with excitement as the Elysium Gate came into view ahead.

  “Let this Gate be a symbol of our devotion to you, and to your cause. Let this moment be a mark in history as the moment the Nephilim began to fulfill your Promise to free all of our brothers and sisters from the tyranny of the One.”

  He looked out at the Gate. It was massive. Bigger than he had even imagined. That he had managed to get it made in secret over the last twenty years was a testament to his perseverance and cunning, as well as the loyalty of his true followers. From here, it looked like a smooth ring of golden metal, but he knew it was much, much more complex than that. The ring would soon be inhabited by his acolytes, who would continue to work on finalizing the inner mechanism of the device. When the time came, it would be turned on, and with enough of the Gift’s energy it would generate a wormhole across the multiverse that led all the way back to Elysium.

  Back to their home.

  “Glory and honor to you, Father, who opened our eyes to the truth,” he said. “The One shall fall as was foretold in your Covenant, and the loyal will be delivered from slavery to live in power and unity until the ends of all time. So it is written, so it shall be.”

  31

  “Queenie,” Phlenel said over the comm. “You said you wanted to know when Uriel was awake. He is awake.”

  “Thank you,” Abbey replied. “Get him comfortable, and I’ll be by to check on him soon.”

  “Aye, Queenie.”

  Abbey disconnected the link, looking up from the report Dak had given her when Jequn entered the CIC. The Faust was nearly ready to go, having been refueled, restocked, and rearmed during their eight-hour stay with the fleet. They were in the best shape they had been in since Olus had handed the star hopper over to them, an event that felt like it had taken place years ago, not weeks.

  She had a feeling they would need every last bit of all of it to survive what was coming next.

  “Queenie,” Jequn said, coming to a stop in front of her.

  “Cherub. How did it go?”

  Jequn smiled. “We yelled at one another for a bit. Then we embraced and cried together for a bit. We’re good now.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Gant told me you were able to talk to your daughter. I’m glad she’s safe.”

  “So am I. That’s one weight off my back. I already feel more focused on the path ahead.”

  “I can tell. You’re looking at an inventory report like it’s interesting.”

  Abbey smiled. “If you spoke to Gant, then you know what he’s working on?”

 
“Reverse engineering the teleporters. Yes. He told me he thinks he can improve the range. How did a Gant get to be so adept at well, pretty much everything?”

  “I don’t know. He hasn’t told me. There’s something to it, though, isn’t there? He got so upset about making a mistake. Like he doesn’t think he should ever not be perfect.”

  “He isn’t the One.”

  Abbey didn’t reply to the statement. She didn’t think the One was so perfect, either. “I’ve been trying to tease it out of him, but you know how he is. Always so guarded, even with me.” She put the report down and stood up. “Anyway, I’m glad you showed up when you did. Pudding just let me know that Uriel is awake. Since you’re here, I want you to come with me while I talk to him.”

  “Of course, Queenie.”

  They made their way down to sick bay, moving aside as Pik entered the Faust hefting a large crate over his shoulder.

  “Hey, Queenie. Cherub.”

  “What’s in the box?” Abbey asked. “I thought we were finished loading out?”

  “Gant asked me to pick up a few more things. I don’t know what most of them are. You should have heard him yelling at me through the comm.” He waved his free hand and mimicked the high-pitched voice the translator used for the Gant. “Not that one, you behemoth. The condenser to the right. No. Your other right.” He laughed. “If he weren't so cute, I would crush his fragging head.”

  Abbey and Jequn both laughed.

  “Is that the rest of it then?” Abbey asked.

  “It is for me. If Gant wants anything else, he can get it himself.”

  He went to the end of the corridor and dropped the crate on the floor, in front of the space Gant had claimed for his workshop.

  Abbey turned back to medical, entering the module with Jequn behind her. Phlenel’s bot was standing at Uriel’s side, handing him some water. Phlenel was further back, facing away from them.

  “You’re finally awake,” Abbey said, approaching Uriel. He looked much better. Younger. Healthier. He kept his eyes on her as she reached the end of the bed.

  “I feel a lot better,” he said. “Lighter. More clear. How did you do it?”

  “A theory.”

  “What do you mean a theory?”

  “I didn’t know if my blood would heal you or kill you. My theory is that the altered naniates don’t respond to control the way the original version does. They have a limited intelligence of their own, and when you resist them, they fight back, which can lead to some pretty nasty side-effects. In the case of the Nephilim, without the Serum they will eventually turn you into a mindless, violent monster. The Seraphim’s Gift simply overpowers the body’s ability to sustain it, and the naniates kill the host and themselves in the process. Now, anyway. There was a time when they went completely out of control. You already know about that.”

  “The Infected,” Uriel said. “Yeah. I get it. So you gave me some of your blood?”

  “With the hope that the reprogrammed, proper version would subjugate the others.”

  “I don’t think it worked.”

  “Why not? You’re still alive.”

  He put up his hand. “The Gift is gone.”

  The answer surprised her. “What do you mean, gone?”

  “I don’t have it anymore. I can’t feel it under my skin. I can’t use it. I don’t think it converted the rest. I think it destroyed them.”

  “Interesting,” Phlenel said.

  “Very,” Abbey agreed.

  Uriel looked at the bot. “Interesting? I’m fragging normal again. Worse.” He looked at Abbey. “I’m going to die someday.”

  “We’re all going to die someday.”

  “But, I mean soon. Fifty years? Sixty?”

  “You would have been dead already if I hadn’t helped you.”

  “I might as well be dead. That’s hardly any time at all.”

  “Maybe for someone used to being immortal,” Abbey said. “I’ve barely lived more than half as long, and sometimes it feels like an eternity.”

  “Funny,” Uriel said. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Frag. I lost my crew. I lost my immortality. I lost my Gift. Is there anything else you want to take from me? Maybe cut my scrotum off?”

  “Not unless you piss me off,” Abbey replied. “I saved your life; you owe me. I need to know how to destroy the Gate.”

  Uriel smiled and wagged his finger at her. “Uh-uh, Queenie. You keep me around; I’ll show you. I’m not telling. It’s the only leverage I have.”

  “Some legend,” Jequn said. “Some hero.”

  “I already told you I was never a hero. Someone else made up lies about me. Why should I have bothered to correct them?”

  “Fine,” Abbey said, not wanting to get into that argument. “What do you know about the Keeper of the Covenant?”

  He cocked his head at the question. “Why do you want to know about that?” He paused. “Oh, frag. The Shard told you about it?”

  “So did Charmeine. She gave us the coordinates, and that’s where we’re headed.”

  “Charmeine? Archchancellor Charmeine? She’s here?”

  “She was. You know her?”

  “We have a past. That’s all I’m going to say about it. What do you mean was?”

  “The original died on Azure,” Abbey said. “General Kett had what he called a configuration of her.”

  “I didn’t think there were any of those left,” Uriel said. “Do you know how much I could get for one of those things? That’s real immortality.”

  “Forget it,” Abbey said. “The Keeper.”

  “I’ve never encountered it myself,” Uriel said. “There are legends about it, just like there are legends about everything. Like I said, they’re probably all half-right. Or half-wrong.” He laughed.

  “What do the legends say?”

  “The usual schlock and bullshit. Only the pure of heart can defeat the challenges and reach the Keeper. Fraught with danger, blah, blah, blah. I don’t believe in the pure of heart garbage. I do believe the Keeper has some serious defenses, and if we’re going there, we’re going to die.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to die. I expect you to help me make sure we don’t.”

  “What the frag am I supposed to do? I don’t have the Gift anymore.”

  “You’ve still got five millennia of experience, and you know how to handle a Uin.”

  “Which might all turn out to be useless.”

  “It might. If you remember, you swore allegiance to me in exchange for your life. Your life, Uriel. I didn’t promise you continued regeneration.”

  “I should have bargained harder.”

  “Probably.”

  “I’m telling you right now, Queenie. This is a bad idea. A bad, bad idea.”

  “It might be, but it’s the only option we have.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “I think we’re just about ready.”

  “You’re sure you won’t change your mind?”

  “Quite.”

  “Damn. Well, if I’m going to die, I’d rather not die naked. Do you suppose you could get me some pants?”

  32

  “Well, that’s it,” Bastion said, looking out of the Faust’s cockpit viewport to the blank space beyond. “We’re on our way.”

  “ETA?” Abbey asked, glancing to the co-pilot seat where Ruby was sitting.

  “Forty-six hours,” Ruby replied.

  “Forty-six?” Bastion said, whistling. “That’s a long way. Are you sure we’ll be able to make it back to the fleet?”

  “We aren’t going back to the fleet,” Abbey said.

  “Huh? I thought we were going to visit this Keeper, and then circle back. Could you update me on the plan again?”

  “Let’s make it to the Keeper first, and then we can worry about the rest of the plan. It won’t matter if we die on the way.”

  “Encouraging words. Thanks, Queenie.”

  “I appreciate the candidness,” Ruby said.


  “I appreciate the candidness,” Bastion mimicked. “Whatever.”

  “We’re on course, and there isn’t much else for you to do here,” Abbey said. “Why don’t you go relax for a while?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Bastion said. “How can anybody relax around this place? It’s getting crowded in here.”

  He unbuckled himself and stood, swinging around Abbey on the way out of the cockpit.

  “He seems uncomfortable,” Ruby said.

  “He’s nervous,” Abbey said. “Most of them are. He has a point, though. Our numbers have grown since you and Olus picked us up from Hell. Erlan, Phlenel, Jequn, Trinity, Uriel. At least we haven’t lost anyone.”

  “Airi,” Ruby said.

  “She lost herself.” Abbey paused. She refused to feel guilty for Fury. Airi had made her choice. “I trust you can handle the Faust while we’re in FTL?”

  “Of course, Queenie. You know where to find me if you need anything.”

  Abbey left the cockpit, heading back to the CIC. Pik, Trinity, and Uriel were there. Pik and Trinity were sitting across from one another, with Pik’s replacement hand wrapped around one of Trin’s.

  “What are you doing?” Abbey asked.

  “Arm wrestling,” Pik said. His face creased as he pressed against Trin’s hand, which remained upright. He relaxed a moment later. “Are you even trying?”

  “Yes,” Trinity said. “You’re doing well.”

  Uriel laughed. “Your arm hasn’t moved yet.”

  “I’m sweating on the inside.”

  “Seriously, how are you even possible?” Uriel asked.

  “Cut someone’s head off. Preserve their brain. Integrate it with powered armor that is fueled by naniates. Simple, really.”

  “I doubt that. Was cutting your head off an intentional step?”

  “No,” Trinity replied. “I got into a fight. I lost.”

  “You lost? Somehow I find that hard to believe. Who was the asshole?”

  “I was,” Abbey said.

  Uriel looked at her. “You seem to have a habit of turning enemies into friends.”

  “And friends into enemies, unfortunately,” Abbey replied, thinking of Airi again. “Are you suggesting we’re friends?”