by Jacob Holo
Or a throne, Quennin thought.
The composite record played back at substantially reduced speeds; otherwise it would have been incomprehensible. The seraph sped straight at the negator and crashed into the surface feet-first. It raised its huge broadsword and slashed effortlessly through the negator’s armor. The seraph then opened the breach wider with its hands and punched an arm deep into the ship’s interior.
The negator field collapsed, and the beleaguered Disciple warships folded space. The seraph kicked off the negator and picked its next target.
“So that’s Zophiel,” Quennin said.
“It would appear so. Analysis indicates a chaos coefficient near two thousand five hundred.”
“Roughly equivalent to me and Vek.”
“Yes. A dangerous foe, but certainly not beyond your skills.”
Quennin nodded thoughtfully, fixated by the seraph as it tore through one ship after another. But something nagged at her mind. Something about this didn’t seem right, though she couldn’t say what.
Veketon strode into the room. He stepped up to the array of images.
“Fuurion, report.”
“Yes, venerable master.” Fuurion restored the first image of Cathedral and repeated what little he knew of the structure.
“And this is where the seraph retreated to?” Veketon asked.
“Yes, venerable master. We tracked the retreating ships and the seraph via stealth exodrones. The Disciples attempted to throw off any pursuit with a series of short spatial folds, and we did lose the trail for a time. But, as I’m sure you will be pleased to know, we were able to reconstruct the fold trajectories after careful analysis.”
Veketon stared at the images of Cathedral, a deep scowl on his face.
Fuurion swept a hand across the image. “The fleet is gathering for a crushing assault on Cathedral, and the Vengeful Ascendant is moving up to support the attack. The war goes smoothly on other fronts, as well. We have had a few minor setbacks, but our losses are well within acceptable parameters, especially given the tremendous damage we are inflicting on the Disciple fleet.”
Veketon glared silently at the images.
“Vek, what’s wrong?” Quennin asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Pardon my asking,” Fuurion said, “but are you not pleased with this discovery? This is the first major piece of Disciple military infrastructure we have located, and our fleet will surely be able to smash any opposition here.”
“And that is precisely the problem,” Veketon said. “They fell back to a structure of this magnitude instead of a secondary base or fleet position. Let’s take a look at the seraph’s chaotic analysis.” He linked his request.
The wall screens filled with close-ups of the Disciple seraph, some with grid overlays. The seraph’s body burned like a furnace of yellows and oranges, while its armor and weapons remained cool blues.
“Non-conductive weaponry,” Veketon said softly, rubbing at his chin. “And apparently of Ziggurat design. No artificial components. Seraph is completely organic. Chaos coefficient of 2480.”
“How’s that compare with other known values?” Quennin asked.
“Here you go,” Veketon said, linking another command.
Jack Donolon: 3120
Quennin S’Kev: 2495
UNKNOWN: 2480
Veketon: 2400
Seth Elexen: 1840
Jared Daykin: 1300
Yonu Nezrii: 1090
Tesset Daelus: 1030
“Does this include data from the Vigilant Sentinel?” Quennin asked.
“Yes, unfortunately,” Veketon said.
“Jack’s coefficient has risen again.”
“I know, but we’ll deal with that problem later.”
“What do you make of the seraph?” she asked.
“It’s definitely an original.” Veketon pointed, highlighting a section of the seraph across several images. “Note the lack of mechanical parts. But is it Vierj’s? No, it doesn’t match up. This is a different seraph.”
“Then what could it be? I thought Vierj’s was the only original to survive.”
“Correct. And so this must be its child.”
“Its child? You mean those things could breed?”
“More or less,” Veketon said as if it were completely normal. “The process is not sexual. The original seraphs were living organisms in their own right, conscious and intelligent. They were our warrior companions. The seraphs the Aktenai made are just pale copies.”
“Its child…” Quennin said, trying to wrap her head around the concept. “But if it can have children, then there might be more.”
“Yes, you bring up a troubling point,” Veketon said. “It could have spawned hundreds of offspring. Thousands, even. But no, I am overestimating the problem. There must be very few for them to have stayed hidden for so long. No, if there were more than a handful, we would have known of them before this.”
“But each one of them may be piloted by one of Vierj’s descendants.”
Veketon nodded grimly. “That is certainly possible. Pardon me, but I want another look at our data on this artifact.”
“Of course.”
The white sphere appeared on a dozen screens from a dozen angles, some showing the entire artifact, others zoomed in for tight detail.
“And he calls it Cathedral,” Veketon said. “How quaint. So this is what happened to the constructor kernel. I see some of its conversion fields are still active. Impressive.”
“Vek, you know what this is?”
“Cathedral was realized using a constructor kernel of Keeper manufacture. It’s a self-perpetuated matter-energy conversion field, preprogrammed with specific design parameters. In this case, a fortification. I imagine a small moon was consumed during the initial deployment.
“This one is dormant now, though some conversion fields are still present, making repairs to the lattice structure. Its defenses are inactive as well, thankfully. The structure must have suffered tremendous trauma in past millennia. It would have been truly terrifying to attack when fully functional. I used a similar constructor kernel to seed the Gate chamber within the Earth.
“The remaining three kernels were stolen twenty thousand years ago, shortly after my death, along with ten of the portal lances and several other Keeper artifacts. It is interesting that Zophiel has found one and claimed it as a base.”
“Wait,” Quennin said. “You said this was once a fortification. Built to defend what?”
Veketon turned to her and smiled. “Why, a portal lance, of course.”
“You mean, you think Zophiel already has a lance?”
“At least one other, yes,” Veketon said.
“Then why are you still smiling?”
“Because I am thinking about the spoils of war.”
It took Quennin a moment to catch up. “You mean, even though he’s trying to steal yours…”
“Exactly. And the reward is greater than you realize,” Veketon said. “Portal lances can be combined to powerful effect. Keeper Elexen has shown great skill with a lance, but together, you and I will humble him with what we could do.
“Think about it. We could open intra-gates across enormous galactic distances. We could move the Fellerossi from system to system in the blink of an eye. It would be as if the Fellerossi were everywhere at once, striking without warning, disappearing without reprisal. Quennin, we could once again take the offensive to the Alliance!”
She nodded at this revelation. “And even if we didn’t, a second lance would be a powerful asset.”
“Precisely!”
“Venerable master,” Fuurion said, “shall we proceed with the attack? There seem to be issues here I am not familiar with.”
“Yes, the attack will proceed, but not as planned,” Veketon said. “This is clearly a trap. Cathedral and the seraph are meant to lure us in, and we don’t know what forces they have prepared to complete the snare.”
“Then what do you pr
opose, venerable master?”
“We will go in with overwhelming force. Gather half the fleet at a rendezvous point one fold from Cathedral.”
“Half the fleet? But that will jeopardize other operations.”
“Do it anyway. The bases on and inside Cathedral will be eliminated, and whatever trickery Zophiel has prepared will be in vain. I want ninety archangels standing by at the rendezvous point.”
“Nine— ninety… yes, I’ll see to activating the appropriate reserves,” Fuurion said. “It’s shouldn’t take more than a day for the fleet to finish redeploying.”
“Good. Quennin and I will leave for the front immediately. The Vengeful Ascendant will fold to a support position near the Cathedral. Quennin?”
She nodded and followed him out of the residence. Veketon took quick strides through the Ascendant’s convoluted corridors.
“Vek, there’s an important question you’ve glossed over.”
“Yes?”
“Which one of us springs the trap?”
Veketon flashed a hungry grin. “Zophiel seems eager to meet me, and it would be a shame to disappoint him. I will draw him out. You’ll stay in reserve with the archangels.”
“I should be the one going in.”
Veketon stopped and turned to her. They were close to the throne bay now.
“I can trigger the trap on my own,” Quennin said. “This way we don’t put you or the portal lance at risk.”
“That is…”
“You know I’m right. It makes more sense for me to go.”
Veketon took hold of her arms and stared into her eyes. She met his gaze, aware that she’d just laid bare the possible cost of this attack.
“I wish you would reconsider,” he said.
“I am not afraid of them.”
“Nor would I ever suggest that. But this battle will be a matter of who has out-thought who. Have I predicted Zophiel’s actions or has he guessed mine and prepared accordingly? It feels… wrong to ask you to bear the burden for my errors.”
“I will not shy away from my duty,” Quennin said firmly. “I am your protégé, after all.”
Veketon shook his head. “You are that and so much more.”
***
Quennin folded space to Cathedral, materializing near the tip of a spire and in full control of her throne. Six archangels folded in behind her and spread into a circular formation. Their reflective plate armor glinted in the local star’s brilliant yellow light.
Around her, formations of Fellerossi warships dueled with their Disciple equivalents, filling space with crisscrossing beams, fusion detonations, and super-heated debris.
Quennin fed power into her halo-wings and accelerated quickly down the spire. At this range, it was a huge white wall underneath her with giant characters scrawled faintly across its surface. A weak inner light seemed to emanate from the whole structure.
“Disciple seraph detected near the spire’s base,” Veketon said.
The seraph was a small black dot in the distance. It pulled away from Cathedral’s surface and charged up along the spire.
“I see it.” With a linked thought, Quennin ordered the archangels to ready their rail-rifles and fusion cannons.
“Exercise caution. Proceed at your own discretion.”
“Understood.”
The battle raged around her, distant and unimportant despite its magnitude. Quennin focused solely on the black seraph speeding towards her. She coiled back her chaos glaive, black energy burning along its shaft and bladed tip.
Rail-rifle fire passed her, striking the Disciple seraph’s barrier in flashes of black and red sparks. It flew on, unfazed by the attack, its huge shield facing Quennin, broadsword behind it. The edges of its wings blurred with black light, and little snaps of red lightning crackled across its body.
“Let’s see what you’re made of,” she breathed.
Quennin swung down as the Disciple seraph swung up, and their weapons met in a fantastic eruption of dark light. She pushed in, the edges of her halo-wings burning with additional power, but the Disciple seraph held its position. Their weapons ground against each other, throwing sparks into the vacuum of space.
“Not bad.”
Eight eyes on the Disciple’s shield opened, looked at her, at her weapon, at her again. Black light outlined the shield and filled grooves within each eye.
Quennin backed off and circled the seraph, looking for an opening. She signaled the archangels, and they hit the enemy seraph with a precise salvo of kinetic bolts. Its barrier sparked with each collision, and Quennin charged in.
The seraph raised its shield, Ziggurat eyes clamping shut before her glaive slammed home. It was like punching a mnemonic wall with her bare hands. The shield didn’t give at all, and the glaive skated across its surface. She reversed her halo-wing thrust and dodged the seraph’s rapid counterstroke.
The seraph was quick and powerful, but Quennin could beat it. She felt the surety of this swell within her. Whatever worries she’d possessed before, she now knew she could defeat this foe.
“You’re not so tough,” she whispered, charging in again.
The two dueled ferociously around the spire, slowly coming closer to Cathedral’s surface. Neither of them tired as they pounded on each other’s defenses, clashing and breaking again and again. Waves of chaos energy exploded outward from each confrontation.
A huge wound in the surface loomed beneath Quennin. All around, endless hexagonal and pentagonal panels of polished white stone stretched to the horizon, but here they bent inward, warped by some mysterious force from Cathedral’s past. The depths of Cathedral lay bare beneath her, and she was surprised by how the lattice layers went on and on, closing around a bright unseen core.
Quennin fought the seraph around this ancient wound, alone as if within the eye of a storm. She lunged forward, the tip of her glaive striking the seraph’s shield. Ziggurat eyes snapped shut, and the seraph lurched back from the blow.
“Got you!”
Quennin didn’t let it recover. She pulled her glaive back and arched over the seraph. It looked up at her, the broadsword low and to its side, out of position for a block. Quennin thrust down, and the tip of her glaive stabbed into the seraph’s shoulder.
Thick black fluid pulsed from the wound. On the edge of understanding and recognition, Quennin thought she heard a woman cry out.
The sensation changed into something like a snarl, and the seraph swung upward, knocking her glaive away. It darted back, blood like thick oil trailing from the wound. Again the seraph fell back towards Cathedral.
The two stood off at a distance, unmoving. Quennin permitted herself a grim smile. Her opponent was afraid. Whoever he or she was, this pilot had expected to win, not to be wounded without hitting Quennin once.
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
The seraph fell back slowly, still facing her with its sword and shield ready. Then it turned suddenly and spread its six flexible wings wide. Their edges blurred with power, and it shot away into the layered depths of Cathedral. Quennin held her position and turned her chaos scanner up to full gain.
“There you are…” she whispered.
The blip of chaos energy flew towards the artificial moon’s interior, slowed, and came to a halt three layers below.
“The seraph has retreated into Cathedral,” Quennin said.
“It’s clear you’re being drawn into the interior,” Veketon said. “Can you detect any other seraphs?”
“Only the one, but that Aktenai girl could be right next to me, and I wouldn’t know it.”
“You bring up a valid point,” Veketon said. “But Pilot Daelus’ talents are rather unique. Stealth technology seems unlikely given what we have witnessed so far. No, I believe the enemy is either powered down somewhere in Cathedral or does not exist at all.”
“Even if they come at me by surprise, I can get away,” Quennin said. “That seraph wasn’t any stronger than my throne, and Cathedral has a
lot of empty space inside. Plenty of ways to maneuver around, double back, and get out if I have to.”
“Very well. Proceed with caution,” Veketon said. “If the need arises, I have eighty-four archangels I can fold to your location.”
“What, inside Cathedral? What about all the mass?”
“Cathedral is a little different. There’s a negative gravity fissure at its core. Once you’re inside, you will not be able to fold out, but I can still send reinforcements to you.”
“Then wouldn’t the Disciples be able to do the same?”
“Not likely. The fold engine spatial math is particularly advanced. It took me the better part of five hours to complete the calculations.”
“It took you five hours to come up with something you think the Disciples are incapable of?”
“Well, yes,” Veketon said simply. “Besides, the flight to the rendezvous coordinates was boring.”
Quennin shook her head and chuckled. “That’s so typical of you.”
“What is?”
“All right! I’m going in!”
Quennin formed up with her six archangels and dove into Cathedral. The inner lattice layers were far more porous than the outer shell, and Quennin navigated through them quickly, following the pulse of chaotic influx ahead of her.
The Disciple seraph came into view, hovering near an outcrop of white stone with domed Outcast settlements. The seraph spun around and sped deeper into Cathedral.
Quennin followed slowly, mindful of her surroundings and sensitive to other chaos signatures. The seraph led her on, accelerating away, stopping, waiting, and then hurrying away again. The pattern repeated deep into Cathedral’s interior.
The core shone brightly ahead of Quennin, her throne and six archangels now halfway to it. The Disciple seraph led them on, and she followed at her own pace, knowing it was a trap and ready to face whatever awaited her when it was sprung.
Quennin registered an incoming hypercast message emanating from a Disciple structure near the core, though she doubted that it was the message’s origin. Common sense would have the signal relayed to hide its origin.
“Looks like someone wants to talk to me.” She slowed, approaching an open area nestled between the spire wall and two patchwork geodesic lattices.
