by M. R. Forbes
“It used to belong to a drug cartel. It’s a terraformed planet. I assume that’s all the intel we’ve got?”
“Pretty much. We’re going in with the Brimstone, a handful of Devil starfighters, and a shuttle that can carry a small team to the ground. We know Thraven’s got prisoners there, and we intend to free them and drop them a bunch of weapons to join the fight while the starfighters hit the active warships with heavy ordnance that will hopefully be enough to disable them. It’ll go a lot more smoothly with your forces backing them up.”
“I imagine. That isn’t much of an assault.”
“You were going to leave it that way two hours ago.”
“It would be much more of an assault with an Evolent on their side.”
“Please don’t call me that,” Abbey said. “Gift or not, I’ll never be one of them.”
“My apologies, Abigail. I was wrong about Kell.”
“Apology accepted. It’s all behind us, and we need to keep moving forward. We aren’t going to have much data before we reach Kell. I’m counting on your experience to assess the situation and adjust your individuals appropriately. That’s what you’re known for, after all.”
Sylvan nodded. “It is, and I will.”
“Good. For now, you have two extra bodies to help you cut that estimate down. What can Bastion and I do?”
32
The Fire exited FTL along with six other ships, each of them a Nephilim warship upgraded with the recently recovered technologies of the Covenant, the plans, and designs given by the Father in his Promise of the Great Return.
The disterium spread around them like a fog, the density much less than with a normal starship, the efficiency nearly doubled by their Gift-enhanced reactors.
“The Bain System, Gloritant,” Honorant Piselle announced.
Gloritant Thraven looked out into the nothingness. Of course, Kett hadn’t provided direct access to whichever planet he was hiding on. They would have to locate it in the system, a process that could take them weeks.
He didn’t have the patience to wait for weeks.
“I want them found, Honorant,” he said. “Immediately.”
“Yes, Your Eminence,” Piselle replied. “How?”
“Check your scanners,” he said. “If arriving ships don’t have exact coordinates, there has to be a satellite or active sentry nearby.”
“Gloritant, we’ve detected a sniffer satellite,” Agitant Malt said.
“Where?”
It appeared on the projection at the front of the bridge, highlighted in red. Thraven’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it, and he raised both of his hands, feeling the Gift pour out of them. A moment later, a piece of the satellite sparked and went dark. He lowered his hands, reaching back and steadying himself. Projecting the Gift in such a way used a lot of energy, but he couldn’t risk having Kett knowing he was close.
He only hoped that Cage would be with him.
He considered the possibility. Evolent Ruche had intentionally given Captain Mann the coordinates so that he would pass them to her, and he had no doubt she would use the information to try to warn the General. But what choice would she make? She couldn’t be in the Bain System and preparing to attack Kell at the same time. True, she could split her forces, but what kind of force would that be? The Brimstone and a dozen soldiers against his entire compound? No. That wasn’t going to work out well for her. He had seen to that.
And if by some miracle it did? Ruche and Elivee had succeeded in their mission to finish removing the independents on the Council. Ruche had even managed to frame Olus for the entire thing. It was brilliant, simply brilliant. He had seen potential in the Evolent from the day he had dragged him from Hell, but it had been far surpassed.
He rarely second-guessed himself, but he wondered if he should have put Ruche in Trin’s place beforehand. Would he have succeeded where Trinity failed? It didn’t matter. He had everything positioned perfectly. Even better? He was certain neither General Kett or Abigail Cage had any idea how futile their efforts were.
“Send a ship out to retrieve the satellite,” Thraven said. “We’ll trace the transmission log to see where it was sending its data.”
“As you command, Gloritant,” Piselle said, activating her communicator and relaying the orders.
Thraven lingered on the bridge long enough to watch the retrieval shuttle move away from the Fire toward the satellite. Then he left the area, trailed by his Immolent as he made his way to his quarters.
“Gloritant Thraven,” Airi said, catching up to him in the hallway, approaching from in front of him. She saluted him stiffly as she came to a stop. “I’ve completed the task, Your Eminence,” she said.
“Already?” Thraven said, slightly impressed.
It had taken Noviant Soto hours to complete the most simple test, and only hours more to move up nearly five ranks. She wasn’t on par with what Cage had done naturally, not yet, but he was growing more confident with each passing hour that she could get there. He would never have believed it when he had brought her off Anvil.
“Yes, Gloritant,” Airi replied.
“Come with me.”
“Yes, Gloritant.”
Thraven reached his suite with Airi following dutifully behind. He entered, and then turned and beckoned the Immolent to wait outside.
“Why are you standing there, Noviant?” he asked. “I told you to come with me.”
Airi had frozen outside of his door.
“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want to have sex with you?” Thraven asked, angry. He reached out with the Gift, grabbing her and pulling her into the room. “I have a new lesson for you.”
She submitted to him, lowering her head. “I’m sorry, Gloritant. I’m-”
“I don’t care,” Thraven replied. “Whatever happened to you before happened when you were nothing but another Lesser who believed they were more than the resource they are. That is a thing that no longer exists. The sooner you understand that the more powerful you will become. Follow.”
He led her to the bedroom. The bed had been removed, replaced with the Font. She had been here once already to drink from it, but his Immolent had been with him then. They were alone now.
“Am I permitted to drink again?” Airi asked.
“No,” Thraven replied. “All I want you to do is stand there. Remain silent, or you fail the lesson.”
She nodded, staying in place while he began to undress.
He stripped off the uniform jacket, the pants, the shirt, the tightly bound cloth beneath it all. He faced her while he did, watching her expression. He could see she was uncomfortable. Afraid. He didn’t care about that, either. Her fear would hold her back if she let it. His job was to set her free.
He finished stripping. It was only then that Airi’s expression began to calm.
“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Thraven said, looking down at himself.
It had been thousands of years since he had been castrated, and he had stopped caring about it long ago. He turned around, showing her his back. He heard her gasp at the shape of it. At the sight of the scars.
“I know pain, Noviant,” he said. “Better than most. I know mistreatment. I know fear. These things were once part of me. I was born a Lesser, you see. Like you. I was captured during a battle and made the slave of an Egyptian noble. He took my manhood after his wife used it for her pleasure. He whipped me nearly every night only because he enjoyed it.”
Thraven felt his pulse thumping as he spoke the words. He had accepted the pain, but he had never completely lost it. Thousands of years and he could remember it as though it were fresh.
“I’m sorry,” Airi said.
“Don’t be sorry for me,” Thraven snapped, spinning around. “For what? That was thousands of years ago. That was a different existence. I was brought to the Extant. I was saved from my life of servitude and given a chance to earn a life of glory, just like I have done for you. I would never have been anything if I had let
the hurt destroy me. Instead, I am a Gloritant of the Nephilim, at the forefront of the Great Return. I am Blessed by the Father, called to be His Servant and to lead His Children to glory.”
He paused, taking a step toward her. She didn’t flinch.
“What do you want to be, Noviant Soto? I have many Evolents. They fall over themselves to please me because of the power that I hold. It is power that any of them can hold if they are strong enough. If they want it enough. But there is no margin for fear. There is no margin for doubt. You must decide who you are, and what you want. To be another of the flock, or to be at the front of it? Let go of your past. Let go of who you were.”
He turned and walked away from her, stepping into the Font until the Blood was up to his waist. He turned his head back then.
“That is your lesson. Go and practice your Gift.”
“Thank you, Gloritant,” she said.
He dipped his head into the pool, drawing in the Blood, his energy beginning to return immediately. When he raised his head again, she was gone.
33
“Did I thank you for volunteering us yet?” Bastion asked, lifting another crate and carrying it over to the smaller transport.
“About a thousand times already,” Abbey replied. She lifted her own crate, placing it onto the flatbed behind them.
They had four hours remaining to finish packing. Nearly two days had passed, two days that had seen Abbey work harder than she ever had in her life, assisting General Kett and his soldiers in tearing down a camp that had been in place for hundreds of years. Abbey had been surprised to learn Azure had served as an Ophanim refuge long before Kett had arrived with his armies. Once upon a time, a Seedship had sat in the center of the crater, hidden by the storms, providing food and shelter to the Seraphim and the families who lived here. It was a base of operations from which they carried out a number of smaller incursions against the Nephilim, trying to root out the Children of the Covenant, disrupt their financial interests, and otherwise continue the secret war in a guerilla fashion.
She hadn’t slept at all in those two days. At the same time, she wasn’t tired. The Gift was fueling her, keeping her going. As long as she ate, she was strong, and even though she wasn’t actively calling on its power to help her help the group, she could feel how it was working for her, and at the same time continuing to alter her. Her base strength was increasing. Her stamina was increasing. And Bastion was certain she had grown at least two or three centimeters.
Her hair was growing, too. It had filled in, returning with a vengeance, beginning to pour down the side of her head in smooth, silvery locks. Bastion told her it looked good, but it only served to remind her of what the Gift was doing to her body. She shaved it off during one of her breaks, and could already feel it returning again. Her thoughts turned to the Serum more and more often. She needed to get her hands on it, one way or another. She had to stop herself from changing and from losing her mind.
She had said as much to Charmeine. She had asked her for her advice. She liked the Seraph a lot. She was strong but kind, a good listener. She reminded Abbey of her mother, who had passed away while she was away in HSOC training, out of communication with the rest of the universe. Charmeine had promised to speak to Kett about the situation. After all, it wouldn’t do the cause any good to have a Nephilim monster instead of a Gifted warrior. But getting to the Serum meant getting to Thraven, and Abbey wasn’t strong enough to do it.
She paused for a short break, looking out over the camp. So much of it was empty now. The barracks were gone, most of the starfighters were gone, half of the soldiers were gone. The ships around the Faust were gone as well, making runs back and forth to the larger battlecruisers waiting above, along with two of the Ophanim’s four Seedships. Abbey was eager to get a look at them and to see what the Seraphim had used to impregnate the Earth with life. The ships were millions of years old and still functional, their power supplies seemingly endless. What kind of lasers could they power with that kind of tech? Damn it, why weren’t the Seraphim better at making weapons?
“Queenie,” Jequn said, coming up to them from behind.
Abbey turned around. The Ophanim looked tired, her face pale. She had been tasked with donating her blood, and with it her Gift, so that they could charge a number of the teleportation devices to be distributed among the units. She was one of only three Gifted on Azure. The rest remained either on the Seedships where they could control the Focus, or in hiding among the other settled planets in the galaxy, held in reserve to continue the fight for as long as they could.
“Hey, J,” Bastion said. “You look like shit.”
“I’ll recover,” she said. “Queenie, Mother asked me to find you. She has something for you.”
“Now?” Abbey said.
“You’ve been at this for hours,” Bastion said. “I didn’t see you take a single break, not even to piss or sleep. I’ve got these last few.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yeah. But thanks for caring now that I’m ready to drop dead.”
“Who says I care? I’ll be right back.”
She left Bastion to finish loading the supplies, heading across to the bunker with Jequn.
They went inside. She led Abbey deep into the tunnels, to where Kett and his wife had made their home. It was a small, unimpressive space. Sparse and functional. Charmeine was waiting there, and she smiled and embraced Abbey when she saw her.
“Thank you for working so hard,” she said.
Abbey returned the embrace. “I would never ask anyone to do more than I’m willing to do myself.”
“That’s why your team respects you. Wait here.”
She vanished into a secondary room. Abbey glanced over at Jequn. “Do you know what this is?”
Jequn smiled. “Yes. I helped her prepare it.”
The Seraph returned a moment later, carrying a softsuit. No, it wasn’t a softsuit. It was shimmering and red, similar to the suit Jequn wore. A seraphsuit.
“That one doesn’t fit you all that well,” Charmeine said. “And this one will increase your speed and agility while offering you greater protection from puncturing, thanks to the weave of the material. Jequn told me I should dye it red for the Demon Queen. Sylvan had one of his techs integrate a SoC, TCU, and keypad.” She held up the arm of the suit, showing her how it ended in an open-fingered glove. “This is a little different than what you’re used to. When you move your fingers, it will select letters and numbers based on the movement. It may take you a few weeks to get used to it, but once you do it will be faster than typing on your hip.”
She held up a cowl attached to the back. “This isn’t going to stop a hit like an armored helmet, but it does provide HUD and TCU access. It’s my own design. It will probably feel a little funny on your head, but it beats having to carry a second piece of gear around.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Abbey said.
Gant had given her a softsuit, too. It had taken her about thirty seconds to destroy it. She missed him as she looked at it. They would be starting their assault soon. She hoped he would be okay. She hoped all of them would be okay.
“Thank you will suffice,” Charmeine said.
“Thank you,” Abbey replied.
“You’re welcome.”
Abbey stripped out of her softsuit in front of them. “Tell me if you see anything weird going on with my body,” she said. “I can feel it changing.”
“I don’t see anything, other than your hair,” Jequn said.
“Turn around,” Charmeine said.
Abbey did.
The Seraph stepped up to her, putting a hand on the small of her back, right above her rear. “Do you feel this?” she asked.
Abbey closed her eyes, remembering Phlenel’s depiction of her monster form. “I’m growing a tail. Frag.”
“It’s small right now. Barely noticeable.”
“You noticed it.”
“I’m literally older than dirt, and I helpe
d the Shard create humankind.”
“Do you know how long I have?”
“If you don’t use the Gift? Years. If you do? Months.”
“Not using it isn’t an option.”
“I know.”
Abbey took the suit from Charmeine. “Maybe you should put a hole in the back, for my tail.”
Charmeine laughed. “Try not to think about that right now. It will stretch some to accommodate growth.”
“That makes me feel better.” Abbey sighed. What was complaining going to do about it? “I’m going to call it a hellsuit, to differentiate it. Even if it was given to me by an angel.”
She slipped it on, pulling it tight across her body. It felt lighter but also warmer. She slid the ends over her fingers.
“We’ll need to transfer the data from your current SoC over to this one,” Jequn said. “Oh, and you have four teleporters in the packs here.” She put her hand on Abbey’s hip. “Just in case.”
“Thank you,” Abbey said.
She found the transfer cable on both suits and attached them. She pulled the cowl up and over her head. Charmeine was right, it did feel odd, like a second skin over her face, but it was also somehow transparent to her eyes. The HUD came up in front of her, only slightly distorting the view beyond the cowl.
“Visibility is a lot better than a helmet,” she said, moving her fingers.
She watched the letters move on the screen, and it took her a minute to get the motions right to start selecting menus and get to the transfer view. It was fairly intuitive, and she had it mostly down by the time she had entered the credentials for her old suit, set them for this new one, and started the data transfer.
“Charmeine, I had something I wanted to ask you,” she said. “You may not know the answer, but you’re the best resource I have.”
“Of course,” the Seraph replied.
“I used the Gift to move some junk, searching for data left over from the station on Feru. Afterward, the Gift, I don’t know, attacked me? It tried to challenge me for control, as though it wanted to take my body. When Thraven confronted me, he said I had asserted myself, and I’ve had more control over the Gift since, even when I’m not totally pissed off.”
