by M. R. Forbes
None of them did.
Abbey hopped down, continuing forward and then up a ladder to the next deck. She paused for a moment, considering the layout she had seen. She was on a Republic transport, typically used to ferry soldiers from orbiting ships to the ground for surface leave. It had clearly been modified, but she was sure the cockpit hadn’t been moved.
She scaled the ladder one more deck, reaching another short corridor that ended in an unprotected door. She reached out with the Gift, grabbing it and ripping it from its moorings, pulling it away and dropping it to the side. The pilot reacted by trying to stand. He wasn’t an Executioner. He looked human. Nephilim? She was on him before he could finish getting to his feet, grabbing him and slamming his head against the side of the space, knocking him cold.
“Nerd, I’m in control,” she said. “Come and get me.”
“Roger, Queenie,” Erlan replied.
She swung into the pilot’s seat, settling in and grabbing the controls. Then she cut the throttle, bringing the transport to a dead stop.
She stared out into the black, watching as the Covenant grew from nothing, closing on the ship. The large landing bay expanded ahead of her like a giant mouth, continuing forward until the transport was swallowed within.
Other than the bullshit with the Shard, that had gone better than she had hoped.
16
Abbey made her way back down to the transport’s hold, stepping over the dead slavers and coming to a stop in front of one of the cells.
“Malina,” the dwarf said as soon as she came into view.
“You keep calling me that,” Abbey replied. “Why?”
“Aren’t you Malina, the Devil of Mercy? I’ve been praying for you to rescue me, and here you are, sent from Abaddon to save the weak.”
Devil of Mercy? Abbey almost laughed at the reversal of terminology. Was it intentional?
“I’m not Malina,” Abbey said. “And I didn’t come from Abaddon unless Abaddon means the universe about ten thousand light years that way.” She pointed off in a random direction.
“Abaddon isn’t part of this universe,” he said. “It is beyond our reach during life, unless a devil comes to take us. None who attempt to deliver themselves to Abaddon will find the gate open to them.”
Because then the miserable slaves would be killing themselves a lot more often.
“Of course,” Abbey said. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t come from there, and I might be a devil, but I’m not the kind you’re thinking of. Step back from the bars. All of you.”
They did as she said without hesitation. She reached out with the Gift, taking hold of the bars, bending them easily away and allowing them to escape.
“Go down that corridor to the ladder. Take the ladder down one deck. There’s a hatch at the bottom. Go out of the hatch and into the landing bay. One of mine will meet you there.”
The dwarf moved to the open space and paused, putting his arms out to keep the others from leaving.
“Wait. If you aren’t Malina, what are your intentions? You boarded this ship. You killed the slavers. Do you intend to sell us for profit?”
“No. I boarded this ship because I needed a ship. I didn’t know any of you were here. I have no interest in selling any of you. In fact, I came to the Extant to set you free.”
A murmur rose up through the ranks of slaves at the statement. She could sense their fear and trepidation. She didn’t blame them for it.
“Please. Head down the ladder and off the ship.” She looked at the dwarf, meeting his eyes. “Please?”
The dwarf smiled when she asked. He lowered his hands and moved aside. Individuals began to shuffle out of the cell. They looked at her with deference as they passed, bowing their heads before rushing away. A few paused to kick their dead captors or spit on them before continuing out of sight.
Abbey walked through the hold, opening the rest of the cells and repeating the exodus. She didn’t count the slaves, but there had to be close to three hundred. They were all human, or at least human enough that she couldn’t tell the difference. Most were of similar stature to her, but there was an entire group of the smaller ones as well, suggesting the dwarfism wasn’t simply an aberration.
“You don’t need to stay,” Abbey said, noticing the dwarf had remained with her while she let the others go.
“My name is Helk,” the dwarf said.
“Helk. You can call me Queenie.”
“That’s an interesting name. I imagine it has an interesting origin.”
“It does.”
“You said you came because you needed a ship. But, where did you come from? If you didn’t have a ship how did you reach the Carrion? And if you don’t have a ship, how are we departing into a landing bay?”
Abbey smiled. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“Someone has to look after these individuals. Most are too damaged to care for themselves.”
“Damaged how? From what?”
His face turned grim. “Now I know you aren’t from around here. I’m sure we’ll have time to discuss the plight of the Unders, Queenie. Do you intend to set us free?”
“Not all of you. I can’t. My home is in danger, threatened by an individual named Thraven.”
“The Prophet Selvig Thraven?” Helk said.
“Yes.”
“So it’s happening? The Great Return?”
“Not if I can do something about it.”
“You want to stop it?”
He sounded surprised. She didn’t like that.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“If the nobles go back to help their brethren, if they go home, they won’t take us with them. Not all of us. They can’t. We’ll be free.”
“I don’t think you understand,” Abbey said. “Thraven is attacking my part of the universe. He’s got an entire galaxy under siege. Millions of individuals are going to die.”
Helk surprised her again. He shrugged. “Millions of us have died already. Better you than us.”
“That’s what you think? As long as you aren’t the one dying, then it doesn’t matter?”
“You don’t know what it’s like to be an Under. Don’t judge what you don’t know.” He paused, looking away at one of the now empty cells. Then he looked back at her. “Besides, you can’t defeat him. The other Prophets tried. Three of them allied against him. They were all beaten and forced to surrender.”
“Why? What makes him so strong? It can’t be the Gift. There have to be other Prophets with it.”
“Most of the ruling class has the Gift. Some are more proficient with it than others. None are as skilled as Thraven. None can stand against him. None will stand against him. I’m sorry, Queenie, the Unders won’t help you, either. Even if you free them. Not against him.”
She didn’t accept that. She couldn’t accept that. The Shard from the alternate universe had told her to recover the Covenant. The Light had told her to recover the Covenant. Charmeine had given her what she needed to retrieve it. For what? She knew the One’s promise was at the very least ineffectual, but there had to be something she could do.
“You weren’t born to be slaves,” Abbey said. “You were meant to be free. The One who made you made me, too. He made all of us. The Nephilim betrayed him.”
“You mean he betrayed the Nephilim,” Helk said. “I’ve read the History of the Covenant.”
“No. You’ve read what they want you to read. Lucifer betrayed the Shard. He murdered him and fled here. He stole your ancestors from my part of the galaxy and brought you to be slaves. And to be food.”
Helk’s face flushed suddenly, his anger obvious. “You know about that?” he hissed.
“Is it supposed to be a secret?” she replied.
“Most of the other Unders don’t believe the stories. When their children vanish, they think they’re being sold or traded, or brought to work in the factories, or sent to fight in the wars. Some are, but not all. I know. I served in the home of the Prop
het Cassandra. I’ve seen it myself.”
There were tears running down his face.
“You served a Prophet?” Abbey asked.
“I was an accountant. Numbers and math. Trained from birth to keep the books for the Prophet’s holdings. I lived on her estate for the first sixty years of my life.”
“How did you wind up here?”
“Competition for favor is extreme among the Unders, Queenie. We don’t have much, and all that we’re given comes from our masters. A younger rival altered the records and framed me for embezzlement. Even though they found no proof that I had taken anything, the Prophet sold me to these slavers. She wasn’t willing to risk my dishonesty. If she were a less kind master, she would have had me killed. I’m fortunate in that regard.”
“So am I, it seems. You know a lot about the Nephilim and the Prophets.”
Helk stared at her, shaking his head. “I know what you’re thinking, Queenie. It doesn’t matter who you are, or the Gift you have. It doesn’t matter if your intentions are good. If you’re looking for help against Thraven, if you’re looking for help to fight your war, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
“Bullshit,” Abbey said.
She refused to believe it. She refused to accept it. She had left Hayley behind to find the Covenant. She had left the Republic behind to come here.
She didn’t care what anyone said. She was going to bring an army back with her, or she was going to die trying.
“What does dung have to do with it?” Helk said.
“It’s an expression,” Abbey said. “It means I don’t believe you. You may have been living with a Prophet, and maybe her slaves are satisfied to fight for scraps, but I know there are twelve of those assholes. Take out Thraven and his three subordinates, and that still leaves seven more whose Unders as you call yourself may be a lot more willing to fight for their freedom.”
“It’s the same everywhere, Queenie,” he insisted.
“Again, bullshit,” she replied. “Follow me.”
She led him from the transport, out to the Covenant’s landing bay. She heard him gasp behind her at the sight of the massive space.
“This isn’t Gehenna,” he said. “It can’t be.”
“Gehenna?”
“The Devil’s starship. Are you sure you aren’t Malina?”
“No, I’m not Malina. I don’t know what this ship is in your legends, but the truth is that it was brought to this universe by a Shard of the One, who came to create all of us.”
“Why would he seek to make us? Why would anyone create anything to live in the misery the Unders know?”
“My point, exactly,” Abbey said. “He didn’t.”
The other slaves were waiting further away, slumped together, their heads down. They looked frightened, and Abbey understood why. Pik had met them on their way out. It wasn’t the smartest decision on their part.
“Cherub, Uriel, I need you in the landing bay immediately,” Abbey said.
“Aye, Queenie,” Jequn replied.
“Okay, you’re dismissed.”
“Dismissed?” Pik replied. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. But the slavers were Executioners. They look kind of like you.”
“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry, Queenie. Keeper sent me to meet them.”
Abbey raised her eyebrow. Had Keeper known about the slavers? Was this some bullshit passive aggressive maneuver because of the Asura? She hoped not, for its sake.
“It’s not your fault. Tell Keeper to help you prepare beds and meals for them.”
“Aye, Queenie.”
“Meals?” Helk said. “Beds?”
“I told you I came to set you free.”
“No, you came to get us killed fighting in your war.”
She turned to face him. “I won’t lie to you. Yes, some of you will die. And no, I don’t want to waste the space I have on this ship on individuals who aren’t willing to do their part. But it isn’t up to you to decide for them. Choose for yourself, and I’ll do what I can to accommodate you.”
“What about the Unders who are left behind? The ones you won’t, don’t, or can’t take?”
“I don’t know yet. Am I supposed to be your savior? One war at a time.”
“You were going to show me something?”
Abbey brought him over to the gathered slaves. They looked up when she approached, half of the faces brightening as she neared, the other half lowering further. Some were hopeful she wasn’t going to hurt them. Others were so hurt they believed it was the only possible outcome.
“My name is Abigail Cage, Blood of the Light, Chosen of the Shard, Demon Queen of the Rejects. You can call me Queenie.”
The slaves stared at her without responding. A few of them picked their heads up slightly.
“You’re on board my ship, the Covenant. I came from beyond the Extant seeking recruits. The Prophet, Gloritant Selvig Thraven, is attacking my galaxy. Our resources are stretched thin, our situation growing more desperate by the day. I’m looking for individuals who are done with being the dirt under the nobles’ feet. I’m looking for individuals who want to fight, and who want to be free. Are you one of those individuals?” She looked at one of the slaves, who was holding her head high. She turned away at the suggestion. “Are you?” Abbey asked, pointing at another, who also diverted their gaze.
“I told you, Queenie,” Helk said. “They don’t want to fight.”
“It’s better to live as a slave than die free?” she said.
“They’ve never known anything else. None of us have. You offer freedom, but it’s only a word without meaning. Without weight or strength or emotion.”
Abbey looked at him, and then back at the slaves. She clenched her teeth. How was she going to do this?
Jequn and Uriel entered the landing bay, joining her in front of the others.
“This is Jequn and Uriel. They’ll show you to your temporary quarters, and see to it that you’re given food, water, and new clothing. I understand if you don’t know what to make of any of this. I’ll speak to you again about my needs and yours, and see what we can do to take care of you.”
She glanced at her Rejects, who nodded to her. Then she turned to Helk.
“You, come with me.”
“Am I a free Lalian?” Helk asked.
She assumed Lalian was his race. She nodded. “Yes.”
“If I refuse to come with you?”
“You can join the others if you’d like.”
“What if I’d like to go back onto the Carrion?”
“The Carrion is mine now. You don’t have my permission.”
“What if I’d like to explore this ship on my own?”
“I recommend against it. There are dangers on board the Covenant, some of which even I haven’t tripped over yet.”
“But I can?”
“If you want.”
She knew Helk was testing her. To what end? She wasn’t sure. She stood and waited while he glanced around the landing bay as if he were trying to find something else to threaten to do.
“Fine. I’ll come with you,” he said at last.
“Thank you,” she replied. “This way.”
17
“Helk, this is Imp, Joker, Void, Pudding, Gant, and Keeper,” Abbey said, introducing the Lalian to the Rejects she had assembled in one of the rooms near the bridge.
She wanted him to see the variety of life forms that served with her, to show him that it wasn’t only her and those who looked like her that were threatened by Thraven and the Nephilim. She needed to find a way to win the former slave over if she was going to have a chance of winning any others to her cause.
She shouldn’t have come here. That was the thought that kept repeating as she led Helk through the corridors of the Covenant. She had made a mistake and wasted valuable time. But how could they defeat Thraven with what they had? He had half of the Republic Armed Services under his control and an even greater number of Outworld assets. He had four of the
naniate-powered warships remaining, and they had only the Brimstone. They needed reinforcements from somewhere, and there wasn’t anywhere else.
“Interesting names,” Helk replied, holding up his hand in greeting. He pointed to Trinity. “What race are you? That looks like a Skellin exoskeleton.”
“I’m a human,” Trinity replied. “From the Outworlds beyond the Republic. I was badly injured during a battle, and my brain was transplanted to this armor. The Blood of the Shard keeps me alive.”
“Blood of the Shard?” Helk said. “Is that like Lucifer’s Gift?”
“It’s the origin of Lucifer’s Gift,” Abbey said. “He murdered the Shard, spilled and stole his blood, and changed it into a weapon.”
“The History says the Gift changed the Father,” Helk said. “It mentions a shrine where the Prophets worship Him. I’ve heard He is there, suspended in time for all of eternity.”
“What?” Bastion said. “Did you just say Lucifer is alive?”
“The History claims he is.”
Bastion looked over at Abbey, who shrugged. “So what? I don’t think he’ll agree to help us. Thraven said he lost his mind.”
“Still, kind of crazy to think Satan is alive.”
“Agreed,” Joker said. “I, for one, don’t want to go anywhere near him.”
“Helk, I was hoping you would be willing to tell us what you know about the Nephilim Apostants. Anything that might help us begin recruiting soldiers to our cause.”
“I already told you that you’re wasting your time,” Helk replied.
“Indulge me,” Abbey said. “I did save you from slavery.”
“Did you? I’m not convinced the days ahead will be better than the days behind.”
“Tell me about them, then. Tell me about the life of an Under.”
“Under?” Joker said.
“The word for slaves,” Helk replied. “There are different castes within Nephilim society. The Prophets, of course, are at the top, followed by the Apostants, who are their ruling class.”
