Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One
Page 59
Galactic Standard Date: 152,323.06 AE
Zulu Sector: Command Carrier ‘Light Emerging’
Colonel Raphael Israfa
Raphael
Raphael's golden feathers rustled as he scrutinized the intelligence report just in from one of the three battle cruisers under his command. His lips moved as he read, a trick he'd learned to force himself to hear what he was reading as his ear often picked up the absurdity of something which his eyes would miss, as though he were listening to himself gossip about the latest newscast.
“How recent are these sightings, Ensign Zzz'ler’?” Raphael asked.
“The oldest is two days old." The ensign's voice translator helped her vocalize those portions of the Angelic language which were beyond her species physical capability to articulate.
"And you're certain every one of these ships was a non-military trading vessel?" Raphael asked.
"They even checked the cargo, Sir," Zzz'ler said. "Major Hck'lr made them open up the boxes and rifled through a few of the hidden compartments they thought we didn't know about. The goods were all Sata'anic in origin, but civilian."
That, in and of itself, was not unusual. Ever since the advent of free trade agreements, most goods were manufactured in the Sata'an Empire.
"Any weapons?"
"No, Sir," Zzz'ler said. "Lots of glowsticks, sleeping bags, and cots."
"The kind of goods which could be used to set up a large Sata'anic base," Raphael scrolled through the lists marked 'camping gear.'
"They were all boxed and priced for commercial sale," Zzz'ler said. "Major Hck'lr felt he had no choice but to let them go."
Raphael grunted and nodded, though he wasn't happy about his agreement. Zulu Sector was neutral territory, belonging to neither empire and largely unexplored. Either superpower's ships were free to travel the area at will.
"Why so many?" Raphael asked. "There's a lot of real estate between the outer edge of the Sata'an Empire and Zulu Sector. Unless we've caught every single ship they've smuggled into here, they must be building one Hades of a base."
He glanced up at Ensign Zzz'ler. “Sss’kkk skr,rr igginn’zzi,” Raphael said in Mantoid, a simple “thank you, dismissed."
Zzz'ler gave him a crisp salute and exited the room.
He scrolled through the smart pad, pinching the bridge of his nose as he read through report after report that didn't make any sense. Holy grail … holy grail … what in Hades was the holy grail? Too many of the ships were short-haul vessels, meant to be operated from a larger base of operations. There were no homeworlds out here to smuggle to!
He flipped through more reports, noting on an electronic tracking system each sighting and how long it had taken the ship to move from point to point, searching for places ships had lingered or dropped off the map. Pattern. He was searching for a pattern.
'Shay'tan's found the godsdamned Holy Grail…' Mikhail had radioed. Whatever Shay'tan was hiding out here must be huge.
He glanced up at the pictures of his son and sighed. Jophiel had included a picture of herself holding their baby. She was out of uniform, her long golden hair tumbling over her clothing to accentuate the rise of her breasts instead of her habitual bun. It looked as though she looked out of the picture straight at him, a small, wistful smile playing upon those luscious pink lips he still dreamed of kissing. It was very … personal.
Unfortunately, since that day, she hadn't called. All messages were now relayed via official military channels. He rubbed the tight spot in his chest where it still ached every time he thought about her … and the son he'd yet to meet. Mikhail had been right.
“Mikhail … where are you?”
He looked over at the wall full of pictures from his Academy days, the ache of losing his best friend joining the pain of losing the woman he loved. In every picture Raphael wore a huge grin while Mikhail stood stiffly at his side. Raphael had made it his personal mission to get his too-serious friend to crack a smile, but the best he could usually accomplish was to pry a smirk out of his reticent friend before Mikhail would school his expression back into the unreadable one that seven years under the Cherubim had instilled.
One picture, however, was from the day they'd beaten the socks off of a rival team in the iron man 3-day competition. Arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders in an easy camaraderie, Raphael wore a goofy expression while the too-serious Mikhail beamed a smile that would have lit up six solar systems. Raphael looked inebriated, but he still displayed that photo. It was the only time anyone had ever captured his best friend smile.
The sooner he could figure out what in Hades was going on out here and find his friend, the sooner he could go meet his son. Maybe then, Jophiel would speak to him …
Chapter 55