The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

  Many of them were larger men. Not overweight, but tall and broad, accustomed to using size to their advantage. Size got their feet in the door, but according to the files they weren’t good at much else.

  “I’ll skip the formalities, since you already know who I am,” I said. “But what you weren’t told is that I am your last chance. Ground General Trede has released you into my ranks as a last resort. Welcome to Hell, ladies. The real Hell.”

  No one said a thing. All they did was glare, as if in competition to see who could stare me down the hardest. I wasn’t some higher ranking angel official. I was Qaira Eltruan, and Vel’Haru. There was confusion behind their glares—even hatred in some—and that was warranted. A thousand years ago I was their archenemy. A few of them were probably children at the time, but even they would remember.

  “Your Commander wants a special team made to protect the ship. An elite force able to make up in strength what it lacks in number. The two dozen of you here will be expected to cut down any enemy soldiers that breach the ship in upcoming battles, no matter how many.”

  “Even the Primers?” demanded a soldier on the far right. I matched his face to his file. Michael Kiran.

  “Especially the Primers, private. If you speak again without raising your hand, I’ll knock out all your teeth.” I looked over the others. “You will address me as Sir. Forget what you’ve heard about me; I am now the only thing that stands between you and Death. You might think discharge is a good way to shake the hassle, but I’ll let you in on something: we pose a fifty percent chance of losing this war—maybe more, actually. What we’ve encountered so far is nothing compared to what’s to come, and if the demons win and they invade Heaven, they’ll kill you, rape your mothers and sisters, and then enslave them. Just as you did to them four hundred years ago.”

  I actually had no idea whether that would happen, but what I said had worked. The defiance on their faces waned. A few of them shared knowing looks. “You’re about to ascend from misfits to warriors unmatched. Whoever isn’t interested in protecting Heaven, step out of line. I’ll have a guard escort you back to the brig and you’ll be back on Crylle soil by morning.”

  I waited, silent, arms crossed.

  No one stepped out of line.

  *

  Ezekiel started to move at midnight.

  Yahweh kept to his plan of traveling by night, though how effective it would prove to be this time was anyone’s guess. The day and a half delay could have lowered the enemy’s guard, which meant safe travel through Lochai and into Lohr, or we’d given them plenty of time to regroup and anticipate our approach. Leid’s decision of more defense was, in my opinion, optimal.

  We barely felt the engine’s rumble from five levels below the deck. At this hour the training arena was barren, serving as a perfect opportunity to show the recruits a few basic maneuvers. As expected of a high-technological society, their experience in hand-to-hand combat was limited, so I started there. In an hour and a half they had learned how to disarm soldiers, break bones—specifically those of the wrists, ankles, kneecaps—along with tackling procedures to keep their enemies down. Some were immediate experts, others needed more work.

  I didn’t know how much time we had until Ezekiel flew into another battle—it could be hours or days. The flight across Lochai would take all morning, and to my understanding we were making a stop at Lohr to scoop up Naberius’ awaiting army. I had a sneaking suspicion that that wasn’t the only thing waiting for us there and so I expedited training, glossing over many points in order to give the recruits a chance for survival. A chance to live for more training.

  Many of the items I needed weren’t available right now. Enforcers used different weapons than the angels. We hadn’t had high-tech rifles or ion shield armor. Back then, neither had the angels. Times were different, and I’d have to adjust accordingly.

  It was early, early morning before we wrapped it up. I needed sleep and so did they if they were expected to defend anything. The night crew had trickled into the training arena to practice firearms and kill some time. If Ezekiel was still in the air when we woke up, training would resume.

  The deck was active as ever as aviation mechanics primed jets and shipped them off to transporters flying high above Ezekiel. Seyestin was heading the flight team in front of the command ship. Despite thinking he was a snobbish prick, as Belial so eloquently put it, I had to commend him on his competency. I’d never seen a better pilot, and he was braver than a loaded Nehelian. His sister was briefing a group of officers near the port, but I didn’t stop to listen since I was too tired and ground army wasn’t in my scope anyway.

  “How’d it go?” called Adrial from the headquarters doorway. “Did you get to rearrange someone’s face?”

  “Nope.”

  “Ah, I bet you’re disappointed.”

  “What are you still doing up?”

  “I’m on night watch. Zhev turned in an hour ago.”

  “Leid in there?” I asked, nodding at the command station tower.

  Adrial hesitated, his expression darkening. “She’s not feeling well. I escorted her back to her room, as Yahweh ordered that she rest.”

  My lips curled into a scowl. “Why didn’t someone get me?”

  “She told us not to. Said you had more important matters to tend.”

  I shook my head and pushed by him, hurrying toward the residential sector.

  *

  Leid was lying on the washroom floor, covered in bloody puke.

  She hadn’t made it to the toilet, and instead her sick was sprayed across the bowl and tiles surrounding it. The state of the washroom made me freeze in terror. Leid stirred at my feet, shivering.

  I scooped her up and undressed her, drawing a bath. As she lay weakly in the warm water, I scrubbed blood from the floor, toilet and walls. Her eyes were closed and her lids fluttered, like she was in lucid dream. I was glad she wasn’t awake for this. It would have humiliated her.

  Soon the blood was rinsed from her body, soiling the water brown. I sat on the toilet beside her, kneading my aching head, trying to cope with the idea that Yahweh wouldn’t find a solution to her expiration in time. She was dying, and there was nothing I could do.

  I was also furious at Adrial for not staying with her. But her decline was killing him as well—it was written all over his face. Leid had probably shooed him away before she fell unconscious. She’d never wanted anyone’s pity.

  I dried her off and laid her in bed, arranging her tiny, frail body comfortably. It was hard to think how strong she’d once been as she lay so limply in my arms. I rummaged through her bag and found her cigarettes. I lit one and climbed into bed beside her, needing something to ease my stress.

  The smell roused Leid momentarily. She looked at me through half-mast lids, eyes sad and tired. Lifting a trembling hand, she cupped the side of my face, fingers tracing along the edge of my jaw. Her skin was ice cold.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Qaira,” she whispered. “None of this should have happened. I-I…should have killed you in Jerusalem.”

  Before I could respond she fell unconscious again.

  I exhaled smoke, staring numbly at the wall as my dying wife slept soundly against me. Nine hundred years ago we had lain just like this, dreaming of a new life together—;

  And that dream had turned into a nightmare, from which there was no escape.

  She was right. Killing me would have been easier for both of us.

  XXIV

  FIRE WITH FIRE

  Lucifer Raith—;

  AVARICE SAT ON THE ARMORY BENCH, boot propped on the rest, thumbing the tranquilizer I’d given her. She seldom smiled, and even now there was only a tiny crook at the corner of her mouth. I’d known her long enough to take that as a good sign. “How long?”

  “Approximately seven minutes after entry. You’ll have to time your shots well and at a far enough distance.”

  “How many?”

  I shook my head. “All of this is uncertai
n. So far we’ve only had a chance to test it on one of them.” Thanks to Caym and Samnaea’s endeavors on Atlas Arcantia. Despite the folly, General Soran had managed to at least bring some good out of all of this. Data. “One shot appears to weaken guardians. Two shots should put them out. I assume more will be needed for a noble.”

  “You want me to take out the Justice Commander?”

  “I don’t want you to kill her.”

  Ava tilted her head. “Why not?”

  A ‘lesser’ killing a Vel’Haru was an act that had never been committed, and I didn’t want to be the first. Calenus and Leid’s issues aside, the idea of The Atrium accruing the ability to subjugate and execute Vel’Haru wouldn’t sit well with the Court of Enigmus. They liked to believe they were invincible.

  The sedative in Ava’s hand was actually a modified version of the brain-apoptosis inhibitor that Yahweh had created during Sanctum’s reign. Junah WDR had been secretly working on it for years. None of us had known whether it would even work until Samnaea had supplied Caym and his soldiers with a few samples for their trip to Atlas Arcantia.

  Even the Primers couldn’t hold against the Jury; not without some heavy ammunition. This was never my first option, but our odds were wearing thin.

  “Too much red tape,” I said. “I don’t want to know the repercussions of killing Exo’daius’ Queen, exiled or not.”

  “Politics, politics,” sighed Ava, nodding nonetheless. “But do you think they’ll miss a guardian?”

  The look in her eyes made me hesitate. “Revenge never ends well for anyone. Take a lesson from the man you seek to kill.”

  Praetor Delvori said nothing, enclosing the capsule in her fist. After a moment, she whispered, “I’d say he turned out fine; living out the rest of his days at the cream of the crop.”

  “After spending eight hundred years in the Nexus.”

  “Doesn’t count. Difficult to credit a prison sentence if you can’t even remember it.”

  She knew little of it, though that was how things had to stay. Regrettably we’d worked too hard on her—Ava was more like her nemesis than she realized.

  She’d been a small child when Yema Theater had collapsed on spectators of the Angel-Nehelian Peace Ceremony, burying her older brother, mother and father in fire and rubble. She’d grown up an orphan, and was sentenced to slavery after her demon mutation. Ava had once told me it was hate that had kept her alive all those years, and I believed it.

  She had volunteered for the Primer research, back when Hell was still developing. After it was clear that the Pleuroferrosis clinical trials had given us more than physical mutations, we isolated and excised the genes that had graced Qaira with his unexplainable abilities. Several candidates (and dozens more over the years) were then placed into gene therapy, becoming stronger, faster, and more psionically-specialized than ever before. What had once been a failsafe form of protection for our kind had now turned into a weapon against Vel’Haru. And with Qaira here among us, the irony was even stronger.

  No matter how hard I’d try to persuade her otherwise, Ava would seek out Qaira on the battlefield, so I saved my breath. His presence had breathed new life into her; a chance for reprisal that either posed to revive the scarred soul she carried, or release it. I was not one to deny her evanescence. I owed her that much, at least.

  “Your primers will be supplied with two dozen tranqs. Make each of them count; that’s all we’ve got for now.”

  “Commander,” Ava said, bowing her head.

  She tended to her weapons and I left the armory, heading on deck. Civil war raged across Golheim, Lohr, and I needed an update.

  *

  “We’ve breached the outer-city perimeter,” announced Samnaea as I entered the command station. Mastema’s image was projected over our televised screen. She and Azazel had been sent to Lohr’s inland to disseminate Naberius’ defected army.

  As expected, Lohr had allied with Tehlor. Although not all parties had fallen in line with the angels, at least fifty percent had met our army with resistance. From the photographs taken by our satellite bots, only half of Lohr was left standing, buried in clouds of smoke and flames. Bodies lined the perimeter gate. The pictures left a lump in my throat.

  Anger and regret waged war inside of me. I was furious at Samnaea for her part in all of this, but she couldn’t take all the blame. I’d been blind to the amount of influence Archdemons Vakkar and Uhnem had carried in the Court.

  I’d been blind to a lot of things.

  “Ezekiel is on the move,” reported Caelis from the navigation panel. “Approximately four hours out from Lohr.”

  “That’s not enough time, sir,” Mastema said, having overheard Dr. Jonarr. “We don’t have enough soldiers to fight the resistance and the angel fleet.”

  “Lochai’s ambush parties have gathered in position,” said Samnaea. “That should slow them down.”

  “How many?” I asked.

  “Four teams of five hundred jets, sir.”

  I nodded. It wouldn’t stop them completely, but it would stall their route through Lochai. “How much more time do you and Archdemon Lier need to stabilize Golheim?”

  “I’m not sure, Commander,” said Mastema, grave. “Just when we think we’ve won, more groups attack. They aren’t just soldiers, either. Civilians are revolting as well. It’s a blood bath.”

  “Blast the entire city, then,” offered Ava, appearing in the doorway. “If all of Golheim has defected, it’s no longer of any use to us.”

  “Destroy the entire city?” Samnaea gaped. “Its population is three hundred thousand.”

  “Three hundred thousand rebels, from the looks of it,” argued Praetor Delvori, glancing at me. Despite the moral burden of her proposal, there was nothing in her eyes. Not an ounce of sympathy. Sometimes I envied people like her, who could do rotten, necessary things without a second thought—without those rotten things coming back to them every time they closed their eyes. “We need to place our resources into defending Hell against the angels. We can’t waste them on this.”

  “Lucifer,” said Samnaea, her tone pleading, “think about this. Laying waste to an entire city would vilify us even more.”

  “It would send a message to others who might think to rise against us,” said Ava. “A very loud message: we do not tolerate treachery. Let this be our blade to Naberius’ throat; his entire city demolished because of his defection. A fair punishment, I think.”

  Mastema said nothing, observing the discussion with a conflicted look.

  “I am General,” Samnaea snarled, to which Ava only smirked. “This level of brutality is the very thing we are fighting against! Are we to become what we’re trying to free ourselves of?”

  I said nothing, staring at the image of smoking Golheim. Most of it was gone already. Samnaea’s words rang true, but Ava’s idea was one fashioned from logic—no emotions attached. Cut our losses and focus on the people who supported us and wanted to be saved. Letting Golheim stand meant giving Argentia an advantage.

  It was a painful decision, one that I wished I didn’t have to make.

  “Mastema, pull your forces out of the city. Order a jet strike on Golheim. Report back when it is done.”

  Taken aback, Mastema could barely nod. “Sir.”

  The screen went inactive and Samnaea stormed from her seat. “Why don’t you make her your General if you think such monstrous, heartless tactics are even remotely sound!”

  “Says the woman who practically put us here in the first place,” sniped Ava, narrowing her eyes. “Suddenly you’re a moral paradigm, are you?”

  “You’re but a grunt in flashy armor,” said Samnaea, stepping forward. “Never forget that.”

  Ava responded by unleashing her ion blade. Caelis ducked behind the navigation panel, anticipating the worst.

  “Enough,” I warned.

  They froze.

  “We’re on the same side,” I reminded them. “General Soran, don’t blame Praetor Delvori for her
apathy. It’s in her programming. I made the executive decision, so if you have something to say about it, I’m all ears.”

  Samnaea cast her eyes to the ground, battling a thought. Even she knew there was no alternative. We couldn’t keep mending the weaker links on Hell’s chain. Not while Heaven was invading us. But none of that meant the decision wouldn’t haunt me for the rest of my life.

  General Soran exited the room without another word. Caelis, Ava and I were left looking at the inactive screen.

  “Do you think I’m a monster?” asked Ava.

  My eyes left the screen and trailed to the window. Junah’s sky seemed brighter than usual. “Yes.”

  “Good,” she said, heading out after Samnaea. Her boots echoed down the hall, fading at the elevator.

  I sighed and massaged my head.

  “Kindness holds no seat here. There’s a monster in everyone, sir,” murmured Caelis, typing commands into the control panel. Of everyone, he seemed the least affected by what had just happened. “Monsters with manners; that’s all we are.”

  And wasn’t that the truth.

  XXV

  GENEALOGY

  Qaira Eltruan—;

  “COME TO THE LAB. THERE’S A PING.”

  My Aeon chimed a couple hours after I’d fallen asleep. That was the message left on its display.

  My body felt heavy and the thought of leaving bed almost made me cry, but then I glanced at Leid as she slept restlessly beside me, her face contorted in pain.

  I slid out of bed, making sure not to rouse her, stopping in the washroom to splash cold water on my face. If there was a battle in our near future, I’d be practically useless. I’d had about eight hours of sleep over the course of three and a half days, and I knew what could happen after long periods of sleep deprivation. Hallucinations, sanity-slips.