The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy

by Terra Whiteman

  Central headquarters was abandoned. Angel engineers and navigators lay dead at the control panels, sprawled across their desks in growing pools of blood.

  This was a time-sensitive matter. I couldn’t risk scouring the ship. Ezekiel spanned four miles in diameter.

  Shoving a dead navigator aside, I opened up central command. A holograph of Ezekiel’s map rotated over the podium. The map was accessible to anyone and the navigator had left his terminal unlocked. My eyes immediately moved to two locations: the laboratory and the residential sector.

  Yahweh was somewhere quiet, isolated, and those areas would be the least populated right now.

  Unfortunately they were at opposite ends of the ship.

  The residential sector was the closest point from here.

  *

  The air was cool and clean, and I breathed easier without the smoke and stench of burning flesh. My armor and face was painted with the blood of a dozen angels that had gotten between me and the door. I stepped over their bodies and crept down the hall, ion blade at the ready. It looked abandoned, but I knew better. Fear was something I could sense, and it was very strong here.

  Footsteps; down the hall.

  I slid through an open door; someone’s room, ransacked and abandoned. There was a power shortage in this sector, and the flickering lights made it difficult to see. I held my breath, listening.

  The footsteps were getting closer. They sounded slow, cautious.

  I pressed my back against the frame, looking through a vanity mirror adjacent to the open door. An angel stood in the middle of the hallway, two doors down, his back turned to me. He was on the shorter side, unarmed.

  Yahweh, unmistakably. I’d seen him many, many times.

  But why was he here alone? Where were his guards?

  Where was the Justice Commander?

  Better not to question these things. I should count my blessings.

  I phased into the hall, lunging to grab him.

  Yahweh spun, having somehow sensed me.

  And then I saw it wasn’t Yahweh. They were nearly identical, but this angel didn’t have a scar.

  He sidestepped me with ease. Before I knew what happened he’d snatched me up by the neck and slammed me against the wall. My feet dangled off the floor. I choked, swinging my blade, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted, forcing me to drop it. He stared up at me as I struggled, and I could see my reflection in his cold, murderous gaze. My wild, frightened eyes darted to the emblem on his coat.

  And then I knew that I’d made a terrible mistake.

  His fingers clenched harder at my throat.

  I gritted my teeth and rammed my knee into his ribs. My strength surprised him and he stumbled, dropping me. I ripped the dart gun from my belt and fired a tranq under his chin.

  The scholar unleashed a scythe and I scrambled away. I heard a thud at my back and froze.

  He was on his hands and knees, looking at me in bewilderment. I grabbed my ion blade and approached, slowly.

  The scholar tried to get up, but kept stumbling into the wall. I watched him, conflicted. It was wisest to flee, but now he knew my face and could find me once the tranq wore off. I had no other choice.

  I brought the blade down on his neck. His severed head rolled to the wall, and his body slumped sideways. The fire of his emblem faded. I exhaled, knowing good and well this meant trouble down the road.

  And now I only had one tranq.

  Damnit.

  XXX

  MEDITATIO FOUR

  Leid Koseling—;

  YAHWEH PUNCHED A CODE INTO THE keypad on the wall, locking down the lab.

  I reloaded a pulse rifle with a new cartridge. I’d taken the weapon from a body along the way, the spare cartridge from another. Decades since I’d used one, but not much had changed in its design. What had changed was my strength—that I even had to rely on weapons was an indication that we were not safe.

  Yahweh had waited in the command station as long as he could, trying to repair the command line. Communications were lost, at least for now, thanks to strike jet EMP bombs. It’d been a suicide mission, but Hell’s army was proving a lot more sacrificial than ours.

  Right before feeds were cut he was told that reinforcements were half an hour out. I estimated it was ten or fifteen minutes since. The plan was to keep Yahweh out of harm’s way until then. I was unable to offer him adequate protection, so hiding him was the only other option.

  “Hopefully this will hold,” he said, backing away from the door.

  “It won’t if a primer comes knocking.”

  “There’s no other exit. We’re trapped in here.”

  “Perhaps next time you’ll listen to us. If there is a next time.”

  Yahweh’s expression grew tight with annoyance. He never liked being told he was wrong. “Even you couldn’t have guessed at such an orchestrated plan.”

  “No, but even Qaira sniffed out the trap.” True, neither of us had expected two hundred enemy jets waiting in Golheim’s underground hangar. In hindsight, we should have—that had been Qaira’s plan against the Ark.

  He said nothing, looking down.

  I grabbed his arm and tugged him forward. “Come. There’s a chance they won’t find us if we hide ourselves well.”

  “They’ll know we’re in here if the door is locked.”

  “I never said they wouldn’t know we’re here.”

  Yahweh led me to the lift and we ascended to the upper-level. There were a row of giant gas chromatography columns, three times our height, arranged in aisles that ran perpendicular to his office. Not the best hiding spot, but better than anywhere else.

  Yahweh crouched at the end of the aisle. I stood in front of him, rifle pointed at the lift. The first demon up here would have his guts sautéed.

  “I wasn’t able to send a transporter to our extraction team,” said Yahweh, looking worried.

  “My guardians can take care of themselves. Better there than here right now.”

  “What are we going to do if—?”

  “Let’s just wait for reinforcements, please.”

  Yahweh sighed, leaning back. I heard the soft tap of his head hitting the wall. “I’m no good at this.”

  “At what?”

  “This. Science, definitely. Politics, sure. Machinations, depends on my mood. War, not a clue.”

  “We’ve made it halfway into Hell. Give yourself some credit.”

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t have even made it into Avernai without you.”

  I looked at him, and he at me. There was something where our eyes met. Our history held so much; it was hard not to care for him in a familial way.

  And he felt the same. “I really hope that I can save you,” he whispered, deadpan. “I’m not doing it for the glory. Not this time.”

  “Hush,” I said, uncomfortable. “We can bleed our hearts dry when this is ov—”

  Pain.

  Breath caught in my throat. I almost dropped my gun. It was indescribable, and I’d only heard of it before. Despite having never felt it, I knew—;

  One of my guardians was dead.

  Yahweh watched me, anxious. “What is it?”

  I didn’t respond, steadying the rifle. Telling him would only scare him more.

  “Leid, what is it?”

  “Nothing. I felt ill for a second.” I bit back tears that welled in my eyes, fighting to keep a straight face. Yahweh would notice any wane or wither. I wanted to call out to them, find out who I’d lost, but my telepathy wasn’t working anymore. All I heard was static.

  Hope began to fade; everything was falling apart.

  *

  BANG.

  I kept the gun steady, crouching low. At this angle I would blow off their legs.

  BANG.

  Yahweh jumped, looking over a column. The noise was coming from the lower-level. Someone was using very heavy artillery to break down the door. Each blast raged like thunder across the lab.

  BANG.

  “W
ill the door hold?” I murmured.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “When this starts, I’ll distract them. Make a run for it when you get the chance.”

  He looked at me, wide-eyed. “Make a run for it where?”

  BANG.

  Yahweh darted from the columns and I shouted for him to stop. He didn’t listen, heading to a station across the room. Sliding on his knees, he ripped open a drawer and pulled out several empty syringes. I watched, bewildered.

  There was a cabinet beneath the drawers. He tore open the glass display and yanked out a handful of vials, skimming the labels before selecting a few.

  “Yahweh,” I hissed, urgent.

  He ignored me, filling each syringe with the contents of the vials. He capped them, stuck them into his coat and scrambled back toward me.

  And then I realized the thunder had stopped.

  A second later, the lights fizzled out.

  We looked around the darkness, tensing.

  “There’s an electronic switch that shuts the power off in this sector,” he explained, breathing heavy. “Looks like they found it.”

  “Does it deactivate the lock?”

  My question was answered when we heard the door slide open. Whoever was down there entered violently—shattering glass echoed across the lower-level. Boots crunched over glass shards, stopping at the lift.

  “Bring down Commander Telei,” called a voice. A woman. “I know you’re up there, Leid Koseling.”

  I didn’t recognize her, but Yahweh certainly did. He muttered an Archaean curse, which was very unlike him.

  “It’s the Praetor,” he said.

  Praetor Avarice Delvori. I’d heard enough about her to know this was going to be trouble. At full strength I might have been amused, but not now.

  “Make this easy on yourself,” Delvori said. “Cut your losses and send him down. No more harm will come to you or your own. Lucifer has ordered Yahweh’s capture, not execution.”

  No more harm.

  I snarled, coiling my finger around the rifle’s trigger. “Sorry, you’ll have to work for your prey.”

  She laughed.

  “How does she think to get up here without the lift?” whispered Yahweh.

  I had to resist shooting him a look. “… Wings, maybe?”

  “Oh, right. Sometimes I completely forget I have them.”

  There was a breeze, accompanied by peculiar threads of blue and purple light. They vanished as quickly as they appeared, and in their place loomed a shadow. The silhouette was only several feet away, and I fired a shot aimed toward its chest. As the pulse bullet left the charger, the shadow disappeared. Another breeze—this time from behind.

  She was moving faster than even I could see.

  Phase-shifting. Impossible.

  I blurred away from the arcing glow of an ion blade. Yahweh backed against the wall of the aisle. I had no doubt the Praetor knew he was there, but she kept at me.

  The rifle was useless. I threw it aside and unleashed a scythe.

  Only one; I needed a hand free.

  Our fight was one that was difficult to follow, especially in the dark. Avarice thought she was smart for cutting the lights—or perhaps that’d been the only way of getting inside—but the shadows served as a detriment, emphasizing the woven threads of spectral light that accompanied her movement. She charged and charged, while I kept more reserved, ducking and avoiding until an opening presented itself.

  The Praetor materialized with her ion blade raised over her head. I bent my knee and sent my elbow into her ribs, crushing them through her already damaged armor.

  She phased before I could use my scythe, reappearing at the opening of the next aisle over.

  We stared each other down. Her eyes shone like moonlight, emanating malice.

  In the commotion I hadn’t noticed how many times she’d struck me. The blade had cauterized the slices on touch, but I could smell the charred flesh of my calves and arms. My coat was tattered at the shoulders, smoking. The Praetor was a formidable fighter, but now she knew that I wasn’t one to rely on strength alone.

  Her lips curled into a mean grin. I was startled by how much it looked like Qaira’s.

  She charged again.

  I pulsed.

  The shockwave ripped across the upper-level, knocking down several rows of columns. Shattered glass accompanied the magnetic groan as the air bent to send the Praetor off her feet. She collapsed across broken glass and gave a cry as it dug into her flesh.

  I was on her, scythe poised to strike.

  The Praetor shot me with something, and I felt its pierce at the center of my chest.

  Instantly my head grew fuzzy and my vision blurred. Before I knew it she was gone.

  Yahweh screamed words at me, but I was having trouble understanding what they were. He sounded far away, like it was all a dream, and then a hard blow at the back of my head knocked me on all fours.

  “Yahweh, run,” I rasped, seeing stars. I had no idea what she’d done, but I was practically immobilized.

  I pulsed again, but it was much weaker. All it managed to do was stagger the Praetor, but that had given me enough time to retreat out of range. Nausea savaged my stomach and there were knives behind my eyes. She tried to strike me again but I snatched a long spear of jagged glass from the ground and swung.

  Avarice screamed and recoiled, holding her face. I’d cut a deep gash, trailing from cheek to cheek and over the bride of her nose.

  It was an empty victory. The Praetor was still alive and I couldn’t keep this up much longer. Injury and illness were doing me in. My body was too sick to regenerate quickly enough, and all these lucky shots were amounting to nothing.

  In seconds Avarice had me pinned, sneering, fingers crushing my throat. Blood from the gash along her face dripped across mine, beading warm against my skin. I hadn’t even the strength to lift my scythe, let alone push her off.

  “Call to your guardians,” she growled. “Call on Qaira to save you.”

  Confusion and relief coalesced. Qaira was still alive.

  Yahweh appeared behind Avarice, hooking his arm around her neck. Before she could react he stabbed a syringe into the side of her face. Over and over he stabbed, gnashing his teeth.

  She screamed and flailed, bucking him off. He fell backward and she grabbed him by the neck, throwing him through a row of still-standing columns. They collapsed like a fragile wall, shards and sand spilling out of the aisle.

  My stomach heaved. I rolled over and vomited blood.

  From my peripherals I saw Avarice stagger. It appeared she was having problems standing. Whatever was in that syringe had impaired her, but not enough for it to matter. Overexertion had caused malady to wreak havoc on my body. It wouldn’t be long before I fell unconscious.

  Gunshots struck the air. Three of them.

  Avarice collapsed beside me, dark blood pooling around her head. Her eyes were open and glazed, staring into the abyss.

  I squinted through the darkness.

  Belial stood at the lift, wings spread, sniper rifle in-hand. The barrel was smoking.

  I was expecting a sarcastic line, but instead he knelt at my side and helped me up without a word. There was caution in his gaze.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, grazing over my wounds. “You’ve been flayed.”

  “Yahweh,” I breathed, looking toward the broken columns.

  Belial followed my stare, hesitant, waiting for him to make a sound. There was only silence.

  He winced, pulling me to stand with him. I rushed—limped—to the place where Yahweh had fallen—;

  And then I froze.

  Yahweh laid in a bed of broken glass, long, serrated shards protruding from his coat. A blood stain expanded in the fabric, and a thin crimson thread trickled from the side of his mouth. He looked up at me, confused, eyes dull with revelation.

  I knelt at his side, clenching my teeth. Sadness and anger took turns with my insides. “I told you to run.
I told you to run!”

  Belial hung back, massaging his head. He spat a curse, knowing good and well what this meant.

  Yahweh said nothing, only coughed.

  I spun. “We need to take him to the infirmary.”

  “No point,” said Belial. “It’s been gutted. Doesn’t look much better than here. Reinforcements have arrived and we’ve secured the ship. Not that that matters anymore.”

  No, it couldn’t end like this.

  “Leid,” whispered Yahweh, and I looked back at him. “My research can be accessed on the computer in my office. The terminal password is—”

  “No, stop.”

  “You need that research. You have to finish it.” He coughed again, and a fresh stream of blood trickled down his chin. He told me his password, but I barely heard him. “The samples are in the cryogenic chamber over there.” He nodded across the lab. “Your tests are being analyzed. Actually, t-they should be done by n-now.”

  I winced, feeling hot tears run down my face.

  Yahweh smiled at me, and then his eyes rolled into his head.

  “We’ve lost,” said Belial. “This is it. It’s over. Bloody fuck.”

  Heartless bastard. “Get on deck and rally the engineers to fix the halo. We need communications back online.”

  He stared at me, confused.

  “Go,” I hissed.

  “I gather you have a plan,” he muttered, stalking off. “It better be a good one.”

  It wasn’t a good plan. It was a horrible plan.

  But it was a plan.

  As Belial vacated the lab, I touched the soft space under Yahweh’s neck. His pulse was weak; he had minutes, at most. Gathering what little strength I had left, I lifted my trembling hand to his face and cupped his cooling cheek.

  XXXI

  UNDONE

  Qaira Eltruan—;