“Open the door and act like the system glitched,” I advised, shoving my helmet back on. “Stay here, if you can. I’ll come back for you when my job is done. Don’t come quietly; that was Naberius’s mistake.”
She bowed her head, appearing strangely submissive. Then, without another word she headed over to unlock the door.
XIII
THE GAMBLE
Yahweh Telei—;
“QAIRA GAVE THE SIGNAL. He’s infiltrated Abraxes,” announced Seyestin, eyeing the holomap. “We’re set to engage the enemy in nine minutes, twenty-five seconds. Ezekiel is forty aros from the Cataract.”
“Good. Have Belial and Adrial move ground force transporters ahead of us. Aerial strike, too. Have the satellite bots located enemy positions?”
Seyestin shook his head. “They were shot down by demon feelers before we could get any clear images. We’re in the dark on this one.”
I hesitated, glancing at the map. Sometimes my ideas made me sick. “Then we’ll need a cavalry. Only twenty-five percent of our ground forces and aerial strike should proceed. The second wave will follow after the demons give us their hardest blows.”
My general sized me up, impressed. “Yes, sir. I’ll head for the hangar now.”
“No.”
Seyestin paused, already halfway across the room. “Sir?”
“You’ll lead aerial strike from inside here this time.”
He cocked his head, baffled. “Sir, I always lead aerial strike in the sky. That’s how I do things.”
“And that was also how your sister did things, and now she’s dead.”
Seyestin fell silent as my statement bit even deeper.
Now was not the time for sentimentalities. “Do you know what Argentia doesn’t need? Both of her generals dead because they always believed in leading by example. I won’t lose you too, General Trede. You owe it to our people to stay alive and help us win this war.”
He scowled, but made no motion to disobey my order. “You’re different. You’ve been different lately. Care to share why?”
I gestured to the door. “Just take a step outside and see for yourself. What’s happening right now would change anybody. Hopefully for the better. Now, get on the central command halo and talk to your troops. Please.”
Without another word Seyestin activated his headset and began to type commands into the central station. He glanced at me once, but not again.
Before now he’d questioned my decision of placing Adrial and Belial in charge of ground patrol—Adrial, because he was tasked with making sure Belial wasn’t up to anything, since anything was possible when it came to Archdemon Vakkar.
Seyestin had insisted Adrial be charged with guarding me, since Leid/Oraniquitis was a wildcard in the stack. I couldn’t relay that I no longer needed guarding, but he probably assumed I had just set that burden onto his lap. Whatever made things easier.
My only fear now was that he’d witness me catching a bullet.
“You need to tell me about what’s happened to Leid, sir,” he murmured, eyes on the central command board. “I’m starting to get the feeling that you—we—are in danger.”
“I’m afraid it’s too complicated to share. But let me assure you that we’re not in danger.”
Seyestin eyed me.
“Well, not in any immediate danger,” I rebuked. “It seems we’re always in some kind of danger, right?”
I forced a smile, and so did he.
“I’m sorry about what I said.” I fitted the coil-mic around my ear. In about a minute it would start to ache, as if the headset wasn’t even designed for Archaean physiology. “Or rather, how I said it.”
Seyestin cocked his head to the side, purveying confusion.
“Mentioning Cereli’s death.”
He nodded, saying nothing else, typing away. The group of intelligence analysts I’d sent for finally arrived, taking their places around the central station. They began to gear up, and our conversation ended.
“Try to tap into Abraxes’s communications,” ordered Seyestin.
“From central command, sir?” cautioned an analyst. “That’s risky; they could send a holo-retaliation.”
“Worth a try, if it means we have any bloody idea of what they’re up to,” muttered my general, looking down the analyst for even questioning him. “I need any and all information about their positions and weaponry, no matter the source.”
“Will we have contact with Qaira and his team?” I asked.
“No. We can’t risk any kind of radio communication system,” said Seyestin. “Gates might be rigged to sound an alarm if a soldier passes through it carrying a device it doesn’t recognize. The transmitter is—was—our only contact.”
I nodded solemnly.
My eyes drifted to the glass mezzanine of Ezekiel’s bridge, sewn into the Central Headquarters tower. Oraniquitis leaned on the rail, staring up and through the observatory glass. At me.
Directly at me.
When my eyes caught hers, she smiled.
A shiver went down my spine; fear and intrigue filled my soul. The new Vel’Haru part of me yearned for her while the true me knew good and well to keep away.
Her stare had me locked for a while before Seyestin called in a less than patient tone, signifying I had ignored his first several attempts of claiming my attention.
I whirred around.
“Where are you?” he nearly shouted.
Everyone was looking at me. Alarms were sounding. Aerial strike.
“Our cavalry has disappeared from the radar,” my general spoke quickly, pausing to listen to conversation from our military feed. “They were two minutes away, and we’ve got four enemy strike teams coming at us.”
There was chaos out on deck. Adrial had taken Qaira’s place as headquarter security, his soldiers standing sentry around the halo and tower perimeter, shields aimed at the sky for a measure of defense against spraying bullets.
“Where did they come from?”
“I don’t know. There’s too much fog over the cataract for anyone to see clearly. But there’s no excuse for our radar not to have picked them up sooner. There were feelers just—” Seyestin paused, and his eyes widened. He muttered a curse and spoke into his headset. “Everyone stop. Stop. All jets regroup around the Ezekiel and her satellites. Protect the ship from airstrikes. Stave the demons off until further notice.”
I’d finally caught up.
A missing army, undetectable raid parties…
Somewhere ahead of us was an EMP minefield; probably along the basin. The water dropping from a warmer level into the freezing terrain of Orias made the air thick with clouds. Easy to see why they’d chosen this place for a stand-off.
“We’ll hold for now,” I said. “There can’t be too many strike teams positioned a minefield away from their ship. Once we’ve eradicated them they won’t be able to send out anyone else without setting off their own trap.”
“Do we know that for sure?” asked Seyestin, running a hand through his hair. He was pensive, and rightly so. “The mines might be controlled remotely. We don’t even know what kind of technology Lucifer’s WDR has been working on.”
“It would be pointless to make the mines remote controlled. They have no radar and can see about as well as us; how could they be selective about who crosses the field?”
Seyestin grunted a response, too worked up to admit that I was right. Instead he conceded by ordering our army to do as I had proposed.
The only sound in the room now was a faint roaring of engines, the even fainter rumble of explosions, and the analysts communicating with our fleet. Seyestin paced the room, trying to think of a solution while I stared numbly from the observatory window, watching fireworks through the mist.
“Get Adrial in here,” Seyestin said. “He can call Qaira from his mind, can’t he? We need some intel.”
From my headset, I ordered the guards outside the door to fetch Justice Trisyien. This was advantageous, because I had an urg
ent message to deliver. “I’ll meet him at the door.”
Seyestin gave me an odd look but said nothing of it. I hurried to the high-bridge, just as Adrial stepped across, and gestured for him to slow.
He did, puzzled.
“Qaira sent me a message. Samnaea is aboard Abraxes,” I whispered, turning to look over my shoulder to make sure Seyestin hadn’t followed me. “I need you to make mention of it when you speak with Qaira; if he doesn’t tell you himself, that is. You have to tell Qaira to subdue the Archdemons on the ship and make them surrender. That’s the only way we can win this.”
“Of course,” he murmured, heading past me. I caught the look of worry on his face and the fatigue lines from lack of food and sleep. Adrial had made it obvious he did not want to be here, yet here he was nonetheless all because his noble had asked him to come. That loyalty…it made my heart shudder.
Could I ever feel like that for Leid?
Would I even get the chance?
Qaira, I heard Adrial call over our private line, We need you to subjugate Abraxes. There is a minefield keeping our ship from crossing the Cataract.
—Subjugate the entire ship. Yeah, sure, I’ll just overpower thousands of soldiers singlehandedly. Totally fucking doable, thanks for that task.
—Get the Archdemons to surrender. I wasn’t proposing taking on the entire fleet.
A lengthy pause.
—That might be easy enough. Samnaea has defected and I’m my way to see Lier now.
General Soran has defected? I blurted out.
Hi Yahweh, said Qaira, Usually we announce who’s all listening at the start of the conversation.
—I fail to see why that’s necessary.
—It’s necessary in case I wanted to tell Adrial that you’re a—
Qaira, focus, warned Adrial.
—Sorry, but if there’s a ghost watching me take a shit, I’d like to know about it.
Adrial grimaced. What did you mean when you said Samnaea has defected?
Silence.
Qaira?
—Got ambushed, sorry. I’m kind of making a mess over here and your questions aren’t helping my concentration any. Samnaea managed to sniff me out early on in the game. I thought I was toast, but she asked me to take her prisoner. Apparently Lucifer’s trying to kill her.
Have you ordered her to surrender? I asked.
—No. This has to appear legitimate. We don’t need the Judas blasting away Junah or Orias, right? We made that mistake with Belial and Naberius.
Honestly I’m surprised you care, said Adrial.
—I don’t, but I’m sure Mr. Bleeding Heart over there does.
Well, thank you for this rare philanthropic suggestion, I said.
—Don’t mention it. I’ll try to do something about that minefield. Over.
Adrial and I glanced at each other. Seyestin’s stare switched between us, awaiting the verdict.
“Good news,” Adrial announced. “It seems Samnaea Soran is aboard the command ship and has requested for Qaira to bring her to Ezekiel. He’s further along than we assumed. Abraxes should be taken within the next couple of hours, as long as there aren’t any other surprises in store.”
Seyestin blinked. “General Soran wants to board Ezekiel?”
“She’s defecting, or that’s the story at least. Either way she’s agreed to allow Qaira to continue his pursuit of the other Archdemons.”
“Defecting?” repeated my general. Then, he shook his head. “That sounds a little convenient, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” I agreed, nodding. “But at the moment we aren’t in any position to investigate. She hasn’t blown Qaira’s cover yet; that’s enough for me.”
“We have the means to subjugate her,” added Adrial. “Samnaea won’t be a threat, even if she isn’t telling the whole truth. The moment she shows any signs of disloyalty, we’ll have reason to interrogate her. We’ll have Lucifer’s right hand at our disposal.”
Seyestin stared long and hard at Adrial, dissecting his reasoning. Then he glanced at me. “If my Commander is confident about this operation, then so am I.”
Well, that was a first. “Did he mention anything about the mines?”
At my prompt, Adrial cleared his throat. “No, not really. I let him know our situation and he said he’d look into it. He was a little busy—massacring, and all.”
Seyestin’s radio began to ping. His flight imperator declared all immediate threats in our aerospace cleared. The skies had been quiet for some time now. With all of the excitement, I’d barely noticed.
“We’re on standby for now. Protect our perimeters,” ordered Seyestin. After a moment of silence he muttered, “Once again, somehow the entire fate of this war relies on Qaira and his team of misfits keeping their shit together long enough to take down our enemy. What do you suppose the chances are?”
Adrial rubbed his chin, amused. “Well I’m not a betting man; but if I were, I’d say about fifty-fifty.”
That was a lie, of course; he and I both knew Qaira would have Abraxes within the hour. It’d be messy—not at all even close to what I’d ordered—but he’d do it, claiming just enough objectives to keep me from hating him. And that was how it’d always been between us.
Such a complicated relationship.
XIV
MONSTER, MONSTER, AT MY DOOR
Qaira Eltruan—;
ABRAXES WAS HUGE, RIVALRING THE size of Ezekiel. That meant there was a lot of ground to cover, and word of Mastema’s dead body found stuffed in her closet was probably spreading exponentially.
There hadn’t even been enough time to find another suit for disguise. Instead I had plowed through the third and fourth sectors, gutting anything that got in my way. Except for the doors, which I had access to, all thanks to Lady Tryess.
As convenient a tactic as this was, it definitely wasn’t the best. Soon word of Mastema’s body and a Vel’haru on the ship would spread. Everyone would be on the lookout for Sergeant Ardec, the undercover judge. I really needed another suit.
The final doors guarding the bridge-lift were lined with soldiers. Normally I’d continue charging, but a primer led the group. Primers meant tranqs.
The group opened fire and I rolled along the walls and ceiling, the force of my speed propelling me like a pinball through the corridor. I felt a few bullets bite the vulnerable areas of my suit, but the pain was only enough to make my jaw clench. I wasn’t trying to evade ordinary artillery, anyway.
Boom.
I hit the guards like a cannonball, sending them all ways. Their bodies flew like fodder; limbs flailing, fingers still pressing their triggers, shooting themselves and their peers.
My final destination was the door, which dented against the force of my body. The lead primer had managed to evade both me and all the friendly-fire, but didn’t get so lucky one-on-one.
And just like that, I’d scored a new disguise: Primer Fessa Cit’jaro, ember ranked.
Time to randomly reappear on the bridge, claiming that pesky judge killed all my men. Hopefully Michael and our team were faring better than me.
*
As expected, Azazel had gotten a clue and was trying to flee. I found him being escorted by a group of primers to the hangar where a getaway craft hummed with anticipation. No one gave me any notice as I fell in line. Just another primer on duty.
The craft door slid open as we marched along the dock, my ears pricked to the conversation Azazel was having with Commander Raith through his headset. Samnaea was still sitting pretty in the command station, pretending to do a good job of protecting the ship.
She really wanted off. But why would Lucifer try to kill her? And why would she think we wouldn’t kill her? What the hell was her angle here?
No, that was a later problem.
Focus, focus.
Once I’d heard enough, I started slitting the primers’ throats. I’d nailed three when the other three finally turned around, fumbling for their weapons.
Too la
te, I had this assassination shit down.
And then it was just me and Azazel, and all the other guards on the second floor grafts shooting at us.
Archdemon Lier stumbled back into the open craft to evade the shower of bullets, seemingly shocked that his men would shoot so indiscriminately. Honestly, I was too. Maybe they’d gotten trigger sensitive while pissing in their pants.
Grinning against the bullets, I slammed the door shut and punched it twice, warping the metal enough to make sure it never opened again.
I ripped the panel out of the left side flank, severing the fibers of its holo-connection.
Azazel was now up against the window door, slamming his fist against it, screaming for me to stop. In reality, I didn’t know how much longer I could take the bullets.
I fell to my knees, panting, blood seeping from my parted lips.
Too much damage. I was taking too much damage. There was nothing I could do about it now.
Go.
I gritted my teeth and narrowed my vision on the panel. Beside it was a manual override lock, sort of like a neutral mode, intended to have the vessel coast in case of a system failure. The angel crafts had the same thing.
“Bye,” I rasped, flipping the gear and releasing the lock. The ship began floating out of the hangar, toward the open misty skies of the Cataract basin.
I collapsed just as there was another explosion behind me. More gunfire, but this time it wasn’t aimed in my direction.
I lay against the ground on my stomach, head to the side; and through blurred vision watched two groups of demon soldiers go at each other. My punctured lungs heaved for air, and I gasped reflexively.
I started grabbing for anything within reach, anything I could strip to heal myself.
I grabbed a hand.
“Qaira!” screamed a familiar voice. Michael’s voice. “Qaira, fuck, are you alive?!”
I was alive, but punctured lungs equaled no air, which therefore equaled nothing for my larynx to vibrate with. There was no way I could tell him to pass me his helmet so instead I just snatched it off his head, nearly crushing it in my fist.
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 92
