“Nothing is alright, General Trede,” I murmured, rubbing my head. I looked through the glass and down across Ezekiel’s southern deck. The reparations team was making progress, at least.
Darkness hit the landscape like a thick blanket, suffocating any light more than a hundred yards beyond our warship. Ezekiel’s halo was revived, casting the perimeter aglow. Beacons from watchtowers flickered rhythmically, and through my new vision particles danced like sparks, zig-zagging off into the night. They tasted sickly-sweet.
Seyestin nodded. “I wish I was here to offer you solace.”
“Mm, what now?”
“Obsidia has gone radio-silent. Our interceptors have received zero activity for the past several hours.”
“…An outage?”
“No.”
I leaned against the wall, relishing the cool, glass surface against the warmth of my pounding head. “The anti-gravity bombs weren’t the last trick up Lucifer’s sleeve.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Seyestin, conflicted. “They could have found a way to jam all signals. Perhaps they’re using an encrypted line.”
“Can our breachers penetrate them?”
“They’ve been attempting to pick up anything across the spectrum since transmissions went dark.”
“Splendid. I suppose we should plan for a surprise attack.”
“Drills are in progress. It’s a possibility. After Gomorrah I assumed they’d have the sense to regroup.”
“Or surrender.”
A dark smile played across Seyestin’s lips. “Your father will never surrender, Commander.”
He was right. Lucifer Raith was the only one who’d ever made the Regent of Sanctum surrender in turn. There was only one way that this war could end.
My thoughts must have bled through to my expression, as Seyestin’s smile slowly faded. His words had wounded me, and he recoiled in response.
“Keep on high alert until repairs are done,” I said, more callous than intended. “How long until we can cross into Junah?”
“A day. Two, at most. Reinforcements are twelve hours out.”
With a nod, I departed for my suite. I felt Seyestin’s eyes on my back until I reached the lift.
*
The two soldiers guarding my private quarters gave their quick salutes and stood aside while I activated the code to the door.
“Any activity?” I asked the one on the right.
“No, sir. Not since last time.”
I murmured thanks and headed inside.
I removed my coat and cast it over the back of a chair. Samnaea was sprawled face-down across the floor, several feet from my bed. It appeared she was metabolizing the sedatives much faster than I anticipated. The only way the guards would have heard her is if she’d called for help; by now Samnaea had known that that was a lost cause.
I knelt beside her, exhaling slowly. “Lady Soran.”
She stirred, murmuring something unintelligible.
“We already discussed how you shouldn’t try to move while sedated. Your leg is still healing.”
Her eyes opened slowly, lids half-mast with intoxication. One look at me and she gasped, dragging herself back toward the bed. The fear she displayed was palpable. It was dismantling; no one had ever looked at me like that before. But I was something different now and would have to get used to people regarding me this way.
I diverted my gaze to try to hide the shame and guilt that panged my heart. “Please allow me to help you back on the bed.”
Samnaea said nothing, breathing hard.
I took that as consent and gently lifted her back onto the mattress, setting her head against the pillow. Her long, white hair slid from around her body and dangled over the floor, almost blending with the sheets. Several bruises still marred her cheeks; her leg was damaged from the attack, encased in a biofilm splint. I was careful not to bump it.
“Are you thirsty?” I inquired.
She still said nothing, eyes trailing toward the door.
I relented, retreating to my desk. Once seated, I activated the holosphere database and began combing research articles for anything I could use to enhance the serum. Oran’s receptors had grown immune to the current formula; I had to find another constituent—something more potent, with better efficacy and selectivity.
“There are soldiers standing guard at your door,” Samnaea said.
I kept my attention on the holoscreen. “Correct.”
“Why?”
I said nothing, continuing to read.
“They don’t know, do they?”
“Correct,” I sighed, jotting down a few notes.
“So who does?”
“A select few; obviously the Vel’Haru aboard our ship.” I peered at her over my shoulder. “And you.”
Samnaea tried to sit up, succeeding after several attempts. Her movements were inhibited partly due to the sedative, another part from injury. “Why are you keeping me in here?”
“It’s the safest place on the ship. In case you haven’t realized, you’ve made quite a few enemies. I couldn’t be sure whether someone might try to kill you if you’d been placed anywhere else.”
She attempted a sardonic smile. “So, now you are my protector.”
“Please don’t read too much into this.”
“Read too much into what? Locking me up in here, keeping me drugged? You are such a fucking hero, Yahweh Telei.”
“I keep you drugged because you won’t let me work otherwise.”
“You are holding me prisoner! I surrendered, remember?”
“True, but last time you threw a vase at my head.”
Samnaea’s stare turned razor-edged as the final traces of sedation wore off. She didn’t move, knowing it was futile, but I wondered what she would have tried had I still been celestial.
“I won’t give you another tranquilizer if you let me study in peace,” I promised.
Samnaea said nothing for a moment, processing this. She fidgeted with the sheet. Just as I returned to an article, she murmured, “What happens now?”
“Perhaps you could tell me. Roughly two and a half hours ago all Obsidian Court transmissions went dark.”
She looked away, perplexed. I waited for a response, but nothing came.
“I meant what happens to me? To us?”
“You will stay on the Ezekiel until the war is declared over. As for your ilk, if they surrender, no harm will come to them. You’re not the only demon our ship is harboring.”
Samnaea tilted her head. “And when Heaven wins the war?”
“I notice you said when, not if—”
“Answer me.”
I conceded to the idea of not getting any work done. I sighed, swiveled in my seat, and folded my hands together. “Why don’t you tell me what you want to happen when Heaven wins the war? Obviously you hope for something, as you wouldn’t have surrendered otherwise.”
“I surrendered because I didn’t want to die.”
I smiled. “So, not dying. Check.”
Another pause. “I want the demons to have equal rights with angels.”
“A united world,” I paraphrased. “Anything else?”
Samnaea scowled. “You’re mocking me.”
“I am not. I can assure you that I also don’t want you to die and I want a united world. But in order for me to grant those things which you desire, you have to trust me.”
Silence.
“And right now you don’t trust me.”
“You can’t provide any of those things,” she whispered. “You’re not even celestial anymore. You’ve been negated by our worldly rules of engagement and eventually everyone will discover that Heaven was holding a false-flag all along. A flag that can never burn.”
It was my turn to hesitate in response. Samnaea’s expression hardened once she’d gained the upper hand. “And where will you be when outrage and anarchy strikes the order you’re so desperately clinging to?”
I unclasped my hands, letting them si
t idle in my lap. “The worldly rules of engagement have failed you and your race for centuries, Samnaea. You’re the one clinging to order, not me. It’s true that I most likely won’t be here to see The Atrium through its time of peace, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less determined to make it happen.”
Samnaea averted my gaze, watching the peripheral lights flicker against the curtain.
I leaned forward, redirecting her attention. “I’m sorry for what we did to you. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart. Lucifer wanted this war and I did my very best to stop it from happening, but now I realize that it has to happen. It has to happen if we want anything to change.”
She matched my demeanor; cool, collected. “Old war. New rules.”
“Precisely.”
“I don’t want another sedative.”
I raised my hands. “You won’t receive any from me.”
“I don’t want to stay in this tiny room forever.”
“Fair enough; you may leave if you’re escorted by me or another Vel’Haru.”
Samnaea fidgeted again, this time with a grimace. “Well, care to escort me to a toilet? I was trying to get there before I fainted on your floor.”
***
Qaira Eltruan—;
My knees buckled as I entered my room; I caught the doorframe before I hit the floor. My entire body felt like it was filled with lead. I couldn’t keep up appearances anymore; good thing I was alone.
I staggered into the bathroom and retched into the sink; dry heaving—we couldn’t really vomit—but my pain had reached an all-time high. Each clench felt like a stab in the gut. Perspiration trickled down my forehead.
I grasped for the bowl of stones that Yahweh had left Leid. My vision tunneled and I over-reached, falling instead, knocking the bowl and stones to the floor.
I grasped at whatever I could feel, the edges of my vision growing narrower by the second. The last fight had drained me more than I’d realized; I hadn’t been taking proper care of myself and my body had dipped into its final energy reserves.
Regenerate.
I closed my eyes and exhaled, laying against the cold floor as the stones broke down in my trembling fists. Sleep was a priority, but I didn’t think I could. Even in this pathetic state my mind wouldn’t slow down. A moment’s rest was a moment wasted on a potential idea to save Leid.
But there was nothing that could save her.
She was already gone; been that way for a while now.
I forced myself back on my feet and sank to the edge of the bed. Curled forward, head against my knees, I came to terms with the situation while waiting for the rest of me to heal.
Slowly my head rose and I looked toward the closet. The door was left half-open; the silhouette of Leid’s cello case was visible from here. My violin case rested beside it.
Seeing them sparked a cascade of still-frame memories; the first time she’d found the music room in Eroqam, how she had coerced me into taking lessons from her, the way her fingers guided mine in placement across the cello-neck.
The smell of her hair.
The feel of her skin.
The blood tears in her eyes once she’d discovered the monster that I truly was.
I snapped. The pain and exhaustion got all minced together in a blender of self-defeat, and I saw red—;
*
—and then I was back, crouched in the middle of the floor, surrounded by splinters of wood and broken strings. There were dents in the wall and blood on my pants. I felt myself for wounds, my fingers brushing something wet on my face. More blood.
I was crying.
Something stirred in my peripherals, and I turned.
Oraniquitis stood in the doorway, solemn. She examined the broken instruments strewn about, a mixture of confusion and surprise etched across her face.
I turned away, wiping my eyes, hot with shame. “Get out.”
She didn’t move, nor did she speak.
I didn’t either.
Oran’s footsteps drew closer. I heard the door slide shut. She touched my shoulder, and I flinched.
“You’re breaking down,” she whispered. It was not her voice, but Leid’s.
I faltered, looking toward her with widened eyes. Our faces were inches apart.
“I can be her,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around my neck. “If that’s what you need, I’ll be her; your beautiful nightmare.”
“No,” I breathed, but then Oran’s lips pressed against mine and I couldn’t fight it anymore.
XXIV
MY GRAVE
Dr. Caelis Jonarr—;
I STOOD BEFORE THE WAR COUNCIL THAT had been called after Lucifer’s transporter departed from the Judas hanger. In my shaking hands rested his final orders.
I’d never been a public speaker, and the idea of having to address the admirals and lieutenants aboard our ship with news that their leader had deserted them made me sick to my stomach.
Commander Raith had not deserted them, of course; he was sacrificing himself in exchange for their lives, but to the awaiting crowd expecting an order to fight down to the very last celestial, they were going to feel cheated of any choice in the matter.
I shifted uncomfortably at the podium as everyone took their seats, and then I began:
The Judas would lay down her arms and wait for the Ezekiel to catch up. The encrypted line I’d enabled would be dropped, and negotiations would be made with the Argentian Forces to board and take the ship. There would be no resistance on our part.
Since Commander Raith was no longer present on the ship it was impossible for the angels to declare victory, as the rules of war dictated that the Commander of either side must surrender or die at the hands of the contending army.
Anyone who could be spared was to report to the Akkaroz waystation to help with the evacuation of civilians. The evacuations of Junah and Akkaroz were effective immediately; all non-military personnel were to report to Obsidian transporters. They would be sent to Lochai and Avernai until the outcome of the war was decided.
Commander Raith thanked everyone for their service and dedication to him, but dying in a losing battle would only do us more harm than necessary.
And that was all.
*
Several hours of disorder and chaos later, (almost) everyone had complied with our Commander’s charge. Outliers were thrown into the brig. Over three dozen transporters were dispatched to aid in evacuations from Hell’s recesses.
I hadn’t heard from Commander Raith and wasn’t sure if I ever would again.
With nothing left to do but wait, I sat at central command, scrolling through endless variations of evacuation warnings that were being broadcasted Hell-wide. Eventually reporters were replaced with digitized messages and gnashing sounds, as they too decided it was time to leave. We could only speculate what would happen once Heaven descended on us. Our fate was anyone’s guess.
That crushing thought was interrupted by a chime from the furthest left panel. I glanced toward the sound. The Judas’s halosphere was running a systems scan and had found a program abnormality.
I brought up the error code. A line of script was acting out of synch.
I initiated another scan for good measure; the program abnormality was resolved on the second run. Just as I was about to delve into the root cause of the first issue, the telecomm interlink light flashed. The frequency was Archaean.
The caller was General Seyestin Trede.
***
Lucifer Raith—;
I’d never seen Akkaroz Parliament so devoid of personnel; it was like I’d walked into another dimension.
The oscillating doors that led to the reception desk were deactivated and I was able to push through without using any identification clearance. The desk beyond was vacant; scattered logs blew in the wind generated from the door, personal tech and other gadgets were left behind at workstations. My gaze rose to the televised screen mounted to the wall behind reception, the flashing evacuation warning that ran in
loop served as Hell’s epitaph.
And this building was its grave.
I continued to my office with eyes cast to the ground, unable to stomach the scenery any longer.
*
The motion-sensitive lights activated as I unlocked the door. I exhaled slowly, taking in the scenery. I felt a certain sadness knowing this was the last time that I would ever be here. I had occupied this space for centuries.
The ache was familiar; one that I’d felt before, in Crylle. The only comfort now was knowing that I would never have to feel it again.
Caelis had lifted the bar over our transmission signals. I sat at my desk, reclining in my seat, and patched a signal to the Ezekiel Command ship. They would recognize the frequency; my call would be bounced to only the highest officials.
Yahweh accepted my telecomm request. I stared at him and he at me, a mixture of caution and surprise in his eyes.
“Commander Raith,” he acknowledged, “and what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Nothing, Commander Telei. You owe me nothing.”
Yahweh tilted his head.
“The Judas is surrendering to the Archaean fleet. You will receive no retaliation from them.”
“But you are not on the Judas.”
“I am not.”
“They cannot surrender for you.”
“They are not surrendering for me. They are surrendering for them. You may have the ship and take whomever you like into custody, so long as no one will be harmed.”
Yahweh frowned, his confusion deepening. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I refuse to sacrifice anyone else. I have evacuated Junah and Akkaroz. There will be civilian transporters needing safe passage to Avernai. Allow them clearance.”
His expression softened. “And what will you do?”
“I’ll be here. Waiting.”
Yahweh said nothing; staring, analyzing. There was something different about his demeanor. He should have begged me to turn myself in, to surrender so I could live, but he did none of that. Not that he would have persuaded me, anyway.
The Antithesis- The Complete Pentalogy Page 100
