Bane of the Dead (Seraphim Revival Book 1) (13 page)

“Those two,” Jack said. “They were the comrades I spoke of.”

“Ah. I see,” Vierj said. “We will probably face them again. If it bothers you, I can be the one to eliminate them.”

“No. They were my friends. They’re mine to deal with.”

“As you wish. I won’t interfere if you feel that strongly.”

“Thank you, Vierj.”

“Though I will kill them if they become too great a threat.”

“Of course.”

Jack glanced at Vierj’s silhouette. Once again, he wondered if all this killing was worth it. Did he really have the right to condemn so many people to death?

If I fail, this will all be for nothing,
he thought, looking away.

A message came in from the
Valiant Artisan
. Jack accepted.

“Hello, Dominic.”

“Jack, that was incredible! We slaughtered them!”

“A slaughter, huh?” Jack said. “We must be talking about two different battles.”

“It’s true our fleet took more losses than I would have liked. But, Jack, we have ten confirmed seraph kills. Ten of them! We’ve never killed that many at once. Not ever!”

“How many archangels did you lose?”

“Only seventy-nine,” Dominic said.

“
Only?
” Jack asked.

“Excluding your two kills, that gives the archangels a ten-to-one loss ratio.”

“That doesn’t seem very good to me.”

“You have to understand the economics of the situation. Our raw materials may be substandard, but they’re far more plentiful. We can afford to throw archangels into a seraph meat grinder. Even if we lose all of them and only kill a few seraphs, we will because we’re keeping those accursed things away from our fleet. Losses of twelve to one and above are acceptable in the big picture.”

“You had surprise and numbers on your side. You won’t always have that.”

“What are you getting at, Jack?”

“I’m just not very impressed with your new toys.”

Jack sent a hypercast command to the now poorly named
Scion of Aktenzek
. The seraph carrier folded space and came into position two thousand kilometers beyond the
Dauntless Purpose
. Jack and Vierj lifted off to meet it.

“I have to disagree,” Dominic said pointedly.

Jack smirked. “Sounds like someone has a case of wounded pride.”

“This is nothing of the sort. The archangels performed well beyond my expectations. We’ve clearly proven the theory behind our archangel tactics and now know how effective they can be, even against seraph elites. The Executives needed proof before they would commit archangels to larger fleet engagements, and now they have it.”

“I need those archangels as a distraction. It’s either that or fight every seraph in the legion.”

“Now, don’t be hasty,” Dominic said. “We haven’t committed to moving against Aktenzek.”

“Then you’d better make up your minds. Vierj and I aren’t going to wait forever.”

“Hold on a second, Jack.”

“I’ve gone out of my way to prove we’re not some Aktenai plot. Now it’s time for you to step up. Either you help us get inside Aktenzek or we try it on our own. Together we both get what we want. Alone, whether Vierj and I succeed or fail, the Grendeni get nothing. Are you hearing this?”

“All right, Jack. You’ve made your point.”

“Hell, you have a good chance of ending this war outright if you seize the Gate. You should be begging me to help you.”

“Look, Gurgella and I have a meeting with the Executives in an hour. We’ll bring up your assault plans again. Will that make you happy?”

“It’ll make me happy when they say yes. Other than that, your words don’t really matter.”

“Damn it, Jack. There’s only so much I can do.”

“Then you and your Executives should be ready for disappointment. Are we free to fold yet?”

“Yeah,” Dominic said. “The fleet’s finished clearing the area for stealth exodrones. You can fold to
Valiant Artisan
whenever you’re ready. Look, how about we try this? I’ll meet up with you after our meeting and fill you in over a drink or two. Hell, I might even bring good news. The stuff these Grendeni get sloshed with is pretty good, though it’ll never beat a cold refreshing beer.”

Jack grinned despite himself.

“Just like old times, huh?” he asked.

“Well, except neither of us have our EN dress blues anymore. Besides, I don’t think the ladies here would be impressed in the least.”

Jack chuckled. “Sounds interesting, Dom. All right. I’ll join you for a drink, but you had better work those Executives over hard.”

“Thanks. I’ll be sure to press them in our meeting and stress your needs.”

Dominic closed the link.

Jack slowed along his final approach to the carrier and pulled up through one of several catapults along the
Scion
’s underside. Catapult mechanisms locked onto his wings and raised him into the seraph bays.

Jack ascended into the brightly lit interior. Clamps latched onto his shoulders and secured his position. Insectoid arms deployed from the ceiling and pulled his conformal weapon pods off.

Jack weakened the bond with the seraph and became aware of his true body once again. The cockpit chamber widened and opened. Light filtered in, banishing the gloom. He crossed the gangplank and headed for the adjacent seraph bay.

Catapult rails lifted Vierj’s seraph into the adjacent bay. She let her barrier dissipate, revealing the seraph beneath. She had ordered the
Scion of Aktenzek
to create a black design with long silver ovals across the arms, legs, and wings. A diagonal cross-hatch of vent-like shunts provided energy exhaust on the limbs and sides of the chest.

Vierj stepped out of the seraph once it came to a halt. She walked across the gangplank, looking young, beautiful, and dangerously alert. She appraised him with her unique, silver eyes.

“Well spoken, Jack Donolon,” she said.

“You were listening in?”

“I find your negotiations with these peasants fascinating.”

“We just need to remind them who’s in charge.”

“There are other options available to us,” Vierj said carefully. She tilted her head to the side. “If you think they need more persuading.”

“Oh, God, I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

The last thing we need is you splitting schisms open,
Jack thought.
Or worse.

“Well, it is an option if your more cautious methods fail.”

Vierj walked up to him. She traced her fingers down his chest.

“You are a very talented pilot,” she said with a sly grin.

“You’ve seen me fight in the past.”

“I’ve never seen you battle our kind’s lesser forms before. You were quite magnificent.”

Jack gave her a sad smile. “You think I enjoy facing my old comrades?”

“I think they are no longer your comrades. Do you disagree?”

“No.” Jack shook his head. “You’re right, of course.”

“Do we really need this Grendeni rabble?”

“It’s too risky for us to attack Aktenzek alone.”

“I believe I am up to the challenge.”

“Well, too risky for me at least. Come on. We’re about to fold.”

The two pilots entered the bay’s lift and took it to the ship’s main concourse. The lift opened to a long hallway lined with empty quarters. They entered the first room on the right.

Jack’s quarters had changed little in the past two years. He’d placed his Litany d-scroll, a gift from Seth and Quennin, in storage. Vierj found the words quite comical, though she had never asked him to change the Litany on his seraph.

Jack linked a command to the display covering the far wall. Local tactical data, Grendeni fleet deployments, known and suspected Aktenai fleet positions, and their own current location compressed into the upper left quarter. A live visual feed took up the remaining space.

A few seconds passed, and the
Scion of Aktenzek
folded space to the
Valiant Artisan
. A black sunless void wavered as if submerged beneath turbulent water, then cleared.

Thick curtains of sky-blue nebula stretched to infinity in every direction. Small wisps of lighter and darker colors swirled about them. But here, in the center, was the eye of the storm. Far beneath them shone a white dwarf star roughly the size of Earth.

Stretching up from the star was a million-kilometer-long conduit of rings, each ring one kilometer in diameter and protected by powerful gravitic field generators. The rings pulled at the star, coaxing and goading it into a hot channel of stellar matter that rode up within the ring conduit.

At the top of the ring conduit, the hot matter split into hundreds of thin strands, each flying off at forty-five degree angles through thinner conduits. It looked like the fiery edges of a conical hundred-faced diamond.

Most of the strands passed through a ring of factories, where they were further manipulated for power, material, and various manufacturing processes. The strands thinned noticeably wherever they passed through a Grendeni structure.

The
Scion of Aktenzek
approached the hundreds of structures that made up the factory ring. The nearest one produced archangels and stored them on a large plate protruding from its boxy center. Others fabricated frigates or dreadnoughts or even whole schisms.

And not all of the strands were used by factories. A dozen satellites refracted their strands back in towards the broken remains of a lifeless planet above the ring. The Grendeni used the focused strands to carve chunks off the planet, which robot tenders then moved to factories as raw materials.

“Welcome to the
Valiant Artisan
, Vierj.”

***

Aboard the seraph carrier
Resolute
, Seth crossed the gangplank and held out his i-suit helmet. The waiting technician accepted it and bowed in wordless respect for his grief.

They knew. They all knew.

Seth turned around and looked at his seraph in silence, wondering where he’d gone wrong, what he could have done. Should he have flown in with his son’s squadron? Could they have secured a retreat through the northern dock? Maybe he should have sent the EN squadron in first instead.

Or perhaps he should have seen this trap for what it was long before the mission launched.

Seth looked away and proceeded wordlessly through the seraph bay. Technicians and other pilots avoided his gaze.

My son is dead.

Even now, the fact refused to settle. Dark denial swirled in his mind. How could this even be possible? How could Jack have betrayed them and killed his son?
Why
had he betrayed them?

Try as he might, Seth couldn’t figure it out. For what possible reason would a hero of Earth and forger of the Alliance side with the Grendeni? Seth thought back to Jack’s great journey, his sabbatical into the unknown, and his long search.

What were his words?

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Quennin had asked.

“Yes, unfortunately I did.”

What had Jack found? Why was it so unfortunate? Why did it drive him towards such treachery? Seth couldn’t solve the riddles behind Jack’s actions and soon found he no longer cared.

My son is dead, and Jack killed him.

Seth walked down the long line of seraphs. Many of the machines were damaged, their pilots shaken. He watched a medical team pull a wounded EN pilot out of his cockpit and place him on a float pallet. The pilot clutched at his chest in pain, smoke rising from a blackened scar on his i-suit. Looking up, Seth noted the nasty diagonal gash across the seraph’s torso.

He walked by Yonu’s seraph. The skin of the blue machine was slick with black fluid that leaked and dribbled from multiple torso wounds. The right arm, right wing cluster, and head were completely gone. The chest had been cut open by maintenance arms, allowing a medical team to retrieve the wounded pilot.

Seth finally came to his son’s empty hangar. Quennin stood near the bay’s edge, staring into the empty space. She had a helmet in a gloved hand. Smoke fumed from the helmet’s interior, and the material was blistered around the neck and chin. Small runic letters spelled “YONU” on the surface.

Seth walked up to her, afraid of the answer to his unasked question. He looked at his beloved’s face and saw one as hard and emotionless as his own.

“She has a good chance of living,” Quennin finally said, still staring into the empty hangar. “We got her out fast enough, but her burns are severe.”

Seth glanced once more at the smoke rising from Yonu’s helmet.

“The i-suit did what it could,” Quennin said. “But her skin fell away like ash. I could see part of her jawbone.”

Seth didn’t know what to say, was fearful that whatever words he used would only make matters worse. He wasn’t the only one bottling up his rage and grief.

“I…” Quennin’s mouth wavered on the edge of words, but no sound came out. Suddenly with a yell, she flung the helmet with all her strength. The helmet clapped against the far wall and fell into the catapult pit.

“I’m sorry,” Seth said.

Quennin shook her head. “Don’t blame yourself.”

Seth draped an arm over Quennin’s shoulders. She put her hand over his and squeezed. Her eyes moistened, but she fought the tears back.

“The Choir will want a report,” she said. “We lost so many.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

Finally, Quennin broke down. She fell to her knees, tears streaming from her clenched eyes. She put her hands to her face. “Why? Why did he do it?” She began sobbing uncontrollably.

Seth knelt beside her and pulled her close. She buried her face in his chest and wept.

The Choir requested Seth’s presence through his neural link. He ignored them. After several minutes, their polite requests turned into stern orders. Seth switched his neural link completely off.

“I’ll be okay,” she said. “Go talk to the Choir. They’re being persistent.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, go ahead. I… I’ll go see how Yonu is doing.”

“Okay.”

Despite not wanting to leave Quennin’s side, Seth knew they were both warriors. They understood their unending responsibilities. And with his duty foremost in mind, Seth headed up the bay’s lift to the pilot concourse, then followed it to his quarters.