True Believers (29 page)

Jessit and Senit watched in silence as the last of the enemy was crushed to the ground. When the bubble collapsed, Alturian forces dove in. This time they were sure the shield couldn't reestablish itself. It had been shut down at the source.

The Alturians were outnumbered and outgunned, but once the shield was down, Earth became vulnerable to ordinary dampening waves. Nearly the whole world ran on electricity, the easiest element of all to disrupt and destroy.

Jessit took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
No mercy,
he thought. He didn't want to give the humans a single shred of mercy. But that was not his to decide.

The Emperor wanted the planet intact. And Lord Avenar, the highest religious authority on their planet, insisted that human life be spared where possible. It would be up to the gods to decide their ultimate fate.

He hoped the gods were as unforgiving as he felt right now. His solar plexus ached. He could still feel her. The largest cities took the hardest hits. Major communication hubs were housed there, and Eklan didn't want the humans to regroup too quickly. He destroyed them outright, mindful that he had to keep the population subdued while under Alturian dominion.

Energy weapons vacuumed the Earth in wide swaths, frying anything that ran off a microchip. Everything was affected at once, leaving a frightened and confused people.

Did they realize how close they came to annihilation?

When the battle was over Jessit turned off the monitor. The squadrons would be cleaning up, destroying whatever bits of infrastructure still posed a possible threat.

He walked over to his closet and pulled out a somber gray suit. He no longer had a right to a uniform.

Senit came up behind him and helped Jessit out of his uniform jacket. He laid it on a chair with reverence then picked up Jessit's knife, still sheathed, and tucked it underneath his belt.

Jessit thought to call him on it, but why? Priests weren't allowed weapons. Senit was doing him a favor.

“It was a good life, Senit.”

“Taelen, listen to me. I can help you disappear. You'll never have to present yourself to the priesthood.”

“I can't do that.”

“Yes, you can. This is a sham. You can't submit to this. There's nothing I can do to get your commission back, but I can help you run.”

Jessit poured a fresh glass of water and took a deep swallow, letting the coolness soothe his burning throat. “You're a good friend. But I'm not running. If this is my destiny then I will meet it head on.”

“They're going to neuter you!”

“Don't remind me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can't run from what was supposed to have happened all along. I was meant for the priesthood. I have the gift of sight.”

“You're no priest. And they'll find that out soon enough.”

He laughed without mirth. “Are you trying to save me from myself? It's no use, you know.”

“Someone has to save you. I can't believe you're giving in.”

Jessit got up and squeezed Senit's shoulder. “But don't you see? The priesthood has always been my destiny. It's what I was meant to do right from the beginning.”

“Rachel wouldn't have wanted you to become a priest.”

Senit always knew how to win an argument, but he wouldn't let him win this one.

Jessit slipped on his dark gray trousers and smoothed down the tunic against his hips. In a few days, even this wardrobe would be absent, replaced by the dull brown robes of an acolyte.

“Rachel is gone. And since we can no longer be lovers, I can serve her best as a priest.” He grabbed his uniform off the chair back and threw it into a laundry chute. “Why are you still here?” He pointed to the knife he had commandeered and hidden. “You've already relieved me of my knife. Are you afraid I'm going to use it on someone?” He paused. “Well, maybe Kalya.”

Senit reached behind him and handed the knife to Jessit. “I was only holding it for you.”

Jessit took it, running his fingers along the edge before returning it to Senit. “Take care of this for me, won't you? The priesthood doesn't allow weapons, and I don't want them confiscating it from me. I'll feel better knowing you have it somewhere safe.”

Senit tucked it under his long tunic when the door chimed. Jessit opened it reluctantly. It was Eklan, looking grim and tired. He entered without invitation, waving at Senit in dismissal. Jessit nodded toward the door with a silent order for Senit to leave. Whatever Eklan had to say was for his ears alone.

Eklan waited for the door to close before speaking. He helped himself to Jessit's scotch but poured two glasses, offering the first one to Jessit. Jessit refused it.

Eklan looked up at him bleary-eyed. “The battle is over.” He took a long swallow from his glass.

“We watched from here.”

Eklan poured the contents of Jessit's untouched scotch into his glass, then downed it too.

“I'm going to the surface.” He rose to his feet. “I want to see the Lady for myself and also launch a search for the other gods. We picked up a great deal of their signature radiation in secluded locations all around the world, including the Texas compound.”

Jessit jumped to his feet. “I must go as well.”

Eklan put his hand on Jessit's shoulder. “Not yet. I will find the Lady and bring her to you here.”

He turned to walk out but Jessit pulled in front of him, blocking his way. “Natol, this is important to me.”

“I said no. I'm sorry.”

Jessit's hands folded into fists, his knuckles white as snowcaps. It was taking all his effort to remain calm. Why was he doing this to him now? “She was my heart, Commander. And I demand blood vengeance on her killer. It is my right.”

He pushed Jessit aside and mumbled his apologies. “I know she was your heart. That's why I can't let you go. I won't let you see her like that. But I promise, her killer will be brought to you directly. You'll not be denied. I want to be there when you burn that heretic's blood.”

Paul huddled in a corner with Rachel. He didn't want to let her go, and he didn't want to leave her. But what more could he do? He rocked her in his arms, babbling sweet nothings. She was so cold.

Bubba's voice sputtered over the speakers. “Al-alturian fo-forces have entered the…compound.”

“How long before they get here?”

“I'm not sure. To be honest, I-I'm not sure of a lot of things anymore. I think I-I'm sick.”

“I know. Don't worry, I'll come back and fix you.”

“I don't see how. Co-command is sure to dismantle me.”

Paul dug into one of his pants pockets and pulled out a slim jump drive. “They won't get everything, Bubba. I downloaded all your AI functions into this.” He held it out so Bubba's visual sensors could read it.

“It doesn't seem big enough to ho-hold it all,” Bubba said, almost with a sigh.

Paul laid his head against the wall. “Trust me. I can compress files better than any code monkey you know.”

“I do trust you, Paul. Ra-rachel trusted you too.”

Bubba's circuits popped over the speakers as more of his functions deteriorated. His voice stuttered and sometimes paused in midsentence. He was dying. Paul didn't know how much time the AI had left.

“I guess Ra-rachel was wrong about herself,” Bubba lamented between static blips.

“What do you mean?”

“I tried to tell you earlier. O-only the body died. I pulled her out…through the…god-killer and into my…housing before it ex-expired.”

Paul bolted upright, examining Rachel more thoroughly. “What?”

“I pulled her out, but she—she left me after Denman killed Sorinsen. She said she was going ba-back into her body to repair it. I sense no life signs from here. Apparently the da-damage was too great. I shouldn't…have let her go.”

Paul laid Rachel flat on the ground and put his ear to her chest. There was no heartbeat, no breath. “Bubba, I need more light.”

“I can't give you any more light. The entire co-compound is on generators. Even my system is on…reserves. I'm sorry, Paul.”

Paul ran his hands down Rachel's arms. Her flesh was still soft, flexible, but there was no breath. How long could she last without breathing?

A tear slid down his face. Was she trapped inside her body? Did she die like Dahlia?

“Come on, Rachel. If you're still in there, you have to give me a sign. You have to help me.” He rubbed her arms to try to put back some circulation, but she remained unresponsive. “Come on! Fight!” He tilted her head back and opened her mouth. Maybe she was the one who needed help. Paul blew into her mouth several times followed by chest compressions. He couldn't remember what the latest rulebook said about resuscitation but at this point he was working on instinct alone.

Feverishly he worked on her, trading breaths for compressions nonstop.

“Paul.”

“Not now, Bubba.” Paul pressed both palms of his hands against her chest.

“But Paul.”

“Damn it, Bubba! What?”

“They're here.”

The door burst open, and soldiers flooded in like a black wall of water. Some tripped over Sorinsen. Others stomped on him.

Paul watched from the shadows. He pulled Rachel closer to him.

Despite the darkness, one man caught sight of them at once. He yelled in Alturian and the soldiers descended on them like locusts.

Paul hugged Rachel to his chest, even while every soldier aimed his weapon at him. “Leave us alone, goddamn it. You can't have her.”

They looked at one another, confused, until Bubba translated. Several of them got angry and raised their weapons once more. Then a young man entered the room and stepped over Sorinsen, scorn painting his face as he looked down at the dead man.

Bubba continued to translate. “Th-this man appears to be in charge. He is asking the others for a…report.”

Paul clutched Rachel harder, daring the soldiers to take her from him. “Ask him who he is. Ask him what he wants.”

Bubba started the translation when the young man tapped on his earpiece.

“Translation is not necessary.” He approached Paul. “I am Fleet Commander Natol Eklan.”

“Fleet Commander? I don't understand. I thought that was Jessit's job.”

“You thought wrong. Your name and rank, human.”

Paul scrunched his eyes, trying to make out all the bodies in the room but it was so dark. They, on the other hand, didn't seem to have any trouble negotiating in the shadows. “My name is Paul Domino, and I don't have a rank. I'm a civilian.”

“Domino? You brought down the com-web, yes?”

“Yes, that was me. But it was too late. I didn't get to her in time.” He pulled Rachel's face closer to his and kissed the top of her head. She was stone cold. He had lost her for sure.

Eklan holstered his weapon and crouched down in front of Paul. He put his hands out. “You have to give her to us now.”

“No.” Paul shuddered. “No. She belongs here.”

“The Lady belongs with us. She is our god. You must allow us to pay homage.” Eklan crept closer to Paul. “You have done your part, Paul Domino. Allow us to do ours.”

Paul felt his hands loosen their grip when Eklan lifted her into his arms. Eklan's soldiers bowed their heads and chanted a prayer of some sort. Bubba didn't translate.

Eklan cleared his throat and gave an order with a broken voice. Six men presented themselves as an honor guard. Eklan turned to Paul once more. “I think Lord Jessit will want to see you.” He pointed to the only man not dressed in uniform. “This man will escort you. We must take the Lady back first.”

He turned and walked out, a bank of men on either side of him. They were taking Rachel back to their ship. They were taking her home.

***

Paul's escort looked familiar. He had seen him once by Jessit's side. The somber-looking man fitted himself with an earpiece, but didn't approach Paul right away. He was far more interested in the dead general.

The man lifted Sorinsen by his tie, squeezing the rope of fabric like a hangman's noose. The loathing on the man's face could have killed with a look. He shook Sorinsen, hurling him to the floor as if he were something monstrous.

Paul got up to get a better look. Sorinsen's face looked like a frozen mask. His throat had red-welted finger marks around it. He had been killed with bare hands.

The general died with his eyes wide open. And he died in terror.

His escort kicked Sorinsen in the ribs, shoving the body several inches from his resting place. He knelt over the dead man and drew out a long, jeweled knife hidden under his tunic.

Knuckles whitened into bony ridges as his hand squeezed around the blade's hilt. The knife pressed against Sorinsen's pale skin, delivering only a stain of blood.

The dagger slid lower to the main artery along the neck. He severed the artery until blade met bone, allowing the blood to gurgle to the surface in thick, fleshy gobs. An empty vial appeared next, and he pressed it against the open wound, milking the blood out of the withered flesh until it filled the vial to the brim. When he was done, he capped the small jar and slipped it into a pocket, wiping his blade across the general's uniform.

For his final insult, he stood up and spat at Sorinsen's face. A string of angry words followed, but Paul didn't need a translator to know a curse when he heard one.

The blade was sheathed once more before he turned to speak to Paul. “It was a debt I owed my master. He was not allowed to come down to the surface. So I made it my duty to retrieve the blood of the Lady's murderer.” He opened the door and beckoned Paul to go first. “My name is Senit Dante, Mr. Domino. And my master, Taelen Jessit, would like a word with you.”

Paul obeyed dumbly. If Jessit intended to kill him for his failure to protect Rachel, he hoped for a swift execution. He was tired of long engagements.

They traveled the long corridors of the compound, Senit Dante following a rolling map display that he had strapped to his arm. “This way,” he said, and they turned to the left.

The halls were mostly empty now. Occasionally they would find a few Alturian soldiers leading away prisoners, but they soon found themselves alone and lost.

“This device does not seem to be working well.” Senit hit it with the edge of his palm but the monitor remained snowy. “I don't understand. Damn machine.”

They hit a dead end, so they doubled back, hoping to take a turn in another direction. In the distance the soft steady click of footfalls drew nearer.

“At least we're not alone,” Paul said. “Let's see if we can catch up to those footsteps.” They started at a trot and nearly ran into a tall sculpted figure dressed in black. The man smiled at Paul in recognition.

“How good to see you again, Paul.”

Paul's mouth hung open for a few seconds, but Senit's knee dropped to the floor. He genuflected to Gilgamesh.

“My Lord. We thought you dead.”

Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes at Senit but sniffed him with interest. “Who is this man, Paul?”

“This is Senit Dante, sir. Jessit's servant, evidently.”

“Indeed. And where is Taelen now?”

Senit stuttered, “On-on board our flagship, my Lord. The Fleet Commander would not allow him to come to the planet surface. I came in his stead to take the blood of the murderer, Sorinsen. It is my master's right to burn the heathen's blood.”

Gilgamesh seemed pleased. “Blood burning? Do you still do that? How wonderful that you have not forgotten the old ways.” Senit's answer delighted him. “Rise, my young falcon, and take me to your master. I would like to be present when he burns the blood of the man who murdered my daughter.”

“You know about Rachel?” Paul asked.

“I know.” The words were said grimly. “I was the one who killed Sorinsen, but I came too late to save my daughter.”

There was a veiled look of pain across Gilgamesh's face. Glib as he normally was, he was taking his daughter's death hard. Death had to be difficult to comprehend for any father, but Paul imagined it had to be nearly unbearable to an immortal one.

Senit tapped his fingers to his chest and head. “The humans are no longer in control of this planet, sir.”

Gilgamesh nodded. “I'm glad, but that won't bring my daughter back.”