Either way, she rested, and when she woke, her own psionic senses seemed to be functioning normally. Even as he slept, she sensed the warmth David felt toward her. The love he’d always had for her. Whatever mistakes she’d made, he was the one person who never turned away from her.

  For certain, when she acted the fool he’d called her out on it. He’d been right. It wasn’t her place to release Caleb without his permission. Not on his ship.

  She kissed him on the cheek. David’s stubble had grown thick over the last couple days, and his whiskers tickled her lips. He needed a shave. He needed a damn vacation. They all did.

  He woke and ordered breakfast brought to her quarters. They sat quietly, eating eggs and oatmeal. It had never tasted so good to her. She hadn’t eaten since … since before they entered Triangulum, more than a day ago. David didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.

  “When are you needed on the bridge?” she asked, when breakfast was finished.

  “Soon, I guess. I’ve left Phoebe up there all night. She’s bound to be getting a wee bit cranky. Which is like to be more a problem for Knight than me, I guess. Why? Did you have something in mind?”

  “Well, I just might …”

  David rose from the table and leaned toward her. His thumb brushed her cheek, and he ran his fingers through her hair.

  Her door buzzed.

  Bastard had the worst timing in the holy universe. And she almost, almost might believe he’d done it on purpose.

  She exchanged a pained look with David, then he shrugged and backed away.

  “Open,” she said.

  Raziel stepped in, and Rachel swore she sensed a hint of amusement coming off him. Damn angel really did know what he’d interrupted, didn’t he?

  “I have communed with my brethren.”

  Communed? Did he mean he called them on the Mazzaroth? Or had he gone into the Conduit to enhance his psionic gifts? God, did that really allow him to communicate telepathically between galaxies?

  “The angels have refused to back down. They warned me … They said I must join them in the destruction of Asherah. They intend to strike soon and eliminate all human life in the Confederacy as an example. Mizraim citizens who submit will be spared.”

  All life? So they were really going through with the genocide. They planned to wipe out seven galaxies’ worth of human life.

  And what did he mean, they said he must join them? Would he? Would he become a pariah and stand against them, risk his own existence? His face was unreadable, his emotions guarded.

  The angel turned away, hiding his face. “I’m sorry, Rachel. They will not be swayed. They cannot forgive the Asherans for making themselves cyborgs. They plan to reinforce the Covenant.”

  At the cost of a trillion lives.

  47

  “The shape moves with the eye. Appendages of penumbral nothing stretch without motion, grasp without digits, devour without orifice. Hatred coalesced, still lacking form.”

  The Codex, Book of Azrael

  FEBRUARY 6, 3096 EY — TRIANGULUM GALAXY

  For a long time after Raziel left, David sat with Rachel in her chambers. She said nothing, and he was grateful. He had put her—had put all the crew—through the void in trying to take down the Ark, and he’d failed.

  Now, the Tabernacle belonged to the angels. Sentinel ships were flocking back to the Shekhinah. Mizraim would be solidly under their control in a few weeks, most likely. And then … then they would exterminate the four galaxies of the Asheran Confederacy.

  And no matter how much he’d hated Asherah for the death of his mum, he could not allow that. Murder on this scale was something beyond imagining. Or rather, it was something they had only imagined from the Adversary itself. The entity or entities had tried to exterminate mankind. And that was what the angels were doing now. And why not? Rachel had learned the Adversary was just another faction of angels, right? There seemed little difference between the two.

  The angels had made themselves the very monster they had once saved Eden from. They had saved Eden after eight billion people died. But the numbers they intended to kill now dwarfed even the Adversary’s unthinkable actions.

  The Sentinels had been created to protect humanity. To ensure no foe could ever threaten their survival again. To stand between mankind and the Adversary. And that was what David would have to do now. He would have to stand up to the angels. He would stand against Mizraim, if that’s what it took.

  At last he stood, and Rachel rose with him. She must know the decision he’d already reached. She’d feel it, radiating from his emotions. She knew him. Some things could not be borne.

  “The Asheran military is in chaos,” she said. “They’ve lost even more ships than the Sentinels.”

  “Hertz reported one aluf is still trying to organize a defense. He needs to know what’s coming.”

  Rachel nodded.

  David brushed off his uniform and stood before the Mazzaroth screen. Some might call what he was about to do treason. But then, he’d been accused of that before. Once he’d started down the road of following his convictions, there was no turning back.

  “Mazzaroth personal access. David MacGregor, code Duress 92G. Contact Aluf Mishma Lamport.”

  For an interminable minute, the screen flickered, trying to connect. Then, at long last, the man appeared on screen. The man wore a helmet disguising his face. In place of a visor, it showed a cross of glowing light. He had an armored suit, but it didn’t cover his arms. Those were actually made of metal. Cybernetic limbs.

  It made David a little sick, but he tried not to squirm. He’d chosen to make this call. “Aluf?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Sentinel Captain David MacGregor.”

  “What do you want, Captain?”

  “I … I want to warn you. The angels have claimed the Tabernacle and taken control of the Mizraim Empire. Many Sentinels are with them. They plan to invade Asheran space soon. They intend to use the Ark to wipe out every living being in the Confederacy.”

  The aluf held stock still, and through the visor, David could get no read on the man. Did he trust him? If the man refused to believe, this call was for nothing.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because not all Sentinels, not all Mizraim citizens, believe in such extreme measures. Because the angels have become mass murderers—the very threat Sentinels are meant to stand against.”

  A loud breath transmitted over the Mazzaroth. It was probably a snort, but David decided it was best to assume it was a sigh.

  “So you plan to aid Asherah, Captain?”

  Just one more step. One more step down the road to treason. One meter more, and he would betray his government to the enemy he’d hated from childhood. He would betray his government to save the human race. The very thing Rachel had been trying to do all along.

  And now he had become her. David had found himself in her role.

  The Codex spoke of pariahs—those who stood outcast, not as mere khapiru but for the good of society. Would doing this make him one? Would it end his career?

  It didn’t matter.

  It was petty to dwell on such things now. His career meant nothing in the face of the fate of the human race. Just like Rachel—at long last he understood her. For her convictions, she had sacrificed all she’d worked for. And he had never truly understood until this moment.

  Before, he had made sacrifices for her. He had betrayed Waller because of his love for Rachel. Only now, standing here, on the cusp of alliance with the enemies of his own nation, did he really understand the weight she had borne. The terrible burden of a conscience that defied society.

  “Aye,” he said, at last. “We have to act quickly. And we’ll need to work together. Can I count on you, Aluf?”

  The man slowly reached up and detached his helmet. A hiss of oxygen escaped as he lifted it away, at last revealing his face. Cybernetic protrusions that reminded David of the frozen angels poked out in place of one of the man’s eyebrows. His face was worn, scarred, and older than David had guessed.

  “I am a man of my word, Captain. And I give you that word. If you are true, I shall be as well.”

  David supposed it was the best he could hope for.

  48

  “I am a Sentinel. A guardian of the Mizraim Empire. Once, I looked on such men and women with the same awe any citizen felt in their presence. Then, in time, it became disdain. I saw Sentinels as a symptom of the disease afflicting mankind—the disease of blind faith and subservience. I was wrong about the Sentinels, of course. I mistook a dedication to duty for subservience, principles of honor for blindness. I am proud to say I am one of those who watches the darkness to protect the light.”

  Dr. Rachel Jordan, speech on Caria

  THE CONDUIT

  The men and women sitting around the table had become David’s inner circle. Rachel, the love of his life, sat on his right, manipulating a holo display of Andromeda.

  “This is where we think the Tabernacle is located,” Rachel explained. She had a natural demeanor of a lecturer, completely at ease presenting information to a group.

  Knight sat beside her, taciturn and solemn, casting barely perceptible glances at Phoebe across the table. And, of course, Leah was there, next to Phoebe. He’d had less time to give the rahab of late, and he hoped she understood. Her friendship meant more to him than he could tell her.

  Raziel stood at the other end of the table, finding no chairs easily accommodated his wings. Sooner or later, David would have to make special arrangements for the angel. Despite all odds, Raziel had proven an ally and deserved to be treated as such.

  “The Tabernacle is a vital symbol to Mizraim,” Leah said. “If we could take it back, it would send a message.”

  “Yup, yup,” Phoebe said. “It’d tell everyone we’re bad asses. On account of it’s liable to be guarded by a sizable fleet and possibly angels. And basically impossible to take. So, we’d be doing the impossible. Always looks good. You know, if it wasn’t impossible.”

  “Nothing’s impossible,” Knight said.

  “In that case, how about I knock you up, and you have the babies, ninja boy?”

  David smiled, trying to savor the moment. The people he cared most for were all here in this room. It was near impossible to make peace. Their lives were in his hands. His next decisions could cost any or all of them those lives. He’d always borne the burden for the lives of those under his command, and he’d always accepted that. But this was different. Captains were usually discouraged, although not forbidden, from having romances in their own crew. He could see why. He’d never let anything happen to Rachel. He never wanted anything to happen to anyone here.

  “Leah is right about the Tabernacle,” David said at last. “The symbol aside, we cannot allow the angels to continue to use the Shekhinah.”

  Rachel waved away the hologram. “Why not? What does that computer have to do with anything now that the angels themselves are back? I mean, it ruled Mizraim, so people followed it, but it’s been supplanted.”

  He sighed, and Phoebe cleared her throat. When he’d promoted her to first officer, he’d had to tell her something she hadn’t been thrilled to hear. Usually only captains and X.O.s were meant to know, but the time for military secrets may have passed.

  He scratched his head, then turned to Rachel. “The Shekhinah was the ultimate commander of the Sentinels, the final authority over us.”

  “And?”

  “And every Sentinel ship in the fleet is equipped with a secure transmitter beacon. Through Conduit relays, the Shekhinah can monitor the location and condition of a ship, no matter where in the universe it is. If we tried to congregate a fleet, it would know where we were staging. It’ll make organizing the Sentinels against the angels next to impossible.”

  “So we destroy it,” Knight said.

  “What, the beacon?” David asked. “It’s not a single device, but a fully integrated part of the ship. Disabling it would mean frying the main computer and half the systems onboard. We’d be left blind and adrift.”

  “Then take out the Shekhinah,” Knight said. “Remove it from the equation.”

  Leah scoffed. “The Shekhinah has stood as the symbol of Mizraim for six hundred years, Knight. We can’t just blow it up.”

  “Why not? I have nothing personal against it. The only order it ever gave me was to have lots of sex. Which works. But it’s a computer, and it’s in the way of our plans.”

  “Technically,” Phoebe said, “it ordered you to have sex with lots of women. Not the same as just having lots of sex with one woman. Which means I kinda do have a personal problem with the computer.”

  David held up a hand. “Look, what Knight says is true. Not long ago I couldn’t have even imagined doing this, but … we have no choice. The Shekhinah, whether out of fear or cold logic, has sided with the angels. And it gives them a tool we cannot allow them to have. It has betrayed mankind, and our only remaining option is to take it out.”

  “Yup,” Phoebe said. “M’kay. But how are we going to do that if we can’t get close without it knowing?”

  “The Sephirot was never fitted with the beacon,” Raziel said. “Nor, obviously, were any other QI ships.”

  David swallowed. This was it, then. This was the moment he crossed the line and could not even pretend an illusion of loyalty. “Nor are the Asheran ships. I’ve been in contact with them. We can give them the coordinates, and they can strike with us.”

  Leah moaned. “David, you know what it’s going to mean if an Asheran fleet destroys the symbol of the Mizraim Empire.”

  Chaos. Rampant fear. Maybe civil war. “It’ll mean a terror slightly less than what the angels are raining down on the universe right now. It’ll mean we deal a blow to them and to their authority. And with any luck, it’ll mean we earn back the Sentinels to our cause. Because we cannot fight both the angels and the Sentinels.”

  He looked around the table. One by one, each of his companions nodded.

  So it was decided.

  God forgive him for what he had to do.

  49

  “And with the line drawn, we say, ‘enough.’ We will not be slaves. We will not bow down. We shall rise.”

  Dr. Rachel Jordan, speech on Urkish

  THE CONDUIT

  Rachel felt chilled, despite the heat of the war room. She rose from the table, hugging herself. The day she had left home, her father had told her defiance would have severe consequences.

  He had been right.

  If Rachel had stayed there, or even had acquiesced when the board at NRU told her to curtail her lectures, maybe none of this would have happened.

  In her quest to save the human race, she had brought about Armageddon. She guessed one person really could make a difference in the universe. And she wanted to cry, though she dared not let any of the others see her.

  One by one, they filed out of the war room. Except David. He just sat there, watching her.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Aye, lass. Stay a wee bit, please.”

  Rachel slumped back into the chair beside him and took his hand. He felt the weight too. It drifted off him like toxic vapors, threatening to suffocate her. The weight of destiny, the weight of choices that could not be unmade. Decisions he made, even now, knowing the cost would be high—maybe higher than could be borne. And he made them anyway, because he saw no other way.

  And buried under all that, he felt something else. A surge of comfort when Rachel held his hand. He deserved whatever small comfort she could give him. He’d sacrificed so much for her. She’d brought this about, and still he stood by her.

  “You know, Rach, I realized something. It took me a long time, but I finally understood why you did all the things you did. Before, I thought I knew, but I didn’t. You didn’t give up your home and career because you don’t care about those things. You did it because you had no choice. That little voice in your head that just wouldn’t be silent. Your conscience, telling you something was wrong with the universe. And if no one else saw it, you had to be the one to fix it.”

  What was he saying? That he …

  Her mind wouldn’t work right. Her chest seized up, overcome with a torrent of emotions. And for once, she didn’t have to wonder whether they had come from someone else. A tear streamed down her face.

  “You don’t know …” she stammered, knowing she sounded like a blubbering child but unable to stop. “You don’t know how long I waited to hear … to have you …”

  “Aye. I do. Now.” He threw his arms around her and held her close.

  And for a moment, all that fear and pressure fled. Finally … finally he was with her. He had been by her side all along, but he hadn’t understood her. And she’d known that and loved him anyway. But now, she couldn’t cope with the unleashed river of emotion, and so here she was sobbing like an idiot.

  David brushed her cheek, rubbing away a tear with his thumb. She kissed him then, hard, pressing her lips on his with a hunger that threatened to consume her. For a lifetime she had waited to know she wasn’t in this alone.

  He pulled away and looked deep into her eyes. “Rach … we could all die soon. And I’m so sorry I have to place you in such danger.”

  “It’s all right. I understand.” She laughed, sucking away the last of her tears. “I get … the weight.”

  “Aye. And I can’t go into that without you knowing the depth of my heart.”

  She smiled and punched him on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’m an empath.”

  “No. Sometimes a person needs to hear the words. I love you.”

  Rachel drew her fingers along his stubbly cheek. “I love you too.”

  “I want you and only you, forever. I want to finish this and build a life and a house and have babies. Lots of babies. And you know I’ve wanted it all before, but it’s more now. I’m ready to burst for the want of it. Be mine and mine alone.”

 

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