Sword of the Gods: Agents of Ki (Sword of the Gods Saga) (134 page)

Master-Sergeant Kaku'el thrummed nervously in his throat-pouch.

The pilot sent up a prayer, not to the Eternal Emperor, but to an ancient native god who most Mantoids still worshipped alongside their Emperor.

Green lightning shot out of the center of the black hole, and then it disappeared. Where, only moments before, there had been nothing but the faint stellar jets of a black hole consuming matter, now sat two ships unlike anything she had ever seen. In the middle was a third ship which was most definitely familiar.

"Well I'll be damned…" the pilot whistled.

Damnation was the least of their worries as Jophiel stared at the unmistakable shape of the
Prince of Tyre.

"Lucifer's alive," Jophiel whispered.

An odd sense of relief was her first sensation, followed by a desire to kill the man all over again.
'What the hell are you up to, you sneaky bastard?
'

The six ships moved to rendezvous with the Sata'anic armada.

"Look, Sir," Master-Sergeant Kaku'el said. "In the middle of the Sata'anic ships. Aren't those Tokoloshe dreadnoughts?"

All three of them visibly blanched, herself included, and she was not ashamed to admit it.

"What is Shay'tan doing consorting with the Tokoloshe?" Jophiel asked. There were not many things in the universe which Hashem and the old dragon agreed on, but containing Tokoloshe expansion was one of them.

They floated, not daring to maneuver closer or fire their engines to return to their ship, until at last the entire armada began to move away. They waited until the fleet had disappeared beyond the next red giant in the Monoceros Ring before using their impulse engines to get as far away from the event horizon as they could. The moment they got within line-of-sight with the
Eternal Light,
Jophiel dared use a high-frequency radio channel to send a data burst to Major Klik'rr ordering him to analyze the data on the fleet they had seen, including the two unknown ships.

Klik'rr met her in the launch bay, his hard outer wings flared as his inner gossamer wings hummed with nervous energy.

"What were they?" Jophiel asked.

"You're not going to believe this, Sir!" Klik'rr said.

"What were they?"

Klik'rr shoved his portable flatscreen under her nose. Jophiel stared at a historical registry of ancient ships and species. The ships weren't identical, for the ones they'd see were far more advanced in technology, but the organically-inspired architecture was unmistakable.

"Nephilim," Jophiel said.

"I thought they were extinct?" Master-Sergeant Kaku'el said.

Jophiel snorted.

"Sata'anic propaganda," Jophiel said. "Shay'tan exterminated them right around the time of the destruction of Nibiru, but most of their planets evacuated and disappeared. We've found no sign of them before today, but there have been stories out in the uncharted territories about explorers having run-ins with what they called 'transdimensional aliens.'  Shay'tan swears he ran them out of the galaxy, but with so many unexplored planets, Hashem was always skeptical that some might remain."

"Maybe it wasn't
where
they disappeared to," Master-Sergeant Kaku'el said, "but what universe? If they figured out how to move between the dimensions, even Shay'tan would have a hard time detecting them."

Jophiel nodded. In light of the wormhole bridge, this theory made sense, but she was out of her scientific league. It was time to notify the one man in the universe who was capable of figuring it all out.

"Ready my needle," Jophiel said. "Download everything we've got onto a database, along with our exact position. It's time to inform the Emperor."

Major Klikrrr's incessant wing-hum grew even louder.

"We can't, Sir."

"Why?"

"About the time that wormhole bridge opened," Klik'rr said. "Your needle became agitated, and then it disappeared. The needle-handler tried to command it to stop, but it circumvented the control collar and hasn't answered a signal since."

"Where did it go?" Jophiel asked.

"It leaped between dimensions," Klik'rr said. He tilted his heart-shaped green head. "Sir. This far from all known bases and signal amplifiers, we have no way to reach the Eternal Emperor."

Jophiel cursed, something she
never
did.

"What do we do now, Sir?" Klik'rr said.

Jophiel pulled up a map of the Monoceros Ring and pointed to the next red giant on the chain.

"We follow that armada," Jophiel said.

"But they'll see us!" Klik'rr said.

Jophiel laughed.

"Not if we stay one solar system back from them at all times and hide in the cover of each sun," Jophiel said. "I learned a thing or two about stalking prey from Colonel Mannuki'ili. It's time to go hunting, boys!"

She turned to the pilot. "You. As soon as you can refuel that thing, you're going back out. You'll be point man. Creep up behind that armada and see what you can find out."

She turned to Klik'rr.

"Set up a line of shuttles behind him. As long as we use direct-beamed transmissions relayed line-of-sight from shuttle-to-shuttle, they shouldn't pick up we're here. Small ships as point-men will lessen the chance of the lizards looking in the rear-view mirror and noticing they've got an Alliance command carrier tailing them, and it will give us time to bug out of here if they
do
spot us."

"Yes, Sir," the pilot and Klik'rr said.

She went back to her war room and analyzed the data until, several days later, they got a relayed transmission from the pilot who was the front-man.

"Sir?" the pilot said.

"What?"

"Lucifer's ship and the two Nephilim vessels disappeared."

"You mean they broke off from the Sata'anic armada?" Jophiel asked.

"No, Sir," the pilot said. "I relayed the actual video footage. Look for yourself."

Jophiel watched the video. The
Prince of Tyre
and the two Nephilim ships spaced out, a bright white ship that was similarly sized and shaped like the nut-brown Nephilim ones, although the
Prince of Tyre
had a traditional hull while the Nephilim ones appeared to be almost organic structures, and then one by one, all three ships blinked out of existence.

Jophiel stared, her mouth open.

"Where did they go?" Major Klik'rr asked from beside her.

A sickening feeling settled into Jophiel's gut.

"Earth."

~ * ~ * ~

February: 3,389 BC

Earth: Village of Assur

Mikhail

Mikhail selected a long, black-brown primary feather that had sustained some damage from the pulse rifle and tugged at it, suppressing a wince, until the sturdy quill slid reluctantly into his hand. He justified the selection of a less-than-perfect feather by reminding himself it was a fitting momento, given the circumstances, and not for the more pragmatic reason that he was running out of primary feathers to get himself airborne. He placed it carefully into Varshab's cold, lifeless hands, crossed peacefully in eternal rest.

"May She-who-is grant you safe passage into the dreamtime," Mikhail whispered in the clicking Cherubim language, "and if there is a Hall of Heroes as our little protégé insists, perhaps someday I shall meet you there? For I know of no man more worthy than he who had the thankless task of keeping the peace."

Immanu sprinkled water over Varshab's forehead, invoking a prayer to She-who-is. Thankfully
SHE
decided not to make an unwelcome intrusion into the small, intimate death ceremony, attended only by the Chief, himself, Pareesa, and of course the shaman and the healer. Was this how
he
would end his days if he did not find Ninsianna? An enforcer? A strong-man who was respected and feared, but never really liked, because it was his duty to enforce the law? Perhaps he
should
have tried to fly to Dur-Katlimmu, if for no reason other than to notify the man's only surviving child that her father was about to die?

Needa refused to meet his gaze. She had not told them whether she had helped Varshab's death along with the hemlock she kept on a special shelf inside the house, but by the way the man had cried out in pain the last few hours of his life and then suddenly been gone, he suspected she had. The Sata'anic doctor had been shoved back into the hole, but thankfully there was no more talk about flaying the prisoners alive. The doctor had done his best, and Needa had made it known any man who lay a hand on them would receive no healer's help for the remainder of their lives.

"We return your body to the bosom of the goddess," Immanu chanted a sing-song prayer. "And pray your family will greet you at the entrance to the great beyond."

As the sun set, Mikhail helped them push the dirt back into the hole, the men silent as Pareesa wept for the man who had been a mentor. That task done, they picked up the yellow rocks they'd spent half the day gathering, even
before
Varshab had died, and used them to build a cairn around his body so no scavenger would disturb his peace.

It was the second grave they'd dug today. The first grave had been for the father of the girl who had committed suicide. It had been Siamek who'd found him and dug the grave. Immanu had refused to say the death ceremonies, but Mikhail noted the way his father-in-law's eyes darted to the second cairn.

Varshab's burial was much the way things were conducted amongst the Emperor's armies, nameless, faceless soldiers who expended their lives on behalf of the naturally evolved citizens who never truly appreciated their sacrifices. Had Mikhail not spent time amongst a people who wept and grieved, it might not have ever occurred to him that he
should
feel bothered that Varshab's passing had gone almost unnoticed. But it
did
bother him. It bothered him that this man who had given so much to bring order to their village was being buried without so much as a single family member in attendance, and nobody, not even him, had cared enough to go and tell the only family member he'd still had left alive.

Immanu recited the rest of the prayers, and then they all trudged solemnly back up the hill and into the gates, the warriors silent except for Pareesa's sobbing. It occurred to him that perhaps she needed a hug, as that's what most humans expected under these types of circumstances. While he wrestled with the appropriateness of such a gesture, ever mindful of Ninsianna's reaction, the whispers of the village gossips, and how his own in-laws might perceive the act of comforting his student, Ebad intercepted them and alleviated him of the responsibility by gathering Pareesa into his arms. Mikhail wasn't certain whether to be glad or sad. Despite her tender age, Pareesa was one of his most trusted friends. Perhaps he should have acted with more certitude? Quickly? The way he would have reacted had the assault to Pareesa been a physical wound rather than an emotional one?

They passed by Immanu's house on their way to the central granary, where the Chief and Immanu had taken up residence since one's house had burned down and the other had developed a marital disagreement with his wife. Needa paused, her expression lonely as she stared at her husband and then turned to enter the door.

Immanu turned to go. It was time for Mikhail to make his first attempt at being a gracious host, a task he had no experience performing.

"Please," Mikhail said. "Come inside. All of you. Yalda and Zhila sent over some bread and beer to make a toast in Varshab's name."

Needa eyed him warily. He had not consulted with her, fearing she would have told him no. Immanu had been given no warning, either, for it was likely
he
would have refused. The Chief, thankfully, intuited what Mikhail was trying to do and spoke up.

"Yes," Chief Kiyan said. "As I no longer have a house to hold a suitable gathering for one of my oldest and dearest friends, I am most grateful that you would open up your own house to toast the memory of a great warrior."