NEW GUESTS?” GABRIEL arched an eyebrow.
“A ship came out of slicing void,” Orion said. “Outside the stochastic horizon but closing fast.”
The view spun from the bloody smear of the nebula fore to the wash of stars aft. The display superimposed a blue targeting circle around an approaching glow and zoomed in. A flare of propulsion gave the new ship an indistinct, triangular silhouette against the night of space.
Gabriel asked Sabira, “Is that a Slaver ship?”
“That’s a talon gunship. Warseer crew only. The Unity fleet won’t be far behind.”
“Unfortunately,” Orion said, “our neighbors aren’t practicing proper etiquette when it comes to ancient, mysterious megastructures in deep space. I’m detecting field tech.”
“Sabira, the Slavers know not to use field tech near the Old Portal, correct?” Gabriel asked.
“They do.”
“Good. It’s still possible that they’ll disengage fields before the horizon point.”
“Unless they’re on a suicide mission,” Orion suggested.
“Sabira?” Gabriel looked at her.
“In their eyes, not only are we escaped traitors, but now we trespass in sacred space. It’d be an honor for them to die stopping us. Warseers don’t go on suicide missions, though. They usually send servants for that.”
“I’m not following something here,” Coraz interjected. “What happens if they cross this horizon point without disengaging their field tech?”
“A random, uncontrollable event,” Orion said.
“It’s deep bad,” Sabira added.
“Can we get through the Old Portal before they cross the horizon?” Gabriel asked.
“They’re coming in fast,” Orion answered. “Even though we’re decelerating, we could beat them to the Gates. But we’d still be in transition when they cross the horizon. We might survive. Might be stuck in non-space for eternity.”
“If they cross the horizon before we reach the Gates, is it possible that the stochastic feedback will only affect them? Perhaps if our fields remain disengaged, we won’t be affected,” Gabriel offered.
“Even if we aren’t caught up in the event, them being here at all glitches our passage through the Old Portal. I’ve primed it according to the parameters of our mass. The mass of a whole other ship this side of the horizon changes everything. I could try and readjust on the fly, but one mistake and zzzt, we’re over. Crushed to a singularity.”
“Don’t just stand there,” Dawn said. “Somebody do something!”
“You promised to keep us safe,” Derev added, blinking erratically.
“Can we abort?” Gabriel asked. “Retreat back to Monarchy space until the way is clear?”
“Maneuvering around the Gates without inertial modulators would be tricky, but I can do it. Even if we resume acceleration now, we wouldn’t make it out of the horizon before they’ve entered, though. If they don’t disengage all field tech by then, well, whether we’re caught up in the event or not remains a huge unknown variable. Our safest option is to kick our guests out of the party before they reach the front door. I’m deploying canons.”
“Wait,” Sabira said. “We don’t know who is on board. Not for sure.”
“Of all the possible solutions,” Orion said, “eliminating them now is our best chance to survive.”
“I agree with Sabira,” Gabriel said. “There has to be another choice other than shooting first and asking who we blew up after.”
“You might get to ask your questions, after all,” Orion said. “They’re transmitting audio. Confirmed, definitely Theocrats. The transmission is in Ihziz-Ri.”
“You know Ihziz-Ri?” Sabira asked.
“Learned it after I cracked through that pyramid’s poor excuse for firewalls.”
“Can we all hear?” Coraz asked.
“It’s warseers,” Cal said. “You already know what they’re saying.”
“Yes, do play it for us,” Gabriel said. “Translate to Khvaziz, please. Your xeno-linguistics have gotten ahead of mine.”
“I’ll link you an interpreter protocol,” Orion said. “In the meantime . . .”
A warseer’s voice filled the observation deck. “—or be annihilated. Sins must always be punished. Such is Divine Will. Repeating. Hailing fugitive vessel. You trespass through Holy Unity territory and sacred space. We know you have the apostate and her heretical sympathizers on board. Alter trajectory away from the Gates of Heaven and surrender the Holy Unity’s property, or be annihilated. Sins must always be punished. Such is Divine Will. Repeating.”
“Those Theocrats, always such charmers,” Orion commented.
“Can you open communications?” Gabriel requested.
“Ever the diplomat. Sure can. Our agreement still stands. I have final say on this ship. Let our party crashers know, they get within a thousand kilometers of the horizon without disengaging all field tech, and the party’s over. Opening comms now.”
The sensor feed dissolved across the bulkhead, and the cockpit of the Unity vessel appeared. Inside the cockpit sat three crew, a big Gohnzol-Lo in front, and two large servants behind her on either side. Sizable as they were, the cockpit seats were still oversized for human passengers. All three wore grank-plated infiltration armor with their helmet visors in transparent mode. They wanted their faces seen. The warseer scanned her eyes across Sabira and the Freebrood until she locked onto Gabriel.
“Yes, you match the description of Trickster’s Black Demon. In the name of the Holy Unity of the Divine Masters, I, Warseer Zika Rab Izd, command you to alter course and leave sacred space immediately. After which, you will render the Unity’s property over to me. Then, if I feel moved by Mother of Life’s mercy, I might allow you to take your ugly little ship and scamper back to whatever hellish part of the galaxy you came from.”
At first, Sabira thought it was Orion interpreting the warseer into her language, but soon realized the warseer was actually speaking in Khvaziz, the non-language of Unity Humans. Warseers considered it a disgrace for themselves to utter a single word of it. The shock of hearing a warseer speak her language didn’t last long before it was replaced by a new and more stunning realization.
The two bulky servants.
Sabira’s throat tightened.
Gabriel’s voice was calm, deep, and unwavering. “There’s been a terrible misunderstanding. See me now, Slaver. My name is Emissary Gabriel Mbala va Babylonia, and I am entrusted by the Constellation of Aligned Star Systems to escort our lost siblings back to their rightful home. Let us be clear with one another. If you come within a thousand kilometers of the stochastic horizon, our ugly little ship will slice and dice your boat like a side of roasted meat for your gods, your slave masters, and your Vleez friends all to see.”
Whatever the warseer had to say in response, Sabira didn’t hear. Her attention tunneled in on the two large servants. She should have known. Just because she wanted to leave her old life behind didn’t mean her old life was ready to let her go. Of all the servants in the Holy Unity, these were the two sent after her. The only two she didn’t want to leave behind.
What had Maia called alignments such as this?
Synchronicity.
Something inside Sabira’s chest grew warm and bright. The stunned constriction in her throat melted away by the thrill of suddenly knowing the answer to a question she hadn’t been aware of until that moment.
“Grandfather. Daggeira. Come through the Gates with us. See for yourself what’s on the other side.”
Grandfather Spear’s face remained as blank and unmoving as carved stone. What had happened to him? Even when he had been deadly focused, she had never seen his face so lifeless, his piercing gaze so dull. But Daggeira’s ice-blue eyes met her own. Sabira had the uncanny feeling as if she were in the next room, not thousands of kilometers away.
While Sabira pleaded with the servants, Warseer Zika spoke to Gabriel, “. . . the glory of all the Warseers and Divine Masters, don’t be foolish enough to think we wouldn’t sacrifice ourselves if it ensured your end.”
Here it was, a second chance for them all to be together and free, and the warseer would rather kill them all, and herself, than permit human property to be liberated.
“The three of us survived Dlamakuuz,” Sabira continued. “We survived the Zol-Ori. We can survive this. We can live. We don’t have to let madness kill us all. Daggeira, you can still choose.”
That damned unreadable smirk twisted Daggeira’s lips.
“Orion, when our uninvited guests reach the thousand-kilometer mark,” Gabriel said, “show this Slaver what Humanity has learned in the past two millennia.”
“No!” Sabira shouted.
“Sabira, we have to protect ourselves,” Gabriel said.
“You gave me a chance to choose freedom, they deserve it, too.”
“He killed Maia.”
“And we’ve already killed thousands of them.”
“Which is nothing compared to the hundreds of millions of Vleez.”
“Hasn’t there been enough death? I’m just as responsible for the atrocity on Dlamakuuz as they are, and you let me live.” Sabira looked to Cal before turning back to Gabriel. “No one else needs to die.”
“The apostate’s mouth is filled with lies,” the warseer interjected.
Sabira turned back to the wall screen. “Grandfather. Daggs. See me. Do you really want to die for this suicidal warseer? Turn off the field tech. See what’s on the other side of the Shattered Gates. If the Gods are waiting in Heaven, I won’t escape Their judgment. But if not, you’ll know I’m not lying. We can all be together.”
“Nine thousand kilometers from stochastic horizon and closing,” Orion’s disembodied voice announced. “Preparing to fire.”
“Orion, please wait,” Sabira pleaded. “If they lower their field tech, don’t shoot.”
“We’re running out of time,” Orion answered.
“Daggs, please. After everything, don’t let it end like this.”
“Eight thousand kilometers. They’ve got weapons ready.”
“Orion, if they fire,” Gabriel said, “don’t hesitate.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Warseer Zika, if I may.” Grandfather Spear’s eye remained distant, even as his firm voice cut through the chatter. “The nobility of our sacrifice would be undeniable, to Gohnzol-Lo and Nahgak-Ri alike. The reach of Trickster’s evil must be cut short at all costs. But the Black Devil and his allies possess technology the Unity has never seen. To unify their alien ship and lay it at the feet of our Divine Masters would mean far more than restoring Clan Izd’s honor. That would mean power and influence neither Pinnacle nor High Godseer could deny.”
Yes, Sabira cried out in her mind, listen to him!
“Seven thousand kilometers.”
“Warseer Zika,” Daggeira said. “Since the infidels shattered the Gates of Heaven, not even the Gods have traveled them. Trickster’s Black Devil and all the traitors will be destroyed the moment they enter. It’s an appropriate death for a monster like the apostate.”
Monster? Apostate? Can’t you see I’m trying to save you?
The warseer’s three orange and black eyes never pulled away from Gabriel. A tense silence filled both ships.
“Six thousand kilometers.”
“Gabriel, please, tell them you won’t shoot if they disengage all field tech,” Sabira pleaded. “Not just for me, but for Maia. You know she’d want all the Unity Humans to have a chance.”
“Orion”—Gabriel drew in a long breath before continuing—“if they disengage fields and don’t open fire by the time they reach the thousand klick mark, hold your fire. Agreed?”
“Still a matter of recalculating their mass on the fly. I didn’t prime the Gates for two ships. It’ll be nearly impossible.”
“Doing the impossible is what you’re best at,” Sabira said. “We all know that.”
“It really is, isn’t it,” Orion agreed. “If they disengage all field tech, they can join the party. Four thousand kilometers and closing.”
Gabriel turned back to the monitor. “Warseer Zika Rab Izd, care to see for yourself what lies beyond the Shattered Gates?”
Zika did something else Sabira had never seen any warseer do before. She laughed. Sounded like wet meat slapping together.
“No escaping Divine Will indeed,” Zika said. “All field tech disengaged. We’ll be happy to watch you destroy yourselves.”
If it meant sacrificing servants for the mission, she wouldn’t hesitate. But this warseer isn’t ready to die yet.
Then again, neither am I.
“One thousand kilometers from stochastic horizon. Confirmed they’ve disengaged all fields.”
“If by some trickery, you should manage to live through the passage,” Zika said, “know that we will hunt you across the galaxy, even to Trickster’s Hell and back. There’s no escaping Divine Will. And there’s no escaping me.” The transmission ended. The illusion of their nearby presence was replaced by the Shishiguchi’s sensor feed.
“Anyone standing, get into a couch,” Orion said. “Things could get glitchy soon.”
Tentacles of smart-matter forma burst from the couches and wrapped around all of them. Those who weren’t quick enough to take a seat were pulled onto the nearest couch. The smart-foam molded itself to the contours of Sabira’s body. Forma tentacles secured her torso. All the couches tilted back, and the display migrated from bulkhead to ceiling. They could watch, even if they couldn’t move.
“Cutting engines for the transition. Prepare for zero gravity.”
As much as Sabira loved the stars and the black of space, she hated the loss of gravity almost as much. Made her sick to her stomach every time. Now that the deceleration burn was done, the ship rotated around her, the couch and forma straps pulling her along, to face the prow “forward.” Her head felt like it kept rotating several seconds after the ship had stopped.
The ceiling displayed a yawning triangular mouth of the Shattered Gates—flashing with great arcs of lightning outside, utterly dark inside—until it consumed all they could see, until only black remained.