‘This is it. The Vow is dying.’
It is Shipmaster Okash who says the words, though we can all feel that they are true in the way the ship’s drives labour as she limps towards Dimmamar’s orbit. In the rattling and guttering of the air filtration, and the flickering of her remaining instrument panels. The cathedral world is large in the bridge’s front viewport. Large in my head and my heart, too, because this is it. The set ending. The place where I will find my purpose.
‘It seems she will not be the only one to have died in Dimmamar’s orbit,’ Ravara says.
She is standing on the opposite side of Okash’s command throne from myself and Elivia, watching the planet approach, just as we are. Watching the slowly turning circle of wreckage haloing the cathedral world.
‘What am I looking at, helm?’ Okash asks.
The Vow’s helm officer refers to the auspex registry, juddering in time with the data feed as it spools directly into his cognitive link. It occurs to me that he might be dying, too. Just as the Vow is.
‘The ring consists of the remains of the p-planet’s orbital defences, sir,’ he says, his voice juddering too. ‘And of their g-guardian fleet. Imperial-classes. Gothic-class. Lunar-class. A-Armageddon-class. Some unregistered silhouettes.’
‘Unregistered,’ Okash says. ‘Identify.’
The helm officer twitches fitfully. ‘N-negative, shipmaster. Insufficient data to identify. They are old. Their standard t-template constructs out of s-service.’
‘Are they enemy ships?’ Okash says.
The helm officer makes a wet, pained sound through his teeth.
‘T-they are old,’ he says again, as though it is an answer.
‘But they are all dead,’ Elivia says. ‘There are no energy signatures within the debris.’
The helm officer twitches again. His jaws crash together, saliva stringing his teeth.
‘Energy readings negligible,’ he says. ‘They are d-dead, Canoness.’
Elivia looks at Okash. ‘Hail the cardinal world,’ she says.
Okash nods his head. His skin is sallow, and his lips are split so badly that they bleed anew when he speaks. ‘Aye, Canoness,’ he says, before looking to his vox-officer. ‘Broadcast repeat identification hail on all bands and ranges.’
‘Aye, sir,’ says the vox-officer, before turning in her seat. The woman’s head is bound in old bandages stained with blood. ‘Though we’ll need more power for all bands and ranges, sir.’
Okash settles back in his throne. ‘Cut power to all shields save the forward facing,’ he says. ‘The state we’re in they’ll make little difference anyway.’
A chorus of hoarse, exhausted aye, sirs answer Okash as the vox-officer begins the broadcast.
‘This is Dauntless-class cruiser designate Unbroken Vow approaching Dimmamar high orbit,’ she says. ‘Please acknowledge.’
The only answer is the hiss of static, so the vox-officer sets about repeating the hail. As she does so, the cathedral world grows closer. Larger. Larger in my head. Larger in my heart. It grows close enough for me to be able to see a single, tiny point of golden light between its thunderous, shifting clouds. My scars burn as I step down from the command dais, and approach the viewport slowly. I am dimly aware of Elivia saying my name. Ravara, too. It runs together as it did in the refuge halls and the hospitaller’s ward and the corridors. As it did in my dreams.
Evangeline. Evangeline. Evangeline.
As I reach the viewport I catch sight of myself reflected in the frost-patterned, treated armaglass. My outline is warped and wavering as though I am on fire. Ablaze. Through my reflection I see Dimmamar. I see the single point of light. It is wavering too, like a candle might. I reach out towards the light. Towards myself.
Evangeline. Evangeline.
As my fingertips make contact with the armaglass the burning stops and the world seems to stop with it. All sensation. All sound, save for one. Adelynn’s voice, in my ear.
Are you ready?
‘Evangeline.’
The world returns in an instant. All sensation. All sound. I am still standing, my hand against the viewport. Two more figures are present in the reflection. Elivia, and Ravara. Their eyes are not fixed on Dimmamar, but on me.
‘I saw a light,’ I tell them, turning away from the viewport. ‘Between the clouds.’
Elivia smiles her blade’s edge smile. Ravara’s hand goes to the pendant at her throat. But before either of them can say a thing, the Vow’s vox-officer speaks.
‘Transmission from within the debris field, shipmaster,’ she says. ‘It’s a gamma-encrypted channel. Ident-codes cleared.’
‘Put it over the emitters,’ Okash says.
There is a crackle and a hiss of white noise, but then the channel comes clear and a voice cuts through.
‘Hailing Dauntless-class cruiser, designate Unbroken Vow,’ it says. ‘This is watch officer first class Topher Gallion of defence post Lux Terminalia. Make full-stop, and resubmit ident-codes immediately.’
Okash frowns. ‘Do as they say,’ he says.
The bridge crew set to slowing the Vow. The stress of it makes the ship’s bones creak. I am certain that I hear the armaglass at my back flex.
‘How did we miss them?’ Okash asks his bridge crew.
The helm officer shakes his head. That, too, is a judder. ‘A-apologies, shipmaster,’ he says. ‘The d-debris field concealed their signature.’
‘Are they running out their guns?’ Okash asks.
The helm officer nods. ‘Aye, s-sir.’
Okash looks to his vox-officer. ‘Run a second check on their ident-codes, and then open the return link, but maintain the encryption.’
She nods, and sets about rechecking the codes.
‘I beg forgiveness, Lux Terminalia,’ Okash says. ‘But I fail to see the need for such hostility.’
There is another crackle. Another hiss.
‘I’m afraid we do see the need, shipmaster. Since the opening of the Great Rift, the enemy have come over and over again, seeking to desecrate this place. It has cost us everything just to keep them from reaching the surface.’
The vox-officer turns in her seat and mouths the word clear at Okash. It does nothing to dispel his frown.
‘But we are not your enemy. We have been sent here on a sacred duty to recover the Shield of Saint Katherine. Our mission is ordained by the Holy Synod, and the Convent Prioris. By the God-Emperor, Himself.’
The vox-link hisses for a long moment, but Gallion’s voice does not return. He does not answer. Okash stands from his throne.
‘Arm the lances,’ he says to his bridge crew.
‘We cannot fire on them,’ Elivia says, her voice clear and cold. ‘They are people of the faith.’
‘I know, Canoness,’ Okash says. His pale skin is waxen under the bridge lumens. ‘With the God-Emperor’s grace, I won’t have to.’
He looks again to his crew. ‘Arm the lances.’
The helm officer turns, trailing cables. ‘We w-will have to siphon power f-from the forward shields, sir.’
‘Do it,’ Okash replies.
The helm officer turns back to his station, and does as he’s told.
‘Okash,’ Ravara says. ‘This is a risk.’
The shipmaster looks at her from the command dais, his dark eyes even more so under the harsh light.
‘I beg forgiveness, inquisitor, but I swore that I would get you to the surface, no matter the cost.’ He looks to his helm officer. ‘Finalise a targeting solution on the Lux Terminalia, but do not fire until I say. Until we must.’
I cannot stand by any more. I start to protest, only to be cut off by a squall of vox as Gallion’s voice returns.
‘You are here to seek the Shield of Saint Katherine,’ he says. ‘Is that what you said?’
‘That is what I said,’ Okash replies.
‘Then Sister Evangeline is with you,’ Gallion says. ‘The one who was burned, but not broken. Marked by His favour.’
I look at Okash, and he nods. I step forward and speak up so that Gallion can hear me.
‘I am Sister Evangeline,’ I tell him. ‘The one who bears the mark of which you speak.’
‘Evangeline,’ Gallion says, by way of reply. His voice is different, now. Filled with that same sort of fervour that I have heard from so many others.
‘How do you know my name?’ I ask him.
‘Prophecy, blessed Sister,’ Gallion says.
There is a sound over the link that could as well be breathing, or a sob. The helm officer turns and looks at Okash.
‘L-lux Terminalia is disarming,’ he says. ‘They are w-withdrawing their g-guns.’
Okash breathes a sigh. The shipmaster sits back down slowly in his throne as the vox crackles again and Gallion’s voice comes clear.
‘You are clear to proceed, Unbroken Vow,’ he says. ‘Go with grace.’