Vartan hurried down the hallway, burst through the doors into the cafeteria. He still felt weak, his muscles so sore that he limped. But his rising panic overwhelmed any physical discomforts.
People glanced up from where they sat at the tables. In a plush recliner brought in for her use, Shimal Kastakourias sat at the head of a long table immediately to the Messiah’s right. On his left, Ctein Zhoa—the last of the First Chosen—served as a pitiful reminder of the Messiah’s dying prestige.
For her part, Shimal shot Vartan a look fraught with worry. Her dark eyes were almost pleading, as if she were begging for anything but the honor of being the next Prophet. Vartan had always thought her a frail, mousy woman. Her training was as a solid-state board specialist capable of diagnosing and repairing sophisticated electronics, microscopes, computers, and the like.
Ignoring the plea in her eyes, Vartan went straight to the Messiah; the man had set his bone scepter aside to drink a cup of tea from the garden.
“Messiah, we’ve got trouble,” Vartan said.
“Such as?”
“You remember all those crates we found while searching for the Supervisor down in the basement? One had a laser microphone for listening at long distances. I was down there to get a specimen pole to drag Svetlana’s body away. Saw it. Thought it might be useful given our exposed location. Maybe give us a warning if the Supervisor’s party and whoever was in that airtruck might be sneaking close.”
“And?”
“And I charged it. Figured out where the best vantage point would be. Went up to the roof hatch. From up there I could see the whole compound. Figured I’d keep watch as the sun set. When I turned that mic on the science dome, it picked up conversations. There are people in the science dome.”
“Perhaps some of our—”
“None of our people are called Supervisor, Dek, Muldare, or Kylee.”
The Messiah’s lips pursed, pulling down to elongate the hole that was his nose. “They are that close?”
“They are. From the conversation I overheard, something’s wrong. The Supervisor, Dek, and Muldare are hurt, somehow disabled. Maybe wounded. But, more to the point, Talina Perez and someone called Flute are sneaking around the station, apparently keeping an eye on us. In the darkness out there, they could be anywhere.”
The Messiah cocked his head slightly. “Perez and the others must have come on the airtruck. Where are Dya and Talbot?”
“Apparently dead. But I’m not positive. Might be that some creature in the forest got them. Something big. Maybe, for all I know, the same thing that got Mars and Hap. I can tell you this: They are hostile and planning some kind of action against us at first light.”
The Messiah gave him a sloe-eyed glance. “How do you want to handle this?”
“They’ll try for the radio. Any kind of action we might attempt against them, armed as they are, we’ll have a lot of our people killed.”
Ctein flinched. And well he might. He’d had to strip the flesh from the dead bodies of the First Chosen. His companions, friends, and fellows.
The Messiah set his tea down. “We have the armed drone.”
“We do. And they have as many as three rifles. No telling how many more if Talina Perez was in that airtruck. And if we try to rush the science dome, she and this Flute person could decimate us with flanking fire. Especially on full auto.”
One of those cold trickles of fear ran down Vartan’s spine. “Messiah, if Perez has linked up with the Supervisor, she knows that we tried to kill Aguila. Given that she was in the airtruck, she’s been in radio contact with the rest of Donovan’s people. You know what that means, don’t you? They’re going to be coming for us.”
The Messiah inhaled sharply, the air whistling in his gaping nose. The black eyes seemed to flicker fearfully for an instant, then sharpened into that familiar cunning glint.
He turned to Shimal, who’d sat doe-eyed and uncertain through the entire conversation. “What do you think, Prophet?”
Vartan started. Shimal? We are going to entrust our future to her?
“These people?” Shimal asked. “They would attack us?”
Vartan sought some cue from the Messiah, got only a blank stare in return. The unblinking blue eye painted on the Messiah’s forehead appeared fixed on eternity.
With nothing else to go on, Vartan said, “If they know we tried to kill the Supervisor and her party, attack would seem their most likely course of action. Think of how we’d feel if they’d tried to kill the Prophets, or even the Messiah, here?”
“And you say Supervisor Aguila is wounded?” the Messiah mused, his gaze going distant.
“She’s being cared for. That’s all I know.”
“The science dome? That’s just two domes away.” Ctein’s eyes shifted toward the north. “Not more than fifty meters from here. How did they get past Minette? She’s supposed to be on guard up there.”
“Maybe she never got the chance to warn us. Like so many, she’s just gone. Vanished.” Vartan drew a worried breath. “I’m really starting to hate this place.”
“What about the armed drone?” the Messiah asked. “Second Will, can we use it against them? Kill them before they can strike us?”
“Not while they’re in the dome. And don’t forget, that Perez woman is out there somewhere. Probably waiting for reinforcements before she makes a try at us.”
“How did this go so wrong?” Ctein asked under his breath. “Messiah, what do we do?”
Vartan caught a fleeting panic behind the Messiah’s eyes, saw the man battle with himself, win the fight for calm. Ctein must have seen it, too, for he paled. Swallowed hard.
“Prophet?” the Messiah asked softly. “You have been touched by the universe, as were the others before you. What do you hear it say?”
Shimal’s frantic gaze darted around the room, took in the people who sat at the cafeteria tables, riveted and listening. Had to see the fear reflected in their faces. The uncertainty.
The woman’s voice broke as she said, “We need to be away from here. Gone. This place is death for us. Has been ever since that Supervisor brought us here.”
Vartan would have laughed out loud. Be away? How? What did the woman expect? That they could just summon a shuttle? Fly off to . . . where? Ashanti wouldn’t take them back. The Donovanians certainly didn’t want them. And after they tried to kill and eat the Supervisor, she wasn’t going to be in any kind of a forgiving mood.
The change, however, in the Messiah was immediate. The man smiled, a serenity in his expression. “The universe does not make mistakes. We shall leave.”
He glanced Vartan’s way. “Go back to your post, Second Will. Monitor our enemies. Take your rifle. It has a night optic as I remember. You should be able to see everything. If they try to break out of the science dome, shoot as many as you can. Keep them bottled up inside.”
“Messiah?”
“In the meantime, we shall make our preparations.”
“What preparations?” Vartan cried. “To go where? How?”
The Messiah raised a calming hand. “The universe has brought us this far. Place your trust in it, Second Will. This is just another test. One we shall pass as we have all the others. You must have faith. The universe will not let us down.”
“But, don’t you—”
“Have faith, Second Will. Now, you have your orders. I shall call on you when we’re ready.”
“Messiah, you can’t—”
“Faith! Now go to your post.”
Fighting his rising sense of dismay, Vartan bowed respectfully, backed away from the throne.
As he headed for the door, he glanced around. Took in the watching Irredenta. Eighteen of them, mostly pregnant or nursing women. The rest, who were outside standing watch, numbered seven—including those guarding the children in the barracks—six if Minette was gone.
Leave? To where? They had already reached the end of the line.
“What do you believe, Vartan?” he whispered under his breath. That the universe would provide?
But his only answer was silence.