Bane of the Dead (Seraphim Revival Book 1) (26 page)

“What are you looking for?” Kiro asked. “We are all in excellent health.”

“I suppose I’ll know it when I see it.”

“I’ll get some water.” Jared headed over to the kitchen and poured four glasses.

Seth set the one capsule down in the center of the table. “This one will be the control. We’ll use it as a reference for the probes we swallow.”

“Shouldn’t the control be inside a human being?” Kevik asked. “If this is something particular to pilots, I’m sure we can get one of the technicians to join us.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Seth said. Just what did Quennin expect to find?

Jared brought over a tray of glasses and set it down on the table.

Seth placed a capsule in his mouth and washed it down with water. The other three pilots did the same. Once all of them had swallowed the probes, Seth linked to the wall screen. The vista of a mountain range from Earth disappeared, replaced with five biometric displays including the control probe on the table.

Kiro glanced over the data. “Everything appears normal. Our stress indicators are all high, which is to be expected. Jared’s blood pressure is elevated, but still within the acceptable range for being at rest.”

“Well, I always get a little nervous during medical checkups,” Jared said sheepishly.

“I do not see anything noteworthy here,” Kiro said.

“There is one particular metric I wish to check.” Seth linked with the displays. Data disappeared, replaced with each probe’s internal clock. Seth then zeroed out the data and brought it up as a ratio to the control. In theory, all the probes should have displayed values of 1.000, as their internal clocks matched perfectly with the control’s.

That did not happen. Seth read the numbers, wondering why they didn’t match and how Quennin could have known. Now arranged in a column, the numbers read:

SETH ELEXEN: 0.958

KIRO TORVULUS: 0.994

KEVIK TORVULUS: 0.994

JARED DAYKIN: 0.985

CONTROL: 1.000

“What do you suppose this means?” Kiro asked.

“I have no idea,” Seth said quietly.

“Could the probes be malfunctioning?” Jared said. “You know, maybe a bad batch?”

Seth shook his head. “Four out of five probes faulty? I think not.”

“Why don’t we swallow another batch,” Jared said. “Just to be sure.”

“I agree,” Kiro said. “Let us take no chances with this discovery.”

The four pilots swallowed another set of probe capsules, then looked up at the wall screen. Seth linked to the new probes, bringing up their data in the same ratio format. The numbers did not change.

“Have you considered why the numbers are different for each of us?” Kevik asked. “And why my brother and I are identical?”

“Yes, that is strange,” Seth said. “This seems to indicate a pattern of sorts.”

“Well, we’re all pilots,” Jared said. “Why not bring up our coefficients and compare? Maybe we’ll see a pattern.”

Seth nodded, linking to the wall screen again and displayed their coefficients in a new column.

CONTROL: 1.000 | 0

KIRO TORVULUS: 0.994 | 1120

KEVIK TORVULUS: 0.994 | 1120

JARED DAYKIN: 0.985 | 1300

SETH ELEXEN: 0.958 | 1840

“Look, as the coefficient rises, the ratio drops,” Jared said.

“Yes, but that does not explain why,” Kiro said. “There seems to be a pattern, though it is not completely linear.”

“Perhaps you have to reach a certain threshold before the effect takes hold,” Jared said.

“Perhaps,” Kiro said.

Seth stared at the numbers. What did they
mean
?

The other pilots turned expectantly towards him.

“Well, Seth,” Kevik said. “This was your experiment. Surely you must have some idea what it means.”

“Not really,” Seth said. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Seth departed without another word, leaving three confused expressions in his wake. He quickly made his way back to the medical ward and returned to Quennin’s side. She looked up at him and frowned when she saw his expression.

“Well?” she asked, her tone slightly worried.

Seth knelt beside her. “I ran the test, and none of us matched the control. We were all lower.”

“Your number was the lowest, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. Do you know what this means?”

Quennin turned her head away from Seth and rested against the pillow. She nodded slowly.

“Then what is it?”

“My fears have been confirmed,” Quennin said.

“Fears? What fears?”

“Don’t you think it’s odd that the Bane can pilot a seraph?”

“Well… I suppose it is. I never gave it much thought. We were all too concerned about facing the Bane and not some other pilot.”

“And what about our resistance to the Bane’s attacks? How would anyone know this?”

“I…” Seth stopped and pondered the question carefully. “I guess I always took it as a matter of faith that the Choir and Original Eleven knew it to be true.”

“So did everyone else. But it’s an important question, and the answer is now clear.”

“What answer, Quennin? You can tell me.”

Quennin turned around and looked straight into his eyes. “Pilots can slow time in their bodies, Seth. We can affect the passage of time subconsciously. And this ability increases as a pilot becomes stronger. Don’t you see? The reason pilots can defend against the Bane, the reason the Bane can pilot a seraph, and the reason pilots can affect time is all the same. All these abilities are related. Chaos energy can combat chaos energy.”

“You don’t mean…” Seth began.

“We are all the thing we have been taught to hate. We are all banes.”

Seth turned away, the realization finally dawning on him. He clenched his fists and let out a jagged breath. Blood and rage boiled within him.

“That’s why Jack betrayed us,” Quennin said. “He figured out what he was becoming.”

Seth wanted to scream out at the cruel universe, to vent his anger at anything and anyone around him, but he held it in and let Quennin continue.

“Our leaders have betrayed us,” she said. “They haven’t been trying to make weapons to defeat the Bane.”

Tears now ran down Quennin’s pale cheeks.

“They’ve been trying to make more.”

Chapter 17

Birth of the Dead Fleet

Veketon turned from his fellow founders and surveyed the angry mob in the Great Hall. The enraged chatter from thousands of sovereigns assaulted his ears. Veketon had never seen them so unruly, though he understood why.

Sovereign Vorin Daelus stood shakily across from the Original Eleven at the base of the Great Hall’s circular auditorium. He had suffered grievous injuries in his battle against the still-maturing Bane Donolon. Yet despite his pain and weakness, he stood proudly with only a metal rod for support.

“Is this true?” Vorin shouted. “Answer the charges against you!”

“Has the Great Mission been about nothing more than creating banes?” one of the dead sovereigns shouted.

“Do not hide behind silence!” shouted another. “Answer for your sins!”

Veketon turned away from the mob.

“This is rather unfortunate,” he said to his colleagues. “We must do what we can to salvage the situation.”

“Can we not conjure up a suitable story?” Xixek asked.

“No,” Dendolet said. “The evidence against us is too great.”

“We should not have revealed the Bane’s existence,” Balezuur said.

“And what
should
we have done?” Veketon asked. “Wait for them to discover it when the Bane attacked Aktenzek? We only provided information they would have learned on their own. Nothing would have changed this outcome, only its timing.”

“Perhaps we should throw ourselves at their mercy?” Ziriken asked.

Veketon gave him a dry chuckle. “Their mercy? We would be fortunate to survive. Look around you. They will purge us if we submit.”

Ziriken shrugged his arms. “But surely we can come to some agreement.”

“No. The Aktenai have been faithful pawns for many long years, but their usefulness is at an end. And all is not lost. Far from it, for we have the thrones and our research safely on Zu’Rashik. It is time to make our escape and join our prizes there. We have planned for this, and I say we carry out those plans.”

Slowly and with some reluctance, each of the Original Eleven accepted this new direction.

“Excellent,” Veketon said. “The decision is unanimous. We have survived much, my colleagues, and we will continue to survive without the Aktenai.”

“Shall we leave now?” Dendolet asked.

“Not quite yet. I want a final word with these peasants.”

Veketon turned from the circle. He took several steps towards the center of the Great Hall and Vorin. The Sovereign held his ground and met Veketon’s harsh stare.

“You wish for us to answer your charges?” Veketon’s voice boomed over the noise. He passed his gaze over the surrounding stands. “You wish for us to answer for our crimes? What right do you have to judge us?”

“You have defiled the Great Mission,” Vorin said.

“And why not? We created the Great Mission and your entire society. Both were ours to use and defile from the very beginning.”

“Long have we walked the path you laid before us, only at the end to find you misled us every step of the way.”

“You think you understand what is happening? Look at you, nothing more than children scrounging around in the dark, cherishing whatever scraps we feed you.”

“We have grown beyond you,” Vorin said, his voice reserved but no less forceful in the Great Hall. “And we will survive without you.”

“Those are truly brave words, child, but they ring hollow,” Veketon said. “However, for the sake of clarity, I will answer your charges. First, you are only partially correct. The Great Mission does exist, and we intended to destroy the Bane. However, the only way to defeat such a creature is with another bane or even an army of banes. You yourself, Sovereign Daelus, like so many of your kin, are nothing more than a stepping stone in our weapons research.”

Shock spread through the Great Hall, and Veketon did not let it die out before continuing.

“You have always known that we, the Original Eleven, created the Bane, and that we were expelled from the Homeland for this sin. All of this is true. But did you know that we planned to return to the Homeland in order to conquer it? Imagine, returning to the Homeland with endless legions of banes at our command. Not even the Keepers could stop us!”

The anger built in the surrounding stands. Veketon watched with a sense of pleasure as Vorin’s face twisted in rage.

“You will be purged from the Choir for your sins!” Vorin said.

“I think not, child.”

With a thought, the transfer began. All around Veketon, light and sound dissolved to nothing, then snapped back into place with sudden clarity.

The Original Eleven were alone within the new Choir in Zu’Rashik’s Core.

“We must work quickly,” Veketon said, signaling his colleagues to begin.

Space exploded around them into large maps of tactical data. The solar system appeared with Earth, Aktenzek, Zu’Rashik, and the Aktenai fleets all shown in vivid, hostile red.

“We are initiating the takeover,” Dendolet said.

Veketon nodded, watching the surrounding screens.

Zu’Rashik was the first to fall, its systems subverted by the Original Eleven. The entire planet changed in hue from red to green.

“We have complete control over the fortress planet,” Dendolet said. “Walls are in place to prevent the Choir from reentering. They will find them impossible to breach.”

“Excellent,” Veketon said. The plan was working. It had to work.

Slowly, the red icons of the Aktenai fleet changed to green as the Original Eleven gained complete control of the robotic ships. The subversive software spread across the entire fleet until nearly one-third of the ships were under his command.

“We are receiving interference from the Choir,” Dendolet said. “They are attempting to halt our fleet takeover.”

“They appear to be succeeding,” Veketon said.

More ships fell to the Original Eleven, but the rate dropped significantly. Great duels waged in space while ships once in formation now turned guns on one another. A few ships were lost when the Aktenai focused their fire on isolated craft, but not enough to disrupt the plan.

Wherever possible, ships folded away, rushing towards a rendezvous point that Zu’Rashik itself would soon join.

“We have a little over half the Aktenai fleet at our command,” Dendolet said. “Not as good as we hoped, but sufficient for our needs. The Choir’s response came faster than we anticipated.”

“Indeed,” Veketon focused on Zu’Rashik. “Why have we not folded space?”

“The Aktenai have deployed a negator on Aktenzek’s far side,” Dendolet said.

Fusion cannons all across Aktenzek opened fire.

“And they are now targeting us.”

“Return fire. Destroy the negator.”

Space between Aktenzek and Zu’Rashik erupted with tens of thousands of plasma lances.

“We will need to bring some of our fleet in to finish off the negator,” Dendolet said.

“Do it.” Veketon watched Aktenai and Earth Nation ships closing on Zu’Rashik. A group of six craft, small and hard to spot amidst the immense chaos, sped towards the Original Eleven’s final refuge.

“Six Earth Nation seraphs are approaching,” Dendolet said. “They are heading straight for a gap in the Armor Shell. Veketon, they’re going to get inside.”

“Let them. Open a path for them to the Core and see that they follow it. We’ll send the thrones out to meet them.”

“But Veketon, we cannot control the thrones!” Dendolet said.

“It’s too dangerous!” Xixek said.

“We don’t know what those creatures will do!” Balezuur said.

Veketon turned from the screens and appraised his fellow founders carefully. “We have nothing else that can match seraphs in battle. There is no option. Release six of the thrones. Hold the rest in reserve.”

The screen zoomed in on Zu’Rashik’s interior. Six red icons sped through the long stretch of shafts and corridors, guided by the Eleven’s lack of resistance.

From near the Core, six green icons came to life.