Overdrive (6 page)

Templars and other
angels stopped what they were doing to watch as the most beautiful woman in the
known galaxy moved past them. Gabriella was used to it. It was like time stood
still when she encountered others, especially men. All talking would cease, and
those hurrying to complete errands would suddenly conclude that the errand
wasn’t so urgent after all, pausing to watch the vision glide past.

Her simple robes
of silver and white, emblazoned with a trumpet, struggled to contain their
womanly curves. She was sheer perfection. Like all Angels, Gabriella possessed
long blond hair, dazzling blue eyes, pure white wings, a stature well over 6’
and a face that required no cosmetic enhancement. She was one of the three most
powerful Angels in the Areopagite hierarchy along with the Demiurge Metatron
and Michael - one of the other seven Archangels and Prince of Arabot. Gabriella
was also the only female Archangel.

The Demiurge had
summoned her here to Arabot, Seventh Heaven and ruling planet of the
Areopagite’s, for a conference that would only involve Metatron, Michael and
herself.
Ominous and intriguing
thought Gabriella. No other Angel in the
First hierarchy was to be present.

Any major
decisions made in Areopagite society had to be ratified by the Angelic Council
consisting of the seven Archangels, one of which was Metatron (who had the
power of veto) and the rulers of the seven planets, three of which were
Archangels. This meeting would obviously be off the record.

Gabriella could
guess as to the reason for the conference. She had been following the
development of the Overdrive with great interest for the last few years and
already had her fingers well and truly in that pie. Her sources revealed that
Metatron and Michael shared her interest although what the old duffers had
planned for it was anyone’s guess.

In her opinion it
was about time Metatron stepped down from his position as Demiurge. At nearly
300 years of age, Gabriella thought he was looking a bit crusty around the
edges. For that matter, Michael wasn’t that much further behind him. Both were
becoming doddery old sods; stagnant and unable to make crucial snap decisions
that would enlarge upon the Areopagite’s already significant power base.
Gabriella chose to ignore the fact that she was well over 200 herself although
looks were deceiving. Any red blooded male would have guessed her age at mid
20’s. No Angel in the ruling hierarchy looked their age thanks to extravagant
genetic tinkering and enhancement.

Sword swinging at
her curvaceous hip, Gabriella arrived before the throne room.  Two Angelic
guards stood before her barring entry through the heavy golden doors. Known as
Hayyoth or Angels of fire, both were puffing energetically away on cigarettes.
Blue smoke suppressant fields surrounded them containing the smoke and
preventing it from moving into the rest of the corridor. Upon seeing Gabriella,
they both dropped their cigarettes and stood to attention, eyes focused on the
far wall of the corridor. The blue field’s surrounding them vanished. One of
them, Gabriella noted, had dropped his cigarette onto his tunic where it
continued to burn. She decided not to tell him.

Gabriella looked
them up and down. Both studiously avoided making eye contact, preferring the
less dangerous option of looking at the wall.

“I thought there
was meant to be no smoking on duty?” she said raising one eyebrow.

Both guards
shifted uncomfortably. Nervously, one of the guards spoke up.

“I beg your pardon
Princess. The Demiurge himself has decreed that as Angels of Fire we should
carry some item representing our namesake. He, umm, suggested we smoke.”

“Hmmm.” Gabriella
looked dubious. Another sign that Metatron was loosing it.

“Ah. Umm, the
Demiurge is expecting you Princess. Go right in.”

The two guards
pushed open the golden doors and hastily moved aside to allow Gabriella to
pass.

Striding into the
room, Gabriella glanced around, familiarizing herself with the throne room. She
hadn’t been here since the last Angelic Council, six months ago.  The room at
the heart of the Areopagite empire was 80 meters long and 20 wide. Twenty
golden pillars on each side supported an arched ceiling rising 30 meters into
the air. In between each pillar stood a Guardian Angel – the Demiurge’s
personal body guard. Scenes were depicted on the walls in classical style
representing Angelic scenes from Biblical history. A recreation of Michelangelo's
last judgment from the Sistine Chapel covered the ceiling. Some whispered that
it was the original, having been removed before Rome was destroyed in 2280.

The far end of the
chamber was dominated by a massive golden throne. A depiction of God in the
stained glass window directly above channeled sunlight onto the throne causing
golden sparkles to radiate to all corners of the room.  Seated at a small
conference table to one side and below the throne sat the Demiurge Metatron and
the Archangel Michael. They were surrounded by a dozen Ministering Angels
playing a variety of musical instruments. All were beautiful females. Judging
by their playing, Gabriella thought they’d been chosen for their looks rather
than musical aptitude.

Metatron, looking
up at Gabriella’s approach, snapped his fingers. The Ministering Angels
immediately stopped playing, packed up their instruments and left the throne
room. Both he and Michael stood to welcome her.

Ritually embracing
each other and murmuring “peace be with you," Metatron gestured for
Gabriella and Michael to take a seat. Gabriella smelt alcohol on Metatron’s
breath.

Sitting, Metatron
took a long swig from a wine goblet on the table before activating the sound
buffer. The buffer would ensure that their conversation didn’t carry to the
guardian angels who were notorious gossips.

The ruler of the
Areopagites for the last 100 years, the King of Angels, Prince of Princes and
foremost amongst the Archangels, had the appearance of an extremely good
looking male in his middle years complete with a well trimmed silver beard. He
was also drunk as a monkey.

The edges of
Metatron’s pure white robes were edged with golden flames. According to the
third book of Enoch, Metatron was once a man who was transformed into an Angel
because of his righteousness. God then blessed him 1,365,000 times, made him
the size of Earth, and then bestowed 72 wings and 365,000 eyes upon him. Even
if it was genetically possibly, it would have been quite messy to take the Book
of Enoch literally. Instead, the Areopagites had settled for making a crown out
of precious substances representing all of the blessings of god. Even so,
perched slightly askance upon Metatron’s head, it was a busy and convoluted
affair, the eyes battling with the wings for attention. Gabriella found her
attention wondering towards it.

When one Metatron
died, ruling Seraphim and Cheraphim vied for the position, battling it out in
non terminal contests to determine who would next lead the Areopagites and wear
the crown. Gabriella was confident it would be her when the time came, although
her bookie told her that Michael was currently the odds on favorite.

“Welcome sister."
Metatron’s voice was loud, deep, commanding and slightly slurred. His bearded
face smiled broadly. Gabriella forced her eyes away from the crown and looked
into Metatron’s eyes.

“Thank you my
Demiurge. Once again it is a pleasure to be in your presence and that of my
divine brother." Gabriella tried unsuccessfully not to smirk.

Metatron’s smile
faded to be replaced by a look of distaste.

“Spare us the
horseshit Gabe. I bought you both here to discuss a matter of extreme
importance to us."

“Oh?."
Gabriella’s face revealed nothing but innocent surprise.

Metatron took
another swig from his goblet and tried to hide the irritation he felt.
Gabriella really did grate sometimes. “And don’t look surprised either. I know
you’ve taken a interest in the Overdrive."

Gabriella paused.
Looks like there was another spy in her camp. Some sort of purging would be in
order when she got back to Makon. She felt herself smiling at the thought.

“Yes Demiurge."

“That’s better.
Michael here will brief you on the current situation."

Gabriella turned
her attention to Michael. Probably the most famous Angel of the Areopagite’s,
Michael’s appearance was very similar to that of Metatron, minus the beard. His
gold breastplate, trimmed with red and yellow, depicted an Olive and Almond
tree interwoven together.

Michael, like
Metatron, was of the most powerful order in the Seven Heavens. The Seraphim,
traditionally only 4 in number, had consisted of Metatron, Michael, Serapiel
and Uriel. Uriel had disappeared without trace 8 months ago. Three months ago,
Serapiel, during a skirmish with the Watchers, had been sucked out into vacuum
following a hull breach and subsequently zapped by a Trireme’s field disruptor
and heavy plasma cannon. Apparently there hadn’t been enough of Serapiel left
to make a decent sandwich. None of the Cheraphim, including Gabriella, had
stepped forward as yet for advancement.

Gabriella gave
Michael a smile that had caused many a lesser male to leave an unsightly stain
in their pants. “Have you missed me Mickey boy”?

Michael shifted
uncomfortably in his seat. “About as much as a snake in my underpants. If you
don’t mind, can I get on with the briefing”?

Gabriella’s smile
never faltered. “Of course."

“As you undoubtedly
know, a company in the Camus system, Nebula Inc, on the asteroid Coleridge, has
reportedly developed a revolutionary new star drive known as the Overdrive. We
intercepted company reports, distributed to an as yet unknown owner or owners,
stating that, as of two weeks ago, the Overdrive had been successfully tested.
This technology has the ability to travel between stars faster, circumventing
the Shiva. We all know what the implications will be for our current
exploration and navigation monopoly." He gave Gabriella a significant
look. She nodded dutifully to show she was paying attention.

“Metatron and I,”
he continued, “have dispatched a Galley, with a full compliment of Templars and
led by Simbiel…”

“That moron! He’s
incapable of tact. The only thing he’s good for is for chopping up things into
small bits."

Michael, ignoring
the interruption from Gabriella, sailed on.

“…led by Simbiel
to obtain a working prototype. Simbiel arrived too late. Another party arrived
before him, destroying the prototype, seemingly by mistake - at least that’s
what our sources assumed, and turning the employees of Nebula Inc into greasy
spots on the floor. It seems however, that the senior designer, one Felix
Teppitt, managed to escape and is now on board a Hedonist starcruiser bound for
Revel. Simbiel is about to give chase."

Gabriella nodded
again, trying not to show her surprise. She’d known that Felix had escaped but
had not known his means or destination. 

“It is imperative,"
continued Michael, “that we get our hands on this technology. If it falls into
the hands of the Watchers or any other powerful group then we will lose our
pre-eminence in this part of the galaxy. To this end, and unknown to our fellow
members of the Angelic Council, we intend to dispose of this technology. If we
cannot obtain it for ourselves, we will destroy it utterly.”

Gabriella was
perplexed. “Two questions. Why not share this with the rest of the council and
why get me involved when you and Metatron sound like you’ve got things under
control”?

Before Michael
could answer, Metatron, goblet in hand, took control of the situation in
classic drunk style.

“Why! Because the
rest of the council is composed of damn fools." Metatron gesticulated with
the hand carrying the goblet. Red wine stains appeared on his robe. Some
droplets splashed onto the table, narrowly missing Gabriella. Unseen by
Metatron, Michael rolled his eyes. Gabriella tried not to giggle.

Metatron,
seemingly oblivious to the damage he’d done to his robe and table, went on. “If
we told the rest of the council about the potential of the Overdrive, the
idiots will want to use it for themselves."

Noticing that
Metatron’s goblet was now largely empty, Michael refilled it. Metatron,
distracted and intently watching Michael refill his goblet, trailed off.
Michael smoothly continued for him.

“Basically, by
sounding out other members of the council, we have discovered that the
resounding vote would be to use this technology to further exploit our current
monopoly on Shiva controlled trade routes. Metatron, myself, and to some
extent, you Gabriella, are proponents of keeping this technology under wraps
for the foreseeable future. If we start utilizing ships with the Overdrive
installed, then sooner or later one will crash or be captured and our monopoly
disappears overnight."

Michael paused to
look at Metatron. The Demiurge was busy trying to remove stains on his robe
using saliva and his finger. “We’ve got you involved Gabe because not only do
you share our goal but you also have access to contacts and resources that we
lack."

Gabriella knew
where Michael was going with this. “When you say resources, you are of course
referring to my Valkyries."