Sword of the Gods: The Chosen One (14 page)

Although he couldn't
remember who he was, he
did
have a gut feeling.  The song the shaman
sang was little more than a legend amongst his people.  However, he wouldn't
remain willfully blind to evidence that was staring him in the face.  He'd
crash-landed
onto this world and his injuries
should
have been fatal.  Ninsianna
had
found and healed him, apparently because she'd experienced a vision
beforehand, and now he'd discovered her father spoke his language.  With no
memory to guide his judgment either way, he had no choice but to take Immanu’s
assertions at face value.

“I have suffered
serious injuries,” Mikhail pointed to his broken wing, “and I can't remember
who I'm or how I got here.  Although you may have legends about my people
visiting your planet at some point in your past, I don't think I'm your sword
of the gods.”

~ * ~ * ~
* ~ * ~

For in the
resurrection they neither marry,

Nor are
given in marriage,

But are as
the angels of God in heaven.

Matthew
22:30

Galactic Standard Date:  152,323.02

Command Carrier: 
'Light Emerging'

Colonel Raphael Israfa

Raphael

“Colonel Israfa,”
Major Glicki announced, “we have had a hail from the '
Eternal Light
.' 
Supreme Commander-General Jophiel would like to converse with you in 10
minutes.”  Jophiel was the Alliances highest ranking military authority, second
only to the Eternal Emperor himself, and the social equal of Prime Minister
Lucifer, the highest ranking elected civilian authority. 

“Thank you,” Raphael
said.  "Send it right through."

He glanced in the
mirror and straightened out his uniform, fussily tucking a few stray golden
feathers into alignment so that his wings appeared glossy and smooth.  It felt
as though he had a mouth full of pinfeathers, his hands growing clammy as he
broke out in a cold sweat.  He practiced first his most serious expression, and
then a welcoming one, trying to decide which would best communicate what he
really
wished to say.  Neither felt right.  He gave his reflection a wistful
smile, an expression he'd been wearing a
lot
lately, and not simply
because his best friend had gone missing. 

The video conference
monitor beeped at precisely the appointed time.  He made a panicked grab for
the photograph he kept prominently displayed on his desk and shoved it into a
desk drawer just as Major Glicki sent through the hail.

“Colonel Israfa,”
Supreme Commander-General Jophiel's ethereally beautiful face was professional
and cold as she got right to the point.  “What have you discovered?”

“He was scouting
reports of Sata’anic incursion into this sector when his ship was hit.” 
Raphael masked his disappointment that this would be another one of
those
conversations.  “We can take that alone as an indicator the intelligence has
some basis.”

“You have a week to
find him,” Jophiel said without emotion, “but I can't justify the deployment of
resources to hunt down one man any longer than that.  Not even for your
friend.”  Raphael frowned, and then grinned with pride as she shifted
uncomfortably in her seat.  The bulge in her midsection was so large it was
impossible to hide, even in the head-and-shoulders only video transmission.

“Jophie, how fares our
son?”  Raphael allowed the tenderness to register in his face that he
knew
he should hide, but couldn't.

“He fares well.” 
Jophiel's expression softened.  “It won’t be much longer.” 

She was beautiful
under any circumstances, but when she let the icy mask of a general slip,
Jophiel took his breath away.  Wavy white-blond hair, cerulean blue eyes,
porcelain skin, ruby lips, high cheekbones, straight nose, and snow-white
wings, if ever the Eternal Emperor were to point to a single specimen of his
genetic tinkering and say, ‘
this is it
,’ it would be Jophiel.

“I want to be there
with you!”  Raphael tried to make it come out as an offer of support rather
than the pathetic plea it really was.  “Let me come to you when our son makes
his appearance into this world?”

“You know the laws of
our people.”  Jophiel's features composed back into the controlled mask of a
general.  “Besides, we can't spare you.  You're needed there.”  She abruptly
ended the transmission.

Raphael’s wings
drooped.  He hoped the limited range of the monitor had hidden the traitorous
appendages from the view screen.  His kind was not supposed to
care
that
marriage was forbidden and sexual relations for any purpose other than to
replenish the Emperor’s ranks discouraged.  They were artificial life forms,
created solely to perpetuate the glory of the Emperor, not seek happiness in
their own right.  But,
damantia
!  He
was
disappointed!

He pulled the
photograph out of the drawer and gave it a wistful caress.  Jophiel had made it
clear from the outset that she only entered into a five day union to fill the
Emperor’s ranks.  Once he fulfilled his duty, she would have nothing more to do
with him.  All offspring were to be deposited in the Emperor’s youth training
academies hours after birth to be raised, as all hybrid children had been reared
for hundreds of years.  Including
him.

Mikhail, who knew her
well, had warned him that she meant it, but Raphael had not listened.  He'd
been … star struck.

A sad smile tugged
down the corners of his mouth.  For one so icy and distant, the general had
thawed during her heat cycle.  He'd pulled out all the stops not to just
contribute the necessary genetic matter, which was all that was expected of
him, but to imprint himself upon her very soul so she would never be satisfied
with anyone else.  And she'd appeared to respond.  Right up until the test had
come back positive five days later.  A successful mating!

She'd instantly
banished him to the remotest sector of the galaxy, giving him command of the
Light
Emerging
as a consolation prize, and had not had any in-person contact with
him since.  Just as Mikhail had warned him she would do!  A command carrier was
a high honor for a mere Colonel, but he would have much rather have had
her.

“Major Glicki,”
Raphael called up to his second-in-command.  “You get off shift in half an
hour, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Who’s up there on the
bridge to take over?”

“Lieutenant T’trk
should be here in twenty minutes.”

“Good,” Raphael said. 
“Meet me in the officer’s lounge in forty-five minutes.  And bring the good
stuff.”

“That bad, huh?”
Glicki knew Raphael only ever imbibed the potent Mantoid beverage when Jophiel
had shot him down.  Again.

“That bad,” Raphael
said.

~ * ~ * ~
* ~ * ~

Galactic Standard Date:  152,323.02

Haven-3

Prime Minister Lucifer

Lucifer

“What's her name and
who is she stationed under?”  Lucifer paused, one hand on the door knob to the
chamber where these particular types of ‘appointments’ were kept.  Depending on
his schedule, sometimes he spent more time in
this
office than his
real
one.

“Hemaniel.”  Zepar
rattled off the particulars.  “She's under the command of Colonel Gavreel on
the battle cruiser Emperor’s Eye."

“Is this her first
mating attempt?”

“She is fresh out of
the academy.”  Zepar peered at the smart board he always carted about with
exaggerated obsequiousness.  “She claims to be a virgin, although we don't
verify the veracity of the pre-mating questionnaire.  All we care about is that
she is coming into heat.”

“The Emperor has them
all so brainwashed they can only form relations to bear offspring that she
probably
is
a virgin.”  Lucifer's wings flicked with irritation.  “It
will take extra time to break her in.  How long do I have?

“I scheduled one
hour.”  Zepar tucked his dirty white wings against his back.  “You'll need to
use your gift to get her to perform within the allotted time.  You have an
important meeting with the Ministry of Defense at 4:30 and you need time to get
cleaned up beforehand.”

For all but the first
fifteen years, Chief of Staff Zepar had run every aspect of Lucifer's 240-year
life. 
He
was the one in front of the cameras, but it was
Zepar
who
really ran the show.  But wasn't that the way things always were for men of
power?  Zepar got the dirty work done for
him
the same way that
he
performed
all the dirty for the Emperor.

He spied a senior
Ramidreju delegate walk out of an adjacent chamber with his arm around his
wife's shoulders, the disheveled nature of their pelts indicating they'd taken
advantage of the temporary sleeping quarters to have a little 'appointment' of
their own.  The wife smiled up at her husband, chattering about their latest
litter of kits.  A feeling of jealousy clenched at Lucifer's gut.

“Just once I would
like to have enough time to get to know some of these females instead of these
constant, meaningless fucks."  Lucifer gave a bitter sigh.  "If you
ask me,
that's
why our species is dying out.”

“You know that's
forbidden, Sire,” Zepar reminded him.  “You're the highest ranking civilian
authority in the Alliance, and also the Emperor’s adopted son.  You have to set
a good example.”

“Like I give a crap
about what my father forbids?”  Lucifer closed his eyes and pressed his
forehead against the door, allowing the coolness of real wood to sink into his
skin.  With his genetic enhancements, his hearing was far better than most
naturally evolved creatures.  He could hear the anxious rustle of feathers from
behind the door as the nervous female paced.

“You know the
consequences of forming an emotional attachment during sexual relations,” Zepar
warned.  “You're one quarter Seraphim.  The Emperor has refused to disclose
whether or not you inherited their defective gene.”

That small, sarcastic
inner voice that Lucifer hated down to the core of his bone marrow, but which
was always maddingly, irritatingly
right
all the time, parroted his
Chief of Staff's warning. 

'It will kill you. 
Just like it did your mother...'

The Seraphim! 
Lucifer's wings trembled with the anger and sorrow that very word inspired. 
With a genome spliced together from two monogamous species, full-blooded
Seraphim Angelics took one mate, for life, a genetic defect which had resulted
in losing
two
Angelic super-soldiers every time
one
of them had
died in battle. 

Long before Lucifer
had been born, the Emperor had segregated out the worst offenders and banished
them to their own planet, far from the Alliance so they would stop muddying up
the gene pool of his armies.  Since then, Hashem had done everything in his
power to eradicate the troublesome gene and discourage close interpersonal
relationships so he would stop losing mated pairs.