The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) (19 page)

The inside of the Polarian ship was dark, lit by sparks of wires that jolted electricity at nothing. Cables had been shredded, consoles overturned, a collection of Polarian corpses was the coup-de-grace, their bodies formed a small, mutilated mountain in a pile—their weapons broken, shattered, uselessly tossed aside. Perhaps one or two had gotten off a lucky shot, but it took more than a mere beam weapon to put down a lycan, in most cases. And Zarao was pleased to see that while the hastily assembled Polarian defense party had been slaughtered to a man, there wasn’t a single lycan corpse to be seen.

Never underestimate the element of surprise
, he thought, as he imagined these Polarians, Teldari bastards by the look of them, rushing to defend a hole in their ship that they had never anticipated was even within the realm of possibilities today.

By the time Zarao reached the bridge, he found his people brutally slaughtering the officers and crew that commanded this vessel of war. Blood smeared the walls, many of the consoles had been turned over and broken; there were screams, some of the Polarians were trying to flee in terror. One nearly escaped, but Zarao caught him and, with a well-placed slash of his claws to the jugular, the Polarian collapsed.

“Mere fodder,” said Zarao, loud enough so his compatriots could hear him. “They are weak. They are fuel for the flames!”

“Let them burn!” the lycans shouted.

Once the bridge was clear, and before more Teldari could respond to the attack, Zarao and his people made sure to seal down every security door and blast door on the ship, hindering their progress. They then uploaded a program to the Defense console and watched—just for a moment—as the Polarian battleship turned its weapons onto its nearest allied vessel and destroyed it. It then sought another Dread Fleet target and began firing upon it. The program, fortunately could be run automatically, which meant it was time for them to go. Either the Teldari would eventually get clear of the obstacles and overwhelm Zarao’s people, if they stayed, or, likelier to happen faster, the other Dread Fleet warships would fire on this treasonous vessel and eliminate it. All the more reason to get the hell back to the
Thunder Sun
.

“We return, now! For there are more ships to slaughter!” said Zarao, leading the charge back to the
Thunder Sun
, and finding himself disappointed that his people had been so efficient that they had spared him only the one kill. The next ship they rammed would be an opportunity to really release himself and show what he was capable of. The thought filled him with hunger for the opportunity.

Once they were all back inside the ram, and it had been sealed off, Zarao radioed the bridge of the
Thunder Sun
to retract the ram and maneuver to engage its next target. Pretty soon, the Dread Fleet would adapt to this tactic, he knew. And then the
Thunder Sun
and its sister ships would be in trouble. But, until then, the humans had time to form up and attack in their most ideal fashion. Meanwhile, the Dread Fleet—whose mass of starships was likely still arriving inside the system—had to struggle mightily to get their vanguard into a useful position before the human vanguard smashed into it.

And that, Dear Humans
, thought Zarao, as he waited with the others in the Battle Room, still listening to the drum music blasting over the ship’s speakers on every deck,
is why we deployed how we did
.

CHAPTER 08

Rez’nac stood before the Council of Prelains. Normally, this would have been considered among the highest honors. And yet he stood here, holding the High Prelain himself hostage, ostensibly claiming that he would take the spiritual leader’s life if the Council did not listen to him, and, a small part of him wondered;
have I gone completely and utterly mad?
Did the failure of the Arahn-Fi not only deprive me of my Essence and my soul, but also of my senses and sensibilities?

Still, whether contact with the humans had poisoned his mind to the point where he believed, or at least feared for the possibility of the truth of, their conspiratorial and deceitful ways; there was no turning back now. He was here. Calvin was here. A small army of human soldiers was here—out of sight in the tunnel. And, most importantly, the High Prelain was here. Or, at least, a being that purported to be the High Prelain. He looked the part, he sounded the part, he should have fooled anyone. Hell, for all Rez’nac knew, he was the High Prelain. And yet Calvin suspected that he was, in fact, a Dark One. A Dark One who had somehow gotten past all the defenses, fooled all the wisest Polarians, disposed of the true High Prelain, and, on top of it all, seamlessly taken his place. The whole thing sounded mad. And yet, Calvin had been right before, about so many things. And Rez’nac knew better than the humans even of the Dark Ones’ ability to take the shapes and forms of others. Was it really such a hard thing to believe? Especially when this High Prelain had done the unthinkable and declared a Reckoning to Purge the Galaxy.

True, he had invoked the correct prayers, chants, rituals, and made the correct offerings, things only a few would know, but that did not explain why a Reckoning and why now? Perhaps I am too small to understand, thought Rez’nac. But, since he was a fallen one already, and there existed the possibility that Calvin was right—that the ever-suspicious humans were right—Rez’nac would happily sacrifice his own life, which was forfeit anyway, to make certain that this High Prelain was indeed the true High Prelain. And, Calvin had promised him, it could be done in such a way that the true High Prelain would not be harmed. But a false High Prelain would be killed.

Rez’nac believed Calvin at his word. He was an honorable human. Even though he knew, should the High Prelain prove true, and still die, it would fall upon Rez’nac to extract justice upon Calvin and all of his men. He did not relish the thought. But he did not know which possibility was worse, that the Council had truly been deceived, or that Rez’nac had been deceived and would soon have to ritualistically slaughter all the humans he had brought with him. Humans he even considered to be friends.

“Speak then, you who have betrayed your Essence,” said one of the council members. “You, who once stood as a proud son of Khalahar. Now you are a Fallen One.”

“I do not deny it,” said Rez’nac.

“And you have thrown yourself in with these humans, whose very presence brings taint upon this the most sacred of all planets, do you deny that?”

“I do not deny it,” said Rez’nac.

“Then why do you do it?” asked another councilman.

“Because I bring a truth. A truth the humans have discovered.”

“Humans cannot divine truth,” scoffed one of the other councilmen. “They have no souls. They have no Essences.”

“Be that as it may,” said Rez’nac, keeping a keen eye on the guards, making sure none of them were trying to sneak behind him and Calvin to try and take them unawares. It seemed they were safe, however, at least for the moment. For none of the guards wished to risk the life of the High Prelain by firing their weapons in Rez’nac and Calvin’s direction. At least for now. “The truth is the truth no matter how it is discovered.”

“The humans are rakh!”

“They are not rakh!” said Rez’nac, raising his voice for the first time and doing so in defense of his friends, who truly, he believed, were risking their lives to unmask a sinister Dark One—assuming they had not deceived him. Or were not wrong.

“They are rakh! And bringing them here, corrupting our soil, threatening our Highest and Most Divine…there is no Blu-qi sufficient enough to address the crimes you have committed.”

“I shall pay for my actions with my soul,” said Rez’nac.

“You have no soul, Fallen One!”

“Be that as it may; as the saying goes, my Ez’rok is placed. Whatever I am, whatever I have become, my actions remain my own, and I stand by them. For honor is a great thing, and I have lost it, but the truth is greater still.”

“Blasphemy,” said one of the councilmen.

Another councilman seemed more intrigued by Rez’nac’s firm stance and more willing to listen than he had before. “If you dare come to us, and liken your actions to the throwing of one’s Ez’rok, then you indeed must have something important to say. Even under circumstances as unfortunate as these.” No doubt Rez’nac’s cultural metaphor had struck a chord with that particular councilman.

“Or you are clearly insane,” said the most hostile councilman of all, the one who had correctly accused him of having no soul.

“Let him speak,” said the softened councilman. “His Ez’rok is thrown, it stands where it lies. Whether he brings us truth that the Essences have chosen to deliver to us in the strangest of manners, or if he speaks the filth of rakh’ lies—we cannot know if we do not hear it.”

The hostile councilman shrugged. “If you wish to waste our time, then so be it. But mark my words, he has nothing for us but rakh’ lies. For he brings a rakh onto our sacred world, befouls it with his presence, and that of the rakh, and the rakh he has brought holds a human weapon to the body of our Most Divine. These are facts as surely as they are sins.”

“You may be right,” said yet another councilman. “But we cannot know if we do not hear. And the safety of our Most Divine depends upon us entertaining the words of the Fallen One.”

“You, Fallen One,” said the most hostile councilman. “If we hear your words—all of them—you will allow the Most Divine to walk away free of any harm, is that your promise to us?”

“Not that a promise from a Fallen One has any worth,” sneered another councilman.

“I promise to reveal a truth to you that you will wish to know, but it will cause you great alarm and fear,” said Rez’nac, choosing his words carefully. He knew he could not guarantee the safety of the High Prelain if, in fact, the High Prelain turned out to be a Dark One.

“You speak nothing as to the safety of our Most Divine. Instead, you make idle promises and speak of vague threats and unknown, highly suspicious, truths. How then can we believe you will leave our Most Divine unharmed once we have granted you your audience?”

Rez’nac noticed movement from two of the guards, one on either side. It was subtle, they were still a few meters away from getting behind him, and getting a clear shot of either him or Calvin, but it was enough to realize he needed to speed this up, and show actual aggression.

Rez’nac drew his ceremonial dagger and pressed it against the throat of the High Prelain. “All soldiers shall drop their weapons immediately! Or this ends now!” He then raised his dagger to show that he had drawn blood—although the injury to the High Prelain’s neck was superficial, it made the point he wanted.

“In the name of the Essence of Rythicar, drop your weapons!” one of the councilmen said. “The life of the Most Divine is at stake!” Once he did, the soldiers complied, seeming hesitant to do so, but they each, in turn, set their rifles upon the ground.

“Very well, then, Fallen One, you shall have your audience. Speak and speak true. This Council does not exist to hear folly, nor lies, and by the Essences we shall know if you have misled us. For we are the Prelains of the Religion of Light, and the Essences will bestow the knowledge upon us.”

“I am counting on that,” said Rez’nac. “But sometimes a demonstration is the way in which the Essences communicate. It is not so often in words.”

“And what would you demonstrate?” asked a councilman.

“I would have you know, and search your minds and hearts deeply for confirmation from the Essences, but this Council, and our glorious Confederation, even our most sacred and Forbidden Planet itself, has been invaded by Dark Ones, in disguise as us, and they would purge the galaxy of all who believe in the Essences and the Light. Leaving only the Dark Ones and their lies of a singular, almighty God in the place of the true Essences.”

Shock filled the room. Shock and a profound sense of disbelief. No doubt Rez’nac sounded like a raving lunatic. After all, there seemed to be no evidence to support his claims. And the idea that the Dark Ones could bypass the Veil, and bypass
Custos
, and take the form of the dearest, and highest echelon of the Polarian religion did, Rez’nac had to admit, sound impossible on its face. And yet, he trusted Calvin, he believed the Reckoning to be a false and violent Reckoning, and because of these things he was left with no other explanation than that his words, and warning, were true.

“You speak bold and outrageous things,” said a councilman.

Another added, “
Preposterous
is the word I would use. For here we are, as plain as the Light of our Most Beloved Star, and there is not a Dark One to be seen.”

“That and the Essences would never allow for such a thing to occur. It would show a great weakness in them, and call into question their power. No, you speak lies and they cannot be believed,” said yet another councilman.

“I speak the truth, as ugly and hard as it is to hear,” said Rez’nac. “As it is said, the truth is a sword that cuts forward at times, and backwards at times; this is a time when it has cut backwards, and we would be fools not to notice our own wounds from it.”

“You too have become rakh,” said the most hostile councilman. “For they, the humans and the Rotham, they live to deceive. Their societies are comprised of lies, lies conjured in darkness, like the Fallen Ones, for they have no souls to keep them pure and no Essences to guide them. They are born from nothing and, in death, they return to nothing. You have become as them. Afraid of your own shadow, trusting in nothing, and forgetting about the wisdom, power, and clarity of the Essences. Once you may have been a Son of the Light, but now, whether you realize it or not, you have become not just a Fallen One, but a soldier of the Darkness.”

Rez’nac took great offense at that accusation. “I was of Khalahar!” he said instinctively, as if he still could claim any of the rights, honors, or privileges that such a thing meant.

“And the Seer who declared that you were of Khalahar was not given the knowledge by the Essences that you would spit on your spiritual heritage and reject the ways of the Light and choose, instead the Darkness,” said the same councilman.

There were murmurs of assent, and he could tell that, despite his warnings, and despite the sincerity with which he had spoken them, hoping to persuade the councilmen, it had proven to be of no use. They waited now only for him to release the High Prelain so that they could kill him and Calvin, or take them into custody and subject him to a Blu-qi and tortuously interrogate Calvin, and discover how he too had invaded the world, despite
Custos
and the Veil protecting them, and then execute him in brutal fashion. Although the thought, as unpalatable as it was, did give Rez’nac one more idea.

“You speak to me believing that my truths that I have shared—”

“Your lies,” corrected one of the councilmen, interrupting Rez’nac.

Rez’nac continued, as though the interruption had not occurred. “Are impossible to believe because, surely, the Essences would never have allowed the Dark Ones to pass through the Veil, or to invade our precious and sacred Forbidden Planet, no doubt because
Custos
would destroy any who would besmirch our soil.”

They seemed to agree with this assessment. And so Rez’nac had baited the trap.

“And yet you call me rakh, and a soldier of the Darkness, and—even in the gentlest of accusations—you say I am a Fallen One, and indeed I am a Fallen One, although I keep to our ways. But despite these things, and the taint that I bring, and the taint of the rakh who stands next to me, we have succeeded in crossing the Veil.”

“You yourself revealed that you were of Khalahar; of course you could bypass the Veil,” said the most hostile councilman. “No doubt you used this sacred knowledge and allowed the rakh to pass through alongside you.”

“And what would have stopped one of our wayward youth from doing the same for the Dark Ones?” asked Rez’nac. The Council, he knew, was keenly aware of the schism growing inside the Polarian religion. One that separated those who kept to the old, true ways, the ways of the Light, and those who rejected the Essences and were cast out, non-believers who found sanctuary among the Dark Ones, who were also outcasts, and whose monotheistic religion of a single
One True God
had poisoned the beliefs and knowledge of the Fallen Polarians.

“I find it absurd,” said the most hostile councilman.

“I…do not,” said another. His confession that what Rez’nac said was possible seemed to make the most hostile councilman look nervous—although it was such a subtle change in his demeanor that Rez’nac was unsure if it was simply his imagination.

“I too can see that there is possibility in such a claim,” said another councilman. “For some who have been banished have been of the Great Essences: Khalahar, Dorathia, Rythicar, Magnyrium, Toq’ir…there are many who would know the way past the Veil. And, once cast out, could still get through it, and might bring Dark Ones with them.”