Chronicles of the Aeons War, page 47
part #3 of The Omniverse Series
SEVENTEEN
EVER FORWARD
One of the Macronauts went by and Grigori and Decker both stared at it in disbelief. They were giants; twice the size of anyone they’d ever seen, their ovoid bodies ending in massive arms and legs.
“You realize what we’re looking at,” Grigori said as they marvelled at the fluid grace of the so-called Macronauts, “These are the First to call themselves El-Ahur; the Ones who rescued the Old Ship. This is how they were described by the Rai’Ha. This is how they were described by the Witnesses in the texts. I mean, it’s them or beings like them.”
“It’s them,” Decker confirmed, “The First One who went aboard the Old Ship from the Rescuers’ ship called himself the Grandmaster, which means he went aboard the Old Ship and did it inside one of those things.”
Grigori shook her head, “How often can you cross your own timeline?”
“I don’t know,” Decker said, “I suppose the Grandmaster must.”
“So now he’s at the top of our Chain of Command; just like that?”
Decker grimaced. The Grandmaster’s sudden emergence as commander of all El-Ahur forces was a sticking point with many of the Suphia and Phenex. The General Order had come from the Queen Herself: He was now above even the Assembly of Fleetmasters and Marshalls; above even the Supreme Marshall and Grand Fleetmaster. The Grandmaster didn’t answer to the Queen’s Council – the might of the El-Ahur’s military forces were now solely in the hands of the Queen’s Man from the Future, which ultimately meant She was now head of all military operations of the El-Ahur.
It hadn’t been this way in more than a thousand years. Back then, it had just been Her and the El-Ahur. Back then, there had been no Grandmaster, except for the one spoken of in the histories and prophecies. Their hero from out of time was an obscure line in prophecy, not some grandiose military leader out of nowhere. The Queen had declared him Her Grandmaster; the head of all military operations for the Aeons War.
“She is our Queen,” Decker said, “We’ve sworn our obedience to Her.”
“Yeah, Her, not him.”
“Did you see what his fleet did out there against the Zohor? He had less than a hundred ships!”
“I saw what his troops didn’t do down here against the Abrahamics.”
“She swore us all to obey the Grandmaster’s orders as if they were Hers.”
Grigori spun on her Commander, “He hasn’t earned that respect from me, yet.”
“He doesn’t have to, Myrym; he’s earned it from Her. That should be enough for the El-Ahur, especially you; after what you did…”
“I didn’t ask for it,” she said, “People look at me now…just let me serve. Don’t keep reminding me I’m the one who opened the Queen’s Keep and woke Her. I’m Suphia El-Ahur; just let me serve!”
“We are El-Ahur; we don’t ask, we are told.” Decker reminded her, “And when told to, we do a great many things. One of those things is to obey the Queen. She has sworn us to obey the Grandmaster as we would Her. And so we must, and so we shall.”
“As you say,” Grigori replied, “But I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” Decker said, “But I don’t suppose I have to.”
“You don’t like it? You’re one of Her Preferred; Chief of the Guard.”
“Not a fun place to be, when I have to go explain to the Queen’s Council how a band of Abrahamic terrorists managed to plant high-yield explosives throughout the Temple Compound without being detected. I don’t expect to be Chief of the Guard much longer. I’ll be lucky to keep my balls.”
♦♦♦
The Council was calling for blood; the people in the Encampment from the Temple were demanding the same. They wanted revenge against the Abrahamics; The Grandmaster had had to deploy twice as many HAM units as he’d had on the Temple Compound to guard the Abrahamic section of the encampments. In the City of Olympus the Abrahamic District was likewise barricaded by the Gesheol El-Ahur, keeping the outraged masses from breaching the Abrahamic sanctuary on the mountain. They stood without the protection of a mechanical skin, and they did not need it. No one dared to challenge the Stewards of the Mountain.
Meanwhile, the Queen’s Council was a storm of angry voices shouting, arguing, the majority calling for vengeance, for retribution. The Queen sat silent, still and patient. She felt their rage as it was Her own but She also knew how wrong they were. She allowed them to vent awhile, then slowly She began to extend Her silence away from Herself, until it became a presence in the Council Chambers. They all fell quiet; some were afraid. She was pleased. She cast Her image into the sky above the mobs at the Abrahamic section of the Encampment and at the gates to the Abrahamic district of Olympus.
“There will be no revenge,” She said, “There will be no retribution. I have already decreed that no Midianite shall ever again harm another; we have enough enemies among the darkness and the stars, there’s no need to have enemies among ourselves. We are brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers to one another and all. We must be as one; otherwise our enemies will surely destroy us. For the sake of Creation I call upon you all to obey this above all things: no Midianite will harm another Midianite. To do otherwise is to invite death upon yourself and upon us all.”
Allison looked from face to face in the Council chamber, and Her images over the Encampment and Olympus seemed to cast their gazes over the crowds as well. In a very real sense they did; for Allison was as always aware of every Mind on Midian. She had abandoned the people of Sinai and it was to Her great regret that She had; but it had been necessary to make them think She had forgotten them in order to make them remember that they were Midianites as well. She remembered each Life lost in Her Dreams and felt the weight of each sacrifice like a scar. But She had known it to be the only way to unite the people of Midian, the only way to proceed after the Schism’s breaking of the world’s peoples.
“We must move forward, now; together, ever forward,” She said, “Or else not only will we fail the memory of all who have died, we will all die as well.”
♦♦♦
Pomeroy Zaiola watched the sun arc over the horizon, swinging southward as a new day dawned. She felt dazed; still recovering from the shock of her own certain death and its reversal…by the Shekhina Mehdi as the El-Ahur sometimes called Her. Zaiola wondered what the implications were for her soul; if this had tainted her, made her somehow unclean. Could the Healing done by McQuire Allison have been of God? She was uncertain and afraid. So many things had happened since she’d surrendered to the El-Ahur…most disturbing was the one they called Grandmaster. The honorific was unfamiliar to her, she wasn’t sure if it was a rank or a title. When she’d fallen he’d come to her, cradled her bleeding and dying in his lap. Their brief conversation was still a riddle she couldn’t decipher. At first she’d thought him an over ardent fan of the roles she played or her celebrity of old. But when confused, severely wounded, in shock and staring into his agonized face, she could only form one question:
“Who are you?”
The man known bombastically as the Grandmaster smiled regretfully as he looked down at her, “You asked me the same thing,” he said.
Then there was McQuire Allison, the Shekhina Mehdi, the Prophet of God, the so-called Queen of Light and Sorrow. She stood over Zaiola as she lay dying and laid hands on her as the Faith Healers of Old Earth had reputedly done. But she did not cast out any demons, or beg God for the sins of the wounded or for His Divine Intervention. She simply stood there in silence, holding Her hands over Zaiola’s injuries. Zai had felt a growing warmth flooding the wounds, dampening the pain, almost becoming too hot to bear. Suddenly there was pressure, like everything in her wounded side was pushing itself back together. Then she could breathe again and the pain was a fading memory.
And then McQuire Allison had given Pomeroy Zaiola her instructions.
None of it seemed real, possible. Pomeroy had been prepared to die in the Temple attack; to be captured, imprisoned or even executed. In fact she’d held out little hope of survival. Now Zaiola was planning for her return to Sinai under the sanction of McQuire Allison Herself. The Erelim had heard the Her message through Zaiola; they had seen the Queen of Light and Sorrow through her eyes, heard Her words through Zaiola’s ears. Zaiola would speak for the Queen until She arrived. She was humbled by the notion, frightened at how eagerly she’d accepted. Pomeroy Zaiola was also afraid of what might happen to her when she reached Sinai; of what repercussions there might be among the militancy and especially among the fundamentalists of the Three Faiths. The Erelim had gambled her part in the mission on rallying the people to the cause. Zaiola had been front and center of that campaign. Her celebrity and her work during the recovery operations just after the attack had been seen as missions for the Three Faiths as was her part in the attack on the Temple of the Way. Now she was returning to summon the Abrahamics to the Queen’s bosom. She wondered how well that would go over.
♦♦♦
“You were first ordered to track down and capture Pomeroy Zaiola,” the Shekhina Mehdi said to Decker and his platoon, “Now, as Chief of my Guard, I need you to go with her to Sinai. You’ll protect her and you will make contact with the Erelim, the Hadosh El-Ahur. I will be there after you arrive. There is much I need to tend to. You will be My Emissaries among the Erelim. As Pomeroy will speak to the Abrahamics on My behalf, so you will speak to the Hadosh on My behalf.”
Decker had been moved around so much since the Attack these latest orders came as no surprise; but after his failure to prevent the Temple Attack, to find himself given charge of such a vital assignment and being answerable only to the Grandmaster or to the Queen Herself was astonishing. Likewise, She was asking him to be an ambassador to the very people suspected to have been behind the attack in the first place. And when he’d expressed as much to Her, the Shekhina replied, “Neither the Grandmaster nor I were able to prevent the attack on the Temple,” She said, “Some things are inevitable; they happen because they must. We are coming now to the end of the Aeons War; many things will happen, many terrible, many wonderful things. All of them will happen because they must. Time has narrowed in order that we may best prepare for victory. The Grandmaster’s presence is proof of this. So was the Zohor strike, so was this attack by Abrahamic fundamentalists. We must be brave Decker Marius, and we must forgive and accept one another for the sake and the survival of us all.”
Now Decker and his platoon were returning to Olympus – this time by shuttle. Decker was still haunted by the Fleetmasters’ decision to not provide them an upper-atmosphere shuttle on their mission to the Queen’s Keep. He wondered again how different things would have been had his mission been given the priority of a transport. He watched from the transparent walls of the shuttle as the Umbra and the Queen’s Mount went from dominating the mountain range below, to dominating the sky, as well. The shuttle banked around the Queen’s Mount, coming ‘round to take advantage of the southern air currents at this altitude to propel the transport towards Olympus Harbour. Decker had never seen their destination along the approach vector and he marvelled at the way the massive skyport had been carved from the blue stone of the mountain. Level after level, plateau after plateau the southeast face of the Umbra had been turned into a vertically aligned docking facility, curving along the Umbra’s natural topography. These ports and slips were reinforced by massive, honeycombed girders, a network of cranes, lifts and transport pods ferrying personnel, ordinance and cargo to and from the ships docked. And this, he reflected, was one of the smaller dockyards used by the Phenex El-Ahur.
Ships of nearly any size could moor themselves within the Harbour. Only three of the smaller Phenex El-Ahur cruisers were docked today; most of the traffic in and out was in the form of cargo transports and shuttles flying to and from the Harbour with carefully coordinated precision. Anything that could land or take off vertically had a platform or landing pad available to it. Anything that needed to launch or land on the horizontal headed for bays cut directly into the mountainside. Cast in shadow part of the day because of the Queen’s Mount and Heket’s path through the sky, a series of massive floodlights cycled on and off along with the usual beacon and navigation lights. Decker stared rapt, awestruck as they made final approach, banking and ascending, moving forward and down again, then slipping onto a waiting platform.
“If you think this is something,” the shuttle pilot chuckled, “You should hope to get a chance to fly through Bloom’s Point.”
“I’ve heard stories,” Decker confessed.
The pilot shook her head, “Not the same thing, Chief. Safe travels from here.”
They met the Queen’s new Ambassador to the Sinai, Pomeroy Zaiola. She stared at Decker knowledgably. She remembered who’d shot her. He met her gaze; she’d been in his assessment a threat to the Queen. He’d acted accordingly.
“I don’t think we’re going to get along Chief Decker,” Pomeroy said, “But we are both under Her command. For Her sake alone, given that She is the reason I’m not dead, I will work with you so long as our paths are joined.”
Decker nodded, “As you say, Hadosh El-Ahur.” Behind Pomeroy Decker realized were other Abrahamic faces; these could not have been anyone other than the people who’d attacked the Temple along with her.
“I knew that I had to convince the people who brought me here,” Pomeroy said, “Or else I wouldn’t live out my first day in New Rome. If anyone believes I’m a traitor, I’m dead. I have to report to my handlers first. My people here have to vouch for me if I’m to have even the slightest hope of not being killed.”
“Then my people will be there to help you,”
“No; if you’re even spotted near their safe houses I’ll be dead. Stick to your mission: Meet with the Erelim; the Hadosh El-Ahur. If anyone on the Council I’m meeting thinks I’m a traitor, I’ll be dead in an instant. The Word of the Hadosh will be the only thing that will keep me alive; or you, for that matter. That’s what makes your mission so essential. Show them that the Queen of Light and Sorrow is sincere. She has chosen you as Her envoy; be Her envoy.”
♦♦♦
From the main observation tower Grandmaster Benedict Jack watched the Sinai-bound shuttle pull away from the Harbour. Then the hairs on the back of his neck and arms prickled and he knew that She was there behind him.
“She’s not her,” Allison said, “Any more than you were him when they first found you.”
“You know, then?”
“Who she is to you? What you’ve suffered and lost coming back through time to fight this war to your death? I feel it as if I were you. I feel your dread, your sense of being jailed and condemned. And I sense your hope.”
“Do you?”
“You’re meant to love her,” Allison said, “She’s meant to love you. I promise you that much happiness in your life, Jack. I pray that it will be happiness enough.”
“Everything’s happening according to design, then?” Benedict asked, dryly.
“It’s more than that; you can’t imagine what’s happening because you simply cannot perceive time the way I do. You can’t imagine how important you are even now, after all the years behind you.”
“Maybe I just still don’t want to believe it.”
“Maybe,” Allison paused, looking at the view from the tower. “Tell me, Grandmaster: Will the Erelim join us?”
“You don’t already know? From my mind? From what You can see of the future?”
“Not…in the way you think. Even after all this time I still can’t properly express My perception, my understanding of things. I know what you know but I also need to hear you tell me in order to…unlock…what I know.”
“That doesn’t make sense,”
“Not as you perceive sense to be.”
Benedict tried not for the first time to understand what the Queen was attempting to communicate, but She spoke of sense and experience far beyond his limited realm. He turned his thoughts to the people of the Sinai, and what he remembered of their future: “The Hadosh El-Ahur will join us. In my time all five of the Tribes of the El-Ahur are united. The Jibrail are the last to come aboard, from your point of view. The Erelim are going to be hard to get, because the Abrahamics are isolationists; it’s going to take more than this visit to win them over. They will commit, though. I just don’t know when. They were already with us in the future, when I first woke up aboard the Ouroboros. But when the Hadosh El-Ahur do join us? They’ll prove a force to be reckoned with.”
