Episode 7: Ordained of Old

Sabera's steps echoed through the empty temple. She checked the time again. Almost midnight. The trio of assigned guards lined Gairen's door as a single lamp, mounted just above the frame head pushed back the darkness. "Wait outside."

The trio filed past but stopped at the temple entrance.

"Was I unclear?"

They scurried out. The tall door's clank echoed as Gairen's lamp flickered and died.

She tapped the node installed behind her ear. "Broadcast, off."

"Broadcasting is disabled," said the network A.I.

Sabera touched Gairen's locked door. The lamp above the door sputtered on.

You remember, don't you, old man? You remember everything. Your hands didn't officiate the sacrifice that day, but the Warbringer grooms his priests, so you must know.

Muddled words bled through the walls. "Glory—fall. Old men and children. Death—comes." The priest moaned in his sleep, and the sound haunted the halls.

Sabera passed further into the temple. The lamp flickered—darkened before she moved five steps.

At the back of the main hall lay another, smaller room. One lamp glowed above the door, and a force field shimmered just inside the doorframe. On the wall beside the door hung a small, metal box, and inside it lay a tiny blanket, still warm, colored the deep green of an aged fir. On top of the blanket sat a little stuffed rhok-rhok bird. She petted the toy's head with one finger. Never will I let it be in vain.

Sabera waved one hand in front of the entrance, and both door and force field opened.

Heat blasted past Sabera into the cold temple, and purple flames crackled in a wide circle that occupied over half the room. A bed of coals covered the floor, and at the room's center stood a statue, bear-like, with the outreached hands of a man.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped to the floor with a sharp sizzle. Her boot soles warmed but didn't fail as she took the narrow stone path to the statue. The stud that topped her pointed ear throbbed. Mil… Heat flushed her face as the ache of losing her son, two years past, returned.

Sabera sank to her knees. Fresh blood from the most recent infant sacrifice still pooled like wine in the statue's hands. How many more will you demand?

The statue's dull, black eyes and bared teeth mocked her.

"I gave you everything," she hissed. "Grant me what Zordar beseeched you. Clear the way to Origin. Fell the Diviner." Sabera grasped the statue's bloodied hands. "The price I paid to see her defeated—I won't let her cheat me." Sabera let go. The heat baked dark blood into the skin of her hands. She raised a clenched fist. "Blood answers blood, Diviner. Every child given here—every man and woman gone mad because of you—When I hold your dead heart in my hand, justice will be satisfied."

Sabera spat into the coals. Their harsh hiss filled the room as she left the bloodied altar. Near the door, a short, domed pedestal rose from the floor and opened to her. Blue light bathed the dome interior, and a thin shimmer of energy provided a four-inch-thick clean field. She slipped her stained hands into the energy field and waited. A little chime signaled the end of the cleaning cycle and she removed pristine hands.

When she passed Gairen's door again, she tapped her comm node and said, "Broadcast, on."

"Broadcasting is re-enabled."

She slipped out the temple door. "Return to your posts," she instructed without looking at any of the sentries.

The three assigned to Gairen scrambled back inside, and the two stationed outside straightened.

Political blocks transitioned to residential housing as Sabera returned to her quarters. When she was almost home, a baby's cry stopped her. A rising, green sun marked the door. Noble's house. She skirted past, but the crying bit into her heart, reminding her of her son.

No, Diviner. You'll not mock our sacrifice, even if I must move every star in the heavens.


Shiori sat on a gurney in the Argo's infirmary as nurses made their rounds. Her dirty boots clanked against the metal frame and left scatters of Brumis soil on the floor. Nice for a battleship. New equipment whirred and blipped. Better than some hospitals I've seen.

A woman came to Shiori's bed. "I'm Nova. I'll be your nurse today." She smiled. "How're you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Where's the Sarge? Is he okay?"

"He's all right. Just a few bumps and bruises." Nova's smile faded. "But there were a few others we… couldn't help."

Shiori's folded hands shook. "I know…"

"I just need to check a few things. Can you take off that jacket for me?" Nova pulled a curtain around them.

Shiori draped the drab green uniform jacket over her lap. A ring strung on a silver chain jingled as it fell out of her undershirt collar, but she quickly tucked it back in. "Really. I'm okay." She gave Nova a reassuring smile.

"We just need to be sure," said Nova as she logged Shiori's vitals. Nothing went amiss until she tested Shiori's left arm.

"Ow! Why's it so stiff?" Shiori groaned.

"There's a bruise the size of a dinner plate on your back." Nova touched the mark gently. "It'll heal but leave it alone as much as you can until the soreness eases. You can go now. The rest of the staff saw to everyone else."

"Thanks." Shiori threw her jacket back on. "Nova?"

"Yes?" the nurse stopped half-way through pulling open the curtain.

"You… want to have coffee or something sometime? I don't get to meet too many other women in this line of work. It'd be nice not to talk about food, cars and guns for once."

"Sure!" Nova smiled. She leaned close and whispered, "I have the same problem. You should be issued a comm soon since it looks like you're staying onboard for a while. You can find anyone's number in the contacts."

Shiori laughed. "We'll have a girls' night. Bring whoever else you can think of. Did I see you have a female pilot?"

"Two. Feria's been a good friend of mine for years, and Buddy just joined from Luna II. Then there're Miki and Erin who work the other two radar shifts on the bridge. And Penny here in the infirmary, but she's out sick today. There're others. I'm sure they'd love some time together too." Nova peeked outside. "Your unit's waiting," Nova said. "They all must love you very much."

Shiori slid off the gurney. "Why do you say that?"

"They all asked about you—even your commanding officer, Knox."

Shiori tucked a stray lock behind her ear and adjusted her ponytail. "Yeah… he's great. They all are."

"If there's ever anything you need that I can help with, just ask. It can't be easy living with a bunch of men in tight quarters for months on end."

"It's like having a dozen brothers. I lost everyone in the war, so they're my family now."

"I lost my father," said Nova. "Everyone on board lost someone—or everyone."

Shiori nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. How many did we lose today…? "Some of us lost more than others…" She clasped both hands over her midsection. Why didn't I just take the Lunar posting when they offered it to me? Before the radiation got so bad… Before… She steadied her lips' slight tremble as she recalled the words that had changed her life. "You'll never have children."

Nova patted her shoulder. "Go let them know you're all right."

Shiori pushed back the curtain.

"Hey!" the rest of the unit chorused from the other side of the infirmary. They swarmed her, and Saito clapped her shoulder.

"Ouch!" She glared at him. "You'll make my bruise worse."

Saito laughed heartily. "It's all right, kid. Everyone's got a few bruises. Kurata's got one bigger than a basketball on his hip."

Shiori winced. "At least we made it out." She counted nine, including herself. Gonzalez, Kirigawa… and West. She bit her lip against the tears.

"Captain's agreed to let us stay and help. Don't know what this ship's getting into this time, but if it's anything like their last trip, they're going to need all the help they can get," Saito said.

Shiori swiped damp eyes and jabbed Knox in the ribs. "Dibs on bunking with Sarge."


Masterson paced his quarters. "How can I subject them to this again? The Gates' stability isn't what it was two years ago. Bad patches surface every day."

"Stop." David Lysis stepped in his path. "Just stop. I know you're terrified this is an elaborate hoax. I am too. You always do this—every chance you get, you overthink, worry. You've done it since the day I met you. Only difference is you've gotten better at hiding it, but there's that same look in your eyes. It was worst when you heard Desslok was dead. It's just as useless now as it was then."

"But, what if–"

"No. Adonai's hand is with us. If the Leader really is alive, we'll find out in three days at Gatlantis. Until then, worrying won't help."

Masterson passed David. "I have one last message to send before we take the first Gate."

"Right. I'll be on the bridge." David headed for the door as Masterson started his call.

Just before David left, a woman answered. "Masterson?" she said. "Where are you? What's happened?"

David stopped just outside the door. Queen Starsha? Didn't know they were still in contact.

"We're about to make the first jump," Masterson said.

"The Gates?" The Queen's voice trembled. "After what happened last time?"

"There's no other way to make the princess' deadline."

"Just… find him, Masterson. Bring him home."

"We will."

David furrowed his brows and continued toward the bridge. She still cares… even after all this time.


Sabera scrambled out of bed, face in her hands. Mil! Please, please, Mil, don't cry. Don't scream. Heilel demands this. Zordyour father—accepted the price. She grabbed a fresh bottle of wine from her bedside table and poured a full glass. She downed half in two gulps.

The phantom wails from the day she'd let her baby boy be sacrificed raked her mind. Wine dulled them but couldn't make the cries disappear. I'm sorry. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She balled part of her blanket and cradled it. I never wanted to give you to them, but your father insisted.

Sabera threw the blanket aside and took a small box from under the bed. She withdrew a long, thin stick, mounted it in an incense burner near the door, and lit it. Thick purple smoke hazed the room, and Sabera took deep breaths of the burning stardust.

The memories subsided, but still rang faintly in the silence.

She stumbled toward the bed, but the world tipped, and she sank to the floor. Every breath of stardust stung. Best quality, she scoffed. I could make a purer batch myself if we had a mine close enough. She gulped full breaths of the purple smoke and exhaled clouds of pink. They floated crookedly and sparked in five shades of fuscia. Sabera laughed at the light display.

A silhouette formed in the smoke. She grabbed for it, but the phantom vanished.

"Stop lying to me!" she growled into the dark haze. This is your fault, Diviner! First you drove Father and Mother mad with your legends of power. Then, you secreted away while the universe crumbled around you, but now—now I'll find you and take that power. Make it mine and avenge the death of the son I bore Zordar.

As the haze thickened, she crawled to the couch and lay face-up. Images formed in the smoke, most unfamiliar, but one she recognized from an account chronicling an encounter with the Diviner. I'm coming for you, Trelaina—if you truly exist. Then I'll take Origin, and not even you can stop me.


"The guys already know." Shiori protested as she and Saito ducked into a storage area. "Why the secrecy?" She touched the X-shaped scar on his cheek.

Saito took her hand. "It's in the records if anyone really wants to know."

"And stop calling me, 'kid.' You're two years older than me, not twenty. Plus, I'm far older than most of this ship's crew."

A comfortable silence fell.

"Let them see you as the great soldier you are, Shiori." Saito brushed the beauty mark on her chin. "That's why I love you."

"All right… but for the record, I hate sleeping in separate bunks. I'm not doing it."

Saito mussed her hair.

"Hey!"

"Get back to the room and get to sleep. It's late."

"I was asleep until you dragged me out here to talk about nothing."

He grinned.

"Oh, go stick your head in a fountain." She socked his arm.

Saito chuckled as he left first.

That man. Shiori shook her head and pulled out the silver ring strung around her neck. Five years, and you're still the same Saito I married.

Ten minutes later, she started back toward their assigned quarters. Half-way back footsteps echoed up ahead. Shiori froze. Am I supposed to be out this late since I'm not on shift? I don't see anybody else. What're ship regs? I haven't read up yet. She turned the nearest corner and waited.

Three seconds. Someone passed. He was tall, much taller than her, and his dark hair and eyes seemed… odd, like they didn't match the rest of his face.

Isn't that one of the pilots? Wasn't his name Feldmann?

He stopped and looked around. Shiori ducked farther down the hall, out of sight. What's he doing out this late? He's not in uniform. She followed him in silence as the pilot descended several decks until he reached the third bridge. Inside, the science team still worked, led by the XO.

Feldmann entered, and Shiori lost track of him for several minutes, but then he stepped out again, hands in his pockets. She held her breath as he passed. Must've needed some air. Or wanted to ask something. Can't let him see me. Talk about awkward.

He didn't notice her, and Shiori waited until he was out of sight to start the hike back to quarters.

Saito was already snoring when she arrived, so she tucked in next to him. The faces of the three they lost on Brumis stayed with her as she fell asleep.


Invidia approached the renovated guest suite.

"We have orders not to admit anyone, Princess," said one sentry, weapon still holstered.

"Orders from who?"

"Him." The second guard pointed over his shoulder to the closed door.

"The wishes of your Princess supersede a has-been's." Invidia pushed past the men.

"He asked not to be disturbed"

"I don't care." Invidia shoved open the door and stepped in. Neither sentry followed her.

Inside, low light filled the suite, and shades of green and blue greeted her instead of Gatlantis' usual fare of black and red.

On one wall shimmered a mural—a digital reproduction. Invidia frowned at the image. A woman, beautiful, with long, red-blonde hair flowing into space reached out to a blue-skinned man who wore a sword and crown. You threw away a chance at power. All for something you can never have. I've heard the tales, foolish queen—how you helped the Originals, stopped the push to take Origin. It could have been yours. What kind of fool ignores an opportunity like that? With an indignant huff, she ran a finger through the woman's face. The image blurred only to sharpen a second later. But you passed an opportunity to have more than Origin, didn't you? You remain kingless. I won't make the same mistake.

She left the image and swept from one end of the suite to the other. Without ceremony, she shoved open the bedroom door.

The room's single occupant sat on the bed, one foot, still boot-clad even this long after midnight, propped atop the opposite knee. An image of the woman from the painting hovered, projected from a tiny device that lay in his hand. An old scar spanned the distance between one crooked collarbone and one straight one, and multiple marks from the Gatlantean physicians' efforts peppered his chest and abdomen. In the projection's soft light, his blue skin almost glowed.

"Were the sentries unclear?" He closed the image and pocketed the device. The room lights rose enough to see by.

"Gairen revealed another vision." Invidia stood in front of him, arms crossed, hip cocked.

"And?" He stood and brushed past her. The smell of Gatlantis' best liquor tinted his breath.

"I thought you'd be interested to know he mentioned the Diviner."

"He always does."

"A ship sails with her."

He approached an image of an alien battleship, hovering on a wall several feet away from where Invidia stood. It flickered as he drew near. "Eratites?" Tension rippled another scar tracing his back from shoulder to hip.

"We don't know. It could be anyone. The only image of it exists in Gairen's mind." Invidia slipped in front of him again. The ship's image stuttered as her hair whisked through it. "You need a distraction from this obsession. Every day you speak of the Originals, how they kept you from helping your people—and killed so many. None of us expected your revival, Father least of all."

Ghosts haunted the man's eyes. He looked away.

Invidia reached to touch his face, but he grabbed her hand, and his eyes flashed brilliant green.

"You may have had success with others here, Princess. But I am no so easily won by the attentions of a child who pretends to be a woman."

Invidia jerked her hand from his grip and returned his glare.

"Leave," he ordered, and pointed to the door. "Don't come back until you've something of value to say."

"Fine," Invidia sneered. "Wallow in self-pity all you like, Desslok. But that self-righteous Iscandarian will never choose you—especially not now." Invidia leaned closer. The heels she wore thrust her inches from his face and she whispered in his ear, "I can offer you a throne to replace the one you lost."

"Get out!"

Invidia leapt back as Desslok grabbed an empty decanter and threw it at her. The thick glass shattered against the wall, but the gleam of anger in his eyes warned her not to test his aim again. "Come see me when you decide to take my offer." She left the bedroom door ajar and marched through the suite. What recourse does he have? Nothing. I may not be an Iscandari queen like Starsha, but I can offer far more than she ever could.

"Princess, are you all right? We heard a crash." The sentries met her half-way through the suite.

"I'm fine." She waved them off.

"I told you not to come in here." Desslok growled from the bedroom door. "Or does my speech not adhere to your exacting standards?"

Both guards hurried out after Invidia.

She stopped outside the closed entrance. This isn't over, Desslok. Not by far.


The first Gate loomed ahead of Masterson's fleet. Its ring of blue and white hung among the stars and glittered like a new constellation.

"Network's ready." David took his place beside Masterson at the back of Hadar's bridge.

"Let's go." Masterson began a ship-wide broadcast. "All crew prepare for a twelve-hour Gate jump. If anyone needs tranquilizers for the trip and hasn't received them yet, please go to the medical bay before the start of the jump. We enter the network at risk, but we go to find an answer so important it could reshape Gamilon. This jump is the first, and longest of seven. A ship-wide notification will broadcast fifteen minutes before each jump. Adonai, go with us." He ended the broadcast.

David leaned close. "Is this a good idea? We don't know if—"

"He's there. He has to be." Masterson pulled out a tiny silver disk, something from his days as a rebel fighting at Desslok's side. Years ago, he'd paired it with a data storage device Desslok always kept with him. Through that connection, he'd monitored the Leader's heartbeat ever since. Now, a faint green light pulsed in even, if quick, bursts. I didn't want to believe it, lest I deceive myself with false hope, but now… He gripped the disk. Now I know. Thank Adonai, you're alive.


Episode 7 Notes:

Editing pass complete, 8/17/2022

The title for this episode is taken from Isaiah 30:33

For Tophet is ordained of old; yea, for the king it is prepared; he hath made it deep and large: the pile thereof is fire and much wood; the breath of the LORD, like a stream of brimstone, doth kindle it.

Author's note:

So glad to be back here after much too long. Hope everyone enjoys this post.

Next time, we're heading over to the second-to-last entry in Tales, "Healing" featuring Alex Wildstar.

Until next time,

*dtill359