Episode 9: Between the Cherubim

"All hands to battle stations!" Derek rushed to the captain's chair.

The ship outside swerved after them, gaining much too fast for the Argo to outrun with her engine-output down to a trickle.

They can maneuver in here. And fast. Derek gripped the edge of his console. "Nova, get an ID on that thing."

"Radar says Gatlantean."

"Venture, get us out of here." Derek checked the radar info Nova just announced. Not a class we've seen before… And smaller than those monsters back at Shambleau. A scout?

Mark pushed the engines harder, but Argo slogged through the void.

"Incoming!" Nova tapped the harness trigger on her seat. It secured, strapping her in just before the first blast hit. Others copied her action—all but Derek, Sandor and Dathan—who stood stubbornly at the back of the bridge, feet braced, ready for another wave.

"Dash, get a target lock and start firing."

"Trying, Wildstar," said Dash. "It's too fast. Keeps ducking in and out of the sensors. Wait. Got it. We got a hit!" Dash's shoulders slumped. "Nothing vital. Barely a scratch."

"Keep firing. Maybe we can keep them off us long enough to figure out what's going on." Derek called the engine room on the ship comm. "Orion, what's happening down there?"

"Can't say, Captain. Power's there, but she's not using it. It's like she forgot how to process energy."

At the science station, Sandor looked as if he'd just found a piece to an impossible puzzle. "I have a theory." He stood. "This space we're in may have altered the wave motion energy we use in the engines. If I can make the engine convert this new energy back into a usable form, the engine should work again."

"How long do you need?"

"Give me a half hour."

"We'll hold them off. Go."


When Sandor reached the engine room, Orion, stationed on the raised walkway beside the running engine, already had one whole computer station concentrated on the stabilization effort. Five other engineers manned one terminal apiece.

"Nothing's workin'," said Orion. "She just won't listen."

Sandor snatched out his comm. "Royster, Rowland."

Almost instantly, both science team members answered via video.

"Get down to the engine room. I need your help to fix this."

"On my way." Rowland signed off.

Royster nodded and disappeared.

Feldmann walked in half an instant later.

"You should be back on the bridge," Sandor said.

"I thought I might help." Feldmann joined Sandor and Orion at the terminals. "I used to work with Luna II's engineering team on special projects."

Rowland and Royster rushed in.

Sandor motioned Orion to the next terminal. To Feldmann he said, "Help my team check the logs from the past day. Maybe we'll find out when—"

"The second we got here," Feldmann declared with a glance at the log. "Dark matter. It's been mixing with the wave energy."

"What?" Sandor stopped. "That would overload the engine. We'd all be dead, unless—"

"—there's a safety built into the engine design," said Feldmann. "It would prevent the ship's destruction in an event like this."

Sandor scanned the logs again. "I've never seen—"

"Aye! Over here." Orion trotted to a panel ten feet away. "Found it by accident during the upgrades." He motioned Sandor and Feldmann over.

Just as Sandor reached the safety mechanism, the room jerked, sending him grabbing for the walkway railing. He was grateful for his bionic limbs. Instead of hurling into the opposite rail, he kept his grip on one side and prevented Orion from tumbling over.

Feldmann held his own, both hands viced onto the rail.

"To turn it off would mean blowing the engine," said Sandor. "But if we leave it on, we'll never get out of here alive. That ship out there will destroy us. Orion, did you modify the safety during the upgrade?"

"No. Didn't touch it. Didn't even know what it was until I accidentally triggered the thing. A warning popped up on my terminal screen."

"But no warning this time?" Sandor returned to the computer terminal.

"No—not—"

A young man from ops—newly transferred to engineering to fill a staffing gap—stepped forward, looking embarrassed. "I saw one. But I didn't know what it was, so I… dismissed it."

"When, lad?" Orion said.

"It was like Feldmann said, just after we got to this space."

Sandor nodded. "We have to determine how fast this engine can process dark matter—without overloading. Then we'll have to make the adjustments to allow for it."

An explosion rocked the room and thick smoke filled the air as fire crackled in one corner. Three engineers grabbed hand-held fire-suppressors and rushed to put it out.

"Fire system's out too," Sandor muttered. "Great." He concentrated on his terminal. "I've got to run simulations. You three too." He motioned to Royster, Rowland and Feldmann.

Another explosion, this one much bigger than the last, sent clouds of smoke billowing through the engine room. Fire—lots of fire—engulfed one whole wall.

It's like they're targeting us. They know we're in trouble. As Sandor willed the simulations to resolve faster, he prayed. It can't end this way. You're Lord of all. Please, help us.


Masterson Talan stepped off Hadar, followed by David Lysis.

Gatlantis' landing docks spanned the length of a small city, and Masterson couldn't see the end of them from where he stood. Ahead, indifferent gray walls stood like steel soldiers, the only gap in the line was a door with a seven-digit number engraved in red near the top of the doorframe.

The woman from the message—Princess Invidia—arrived. A white-headed man accompanied her. His mustache was so wide it bled into sideburns, and his eyes were small and cold, but not so much as the princess'. Though she couldn't have been more than twenty, the young woman's lurid smile spoke of scandalousness. "Prime Minister Talan, I presume."

Masterson's translator, affixed clandestinely behind one ear, deciphered what she said, though her thick Gatlantean accent strained the device's processor.

"You've arrived on time." Invidia's quiet laugh felt as if someone had just drawn a knife's tip up Masterson's back. "I suppose your little Gamilon remnant is safe for now."

"Where is Leader Desslok?" Masterson said evenly.

"Patience." Invidia laughed again, this time more heartily. "You'll see him in good time. First, you'll experience some of what Gatlantis has to offer."

Masterson's stomach churned. "That won't be necessary. We wouldn't want to impose—"

"Oh, no, I insist." Invidia gave him a wicked grin. "What kind of hostess would I be not to at least give you a brief tour of this magnificent ship?" She waved a hand, and a servant entered. He carried a silver platter filled with small glasses; each held a liquid of differing color.

Masterson recognized none of the offerings but smelled every one of them from several feet away.

"Gatlantis' finest." Invidia lifted a glass and took a long drink. "Do try one. At last count we had thirty-four varieties."

"I am grateful for your hospitality, Princess, but I must decline." Masterson offered a polite nod to the servant.

"What about you?" She looked to David. "Surely a man such as yourself has a refined taste in wine." She held out a glass of deep green liquid. "This one boasts the most potent aphrodisiac ever made—here or anywhere in the known universe."

David blushed and looked away. "Sorry. I'm not much for wine."

Invidia downed the offered drink and returned the empty glass with a sigh. "Perhaps another of Gatlantis' offerings will be more to your liking." She and the man with her led Masterson and David into the worldship. They wove through more passages, courtyards, rooms and halls than Masterson could count. If he had to get back to his ship, he'd either frequently need to consult a map or bring a guide. Otherwise, he'd be lost in here for days. The whole ship was the size of a small moon. He couldn't imagine facing it in battle. What armaments must it boast?

They came to a door. This one had no number, only an etched symbol—a violet mask. Invidia stepped inside. From the darkness within floated soft rhythmic music, its minor notes flickered in the air, sent a sense of foreboding through Masterson and served as the briefest warning for the room's contents.

The man with Invidia herded Masterson and David in before either could protest.

"Cover your mouth and nose," Masterson hissed to David. "Quickly!"

David threw up his hands, but not before inhaling a good whiff of the purple mist that flooded the room. He exhaled a bright pink breath and reeled. Confusion clouded his face. "What…? What's happening?"

Masterson reached to steady David, only to breathe in the airborne hallucinogen too. Stardust. One of the most potent substances traded throughout known space. The moment the drug hit his senses, a familiar voice drifted to him through the hazy air.

Masterson? It lilted. Little Masterson? A woman in black, eyes burning violet, hair the color of rich cedar appeared in his vision. Aurelia Guardiana—the last person he ever wanted to see again—the reason Gamilon lay in a dying ruin. You'll never leave Gatlantis, little Masterson. Desslok is as good as dead. You've known that for over a year. And even if he is still in any condition to help your people, do you think after all this time he'll listen to you? You? Who abandoned him in his darkest hour? Who stayed away, even though you knew you should return?

The phantom lurked closer.

You're a fool. You think he'll abandon this place and go home? He wants something—something he can't ever get by leaving Gatlantis. He'll pursue the Eratites until it kills him.

Masterson tried his best to ignore the phantom as she gave voice to some of his worst fears. Trouble was… she wasn't completely wrong. He had stayed away too long. No matter what Desslok had said—no matter what threats he'd made, Masterson should have come home long before he found out the Leader was headed for Gehenna's Bridge—for certain death—to face the Eratite ship that destroyed Gamilon's already crumbling capitol. He should have looked for Desslok, should have tried to find him against all hope. Maybe then he wouldn't be here, aboard this ship of horrors.

No! He fought back the urge to sink into self-blame. Adonai, help me! I did everything I could!

Invidia's cold laugh broke through the haze. "I see the stardust doesn't agree with you." She snorted and exhaled a large pink cloud, but the drug didn't seem to affect her quite the same way. Instead of falling into a fit of unawareness, like the other two dozen people Masterson only now noticed sitting or sprawling on the floor, she seemed amused, refreshed even.

"We will see him now," Masterson insisted.

"But I still have so much to show you." Invidia seemed disappointed, like a child denied her favorite dessert. "Oh well, I suppose you can go see your precious Leader now." She led them from the stardust den.

Masterson kept an eye on David, still out of sorts and listing to one side with every step, but each breath of clean air righted David's steps a bit more and sent Aurelia's phantom slipping away, though the old witch lingered in Masterson's vision and hadn't disappeared by the time they reached an ornamented door guarded by two tall men.

"Here you are," Invidia said.

"Stay outside," Masterson whispered to David.


Sabera tapped the little chip embedded behind her ear. A message read: "Princess Invidia has received a Gamilon ship. She is escorting two representatives, including Masterson Talan, Gamilon's Prime Minister and interim Leader to see Desslok in his chambers. They've just arrived. Shall I prevent them from seeing him?"

She sent a short reply. "No. Let them go in. There is little any of them can do to thwart Prince Zordar's plans, anyway. Desslok is of no consequence. Let Invidia have her fun. Perhaps it will serve a good distraction." Sabera closed the message and opened a link that blinked for her attention; this one was to Nasca's fleet scout ship, sent to cover the route to Origin.

"An Original ship is mired in Sargasso," said the scout captain. "We've pinned it down. Its engines are failing, and we've targeted them successfully so far. They're trying to fight, back, but not very well. Shall we capture them?"

And a ship goes with her… Gairen's crazed words about the Diviner echoed. This might not be the ship he'd seen in his vision, but it wouldn't hurt to make sure.

"Kill them. And pull that ship apart."

"Yes, Minister."

Sabera ended the call.


Derek stood behind the captain's station on Argo's bridge. Feldmann had left nearly half an hour ago to help Sandor down in the engine room. "Orion, Sandor, what's going on down there?" Derek tried to contact the engine room via the ship comm.

No answer.

"We just lost main gun turret two," said Dash.

"Sandor?" Derek tried again.

Still nothing.

Derek pulled out his comm. Dead again. He almost cursed at it but kept his tongue and instead set the comm on the duty station to charge and waited for the device to turn on. The instant it did, a call from Royster popped onto the screen. Derek accepted it. Behind Royster billowed flames and smoke.

"W-we've got a fire down here b-but everyone's almost got it out." Royster coughed into his sleeve. "Sandor's got another sim to run, but we figured out the p-problem. Main com's down in here because of the fire. Sandor says just keep that ship from hitting the engine room again."

Royster ended the call.

Derek tried the Wave Motion Shield. Nothing. Whatever slogged down the engine seemed to have a hold on the shield too. "Dash, keep firing. And set the secondary turrets to create the best crossfire we can. Let's keep them away from that engine room."


"Run the last sim!" Feldmann shouted to Sandor and Royster before he and Rowland ran to help Orion and the engineers fight the growing fire. "Get that suppression system back online!"

Sandor hurried to get the variables in place. Done. "Got it!" He transferred the settings from the simulation to the system and activated them.

The difference was almost instantaneous. The engine plowed to life as it processed the built-up dark matter. Sandor monitored the energy levels.

Retardant foam rained down on the fire and snuffed it out.

Sandor sighed in relief. Thank you… But worry still nagged. Even if they'd fixed the engine, that didn't mean they could fend off the enemy ship. Or that there weren't others nearby.


Derek got another call from Royster. "Everything's fixed."

"Get us out of here, Venture," said Derek.

Mark sent Argo straight along their given heading. They tore past the Gatlantean ship, Wave Motion Shield online and deflecting fire as Argo tore from the void.

The instant they were out, Derek said, "A short warp. That'd get us away from here. Maybe give us enough time to charge the wave gun. Our main guns don't seem to pack much of a punch."

"But there's no time to calculate—" Mark began.

"We don't have a choice."

Argo warped away, the enemy a minute behind.

When they emerged, Derek ordered, "Take us about. Charge the wave gun."

"Charging," said Dash. "Fifty seconds to full charge."

Every moment was like ripping off a tiny piece of skin.

"Wave gun's charged," said Dash.

"Prepare to fire." Derek took his seat—which Timothy had just vacated.

Everyone donned goggles as Derek took aim.

The enemy ship warped in.

"Firing." Derek pulled the trigger.

The other ship didn't even have time to turn as it vanished in a flood of brilliant energy.

Relief filled Derek, but anxiety tugged at the corner of his mind. How did they know we'd be there—be coming this way? We didn't even know we'd come this way until Brumis. And even then, only the crew knew which way we were headed. Nausea gripped his stomach. "Adjust the heading. Set us back on course." Was that vision a trap? Are we walking straight to our deaths?


Masterson approached the suite door. Invidia moved to follow. "You will stay here too." He lent her his sternest look. To his surprise, she obeyed.

Both guards barred the way as he came within a few feet of them. "We've orders he's not to be disturbed, sir. He sees no one."

"He will see me," said Masterson as he shouldered through and opened the door.

Inside, the room boasted dark colors and most lights were off except a few glowing lamps. Masterson trekked through the dark suite but stopped beside a mural—the same one that once graced the throne room on Gamilon—the image that so resembled Desslok and Starsha, though it was painted a hundred years ago, long before either was born.

Masterson's heart pounded as he continued through the suite. Everywhere he looked, he expected to see a shock of red hair. But it never appeared.

A familiar voice leaked from the back of the suite.

Aurelia's stardust-made phantom broke in. You're hearing things. Hope cripples you, little Masterson. You've come all this way for naught—and left your people defenseless. Go back home. There's nothing for you here.

"Yes, there is," he whispered to the empty air as he steeled himself with a deep breath and stepped into the suite's last room.

Beside a wide bed stood Desslok, his shirt crumpled atop a smoothed blanket. Across his back lay that old scar, the one his brother gave him years before.

"I said, leave me alone!" Desslok whirled and hurled a book straight at Masterson's head, spine-first.

Masterson caught it before it cracked his nose.

Desslok froze.

Masterson set the book—something in Gatlantean—on the closest table. The silence was so complete even the hiss of the room's air recycler seemed like a deafening explosion.

The old knife mark and a few scars from years past no longer represented the complete list of his injuries. New scars crossed his gut, and one ran an ugly line down the center of his chest.

How did you survive Gehenna's Bridge? Masterson's breath hitched. Adonai is truly merciful…

Aurelia's deadly whisper came again. He doesn't want you here. He never called you back.

Turmoil, like fog, clouded Desslok's eyes. He turned away, silent.


The immediate danger past, Derek sank onto his bunk and slept hard. When he woke again, he headed for the mess hall to get some much-needed dinner.

He went through the line with everyone else on this meal rotation. Stupid computer-generated schedules… He took his filled tray. I wish Nova was on this rotation, but I guess I'll have to wait a few more days for that. Derek scanned the room for Mark, but he already sat with Tim Alori near the middle of the mess hall. Derek sighed and headed for his usual corner table. Then he spotted Dathan. "Hey." He took the opposite seat. "Sandor said you helped get the engine fixed."

Dathan set down his fork. "Did some research with dark matter back at Luna II. Nothing too impressive."

"Anyone who can match Sandor is impressive."

Dathan snorted. "I prefer a good bout to standing behind a computer."

"What do you say we try one of the new sparring programs after this? I haven't had anyone to try them with yet."

Dathan nodded. "That would be a refreshing change."


Mark took a bite of his dinner. "What've you been doing all this time, stuck on Olympia?"

"Done a lotta readin' and prayin', Marcus. Maybe more than I ever have. As awful as it was, the Lord and me, we had a lotta good conversations." Timothy's face turned sad. "But those ones who didn't make it… Their faces are still with me. Can't shake em'—might never."

"I'll never forget the ones we lost on the Iscandar trip…" said Mark.

"You went on that? You never said anything when you told me about your mission." Timothy brightened and slapped Mark on the back. "That must've been a sight—all those places—people. Meet anyone interesting?"

So many faces came to mind. "Too many to count, Tim. Gamilons, Queen Starsha, other people here on-board ship. And there was Captain Avatar."

"I heard stories about him. I was already on Olympia by then, but we hadn't headed out this way yet. Your captain must be a brave man."

"He was… Died as soon as we got back to earthspace," said Mark. "Captain Avatar… he was always saying we would make it back. Even had this strange way of making us believe it too."

Timothy picked at his food. "Sounds like a real captain, true enough. Ours was… always sayin' we'd come through too. She was right, I suppose. Even if she never got to see it happen. So, how do you know Feldmann? I didn't think he was on the Iscandar trip."

"He wasn't. Our Black Tiger leader, Conroy, met him while he was stationed on the moon. Why do you ask?"

Timothy's eyes turned troubled. He shook his head and split a bean in half. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"You always had a way of knowing stuff about people. What is it?"

"The… last time I saw Feldmann, I thought the same thing, but was never sure, so I didn't speak up." Timothy sighed. "I think he's hiding something."

"That's about everyone I've ever met. Why—"

"No, Marcus." Timothy leaned closer and whispered. "This is something important. I think… he may not be who he says he is."

Mark lowered his voice to match Timothy's. "How do you know?"

"It's just a real bad feeling. Like just before an earthquake—or that buzz before lightning strikes. Can't say I know why. Can't say I'm right. Just have that bad feeling."

Mark stole a glance at Feldmann, sitting across from Derek. The pilot seemed stiff—something Mark never noticed before. And he constantly fidgeted with that med bracelet he always wore. "Then who is he?" Mark looked away as Feldmann glanced toward him.

"Don't know. But you and me—I think we'd better try to find out."


Derek and Dathan dodged laser fire and batted combat drones from the air as the computer threw waves of enemies at them. The round ran twenty-five minutes—longer than Derek thought Dathan would last. But the pilot wasn't even winded.

When the program ended, they showered and changed. As Derek ran fingers through still-wet hair he said, "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"My father insisted I learn to defend myself at a young age. My brother and I sparred often."

"I didn't know you had a brother."

Dathan smirked. "If you can call him a brother. He betrayed me the moment he had opportunity—stole something very important to me."

"Ever get it back?"

"No." Dathan didn't explain.

"Up for some target practice?" said Derek.

Dathan nodded and followed Derek to the nearby shooting range. Each of them shot five hundred rounds. Above each target appeared accuracy ratings. Dathan scored significantly higher than Derek.

"Think you could give me some tips?" Derek put a fresh power cell in his gun and holstered it.

"Maybe I will sometime." Dathan's med bracelet buzzed. "Got to go."

"You alright?"

"Nothing to be concerned about. If you ever want to run more of those combat programs, do let me know."

"I will," said Derek as Dathan left.


Desslok didn't speak, but neither did he try to make Masterson leave.

The weight of seeing Desslok alive again after so long believing him dead felt like the whole of Gatlantis had settled on Masterson's shoulders. "How did you…?"

"If you want to know the lurid details, I suggest you speak to the physicians."

The curt answer stung a little, but it was clear Desslok wasn't going to elaborate.

"Prince Zordar has commissioned a ship for me. It should be ready in a few hours. Any of your crew who wish to come may." Desslok donned an unwrinkled shirt.

"Where are you going?"

Desslok finally turned around. "To do what I couldn't a year ago—destroy the Eratite ship." He attached the red collar—the mark of Gamilon's Leader—and without the aid of a mirror perfectly pinned in place the four gold bars, each one representing one quarter of the planet's population.

"But that ship is on Erats."

"No. It's coming here, Masterson. Zordar's fleets track it even now. Its course will bring it here within two months." A black cape completed the same uniform Desslok once wore, and he anchored it atop one shoulder with the aid of a golden ornament. The cape's deep red lining seemed to whisper to Masterson an account of every day of the past year—every day he'd failed to look for this one who's life he once swore to protect.

"This isn't wise, my friend. The very hand of Adonai—"

"Spare me! I don't care what charm of fortune—what Divine blessing lies on that cursed ship. I will take it." Desslok pulled on black gloves. "Will you force me to send you away again?"

Masterson's chest ached at the thought of leaving—now that he'd only just found his old friend again. "No… No, Desslok, I will come with you this time. But only one of my crew will join us. The rest must return to Gamilon."

Desslok nodded. "Do tell Invidia the next time she thinks to surprise me, she'd better reconsider." The threat in his eyes said he would not be disregarded.

Masterson took one step toward the door, but something held him there like a hand around his ankle—whether it was shock or sadness, he couldn't tell. Every step, he struggled against it, and as he stepped from the bedroom, he had to stop.

When the door shut, another phantom whisper burned Masterson's mind. He will fall in battle. And this time, there will be no going back.

Masterson hurried to the suite's entrance and met Princess Invidia, David and the old Gatlantean. "Please, take us someplace we can wait for the Leader's ship to be prepared. My first officer and I will accompany him on his mission."

Invidia nodded to the old man. "General Dyre, please show our guests to a room."

Dyre bowed and escorted Masterson and David to another suite farther down the hall.

Once inside, Masterson sank into the chair farthest from the door. "I… need a moment…"

David disappeared into another room, his gait much more stable than before.

Alone, Masterson held his face in his hands and wept.


Episode 9 Notes:

Editing pass complete, 8/18/2022

The title for this episode was inspired by King Hezekiah's prayer in Isaiah 37:15-20:

And Hezekiah prayed unto the Lord, saying,

O Lord of hosts, God of Israel, that dwellest between the cherubim, thou art the God, even thou alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth: thou hast made heaven and earth.

Incline thine ear, O Lord, and hear; open thine eyes, O Lord, and see: and hear all the words of Sennacherib, which hath sent to reproach the living God.

Of a truth, Lord, the kings of Assyria have laid waste all the nations, and their countries,

And have cast their gods into the fire: for they were no gods, but the work of men's hands, wood and stone: therefore they have destroyed them.

Now therefore, O Lord our God, save us from his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that thou art the Lord, even thou only.

Author's Note:

Hey all! Long time, no see. It's been an insane six months, but I've finally had a chance to come back to "Fortress of Evil." And it was amazing.

Next time, we're sticking to FOE for Episode 10: Familiar Spirits and Wizards.

For anyone who's curious and/or missed the story of Aurelia Guardiana and how Gamilon fell into ruin, feel free to explore book zero, The Guardiana, and book one, The Right of Kings.

Stay safe and sane.

Until next time, happy reading and writing,

dtill359