Episode 34: The Lofty City
Derek's neck itched as Dr. Sane dropped another clump of hair onto the deck. The low buzz of the razor skimmed past his ear, and he hoped the man's skills as a barber were comparable to his surgical abilities.
He hadn't been inside the doctor's living space in nearly two years. Dr. Sane's beloved tatami mat still sat in the middle of the room. Minimalistic furniture lined the room's edge, and a simple kamidana still adorned one wall, although most of the shrine's elements were anchored in place to keep them from scattering during takeoff or skirmishes. With launch time approaching, that choice would yet again prove wise.
Derek reached into a pocket for his comm.
"Sit still, Wildstar, or you'll end up with a patch missing," Sane scolded.
"What time is it?" He'd woken fifteen minutes ago to Dr. Sane shaking him and insisting he get his hair properly cut before any more of the crew saw him looking like this.
"It's 0500, and you should be asleep," Sane said. "So should I, but you had to do a thing like this." He dropped another scraggly clump of hair on the floor. "This couldn't have waited until we weren't about to stare death in the face?"
"Sorry, doctor, but I needed to do it."
Sane turned off the razor and stepped back. "Much better. But don't you blame me when the other officers don't recognize you right away. Now get out of here." He shooed Derek out the door and into the medbay.
Wounded crew were packed into the small space. Some slept; others read or did simple PT exercises, but most lay wide awake, staring, faces clouded with fear as launch time approached. In three hours, they would either be out of Telezart's gravity field, or they'd all be dead.
A middle-aged man lay in the nearest bed. He skimmed reports on his comm, but based on how quickly he flicked through each section, he wasn't reading them. His pinched brows and frown betrayed inner turmoil. "Captain! I didn't—I mean—I thought you were someone else." He dropped his comm and tried to salute, but the one hand not wrapped in skin-regenerator tangled in his blanket, and he winced. Mesh, like what Sane had used on Nova's leg, wound around the man's torso, meaning he probably had shattered ribs to go with the burns on his arm.
Derek checked the man's bed tag. "At ease, Lt. Commander Ramos. No need for that here."
Ramos relaxed, but his nerves didn't dissipate. "It's been a long few days, sir."
"No argument there. You seem anxious."
Ramos snagged his comm before it fell off the bed. He stared at the screen until it timed out. "How are we going to get out of this? I've seen the XO's reports. That comet's moving fast, and we don't even know if we can get off planet before it's here. If this launch fails, we might not be able to try again."
Derek gripped the man's good shoulder. "We'll make it." He hadn't expected to mean those words so thoroughly.
"I wish I could be as sure as you are, Captain." Ramos held up his comm. On it was a picture of two college-age boys, barely younger than Derek. "My kids. If we don't make it… I won't get to tell them goodbye."
"We'll survive this. And when we get back to Earth, you'll see your sons again."
Ramos held the image close. "I hope you're right."
"Try to get some sleep," Derek said.
"I will, sir."
Derek headed for the exit, but as he passed the patient rooms he stopped in front of Nova's door. Fatigue from the past few days still weighed him down, but he clearly remembered three hours ago telling Nova he loved her.
And she'd said it back.
He took four steps toward her door before Dr. Sane emerged from the back of the medbay.
"Get to sleep, Wildstar. You're no good to this crew half-awake. You can talk to Nova again when this is over." The man's stern expression didn't abate until Derek, reluctantly, headed for the exit.
Invidia hurried to her father's war council. According to her sources, Sabera's condition hadn't changed throughout the night. Not the news she'd hoped for, but not disastrous. Had she the time, she'd have permanently taken Sabera out of the way, but Gatlantis would arrive at Telezart before the day was out, and she couldn't spare a moment if she was to prevent it.
There was still time to divert—skirt past without interfering in the Diviner's territory. If they continued, they'd have no way out short of begging the Diviner's forgiveness, and if Invidia knew one thing of her father, it was that he didn't beg.
She slipped into the council meeting.
Already, her father and his generals discussed their impending arrival at Telezart. From Scorch's and Torbuk's reports, they knew someone was living on the planet's surface, but popular opinion among the council said this woman wasn't the Diviner, and she posed no threat, despite what the two disgraced generals thought.
Notably absent from the proceedings were Sabera and Venik. Dyre stood among the other generals, giving no sign he was partially to blame for the Prime Minister's poor health or Venik's demise. If she hadn't known his part in last night's events, she'd have been none the wiser.
Invidia only made it four steps into the room before her father noticed her.
"You weren't summoned to this council." He cast her an irritated glance. Likely, his ire was still raised over her recent actions, but she needed to be here.
"I know, Father. I only wanted to be of help." She poured sincerity into her tone and hoped he would believe her.
Her father leaned back in his seat, and a live feed of Telezart appeared on the room's vast floor screen. An identical stream winked into being above the group. "Your recent indiscretions give me pause, but I lack two key members of this council, and I have no replacements at hand. You may stay." He waved Beale and Dyre apart to make room for her.
Invidia took her place. "Where are General Venik and the Prime Minister?"
As anticipated, the other generals went silent, and all eyes flickered around the room in suspicion. Even Dyre acted the part of paranoid bystander.
"Venik is dead," said her father, seeming more annoyed at the man's absence than his murder. "And Sabera will not be joining us today."
Of the generals, Beale showed the most trepidation. Having been a close associate of Venik's, his concern was warranted. But he needn't worry too much. Venik wouldn't have been a target had he not been with Sabera last night, and Beale wouldn't be a target either, unless he made himself one.
"How unfortunate." Invidia added a dash of concern to her words as she tamped down smugness. It wasn't a secret she and Sabera were at odds, but to show no alarm would be suspicious.
Beale kept a wary eye on every council attendee. It wouldn't be long before the growing sweat stains on his uniform stank, so Invidia put another step or two between them.
"We'll raze Telezart the moment we're within range," Zordar said. "Once we've expunged all potential for life, we'll destroy the planet."
Horror rooted in Invidia's chest. If her father enacted this plan, the Diviner would kill them. A rebuttal sprang to mind, but she reined it. Her father wouldn't be won by insistence, no matter how fervent. However, if she could convince him it was more practical to change course, he might listen. Perhaps she could talk him into leaving Telezart alone until they'd taken Origin. By then, she'd be on the throne, and any decisions her father had made would be of no consequence.
Nasca's and Bleak's holograms flickered intermittently as their distance from Gatlantis grew. Both generals were to intercept and destroy any Original fleets attempting to resist. Not that there was any hope of standing against Gatlantis' might.
Bleak muttered approval of Zordar's plans even as his attention regularly shifted to schematics he likely thought were out of frame.
Gorse's support was more enthusiastic, and Manic proclaimed the move bold and necessary. Beale wordlessly accepted Zordar's plans.
Nasca's approval was a silent nod, and though he gave outward assent, he did it hesitantly and offered no verbal addendum. Last Invidia knew, he was against assaulting Telezart. It seemed something had changed his mind.
"Prince Zordar," Dyre interjected, "surely Telezart doesn't deserve so much attention. You yourself said the reported sightings of the Diviner are more likely some stranded unfortunate. Don't you still believe the Diviner is dead?"
Zordar's rumbling laugh filled the chamber. "Of course, the true Diviner is dead—if she ever existed—but leaving Telezart, and whatever urchin resides on its surface, alone tells others Gatlantis fears a myth. If we destroy the planet, there will be no doubt as to our power."
"Of course, Father," Invidia gave Dyre a clandestine glance. "But if we fix our sights on Telezart only to discover the woman living there is a mere vagrant, what will killing her prove? Won't it say you're afraid? Of something you claim not to believe?" It was a risk, but perhaps her father's pride was worth provoking. He certainly hadn't entertained appeals to his judgment.
This earned a pause from Zordar.
It was more than he'd done in response to Invidia's other pleas. If convincing him this course of action would make him appear lacking, it was worth pursuing. The Warbringer demanded might and cunning. Even if her father wasn't orthodox, he still valued an emphasis on power and intelligence, and making himself look weak wasn't something he did readily.
But Invidia's moment of triumph ended too quickly.
"Better to destroy a false threat than to underestimate a true one." Her father locked eyes with her. "Isn't that the wisdom Desslok imparted to us when he first came to Gatlantis?" The jab wasn't lost. Her alienation of the Gamilon Leader was well known by now. "And Dyre, it surprises me you'd hesitate to be rid of something that's long caused you great fear."
Dyre avoided Zordar's gaze, and the shame that accompanied public questioning of his courage. "I fear nothing, Prince Zordar. I'm simply more interested in our conquest of Origin than in chasing something you yourself do not believe in." Dyre kept his voice strong, his tone even, but he was lying.
A low-ranking officer appeared via hologram beside Zordar's throne. He bowed and waited to be acknowledged.
"What is it?" Zordar said.
"We're less than a day away from Telezart, Prince Zordar. You asked to be notified—"
"Yes, yes." Zordar waved the hologram away. "Gorse."
The general straightened.
"Take command of Scorch's and Torbuk's forces and send them back to Telezart. The cowards will redeem themselves or die trying."
Invidia hid clenched hands behind her back. She had one more move, and she'd hoped not to have to use it, since it was her thinnest excuse, but she had no choice now. "Father, isn't the Original ship still on Telezart? Won't this reassignment interfere with…" she cleared her throat, "Desslok's efforts to route them?" The sour taste of the man's name lingered, but she reminded herself Desslok was still a pawn, albeit a distasteful one, and she should use him, no matter how he'd humiliated her.
"Your concern is touching, but Desslok will take care of himself. And if he can't, that isn't our concern. Might and cunning, Invidia. Desslok has proven to possess both. I'm sure he'll exercise them."
Invidia wanted to snap a reply, but she held her tongue. No matter how she preferred to think of Desslok, he was no idiot.
Her last resort had failed. Her father had made his decision, and there would be no swaying him. At least, not in council.
The debate among her father and his generals continued the better part of an hour as they discussed fleet movements and strategy and made ill-mannered jokes until Invidia couldn't hide her contempt. She appreciated well-executed innuendo, but this was tasteless, even by her standards. Even Nasca, previously the most hesitant about the Telezart assault, mustered enough courage to make an ill-advised remark about the Diviner. The only ones who showed no signs of mirth were Dyre and Invidia.
They endured the rest of the meeting, but Invidia knew without looking at Dyre that if she didn't find a way to fix this, there would be no second chance. Survival was the only option, and she had to find a way to make it reality.
Mark sat on the edge of his bed. Tim's snores emanated from the top bunk. How his friend could sleep knowing this might be their last night alive was a mystery to him. Though he knew what Tim would say, and religious sentiments weren't what Mark needed.
He put on a fresh shirt and pants and slipped into his favorite shoes. Jordy hated this outfit. He said it made Mark look like their dad.
If only he were back home.
Mark left his room and headed for the common area—some place he could think about something else. He passed a few other crew members, all either distracted or tired enough not to give him a second look. When he reached the mess area, he stood aside as a knot of third shifters herded toward the coffee dispenser mounted on the wall to his left. He hadn't seen many of these people except in passing. A couple he didn't even recognize, but especially now he was grateful for all of them and the role they played in making sure this ship made it off the ground in a few hours.
A trio of crewmen, one in communications yellow and black, a second in engineering orange and white, and the third wearing the green and white of Mark's own navigation corps, occupied a nearby table.
"Think it's true? About the comet," said one man between sips of black coffee.
"Not sure," said the second. "Seen stranger things, though. If that thing really is an enemy stronghold, and it's headed for Earth, we're going to end up in a head-to-head with it at some point." He stirred synthetic sugar into his cup.
The third man stared into his pale brown coffee. "I just want to see my wife." His hands wrapped the half-full cup as steam fogged his glasses. "I told her we'd be back by now. She hasn't been the same since the bombings. I need to get home—make sure she's okay."
Mark understood the feeling too well. His parents would be more upset than they let on—for Jordy's sake. Though if he knew his little brother, Jordy would be staring at the sky right now, declaring his confidence that Mark and Argo would do their best to protect Earth.
The men at the table finished their coffee and left.
Despite more than twenty people filtering in and out of the mess area, Mark wished for someone to talk with. He'd come to expect Trelaina's presence onboard ship these past few days, and though he knew it wasn't likely, he'd hoped to spend more time with her. He'd have left the ship just to see her again if it hadn't been in direct violation of orders. Despite his differences with Wildstar, his friend was still the captain, and his orders stood.
"Couldn't sleep either?" Shiori Nagakura stepped into view beside him. Her hands tucked into uniform pockets.
Mark shook his head.
"I've never gotten much sleep before something like this. None of the others have the same trouble though, not even Sarge. The second the captain told us we could head to quarters, everyone else tucked in and went to sleep." She leaned against the wall. "I'm glad for them. We'll need to be alert come launch time. So, what brings you here? KP's not serving meals right now. Only stuff you can get is that synthesized junk." She nodded to two self-serve dispensers next to the coffee machine.
"Needed to take a walk. My roommate's asleep, and I didn't want to wake him with pacing."
"Is that how you lot burn off nerves?" Shiori snorted. "No wonder everyone's so anxious. Come on. I'm going to show you something." She grabbed Mark's elbow and hauled him toward the exit.
Shiori dragged Mark to the holography suites. He expected her to shove him into a sim room and make him run combat drills, but instead, she led him to the crest of a grassy hill. Below, a ship-filled bay sparkled in the morning sun. The call of gulls and the gentle splash of waves combined with the hesitant warmth of early spring as a breeze swept past, ruffling Mark's hair and tossing Shiori's ponytail.
"Kure." Mark leaned against a rail guarding the overlook. "I haven't been here since I was a boy."
Shiori's bright smile turned into a joyful laugh as Sakura blossoms tumbled past in a wave of pink and white. "The sun glinting off the water—the ships going in and out of port—people just living life." She leaned over the rail. "I used to come here every summer with my family—until the bombings started. After that, this was the only way I could visit. But I never stopped coming." Her eyes brightened, and she pointed toward the bay. "Look!"
From behind a high hill appeared a ship whose bow Mark knew well. "Yamato."
"Beautiful, isn't she?" Shiori watched the ship sail into full view. It was clearly a historical rendering—before the ship was retrofitted into a space cruiser, but at her arrival, other ships parted.
"Always." Mark gripped the rail as Yamato pushed through the waves. He'd always called Japan home, but in this moment, he was more than proud of his country of birth. Such a wonder, this ship. It had saved Earth once. It would do it again.
As Yamato left the bay, Mark's eyelids drooped. "Better head back to quarters." He covered a yawn.
"Same." Shiori backed away from the scene, and all evidence of Kure faded. "We've got a lot to do in a few hours." She started for the door.
"Nagakura?" Mark said.
"Shiori," she said over one shoulder.
"Shiori," he corrected. "Thanks."
She nodded. "Hopefully, I'll see you—and everyone else—tomorrow. Now let me get back to my bunk before I fall asleep in the hall."
Mark followed her as far as crew quarters, where they parted ways. The moment Mark sank into bed, he was asleep.
Feria adjusted the harness in her Black Tiger for the tenth time in the past hour. She hated this seemingly endless wait, but she didn't envy the other two shifts, trying to sleep before the morning's launch.
The next round of preventative diagnostics wasn't due for another ten minutes. So far, they'd had no sign of the virus Sandor quarantined a few days ago, and all systems were operating as they should.
Below, a handful of others clustered around the ATC booth, talking about anything except the comet bearing down on them. She wished they'd stop dancing around the ugly truth. They were in imminent danger. All of them. And denying it wouldn't stop time or shield them from what was coming. But this trip had already been fraught with disaster, so she couldn't blame them too much.
The knife wound in her side still ached, but it was healing well. Low-dose painkillers alleviated most of the discomfort, but she still got occasional twinges. If she hadn't had Bahn to shield her from the worst of the strike, she might not have survived.
As she pushed out of her Tiger and floated to the deck, the backs of her hands and arms itched with the sensation of leaves tickling her skin—almost like when Bahn initially encased her to serve as armor for her foray outside the ship. She scratched away the discomfort before her boots touched the hangar floor.
The door to the hall hissed open, and Buddy stepped inside, holding a closed bottle and a sealed bag of synthesized almonds. The instant Buddy opened the bottle, the distinct scent of water flooded out in an enticing wave.
Feria wasn't even thirsty, but before she realized, she was four feet from Buddy.
"Everything okay?" Buddy said after a long drink.
"Yeah. Yeah, fine." Feria shook free of the odd fog. "Just tired of all this waiting."
"Well, if you need to grab something from the mess, go ahead. We can handle things without you for a few minutes." Buddy popped open her bag of almonds. "Want one?"
There was no way they tasted the same as Earth-grown, but Sandor had improved a handful of the vending machine formulas these past couple months, so they might not taste like cardboard anymore, but she wasn't going to take the risk. "I'm good. Thanks."
"All right. But the offer stands if you change your mind." Buddy shoved three almonds into her mouth.
"I'll remember that." Feria laughed and gave Buddy a comradely shove toward the others. "Back to your post."
Buddy skipped across the hangar, chestnut ponytail slowly swishing in the low gravity. Despite the young woman's usually bright demeanor, a lingering sense of dread clung to Buddy. Not that Feria blamed her. Tonight was torture for all of them, and tomorrow promised to be just as difficult.
Her conversation with Peter from several hours ago still sat at the top of her comm queue. She scrolled to the beginning of the thread. Looking into the lion's mouth isn't the easiest time to nod off.
Peter's first response hovered below. Daniel did it. And he had multiple lions.
Feria: True. But at least he knew where the lions were.
Peter: We'll know where ours is soon too.
Feria: I hope you're right.
She hadn't heard back from him, so she hoped he was asleep. If they had to tangle with enemy planes, he'd be in the thick of it, and the only thing he could do to prepare was rest.
They had so little information about the coming comet. Until they were face to face with it, all they could do was guess at its armaments and capabilities. Even long-range sensors hadn't been able to penetrate the shielding surrounding whatever was housed inside that thing.
Her comm buzzed.
"Get to it." Feria shooed everyone out of their social circles so they could check systems again.
As everyone scurried to their assignments, Feria lingered near the ATC booth. Her arms itched again, and she wondered if Bahn and Silesia were still in the medbay with Nova. As she formed a mental image of the Jeshurunians, a sense of sureness came over her. They were still at Nova's bedside and doing well.
"Everything okay?" One of the ATC guys leaned outside the booth.
"Hmm? Yeah. Why?"
"You were humming."
"I was?"
"Kinda. It was more a single note than a song, though." He frequently glanced at his screen to monitor the diagnostic's progress. If nothing was amiss, it would finish in half an hour.
"Sorry. No, I'm fine." She pulled out her comm to keep track of everything.
"Okay." The crewman ducked back inside the booth.
Feria watched progress bars inch across the screen with irritating slowness as the computer sifted through programs and processes, making sure everything was as it should be. Every few minutes, Feria's vision blurred from boredom, and Bahn and Silesia faded into her thoughts, but a shroud of uneasiness covered them, as if something stalked just out of view, lurking a little closer every second.
Her comm bleeped as another progress bar hit one hundred percent.
The unsettling presence of a moment ago faded, but didn't quite vanish. As she monitored the rest of the diagnostic, she couldn't shake the sense something was watching her.
Invidia cursed as she left her father's war council on the heels of the four generals still aboard Gatlantis. Her father was set on, not just attacking, but destroying Telezart, and nothing she or Dyre said had swayed him. Worse, it was too late to divert course now.
She waited until all four generals, including Dyre, were out of sight before slipping into a narrow hall that dead-ended some forty steps later. Careful to keep quiet, she put precise pressure on a wall plate, and it slipped aside, allowing her into a concealed passage that would grant access to her father's private quarters. Even Sabera didn't know about this, and she intended it to remain her secret.
As the wall panel clicked back into place, Invidia spread one palm against the wall's cool surface so she could use it as a guide. She didn't dare turn on a light in here. Last time she'd tried, she'd drawn the attention of a particularly irate group of tunnel crawlers. Just the thought of their dirty little paws and pest-infested fur made her gag. At least this way, if she encountered any of the filthy things, she didn't have to see them.
This passage wasn't on any of the schematics, but she was confident it spanned the whole of Gatlantis. Probably even reached the temple at the worldship's pinnacle not far from here.
She took the route to her father's quarters quickly, hoping she'd arrive before him. If she didn't, she'd have to wait for another opportunity to sneak in unnoticed, and she didn't relish coexisting with the tunnel crawlers any longer than necessary.
Thankfully, she arrived minutes before her father, and when he stepped into his sitting room, Invidia already occupied a couch and had two glasses of wine poured.
"Father." She held up a glass, waiting for him to take it.
He sat beside her and accepted the offering. "Invidia."
She took a bracing sip. "We can't attack Telezart. If we do, the Diviner will destroy us. If we pass her by, we can ask her pardon and—"
"Will you never tire of these fantasies?" Zordar said.
"No. And they aren't fantasies." Invidia set her glass aside. "This is foolish, and it will end in disaster. Gairen's visions—they mention the Diviner, and a ship. Desslok hasn't defeated the Originals. What if theirs is the ship those visions warn of? What if, in attacking the Diviner, we begin something we cannot finish? We must avoid Telezart—at least for now. Once we take Origin, we can return—destroy Telezart." She took his arm and added all her desperation to the plea. "Please, Father. Don't do this."
Zordar set aside his wine and gently pried her hand free. "No, Invidia. I thought I made myself clear in council. I cannot stay my hand when it comes to Telezart. Even if the Diviner is alive and stands on Telezart's surface right now, I can't allow what that world represents to continue existing. The Diviner is the only force in the universe to ever truly defeat one of our worldships. As a prince of this empire, it's my duty to avenge that defeat, and if I pass by Telezart without acting, I'll have shamed not only myself, but the throne world and the empire itself. Once we've destroyed Telezart, there will be no doubt in any mind that Gatlantis' might is unmatched by god or man.
"The Originals will flee in fear. They'll have no heart to fight, and we'll take Origin unhindered. Don't you see? Our conquest of Origin depends on this. We can't just seize their world, even if it's ours by right. We must humiliate them, subjugate them, teach them their place in the universe. To accomplish this, we must kill their hope before they conceive it. If the Original ship is on Telezart, they must have knowledge of the Diviner, and that knowledge could lead to hope, so we must utterly destroy any possibility of help from outside sources."
As much as her father's words terrified her, Invidia understood them, and a cold knot of fear lodged in her gut, because she knew… he was right. There was no avoiding this any longer, no matter how much she wanted to.
"Well done convincing Dyre to join your position. I wasn't confident Nasca would throw in his support either." Her father took a long drink of his wine. "With the debacle with Desslok, I'd almost lost hope for you as a potential leader of Gatlantis. But you've shown mettle today, daughter, and for that I commend you."
He… had acknowledged her. Perhaps—if they survived the day—there was still hope he'd legitimize her claim to his throne before she took it from him.
The thought of facing the Diviner made her sick, but there was no more time. Even if she killed her father before leaving this room, there was nothing she could do to alter course enough to miss Telezart. Now, she had to trust her father wasn't making his last mistake.
Derek took the captain's chair. Everyone was at their posts, though a few had dark patches under their eyes.
He'd never noticed how cold it could get on the bridge, and as filtered air whispered past his bare ears, he was almost sure he heard the faint, nervous tap of Dash's boot against the deck.
The ship-wide clock read 0759. When it ticked to 0800, Derek said, "Orion, engage the engine."
"Aye, Captain. Engaging flywheel."
The familiar hum of life flooded through the Argo as the main engine powered on for the first time in almost three days.
"Power levels rising," Orion said. "Eighty, ninety, one hundred percent."
"Argo, launch!" Those two words tasted final. If they failed to get off the ground or couldn't clear the planet's gravity field, they'd all be dead, and Earth's hope would die with them.
No. That wasn't true. If they died today, he had to trust God would make another way to save Earth. Already, there were so many things that could have gone wrong—had gone wrong during this mission—and yet, they'd made it to Telezart. They'd found Trelaina, learned the truth about the Cometines. Was it so unreasonable to believe they'd make it off planet?
The ship groaned as it rose out of Telezart's ruined soil and cleared the surface, but they still needed to make it through the atmosphere.
Status indicators, live feeds, and a projected flight plan cluttered Derek's station. The engine still showed no signs of the virus Deun set loose in their network. Radar was clear, with nothing in range except space debris from the ships that attacked them a few days ago.
Comms were silent.
Movement on the sensors prompted a video feed of the surface. Below, standing on Telezart's sandy soil, was Trelaina.
She raised a hand in farewell.
Thank you for all you've done to help us, Trelaina.
Not only had she helped repair significant portions of the ship, she'd also promised to hold back the comet. Derek wasn't sure how, but he hoped she'd survive the clash.
As Argo ascended, Trelaina passed out of sight. They reached the lower atmosphere and eased through it, piercing the green clouds filling Telezart's skies until Argo escaped into the starry void of space.
Hours passed with only the most utilitarian conversation passing amongst the officers as everyone poured their focus into making sure they were safely away from Telezart.
Derek wanted to be relieved, but he shared his crew's anxiety. They were nearing where the Cometines attacked them a few days ago, and it was possible stragglers were still here—or that reinforcements arrived while the Argo was grounded. They needed to get away from here. "Venture, are warp calculations complete?"
"Done, Wildstar. It'll be a short one though. Too many obstacles ahead."
"Get us out of here." Derek sent the alert that would notify all personnel of the impending jump. Once they'd put distance between themselves and Telezart, he'd feel a lot better about their chances of making it home alive.
"Aye, Captain." Mark commenced the pre-warp sequence as everyone else waited in tense silence while the countdown wound to zero.
Just before they warped, Derek shut his eyes. The sensation was always disorienting, but this made it easier. The first time he'd tried to keep his eyes open during a warp, he'd been sick for hours afterward. The feeling of constant freefall was bad enough, but at least he didn't have to combat distorted images and blurred colors.
When they re-entered real space, Derek brought up radar.
Clear.
He wanted to be relieved, but it was too quiet. Even if the Cometines weren't waiting for them, Desslok should have been. They hadn't seen the Gamilon since before they'd thrown Deun in the brig. Either Desslok was dead, or he was planning something.
"Sandor, anything on long-range sensors?" Derek said.
"The comet's still on course for Telezart. They'll arrive in twelve hours. I suggest we put as much distance between us as—" Sandor leaned over his station, forehead creased. "The comet's accelerating. It'll reach Telezart in… four hours."
Derek checked their flight plan. Based on everything they'd charted, it would take at least six hours to reach another safe warp location. "That's not enough time."
"No. It isn't." Sandor's tone was grave.
Everyone on the bridge looked to Derek, waiting for his decision—a choice that could mean the death of everyone on board, and far too many of his crew weren't ready to die.
They could push the ship and hope their repair work withstood the strain. Or they could turn and fight. But if they engaged that comet head-on, they wouldn't survive. Trelaina had promised to give them time. But could she keep her word? They'd seen what her power caused a hundred years ago. But what if the Cometines found a way to defend against her abilities?
Though Derek noticed Captain Avatar's portrait every time he came onto the bridge, in this moment, he was even more aware of its presence. Is this what it was like every time you made a hard call?
He had to do what was best for his crew—for Earth. And he had to have faith.
"All ahead full, Venture."
"Aye, Captain." Mark pushed the sublight engine to full speed.
The only way they'd escape was if Trelaina bought them two hours or more.
Derek prayed she could.
As Argo disappeared through the clouds, Trelaina's prayers went with them.
Once the ship was away, she returned home, deep inside the mountain.
"The worldship will be here soon. Sooner than some expect," said Arach as they neared the lake shore, beneath Trelaina's tiny home.
Trelaina nodded. "They'll increase speed to induce fear, just like Indrisian did a hundred years ago. Albeit Telezart was too embroiled in civil war to care then. The Comet Empire's tactics are cruel, but if my people had taken time to look up, perhaps their fear… would have kept them alive." She paused, one hand on the vase holding the white lily Captain Wildstar gave her yesterday.
"We cannot live in what might have been. But there is merit in living for what might yet be." Arach stood beside Trelaina. His presence made the room lighter, less confining.
Trelaina crossed to her communications equipment and opened sensor readings for the approaching Cometine fortress. Instead of taking a seat to watch and wait, she kneeled, hands folded, and prayed.
Invidia stood beside her father's throne as Gatlantis came within sight of Telezart. A holographic projection of the sensor feed displayed an all-too-clear image of their destination. The planet's deep green cloud cover roiled and knotted. Patches of clouds turned gray, and lightning laced the atmosphere. Each finger of electricity sent a jolt of fear through Invidia. No matter how politically necessary, to assault Telezart was to invite death, and though she'd taken countless lives and witnessed others' dying moments, the thought of her own demise chilled her.
Their instruments couldn't cut through the cloud cover, but Invidia didn't need sensor readings to tell her the Diviner was waiting for them.
Stifling silence covered everything.
Her father's generals stood, three to either side of the throne. Bleak, Gorse, and Nasca, present only via hologram, were opposite Invidia, and the other three stood in a line beside her.
A messenger hologram appeared before Zordar. "The Original ship has left Telezart. They're on course for their homeworld." The young man bowed and vanished.
Gorse faced Zordar, likely awaiting orders to pursue the ship—a convenient excuse to leave Telezart's vicinity before the confrontation with the Diviner.
"Desslok will take care of them," Zordar said.
Gorse's attention returned to the video display, but his taut shoulders, and the tight line of his lips betrayed his discomfort. Other generals, even those who'd made light of the assault, now stared at Telezart's looming form, and not one dared speak.
The subtle blip of an incoming hail broke the silence, and all eyes shot to Zordar, waiting for him to accept or reject whoever wished to speak with him.
If Invidia could have fled, she would have, but though rising desperation made every breath a little quicker and shallower, terror pinned her in place, and in panic, she silently pleaded with the Warbringer to let her live through this.
Zordar accepted the hail.
In place of Telezart, a woman's face appeared in the holofeed. She wore a blue dress. Its long sleeves hung just past her wrists. Her pale hair and skin faintly glowed.
A deep sense of unease swept through the room as Invidia, and no doubt everyone else, recalled passages from Indrisian's reports a hundred years ago. The only differences between this woman and the Diviner of record were her apparent age and the color of her clothes.
Invidia's worst fear had come to pass.
This was the Diviner of legend.
And she was very much alive.
Derek was examining radar and sensor readouts at the captain's station when Homer said, "Wildstar, message from Telezart, broadcasting on all channels. It's for… Zordar of Gatlantis."
"Sandor, can we translate?" Derek said.
The XO nodded.
Derek leaned forward in his seat. "Let's hear it."
Homer patched the audio through. Two voices, one familiar, light, and clear spoke with a second, deeper voice. Each person's comm provided a text translation. It wasn't as immersive as the wearable translators, but it would let them understand the exchange and respond quickly if needed.
In the moments after sending her hail to Gatlantis, Trelaina doubted. What use was there in talking with a force that intended to wreak destruction on her and her planet? It wasn't likely they cared who she was.
A man with white hair and drab green skin answered her hail. His steely expression said he was the one she'd asked for. She'd expected to navigate a host of underlings before speaking with the leader of the worldship.
"Perhaps start with your name." Arach's words freed her surprise-twisted tongue.
"I am Trelaina of Telezart, and if you do not halt your advance, I will stop it."
Zordar's brows pinched; his eyes narrowed, but he gave no further indication he'd heard her.
And the worldship did not slow.
Invidia measured each breath as the Diviner spoke to Zordar.
When the Diviner revealed her name, even Beale paled. But Zordar held the woman's gaze. If he was afraid, he'd hidden it well.
When her father said nothing, Invidia waited for his dreaded order to commence their planetary assault. Might and cunning. That was what the Warbringer required of them, and her father never shrank from an opportunity to showcase his power.
But after unbearable silent minutes, her father said, "Your ancestor's name strikes fear into the hearts of many among my people, but who are you to challenge me, Prince Zordar of Gatlantis, first heir to the high throne of Zemuria, chosen of the Warbringer?" He hadn't used his full title in many years. Perhaps it was just as much a show of force to the Diviner as a means to corral his wavering generals.
The Diviner wouldn't appreciate her father's questioning, no matter how confidently spoken.
"I met your Indrisian one hundred years ago. And I defeated it." The Diviner's words crumbled the last of Invidia's failing courage. "If you remain here, or if you pursue the Originals, you will suffer a worse fate than your sister ship."
At this, all six generals' courage flagged. Nasca's hologram froze while he hid his true reaction. Bleak and Gorse forgot to pause their stream, and both men stared at the Diviner in abject horror. Dyre muttered a prayer to the Warbringer as Beale broke rank and fled for the exit only to be dragged back into line by a pair of men tasked with keeping anyone from leaving. Manic was the most steadfast of the generals. Aside from the unusually firm set of his jaw and hands clenched at his sides, the only sign of his fear was rapid breathing.
Invidia hid trembling hands behind her back and concentrated on keeping her feet—and her latest meal.
Zordar never lost face. "If you are who you claim, you should know we learned from Indrisian's failure, and Gatlantis doesn't share her predecessor's vulnerabilities. I will claim your world as part of my empire, and then I'll do with it as I see fit."
"You may be confident in your abilities, but so am I," said the Diviner.
"Bold words for one woman faced with the mightiest of worldships."
A flicker of light glinted behind the Diviner. "You assume I face you alone."
Where the flicker had been an instant before, a man, terrible and strong, appeared. Light shrouded him, and in his hand was a sword, fiercer than any weapon Invidia had ever seen. He raised the sword above his head, and white flames enveloped the blade.
"Father, it's true!" Invidia's shriek filled the room as pure fear sent her to her knees, and she covered her face, unwilling to look on the horrifying spectacle a second time.
"Silence, Invidia," her father hissed over one shoulder. "No one is with her."
"But someone is," Invidia whimpered as she pointed toward the shining man while keeping her face to the ground.
Zordar waved Dyre to his side. "Get her up and keep her quiet."
"Yes, Prince Zordar," Dyre whispered, but even in those three short words, his voice wavered. Despite his fear, Dyre obeyed and helped Invidia to her feet. "What did you see, Princess?" He kept his voice too low for her father to hear.
She stuttered a broken string of words.
"I saw it too…" Dyre's admission only confirmed what she knew too well. If her father persisted, Trelaina would kill them all.
Zordar continued his exchange with the Diviner. "You're nothing more than an imposter, left on this forsaken planet for stars-know how long." He snorted. "I pity you, left here with no purpose but to further a myth. Perhaps you aren't even flesh and blood, but a soulless machine, incapable of ambition, of pride—cursed to fulfill rote tasks and meaningless repetition for the rest of your insignificant existence. You certainly have no love for your own life if you've dared confront me."
"And what do you know of love?" The reply was immediate. "You conquer and destroy peoples, planets, whole systems, and you expect adoration—unwavering loyalty. That is not love."
"People want to be governed. They don't want to think for themselves—to make decisions. They want things done for them, and if the universe is to run efficiently, who will oversee it?"
"It won't be you, Zordar," the Diviner said.
Invidia's heart pounded as she dared a glance toward the Diviner. She clapped both hands over her mouth to keep in a scream. The Diviner's glow was brighter, and the man with her hadn't lowered his sword. Her eyes watered from the brightness, but now that she'd seen, she couldn't turn away again. Some horrible force kept her fixed on the image.
"My power is known throughout the universe," Zordar countered. "I hold stars, worlds, whole civilizations in my hand." He extended an open palm. "I simply close it, and planets crumble. Stars shatter." His fingers curled into a fist. "You'd be wise to reconsider your laughable threats."
"Would I?" The Diviner blazed with light, and her clothes shifted from brilliant blue to blinding white. "Be warned, Zordar. If you do not leave this place and let the Originals go, the price of your actions will be heavier than you can bear."
The transmission flickered out.
Invidia sagged, but Dyre caught her. Gray spots clouded her vision, and pain laced her dry, tortured eyes.
"Prince Zordar, an urgent message." The holographic messenger materialized at Zordar's side.
"What?" Irritation laced her father's voice.
"It's High Priest Gairen, my lord. He's left the temple and is wandering the common districts preaching death and destruction. He's killed four armed guards with only his staff and a vial of white liquid. No one's gotten close enough to stop him."
"So, overpower him," Zordar growled. "He's only one blind man. How many of you could it take to bring him to his knees?"
The young man nodded. "I'll relay your message, my lord."
Invidia grasped Dyre's arm to keep from falling over. If Gairen was again prophesying doom, her fears were warranted. Her father might not believe the old priest's words, but Gairen had proven reliable.
The urge to escape burned through her, but the cadre of guards still swarming every exit spurred rising panic. Beale's escape attempt earlier had failed miserably. There was no way out.
She was going to die.
Gairen tripped another of the security team as the man dashed past his hiding place. In an instant, Gairen pinned him and used the butt of his staff to crush the man's throat. Desperate rasps heralded his attacker's death. Once the man stopped breathing, Gairen withdrew his vial of phantast tears and released one drop into each of the dead man's eyes, turning them ghostly white.
Before he re-sealed the vial, Gairen inhaled the tart, intoxicating scent. It had been years since his last indulgence, but it was time to resurrect the man he was before his ascension to the priesthood.*
Gone was the face of piety and weeping petulance. It was time to wear the name Pale Reaver once more, but today he'd be both priest and pugilist. The moment Gatlantis met the Diviner, something deep and terrible had stirred in his soul, and the Warbringer's voice urged him to speak the truth to Gatlantis' people. Sabera's gatekeeping kept him from using his comm implant and hailing public transport, but it couldn't stop him from walking the worldship, proclaiming the Warbringer's message.
Clouds of dust and smoke from the explosives hurled at him moments ago filled the common area, but Gairen had no vision to hamper, and he'd wrapped a piece of his cloak around his mouth and nose to keep his airways clear and avoid so much as a cough.
Two more security personnel crouched behind a low wall, a hundred steps in front of the pillar Gairen now used for cover. The men's heavy breathing and nervous shuffles betrayed their every movement. If they wanted a hope of killing him, they'd have to show far more prowess.
"Warbringer, honor my strength and my wits," Gairen prayed as he prepared for security's coordinated attack. It wasn't just the two behind the wall. There were four more in various places. They had him surrounded, but he knew each one's exact location, and there would be no element of surprise on their side.
He waited, listened, tasted the grit of dust-filled air.
The first man to move was to his far left. In the lingering clouds, the would-be attacker hadn't seen a clump of rubble, and his boot crunched.
Two of the others moved in swiftly, making it Gairen against three armed men less than half his age.
He grinned and slipped into the dust cloud before any of the three made it to his hiding place. On silent feet, he floated through the heavy air. He took the ones still hiding first. As each of them died, the part of him he'd buried so long came alive. Practiced precision returned, and the ruthlessness of years past gave him the steel he needed.
In the silence after each kill, he meticulously blinded each corpse and pocketed his vial of phantast tears.
He took the other three men at once. With speed he'd forgotten he possessed, Gairen darted into the midst of the remaining three men, drawing them into a close circle within the thick dust clouds. "Please, please don't kill me," he wailed. "I'm only an old man. Why do you hunt me like an animal?" He raised a laser pistol he'd lifted from a corpse and fired into the air twice before dropping to the ground.
All three men fired wildly, wounding each other. In the confusion, two traded another round of fire, this time, fatal. The third man dragged himself in circles until Gairen ended him with a well-placed blow to the skull.
When his assailants lay dead, Gairen left the dissipating dust cloud and climbed atop a three-foot wall. He spread his arms and cried, "People of Gatlantis! We stand at the Diviner's door. If we linger, we will pay the price. The Warbringer commands us to continue on to Origin! He demands obedience, and yet our leaders would go against him!" It wasn't the whole truth, but people would flock to his confidence and position of authority.
He recited his impassioned plea until thousands surrounded him, and no doubt many broadcasted his spectacle to others. If he could convince the masses Zordar was going to get them killed, there was a chance they'd survive this.
A vision washed over Gairen.
The Diviner stood among the stars. The strange ship from before was with her as were Desslok of Gamilon, Masterson Talan, and a woman and child he did not recognize. Another man—an Original by the foreign clothes—and a being made of vines and leaves joined them.
Gairen faced the group, but before he could confront them, he fell backward. Water flooded over and around him as he sank deeper and deeper into a dark ocean.
Above, Gatlantis exploded in a shower of fire and debris. Shards of the worldship were flung across the stars, and some crashed into the sea. One giant piece fell on Gairen, pushing him further into the deep until all light vanished, and he was alone in icy darkness.
The vision receded, and the crowd's press drew Gairen back to Gatlantis. He had to succeed—had to stay Zordar's hand. As thousands of voices filled the commons, Gairen prayed he wasn't already too late.
Derek sat in the captain's chair, dumbfounded. The exchange between Trelaina and Zordar might have been audio-only, but hearing the voice of the Gatlantean leader—and at least one member of what might be an advisory council—had brought this new threat to Earth that much closer to home. No longer was the enemy an anonymous force. Now, they had names, voices, and they were set on destroying everything and everyone Derek loved.
But Trelaina's courage rang true too. The confidence she'd shown bolstered Derek's resolve, and though the fear expressed by the Gatlantean woman mid-confrontation confounded him, he took comfort in it. Whatever she'd seen, it had unnerved her. Perhaps that terror was even now taking root in the Gatlantean ruler, Zordar's heart too.
The other officers wore various degrees of surprise. And hope. Even Dash seemed optimistic.
Mark sat in his navigator's chair and stared out the front viewports. The doubt and trepidation of the past weeks had melted into cautious wonder, as if hearing Trelaina's words to Zordar had given him a perspective he'd never considered.
Derek hoped whatever Mark was thinking about afforded him the courage to push onward—and to fight, when the time came. Even if that time was sooner than any of them wanted.
The moment after Trelaina ended her transmission to Gatlantis, she faced Arach.
His countenance burned with a glory not his own, and it radiated from him in an all-consuming wave as his eyes burned white with holy fire.
Overwhelmed, Trelaina covered her face and dropped to her knees until the angel took her hand.
"Fear not, daughter of the promise. All will be well." The kindness in his face assured her of his words and gave her the courage to stand. "Have you decided where you will face the worldship?"
Trelaina nodded. "Exactly where I stood a hundred years ago." As she headed for the door, Arach accompanied her. Her fingers brushed the gifted white lily before she stepped outside. This time, she sealed the door to the tiny dwelling. "At least this place will be protected."
"If Shaddai wills," Arach said.
They descended to the lake shore and wove through the exit tunnel. Silence filled their journey to the ruined city at the base of the cliff, but having Arach with her was comforting.
When they reached the place her father died a century ago, grief squeezed her chest. As a girl, she'd wept over his grave, but she hadn't returned since. That didn't mean she'd forgotten where she buried him.
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she kneeled beside the spot she'd left the body of her adoptive father, Holden Krom. She laid a hand atop the cracked, dry ground. "I have the rings you made me." She brushed tears from her cheeks. "You'd be glad. I'm using them to help people." The faces of Derek Wildstar's crew came to mind. "They're fighting for their home and their future, and to give them a better chance, I have to face another worldship. I don't know if I'll live through this, Father. If I don't, I'll see you soon." She traced an uneven heart in the dust. "Thank you for everything you did for me. Even… making it possible for me to live this long."
Arach laid a hand on her shoulder. "It's almost time."
Trelaina stood. "I'm ready."
Invidia was still reeling from their encounter with the Diviner when another message came for her father.
"The men sent to take down the high priest have failed, and Gairen's started a riot. Millions of citizens throughout Gatlantis are calling for us to back down, leave Telezart. Several extremist groups are threatening to sabotage the reactor core if we don't."
"Listen to them, Father," Invidia begged before the messenger finished saying the last word. "Please!"
Zordar shot her a glare and motioned Dyre to keep her back.
"Dust them all," Zordar instructed.
"But, my lord, the sheer amount of Stardust needed for so many—"
"Do it!" Zordar snapped. "And I don't want to hear about this again."
"Yes… Prince Zordar." The messenger's hologram vanished.
A red symbol pulsed at the top of the holographic video feed of Telezart, indicating they were in firing range. Soon, Gatlantis' over shield would rip the planet to pieces. Unless the Diviner intervened.
"It'll be over soon." Zordar leaned forward in his chair, eager to see the first signs of destruction.
Every moment without the Diviner's retribution made Invidia more anxious. She silently counted the seconds, waiting, watching.
Above, Telezart's clouds roiled and swirled, heralding the coming of the Cometine worldship.
Trelaina clasped her hands in prayer. Shaddai, help me. Shape this terrible power and use it to save the Original ship and her crew. Save them from their enemies and bring them home. Please, Shaddai, use all I have to give.
She spread her arms wide, and the same golden glow that flowed over her a century before already covered her. Strands of energy sparked across the barren soil and danced in dazzling patterns. Even the air was electrified, prickling her face and hands.
Her vision dissolved into a sea of brilliance, and ruins, sand, cliffs, and stone transformed from matter into energy. Dark matter particles laced the entirety of it, linking it to her. Even so, it took all her strength to direct the blazing mass. If she hadn't had the rings, she wouldn't have been able to do it.
As her world changed form, Gatlantis' comet-like shroud loomed.
Trelaina extended a hand toward the worldship and willed Telezart's energy straight into the eye of the oncoming comet.
A blinding mass of gold and white shot toward Gatlantis.
Invidia's eyes burned as celestial fire exploded from Telezart, and an instant later, the entire worldship quaked, throwing her and everyone, except Zordar, to the floor. "Father?" Invidia scrambled toward his silver throne. "Father! Gatlantis won't withstand—"
Zordar didn't even glance her way. He should have been terrified, fearful for his life. Instead, he stared into the brilliant light and marveled with a covetous grin. "Such power…"
The floor jumped. To keep from slamming into the base of her father's throne, Invidia grappled for purchase and lunged for the chair arm. She missed and cracked her chin on the floor. The impact split her lip and sent a trail of blood down her chin. A few drops dotted the floor and stained the silver throne.
Alarms blared, and a severe damage report auto opened, obscuring the video feed as sensors failed and the worldship's structural integrity shook. The over shield was gone. It was supposed to be impenetrable, but in the wake of the Diviner's onslaught, it had vanished. Even sections of the defense ring were crumbling, and the worldship's foundation, carved from the solid shell of a moon, had several serious cracks.
"Father!" Invidia screamed, but chaos swallowed her voice.
It was over. Just like Gairen prophesied. And Invidia couldn't do anything to stop it. She couldn't even save herself.
Thoughts of her nearing death panicked Invidia. She let go of her father's throne and, on hands and knees, clawed past Dyre and the other generals in a futile attempt to reach the door. If she could just get to an escape ship, she'd be all right. She'd make it out before the reactor failed.
But every time she made progress toward the exit, another jolt sent her careening away from her goal.
Despite the impossibility of success, she dug bleeding nails into the seams between deck plates and hauled herself toward the promise of escape one handhold at a time. Until one last tremor hurled her against the wall, and she lost consciousness.
The long-range sensor view of Telezart and the comet filled the Argo's main viewscreen. When the two clashed, it was like watching stars collide until Telezart devoured the comet in a brilliant ball of crimson.
"What—what just happened?" Derek said.
In wonder, Sandor replied, "Telezart… converted… It became pure energy. It's destroying the comet."
Whoops of joy filled the bridge, but victory was short-lived as everyone realized what it had cost.
"T-Trelaina," Mark said. "She sacrificed herself for us. For Earth."
Derek pushed back his own grief and stepped down from the captain's station to stand beside Mark. "We owe her a great debt. One I don't know we'll ever be able to repay." He gripped Mark's shoulder. "Let's go home."
They were too far from Telezart to see anything without help from the sensors, but Mark stared out the viewport. Unshed tears glassed his eyes.
"Venture?" Derek prompted when Mark didn't respond.
"Yes… Captain."
Derek returned to his post, but just as he took his seat, Dash's startled curse pulled everyone's attention back to the viewscreen.
From the burning mass of wreckage, something emerged.
There, glaring in defiance, was a battered ship. Its domed base supported a ring of deadly weapons and a massive, towering city. Pieces of the base and weapons ring were missing, and ugly cracks and gashes marred the upper portion of the worldship.
"Sandor, sensors. Saijo, registry data," said Derek, staving off rising dread.
"Ship identity confirmed as Cometine worldship, Gatlantis." Miki Saijo's voice cracked as she read the Iscandari unit's information for the rest of the bridge crew.
"It's stopped its advance," Sandor said. "Sensors indicate severe damage, maybe even a reactor leak if I'm reading this data correctly." He faced Derek. "It'll take a while, but they could recover from this."
Those few words hit harder than a kick to the chest. If Argo and the crew were fit to fight the comet fortress, he'd have ordered them back to Telezart to face the enemy while they were weak, but a quick check of the wounded list and a glance at the remaining repairs kept him from giving the order. They were alone, Telezart and Trelaina were gone, and it was possible enemy fleets still roamed the area. If they attacked Gatlantis and sustained heavy damage again, they'd have no recourse this time.
"Get us out of here, Venture. Now," Derek said. "We'll warp as soon as possible. Full sublight until then."
At his station, Mark sat completely still.
"Venture?" Derek rounded his station and was beside Mark in moments. "Venture?" He shook his friend by the shoulders, but Mark still didn't respond. "His pulse is way too high." Derek triggered an emergency call on his comm, notifying the medical staff to get to the bridge immediately. "Eager, activate secondary helm control on your station."
"But Captain, I don't know—"
"I said do it, Eager," Derek said. "Keep her steady on course until Alori or Vasquez comes to replace you. We have to get out of here, and seconds matter."
"Aye, Captain."
When Hanson and a volunteer medic arrived, Derek surrendered Mark to their care. His friend maintained the same blank stare, and his breathing was shallow and too quick. If he didn't start breathing normally soon, he'd pass out.
"Will he be okay?" Derek said to Hanson.
"Looks like shock. We'll take care of him down in the medbay—keep a watch on him for a while, see if he improves on his own." Hanson helped his crewmate get Mark onto a gurney.
"And if he doesn't?"
"Captain, there's no use worrying about that unless it happens. He's in good hands with us." Hanson signaled the volunteer medic to wheel Mark onto the elevator.
"Keep me updated."
"Yes, sir." Hanson hurried into the elevator before the door closed.
Above them, on the viewscreen, the comet fortress' threatening hulk still loomed. Not a trace remained of Telezart.
You did all you could, Trelaina… Thank you.
As he staved off the lump of grief wedged in his throat, Derek returned to the captain's station, praying with every step that Mark and each other crew member in the med bay would be all right and that they'd make it back to Earth in time to prepare for the unspeakable horror that would all-too-soon be barreling down on them once again.
Episode 34 Notes:
The title for this episode was taken from Isaiah 25:4-6:
Trust ye in the Lord for ever: for in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength:
For he bringeth down them that dwell on high; the lofty city, he layeth it low; he layeth it low, even to the ground; he bringeth it even to the dust.
The foot shall tread it down, even the feet of the poor, and the steps of the needy.
* To read about Gairen's ascension to the priesthood, check out my one-shot, "Keeper of Secrets, Dreamer of Dreams."