The Price of Lightpart 2by Beverly Forehand |
Table of Contents Part 1 appears in this issue. |
Rivulets of blood immediately begin to stream from her body. She has been hit, three, maybe four times in the upper torso. Cordelia kneels over her, pulling at her breastplate, and yelling for her medic’s bag. Junia skids down beside her holding the weighty pack of syn-skin, hypo-needles, and coagulants. “She’s bleeding out,” Cordelia says calmly, “Junia, I need you to put your fingers there and there.”
Junia looks at her blankly, her eyes gone wide with shock. I ram her hand into the Holy Mother’s open chest cavity, blocking the arterial blood flow with my fingers. “You have to hurry,” I say, and Cordelia nods, administering a hypo-needle of anesthetic.
Cordelia looks at me over the body and shakes her head. Junia is crying softly and holding Ephraim’s hand. Her lips are moving, but the only thing that comes out is gouts of blood. “Don’t talk,” Cordelia says, “it will be over soon.”
The pounding against the door has stopped. Ephraim tries to raise her head. “Aemilla,” she manages to gasp. Her hand jerks out of Junia’s grasp and paws the air. “Aemilla, you have to listen,” she says, spitting blood. She looks around wildly and raises her hand again.
“I’m here,” I say, “I can hear you, Lady Ephraim.”
She turns her head toward my voice. “You have to know,” she says, “don’t you. You remember?”
“Yes,” I say, “I remember.”
“The code, Aemilla, you’ll have to do it for me. Say you’re me, you,” she stops, panting and choking, and reaches out with her hand to clutch at me, “Seth, Beta, Mortis, Alpha, 15, 15 — you remember.”
“Yes,” I say, “I remember.” Her hand slides away from me and she smiles weakly, “I never thought,” she said, “it would come to this.”
Cordelia is giving her more shots, but she starts to convulse anyway. Junia and I try to hold her down, but she suddenly stops shaking and I know she’s dead. Junia is hyperventilating until Cordelia slaps her hard. She falls into a steady sob, rocking beside her dead Canoness.
“What did she mean, what did she want?” I hear Red ask behind me.
“She wanted me to call in an aerial strike — or, rather, a planetary strike,” I say. Magdala opens her mouth, but I speak first: “I know the radio is broken.”
“How could you send the orders, even with the codes?” demands Honoria. I stand up inches from her. I can feel her breath on my face.
“I am High Vestal Aemilla Verity of the Daughters of Artemis of the City of Angels, Second Founding, the Order of the Blessed Bow of the Lady, or I was once. The codes may change, but the protocols never do. But none of that matters.”
“What do we do now?” asks Red.
“Cordelia is in charge here,” says Honoria, looking down at the Healer.
“I pass my command to the High Vestal,” says Cordelia flatly,
I move past Honoria. “Magdala, can you get that radio working?”
Honoria pulls out her slug-thrower and I see Red reach for her battle-kurka out of the corner of my eye. I ignore them both. “First, Red and I will need some armor. Magdala, what do you need to get that radio operational, and can we bring that Siege-Tank forward to block these doors?”
Magdala nods. “The Siege-Tank’s no problem. We can drive it from the supply room to here easily enough. But the radio is not repairable. Maybe if I had some components.”
“There’s plenty of equipment outside,” I say. Red is already stripping one of the dead Sisters of her armor.
“No!” Honoria bellows, “I won’t have you wearing armor and we cannot use the enemies’ accursed gear! I will kill anyone that...”
“Then, you’ll have to,” I say. “You’ll have to kill us all, and then you can hold this position yourself. The planet will be overrun because no one will order a strike and whatever’s hidden in this building — whatever it is that the Demon-Blessed is so determined to have will be theirs, and all because of Honoria and her damnable pride.”
Honoria lowers her slug-thrower. “I won’t touch tainted gear.”
“Don’t then,” I say. “Red and I will secure the radio; you can secure this door.”
“No,” Magdala says, “I’ll go with Red. You don’t know what’s needed.”
“Fine,” I say, “Cordelia, tend to the wounded. Junia and I will search this place.”
“You need armor,” Red says looking down at the Holy Mother. I shake my head and she moves over to the other casualties.
Cordelia follows her. “Wait,” she says, “you’ll have your armor soon enough.”
After a few minutes, Magdala and Red come back dragging some armor with only a few bullet holes. “I can take care of those,” says Magdala activating the flaming end of a hand-wielder. “It won’t be quite as good as new, but it should hold,” she continues. Red has found some armor for herself as well and Junia is helping her kit up, stopping every now and again to sniff back a tear or two.
Honoria inspects the door, scowling.
“It will hold for some time,” says Magdala seeing the Sister’s grim expression. “That’s triple-reinforced iron and lead. And I didn’t see any weapons other than slug-throwers, swords, and axes in the other room.”
Honoria thumps the door with her armored fist, but looks unconvinced.
Cordelia is patching the wounded as best she can. I hear three shots ring out. Junia looks at me with large eyes. “They return to the Mother,” I say.
Cordelia comes out of the sanctum side room cleaning her pistol. “We’re down to five now,” she says.
She’s right — Magdala, Honoria, Junia, Red, Cordelia, and myself. I nod. Cordelia continues, “There’s something odd about the holy altar. I think Magdala should take a look at it.”
Magdala gets up and we all move into the shrine.
Cordelia has laid the three dead sisters near the altar and covered them with the altar cloth. I can see red seeping through the fine linen. Cordelia points to the base of the shrine: “I noticed it when I was tending Sister Celeste. It’s tilted.”
Magdala kneels to better inspect the altar. From somewhere outside I can hear a muffled thump; they are trying to dislodge the sanctum door.
“Could the bombardment on the first day have damaged the foundation?” I ask.
Magdala shakes her head. “No, this was made this way.” She points to one of the corners and to the bas-relief around the base. “It’s hollow.”
“Hollow?” I ask.
She nods. That’s why it’s shifted. The marble isn’t solid through. She thumps it and leans her ear closer to the sacristy. “Hollow.” she states nodding.
“Red,” I say, “Go and get something to open this.”
“What do you plan to do?” demands Honoria.
“Smash this base,” I say, “There’s something in there. This is what they are looking for.”
Magdala nods, “It seems likely — hidden with the holy relics — it’s the safest place.”
“It’s blasphemy to disturb the bones of a Holy Saint,” shouts Honoria.
“I’ll move them,” says Cordelia. “A Healer has the right to tend the Holy Dead.”
Honoria does not look appeased, but she leaves and comes back with a maul. Red trails her carrying an assortment of ammunition and one of the phase-bows.
Magdala holds her hand out for the maul. “I can do it with the least damage,” she says. Honoria hands her the weapon and Magdala kneels by the altar. She lifts the maul, gives the base an experimental tap, and motions for us to stand back. With one powerful swing, she cracks the base. Marble topples out in chunks, but the altar doesn’t collapse. Magdala leans down and switches on the light she has attached to her shoulder. She cocks her head quizzically and reaches in and pulls out a plain black box. Blowing marble dust from the top, she hands it to me.
“It’s light.” I say. “Hermetically sealed,” she says, “Maybe warded with spells of some sort.”
Honoria hisses her disapproval. Magdala shrugs. “That’s to open it without damage. If you want it open, I can do that.”
I set the box down on a nearby table and nod. Junia is already pulling Magdala’s tool kit in from the other room. Magdala rummages through it and pulls out a power file. She sprays the box’s seal with some sort of white liquid and then turns her head away as she strikes the lock with the file. There is a pop and sparks shoot out from the seal. Magdala looks at me and I nod for her to open the box. She flips it open and we all peer at the contents — another box, small and intricately carved of something that looks like bone.
“I’ve seen this before,” I say, “Or one like it.”
“Demon filth,” growls Honoria.
“Just look at it.” says Junia, “it’s very pretty.”
“What exactly is it?” asked Red.
“It’s an alien artifact,” said Magdala, “That’s Chiton. The Mantos use it for their most holy relics. It’s actually their bone.” Red looks aghast. “It’s considered an honor,” Magdala finishes.
“It’s an abomination,” said Honoria flatly, “And here, with the holy relics of Saint Theodoric! We should destroy it now!”
“The Archons of the City of Angels would have had to put it here, Honoria,” said Cordelia, “So, it’s here for a reason.”
I picked it up from the table evoking an indignant gasp from Honoria. “This is Mantos,” I say. “It’s a sort of gateway, I think.”
Magdala cocks her head and leans in closer. “I don’t see any way to activate it,” she says.
“It’s spellbound,” I say. “It would take one of their Seers or Claig-Leaders to activate it properly.”
“We should destroy it quickly!” said Honoria.
“This is why they haven’t razed the building,” says Cordelia, “This is what they want.”
“It would seem likely,” I say.
Cordelia smiles, “So, we have some cheese for our little mousetrap after all.”
“Maybe,” I say, giving the box a little flip on my palm, “maybe we do indeed.
“First,” I say, “we need to move that Siege-Tank up to the door. We need the extra reinforcement. You did say it was drivable, Magdala?” I ask.
The technician nods, “But it isn’t good for much else.”
“Could we load it with explosives and trigger it to detonate from a distance?” I ask.
Magdala nods. “Yes, that would be no problem. But we’d have to open the sanctum door...”
“We can activate it to open remotely,” I say. “We will need a diversion if Red is going to get one of the radios.”
Magdala looks at me quizzically.
“One Sister is enough of a risk,” I say, and she nods resolutely.
“I’ll show you what I need for repairs,” she says to Red.
“Could we have the Siege-Tank spray ammonia, or something ignitable?” asks Junia, “It’s mostly men out there.”
Magdala nods again. “I can rig something workable, but it won’t be pretty. Come Junia, I need an extra pair of hands.” The two women rush off down the corridor, Magdala stopping to pick up her tool kit.
“What about the rest of us?” Red asks.
“We’re going to have to go into the crypts, but I don’t want to go blind. Let’s see if we can get a few of the video-creepers up and running.”
“There are two operational one is on sentry by the door to the crypt,” says Cordelia.
“Yes, I remember, we need to recall those for some modifications.”
Cordelia walks over to the sanctum monitor, scrolls through a few screens, and pushes some buttons. “They should be here in a few minutes,” she says.
“Good,” I say nodding, “this will have to be closely timed. They probably have Demons out there, and if we’re not careful, they’ll be wise to our plans.” Cordelia and Honoria reflexively look up as though checking for hidden spies. “I’m counting on the fact that they may be listening to some parts of our conversation, we need them to know that we’re going to destroy the artifact to lure them in.”
Honoria smiles, “I’ll be glad to put an end to this alien apostasy,” she says.
I don’t remind her that there are plenty of theories that the Mantos, insectoid though they are, evolved on this planet, alongside humans. Or that the Mantos have allied with humans in past battles. None of that would matter to Honoria anyway: all that matters is that converse with aliens is outlawed by the Order.
“No,” I reply, “There’s a more difficult task I have in mind for you, me, and Red. Cordelia will have to destroy the artifact.”
After a few minutes, Magdala and Junia come back. “The Siege-Tank is in place and we’ve loaded it with munitions and a trigger device.” Magdala laughs, “I’m glad there wasn’t anyone around to see my sloppy work. It may not be pretty, but it should do some damage!”
“You’re a credit to Artemis,” I say.
“We’ll see,” Honoria mutters under her breath.
“It sprays ammonia and gasoline now,” Junia chimes in, “They won’t like that very much!”
“Good,” I say, “What’s the range on the trigger device?”
“That’s not a problem,” Magdala says, “And we found a remote we can use to pilot the vehicle.”
“Good, give Junia the trigger,” I say. “She can deploy it from the tower.”
“How will I know the right time?” asks Junia.
“Just use common sense,” I say. Junia takes the remote from Magdala tentatively.
“I’ll do my best for Holy Artemis,” the girl says.
The video-creepers come skittering in on their long spider-like legs after a few more minutes. Magdala already has the three broken creepers lying on the table. She cracks one open and harvests its components for the other two’s repair.
Red and I drag the box of grenades from the storeroom. Each of us takes a full compliment of grenades: both personnel grenades for use on the unarmored bodies and rare concussion grenades. We line the concussion grenades, guaranteed to pry open even the best-made armor, beside Magdala’s workstation.
Red and I drag the remaining personnel grenades to the sanctum door and start stringing them on trip wires around the room. Once this room is flooded with the Demon-Blessed and their slaves, there will be no way to avoid these traps. And although they will be relatively harmless to the Demon-Blessed, personnel grenades are devastating to mere men — tainted by the Dark Powers or not.
When we finish our work, Red and I return to the sanctum. Cordelia has returned the artifact to the black container in which we found it. There’s something disturbing about the ivory box — it’s as if it has eyes. It exudes a presence of its own — not malign — but aware — as if it knows that it also has a part to play in these events.
Magdala has finished the work on one creeper and set it on its spindly legs. It skitters around the room, albeit a bit drunkenly, and comes to a rest at Magdala’s signal. The two good video-creepers have been outfitted with concussion grenades and crouch idly near the door to the corridor.
“Keep that shoddy one away from the others,” Magdala cautions, “You don’t want it knocking into them and setting off those concussions.” Honoria reaches down and grabs the lurching creeper and pinions it under her arm. It clatters and waves its segmented legs. With a flourish, Magdala releases the last repaired creeper. It moves true and veers toward the door in an orderly fashion.
“We’re ready then,” I say. All of us begin checking our weapons.
Timing really is everything. We’re set to go. Junia and Magdala lug the slug-thrower and its remaining ammunition up to the tower. Junia has the trigger in her satchel. I can see the antenna poking out from under the latch. Magdala has the tool satchel slung around her neck. It swings as they walk and hits the slug-thrower casing with a tinny sound. It almost reminds me of the bells outside the Holy Shrine to the Great Mother. How long has it been since we heard those bells calling us to sing Our Lady’s praises? It seems a lifetime since I knelt to hear a sermon or did anything except hold a battle-kurka in my hand.
Copyright © 2005 by Beverly Forehand
