Kenji stood, head bowed, finger on his lips, listening to the static that was the transmission from Time Gate 8. In the midst of the static the words, “archangel” and “heretic” rang like bells. The rest was incomprehensible. “New code,” he said when the recording stopped. “It will take a while to decipher it, but with the clues provided by context and—”

“Why did they say ‘archangel’ and ‘heretic?’” shouted Counselor Zar. He sat at the left of a long dark table in the bunker conference room at Central Authority.

Kenji lifted his head, and had a moment of claustrophobia. The ceiling was low, the room was cave-like, despite the Luddeccean Green paint on the concrete-block walls. At the other end of the table, behind the premier, was the emblem of the dove. It smelled like dust, and the dryness of the air prickled his nostrils, pumped as it was through filters for disease and chemical agents that seemed to extract every bit of moisture from it. The room was packed with twenty military advisors, counselors, and the premier. All his friends, all his allies in this war for the soul of humanity.

… but it was too much. Too many people, too many faces, he couldn’t keep track of all the shifts of bodies, flickering frowns, and narrowing eyes around him. He looked back down at the long conference table. Its highly polished black surface reflected only himself. “That is impossible to say definitively at this time.”

Zar spoke. “They’ve cracked our code for their … their … thing … ” Kenji dared glance up at Zar; his face was unusually red. Kenji squinted. Was he angry? Embarrassed? Frightened? “And they’re throwing it back in our faces.”

“We don’t know that,” Kenji protested, staring back down at the table. Hadn’t they heard what he’d just said?

“Maybe they have a sense of humor,” said Counselor Karpel.

“Why would you think that?” Kenji raised his head to the Counselor, genuinely curious. It seemed far-fetched that the intelligence would bother with something so trivial as a joke.

Ignoring Kenji, drumming his fingers on the table, Karpel said, “We should have never given it such an obvious code name.”

And that Kenji agreed with wholeheartedly. But it had been important to some people that the code reflect the apocalyptic nature of their enemy.

The hall erupted in a buzz of conversation before Karpel replied. Kenji tried to focus, but all the different words, and the inflections they were spoken with … they were dizzying. He put his hands to his ears in frustration.

“Quiet!” said a voice from the end of the table. Kenji looked up to see the Premier Leetier standing there. Leetier was slightly shorter than Kenji, and broader, his hair straighter—he was older, but had less gray hair. He possessed an ability that Kenji found nearly magical—the ability to silence a room. And sure enough … the room was now quiet, except for the distant hum of an air vent, and farther off, a drip. “Mr. Sato, we have something else I’d like you to analyze.”

“Yes …” Kenji stammered. “Please.” No arguments, no emotions, just analysis. He nodded, glad and relieved. There were footsteps and several sheets of glossy paper, each as long as one arm laid before him on the table. Kenji lifted the still damp pho-toe-graphs. A buzz rose in the room, but with something before him to concentrate on, he could ignore it.

The pho-toes were an ancient technology, but what Kenji had to work with. They might have been able to form a three-dimensional representation of the battle with images captured from the satellites that had once ringed Luddeccea, but the Guard had destroyed the satellites. He scowled. Gate 8 and all the major time gates needed to be shut down, but the satellites weren’t part of the intelligence. Their destruction had been a waste. He shivered, and suddenly felt heavy.

He shook his head and tried to dampen the coil of dread loosening deep within him, and to ignore the chill that was spreading to his limbs. He focused on the pho-toes; they showed two-dimensional images of the Ark mid-battle. There was one taken just before the torpedo had grazed the hull. He stared at it, estimating the damage the ship had received, and then closed his eyes and whispered a prayer, “Thank you, great Jehovah.” Kenji didn’t really believe in God, at least not the way most Luddecceans believed in Him; but he found praying focused him, kept him centered.

He lifted his head, and found all eyes at the great conference table on him. “They’ve sustained damage to a timefield band midway down the hull,” he said. “They won’t be going very far.”

A breath of relief escaped his chest and he looked back down at the pho-toe. They could still save Noa. He put a hand through his hair. He had tried to warn her … He felt his stomach churn, like he needed to vomit.

“We may not be able to save your sister, Kenji.” The words came from the opposite end of the conference table. Kenji’s head jerked up. The premier was the only other person in the room who was standing.

Kenji’s jaw sagged. “But … she’s a victim. You saw him, he looked like her dead husband. Of course she would be drawn to him.” His hands began to shake. He’d never given much credence to the Luddeccean view of women being creatures too ruled by their emotions for the hard tasks of leadership and governance, but seeing Noa fall so easily into the clutches of one of them, so easily enthralled …

“The lives of millions of Luddecceans are at stake,” the Premier said. “The virus they carry on the Ark could spread to the other colonies in the system.”

Rolling back on his feet, Kenji swallowed hard.

“Forget about them,” said a gruffer voice. Kenji turned to the Admiral of the Luddeccean Guard. Sitting next to the premier, he was leaning forward in his seat, eyes on Kenji. Was he angry? Suspicious? Kenji couldn’t tell.

“We’ve seen the power of Gate 8, and we know the devil isn’t above using it.”

Kenji tilted his head. Did the admiral believe the station was possessed by the devil? It was hard for him to tell who in the Premier’s council were devout, who were opportunists, and who were people like himself—people who didn’t believe the letter of the prophecies, but believed in the spirit. The spirit was what mattered, wasn’t it?

“As long as it’s up there,” the Admiral continued, “none of us are safe on Luddeccea. We are all hostage to its whims.”

The table erupted in debate. Kenji heard someone say, “Hunt down the Ark, destroy the pet monstrosity aboard, and show that devil in the sky we aren’t above using our force.”

At those words, the pho-toe slipped from Kenji’s fingers. He nearly fell over, but caught himself on the table. His breathing came so fast and so hard that the debate in the room faded into a distant hum. He’d almost thought he’d lost Noa just a few hours ago, and now they were talking about destroying the Ark and his sister. He had to save her from the monster she was with and the Guard. His fingers curled, and his body trembled. He had to save her … she would have saved him.

“Hostage!” He barked out the word with such force his body straightened.

The room went silent.

“Kenji?” said the Premier.

Kenji put his hands at his side and tried to meet the Premier’s eye. He hated eye contact. It was a struggle with some animal part of his mind that wanted to look anywhere else. His eyes watered with the effort and he blinked.

Someone started to talk, but the Premier held up a hand again and once more the room went silent.

Fingers jerking uncontrollably at his sides, Kenji tried to keep his voice level. “The intelligence, it values its … avatar … ”

“Archangel,” someone hissed.

“Devil,” someone else whispered.

“Djinn,” said someone else.

Licking his lips, Kenji said, “We can use it as leverage. To prevent Gate 8 from destroying our planet.”

“We can take it apart,” said someone else.

Kenji released a breath. “And we could save Noa.”

Someone inhaled sharply. Kenji swallowed. He heard someone whisper, “He couldn’t stop her before.”

Someone else whispered, “He was right about the plot to steal the Ark … ”

Kenji bowed his head. His fingers twisted with his heavy robe.

“Of course we will try to spare her.” Premier Leetier’s voice cut through the whispers. Kenji’s eyes drifted closed, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet the man’s eyes again. But he nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”

The Premier’s voice rose in volume. “Kenji Sato’s unique mind is of essential use to us. He is proof that together, humans can prevail against any demons of spirit or technology. If his sister is valuable to him, she is valuable to us.”

Kenji opened his eyes. Blinking, he tried to meet the Premier’s gaze, but still couldn’t manage it. His gaze settled on the man’s lips instead. They were curled up sharply on one side … a smile was friendship … a smile meant honesty, as did meeting someone’s eyes, which the Premier was trying to do, though Kenji was failing miserably to do the same.

“Thank you … Sir … thank you!” Kenji stuttered.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Sato,” the Premier said. “We’ll apprehend that devil and take care of your sister.”

The admiral added his voice. “Yes, we’ll take care of them both.”

Unaccountably, Kenji shivered.

Thank you for reading Archangel Down.

The second book in the series, Noa’s Ark is available now!