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Authors: Phillip W. Simpson
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foyer was a massive and impressive edifice. Constructed primarily of marble and
supported by huge Ionic columns, it presented the cold, holy, awe inspiring and
hard face of Areopagite society to off world visitors. Millions visited the
Areopagites capital planet each year. Some were on holy pilgrimages, some came
representing trade or exploratory interests, and still others came to stare in
open mouth astonishment at a world filled with beautiful angelic creatures.
Many were doing just that –gazing at Gabriella in reverential awe as her
Templars pushed their way through the crowd. Some, getting too close, were
trampled underfoot.
“How did it go?,"
inquired Sammael.
“Better than
expected. I have some information you need to pass onto our mutual friend. Our
quarry is now on board the Hedonist ship Dirty Little Minx , bound for
Revel. It seems Metatron and Michael were more resourceful than we’d planned.
Simbiel’s been assigned to track them down."
“Simbiel! I’m
surprised that boy knows which end of his sword to hit things with.”
“That, dear
Sammael," she said patting his arm, “is precisely why they sent him. And
for all his stupidity, he seems to be closer to the Overdrive than we are."
Gabriella glanced
at Sammael reproachfully. Like all Angels in the middle hierarchy, Sammael was
handsome, blond, muscular, clad in white robes and had glowing blue eyes. He
had been with her for close to 50 years after she elevated him to Angel status.
She’d found him on one of the outlying Areopagite controlled worlds, rapidly
establishing a reputation and a small empire with skill, ruthlessness, violence
and depravity – many of the attributes she admired. He shared her ambition, was
happy to get his hands dirty and was a decent bed wrestling partner when
required.
Sammael took the
hint. “I’ll get onto our friend immediately. At most, he’ll only be a few hours
behind."
Gabriella flicked
him an irate glance. “You better pray that’s all it is.”
“Prayer? Now
that’s novel coming from you."
“Don’t fuck with
me Sammael. We need the Overdrive. Get this thing sorted. Now!”
Continuing to walk
through the foyer, they were waved through the docking bay control gates by
guards meekly trying to catch a glance of Gabriella, emerging at the bay for
her ship - the one kilometer long Valkyrie Blazing Trumpet - a silver
ovoid with thrusters jutting from the back and landing pads from its belly. The
ships Captain and crew were all standing to attention at the foot of the
entrance ramp. Gabriella didn’t even glance at them as she made her way up the
ramp.
“Prepare to debark
for Makon, Captain.”
“Yes Princess."
In his private
quarters, Sammael opened a channel via his AI. A call like this would normally
be prohibitive with normal communication links, but the Areopagites possessed
the best private relays available. Gabriella had made it clear that she
wouldn’t tolerate any delays and he certainly couldn’t wait the 12 hours it
would take to reach Makon.
His AI reported
that it had established a link, but no face or icon appeared under his eyelid.
“Sammael. Didn’t
expect to hear from you."
“Yes, well. We’ve
had a development. I know where you can find the one we seek.” He quickly coded
the information and instructed his AI to send. “Better get your man onto it
smartly. It seems that fuckwit Simbiel is closer than we are, so tell your boy
to watch out. The general consensus is that Simbiel is an idiot but also an
idiot that’s very prone to extreme violence if anyone should get in his way."
“That shouldn’t be
a problem. Our agent is also, ah, shall we say, rather good at what he does.
He’s also not very far away."
“He’d better be
otherwise its both our nuts on the line."
“How are your nuts
by the way? Still getting frequent attention from Gabriella?”
“None of your
business. If you’re so keen to find out about Gabriella’s nocturnal activities,
why don’t
foyer was a massive and impressive edifice. Constructed primarily of marble and
supported by huge Ionic columns, it presented the cold, holy, awe inspiring and
hard face of Areopagite society to off world visitors. Millions visited the
Areopagites capital planet each year. Some were on holy pilgrimages, some came
representing trade or exploratory interests, and still others came to stare in
open mouth astonishment at a world filled with beautiful angelic creatures.
Many were doing just that –gazing at Gabriella in reverential awe as her
Templars pushed their way through the crowd. Some, getting too close, were
trampled underfoot.
“How did it go?,"
inquired Sammael.
“Better than
expected. I have some information you need to pass onto our mutual friend. Our
quarry is now on board the Hedonist ship Dirty Little Minx , bound for
Revel. It seems Metatron and Michael were more resourceful than we’d planned.
Simbiel’s been assigned to track them down."
“Simbiel! I’m
surprised that boy knows which end of his sword to hit things with.”
“That, dear
Sammael," she said patting his arm, “is precisely why they sent him. And
for all his stupidity, he seems to be closer to the Overdrive than we are."
Gabriella glanced
at Sammael reproachfully. Like all Angels in the middle hierarchy, Sammael was
handsome, blond, muscular, clad in white robes and had glowing blue eyes. He
had been with her for close to 50 years after she elevated him to Angel status.
She’d found him on one of the outlying Areopagite controlled worlds, rapidly
establishing a reputation and a small empire with skill, ruthlessness, violence
and depravity – many of the attributes she admired. He shared her ambition, was
happy to get his hands dirty and was a decent bed wrestling partner when
required.
Sammael took the
hint. “I’ll get onto our friend immediately. At most, he’ll only be a few hours
behind."
Gabriella flicked
him an irate glance. “You better pray that’s all it is.”
“Prayer? Now
that’s novel coming from you."
“Don’t fuck with
me Sammael. We need the Overdrive. Get this thing sorted. Now!”
Continuing to walk
through the foyer, they were waved through the docking bay control gates by
guards meekly trying to catch a glance of Gabriella, emerging at the bay for
her ship - the one kilometer long Valkyrie Blazing Trumpet - a silver
ovoid with thrusters jutting from the back and landing pads from its belly. The
ships Captain and crew were all standing to attention at the foot of the
entrance ramp. Gabriella didn’t even glance at them as she made her way up the
ramp.
“Prepare to debark
for Makon, Captain.”
“Yes Princess."
In his private
quarters, Sammael opened a channel via his AI. A call like this would normally
be prohibitive with normal communication links, but the Areopagites possessed
the best private relays available. Gabriella had made it clear that she
wouldn’t tolerate any delays and he certainly couldn’t wait the 12 hours it
would take to reach Makon.
His AI reported
that it had established a link, but no face or icon appeared under his eyelid.
“Sammael. Didn’t
expect to hear from you."
“Yes, well. We’ve
had a development. I know where you can find the one we seek.” He quickly coded
the information and instructed his AI to send. “Better get your man onto it
smartly. It seems that fuckwit Simbiel is closer than we are, so tell your boy
to watch out. The general consensus is that Simbiel is an idiot but also an
idiot that’s very prone to extreme violence if anyone should get in his way."
“That shouldn’t be
a problem. Our agent is also, ah, shall we say, rather good at what he does.
He’s also not very far away."
“He’d better be
otherwise its both our nuts on the line."
“How are your nuts
by the way? Still getting frequent attention from Gabriella?”
“None of your
business. If you’re so keen to find out about Gabriella’s nocturnal activities,
why don’t
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