Space Angels: find the Gift (complete)

●•·Deep Space ·•● Chapter four

●•·Deep Space ·•●

4 – the dark matter halo (1270)

Borak flew through the profound emptiness of space, conscious that without his passengers he would die of loneliness. The Cherubs' excited voices, accompanied by lilting Seraphim song, lifted his spirits during the journey through the dark matter halo's all-consuming, smothering fog. The halo was light-years across but time and distance meant nothing to a Throne: his knowledge of the universe's energies allowed him to travel at a dizzying velocity through its blackness. But crushing gravity, at the halo's densest sections, drained his speed and he sensed the chronica globe slow its rotation. It had now performed five-and-a half revolutions. He'd already assimilated much information about the planet Edon, but was no nearer to knowing the exact nature of the Gift.

His cadre were inside him – reclining on the comfortable circular pews surrounding the chronica globe in the centre of his spacious pink interior. He heard Cylvah call out.

"What's it like out there, Borak?"

"It is deathly cold in some parts of the halo and as hot as a sun in others – and of course it is dark. But I can manipulate the lightest atoms that form gasses to create a protective buffer around myself, counteracting the extreme temperatures. I've checked the halo's gravity – it's unchanged but still strong, and our progress is slow."

"So's the chronica globe," Jango called. "It's almost stopped!"

"Hmm. I haven't assimilated all its information yet, but it should increase speed when we leave the halo. It's time for you to share the information I've saved so far. Cylvah, please take four Lǽrans from the grey box and pass them around. They will tell you what to do next. If you wish to talk to me just call my name..."

Cylvah got up and lifted the lid. The box contained a black velvet bag and five tiny white shells. She scooped up four and examined them closely. Two thin antennae protruded from each and she thought she heard faint scuttling sounds from within. How could a shell tell her anything?

"You have to put it into your ear, Cylvah," Jango said, now standing at her shoulder. "I used a Lǽran on my last mission. They can pick up anything with those feelers, from enormous distances," he added, pointing to the antennae.

"In your ear!"

Jango sighed and, taking a shell from her gloved palm, slipped it under his curls.

"Now I can share the information Borak's assimilated from the globe so far and learn our mission parameters," he said with a casual air. "And on Edon they'll enable us to communicate with Borak and each other."

"Who do you think the other one is for, Jango?"

Jango shrugged his shoulders. "There were five cadre members on my last mission. Maybe it's a spare."

"What about Borak, isn't he coming on the mission?"

"Thrones are chariots, Cylvah. They transport us through space and drop us off where we're supposed to go. They rarely take part in on-world missions – we do that!"

"Oh. I was hoping he'd be coming with us," Cylvah said, sounding disappointed.

Jango's voice dropped to a whisper. "Come on, Cylvah, we're not Putti you know – we're Cherubs! Don't show us up in front of the Seraphim!" he hissed, before marching to a pew and sitting down.

Cylvah experienced a sting of anger at Jango's insult. Putti were newborn Kaelestians – Jango was calling her a baby! The Seraphim stood before her, hands outstretched. Cylvah gave them each a Lǽran and lifted her protective ear feathers.