Chapter 1
And the daughter of Tyre
Shall be there with a gift;
Even the rich among the people
Shall entreat thy favor.
The King's daughter is all glorious within;
Her clothing is of wrought gold.
.
Psalm 45:12-13
.
Earth: 311 BC – Carthage
.
Death from above. That’s how the 101st Angelic Air Force 'screaming eagles' thought of themselves. Avenging angels sent in whenever the Emperor needed to hit the enemy hard and hold ground until the Alliance military could establish a base. It was funny how staring death in the face made you appreciate the little things in life, like Mom’s terrible attempts at home-cooked meals, or the way his pesky little sister followed him around like a shadow.
Especially his little sister.
He missed her the most.
“Private Thanatos—” a voice called into the communication unit pressed into Azrael's ear. “Have you found the source of the energy signature?"
"I've found no unauthorized technology." Azrael glanced at the rising sun."Are you sure these are the right coordinates, Sir?"
"It's broadcasting from inside General Hanno's house," the radio squawked.
"But it's almost sunrise."
"You know the terms of the Armistace. Keep looking until you find what's sending that signal."
"Yes, Sir," Azrael grumbled. Some idiot must have dropped their device, and nowhe was stuck here, waiting to steal it back from whatever human had picked it up and was playing with it because the Armistace prohibited giving humans any technology they hadn't invented themselves.
He crouched down on the roof, trapped until tonight since, the moment he took to the air, people would spot his ten meter brown wingspan. Why had Eternal Emperor senthim to study this planet? A cadet fresh out of the science academy? What had, at first, seemed like a dream assignment: the chance to study the fabled origin of their species, had quickly turned into a great big, tedious nothingburger.
On the streets beneath him, Carthage woke up. The city had more than three hundred thousand inhabitants, every single one of them forbidden to know they were being monitored by aliens from outer space. The hot Mediterranean sun pounded down on his dark brown feathers, gathering up solar photons and turning his wings into an oven. He spread them wide, panting from the heat. He tilted up his canteen and stuck his tongue out to lick the last drop.
What he wouldn't give for an extra ration of water!
In the courtyard beneath him, a statue stood in the middle of a fountain. Carved from rock in the shape of a man with the head of a bull, its eyes glittered as the sun reflected off of a pair of priceless, ruby-inset eyes. From an outstretched hand, water poured out of the statue's palm. It cast its cool scent up onto the roof: taunting him, tempting him.
If they see me, will anybody believe them?
No! The Eternal Emperorhimself had ordered him to never interfere!
The sun grew hotter. The fountain beckoned. Flies buzzed around the mud Azrael had smeared through his feathers to camouflage his appearance; mud which, now that sat, perched, upon the roof baking in the heat, smelled faintly of goat dung.
His skin crawled as insects burrowed into the soft flesh beneath his feathers.
“Bugger!”
The urge to fly became almost overwhelming.
He stared down at the bull-man, the way the mist cast a
