The Blade of the Prophet
written with Nick Bosler, Brook Enochs, and Jake McCandless
Note: this story was the result of a game of Fiasco by Jason Morningstar, from Bully Pulpit Games.
'I need a fix.'
Lt. Grevy looked up from her desk to see Rob standing in the doorway.
'I don't have any more,' she said. 'Remember? I told you the last time that I was giving you the last of what I had.'
'I know,' he replied. 'I just thought you might have got some more since then.'
'Rob, have you looked around in the last couple of days? When we got hit by... whatever it was that came out of that white hole... all the high ranking people, the competent people, they left. I didn't know what was going on, or I would have left as well. Nobody's coming back here. Not to deliver more medical supplies, not to rescue us losers who got stranded on this space station, not for any reason. I don't have any and I'm not going to get any.'
Rob's head drooped. 'Well... yeah... I guess... you don't know where there might be some hidden away somewhere, do you?'
Lt. Grevy considered for a moment. 'There may have been a spare supply in Dr. Griftak's office. He fled with the others, but you might be able to break his door down.'
Rob looked around for a moment, then left. A few moments later, Lt. Grevy heard the metallic banging coming from further down the hall on M deck. It lasted a few moments, then stopped. The dull roar of voices from the waiting area just outside her office resumed, but a minute afterwards, she heard Rob's voice shout, 'Yes!'
At least I was able to help him, she mused. I wish I could say the same for the others waiting on me.
She was considering going back out to try to treat more of the wounded when a new voice broke through the cacophony. 'Anyone who is not a security guard or Ax'Tulurian, go.' She recognised the deep husky voice at once; there was no mistaking the difficulty he was having expelling air to form words in the human language.
'What can I do for you, Barakasura?' she queried as she stepped from her office. The hulking form of the alien towered over her in the dim light as everyone else limped back into the corridor.
'I have received an injury,' he responded. 'Petty Officer Spencer and I were scavenging for supplies in the devastation of the cafeteria when we encountered some escaped prisoners. One of them cut my arm.'
Lt. Grevy grabbed the suture kit and began to work. 'Are you sure you don't want some anesthetic?' she asked.
'Of course not. You should know better than to ask.'
She set about to close up the slit in Barakasura's shoulder as he described his encounter with the prisoners. 'There were four of them,' he said. 'David and I were able to take them by surprise, and now David's taking the food to our hideout on G deck.'
'I'm glad you were able to find some more provisions. I wish I weren't the only one from the medical staff left; it would be nice to have someone looking out for me. Besides you, of course.' She finished the last stitch and reached for a bottle of antiseptic. 'This is going to sting,' she said as she began pouring the liquid over the wound.
Barakasura winced and gave the strange low moaning sound that indicated extreme pain in the Ax'Tulurians. 'Maybe I should have taken an anesthetic this time,' he growled.
'Consider yourself lucky,' Lt. Grevy muttered. ‘This was an easy wound to treat. I'm just a medical assistant, I'm not qualified to work on the broken bones and weapons injuries that everyone else is bringing to me.'
'Well, I appreciate it.' The security officer rose to leave, winking at his friend as he went. 'Perhaps I'll bring you some of that food later.'
* * *
Rob heard the sound behind him and whirled around to see who it was. Standing in the doorway behind him was Petty Officer David Spencer. ‘Oh! It’s you!’ he cried, sounding a little manic in his relief.
‘Hey, Rob. What are you doing here?’
‘Well, you know, I was just, uh, taking care of some business, you know how it is.’
David knew from the jittery demeanour that Rob was displaying that he had acquired a new supply. ‘You know, I really should confiscate that from you.’
‘What? Aw, come on, man...’
‘It’s a good thing I like you. You’re a funny guy.’
Rob paused, smiled, cocked his head jauntily to the side and shrugged his shoulders in a gesture that seemed to communicate the idea, who, me? I’m just a harmless comedian! ‘I try,’ he said.
‘Besides,’ David continued, ‘I’ve got enough trouble with the other prisoners. We’ve got an uneasy truce with the pilots and maintenance crew, the civilians are too terrified to pose a threat, but ever since half the lower decks were torn off two days ago and everyone in the brig was dumped into the main corridors, they’re just not satisfied with finding a way to live together.’
Rob stared unsteadily into David’s eyes. The petty officer wasn’t sure his companion was understanding him.
‘I mean, it’s not like we’re probably going to survive too much longer, right?’ David went on. ‘This whole damn space station could blow up any moment, couldn’t it? Say, why aren’t you hanging out with the other prisoners?’
‘Wasn’t my scene. I’ve been hiding in engineering since the prison section was emptied. I’m more comfortable there, I guess. I mean, I was an engineer before I was thrown in the brig after all.’
‘That makes sense. Is there anyone else down there?’
‘Not that I’ve seen. I think everyone else who knows how to work any of that machinery left.’
David nodded. ‘Well, listen Rob, it’s been great talking to you, but I’ve got some supplies I need to hide in here, and some of the other security guards might show up. I’d hate for you to get caught by any of them.’
‘Yeah, thanks. The last thing I need is for someone else to come in here and start shouting at me. “Hey! Prisoner 4150! You need to come with me!”’
David chuckled at the raspy voice Rob was using to impersonate his fellow security guards. ‘Man, you’re funny. You really do make me laugh.’
‘Thanks, man.’ Rob smiled that same goofy, cocksure smile. ‘Before I go, do you know what this is?’ He held up a thin wooden box, just the size to fit underneath a false bottom in a desk drawer. It was engraved with strange symbols and intricate designs. ‘I found it in one of the desks in here.’
David’s eyes sparkled. ‘I... I don’t know. Can I see it?’ He took it from Rob’s trembling hands and gently lifted the lid. Within was a dagger with serpentine blade, the thick handle wrapped in leather and protected with a curved finger guard. A long, worn leather strap was attached to the pommel. ‘I don’t believe it...’
‘What is it?’
‘I can’t tell you. But it’s very important. I— I need to take this. Can you find your way back to engineering?’
‘Sure, I guess... Alright, I’m gonna get out of here then. See you around!’ And with that, he was gone.
David looked around to make sure there was nobody near, before sprinting down the hallway to find Barakasura. The Ax’Tulurian was still in Office G7a where he’d last seen him.
‘I have it. I’ve found the blade of the prophet.’
The alien lifted his broad head. ‘You have?’
‘It’s right here in this box,’ he said, placing the small crate carefully on the desk in front of his fellow security officer.
Barakasura opened the lid and paused for a moment to behold the dagger within. Then, reverently, he lifted it by the leather strap, which he looped over his head so that the knife hung down his chest. ‘Then the prophecy will soon be fulfilled. Inform the other initiates. We will perform the ceremony tomorrow afternoon. Xilthcha shamura.’
David nodded. ‘Xilthcha shamura,’ he repeated, and left.
* * *
Lt. Grevy was sitting in her office when Rob entered again. ‘Anya! I have great news!’ he shouted. She could tell he’d had a dose recently; his voice was uneven and he was shaking.
‘Weren’t you just in here yesterday?’ she asked.
‘Huh? Oh, yeah, I think I was. Anyway, that’s not important. I found a way for us to get off this station.’
Her heart leapt into her throat. ‘How’s that?’
‘I found a couple of suits down in engineering. I’ve been working on them, so I know they’re good. I have a plan. All I need is some oxygen.’
‘That’s a little outside of the medical division. I don’t have any around here.’
‘I know, I know, I know,’ Rob shook his head so hard that little flecks of spittle went flying to either side. ‘But I can’t get past the security guards to where the oxygen is stored. I bet you can, though.’
‘I might be able to. When do you need it?’
‘As soon as possible. Call me on my comm frequency when you’ve got it.’ And before she could respond, he was gone once more.
Perhaps I should get something to eat, she thought. I am feeling a bit hungry. She stood from her desk and walked towards the hall. Then she remembered Barakasura’s offer, and signalled him on his comm frequency.
A short time later, she was standing in the wreckage of the security officers’ area. She thanked her friend for the food, and suddenly, a thought occurred to her. ‘Do you know if I might be able to get some oxygen?’ she asked.
‘Why would you need that? There are no ships left to carry you from here. You’re just as trapped on the wreckage of this space station as we are.’
‘I know that,’ she replied. ‘A friend asked for some. I don’t know exactly what he’s doing with it. And besides, it’s not like you need it either. It’s just in a place that he can’t reach because you security officers have that section sealed off.’
‘You have a point. I’ll call ahead and let the men know to give you passage through that area.’
‘Thank you, Barakasura. You are a true friend.’
The Ax’Tulurian nodded once, then Lt. Grevy turned to go. She wasn’t even halfway down the dimly lit corridor when she passed Petty Officer Spencer. ‘Hello, David,’ she called out.
His lamp shone into her face as he returned her greeting. ‘Oh, hello, Anya.’ He moved to keep going past her when he hesitated. ‘That’s an interesting birthmark you have on your neck. I’ve never noticed it before.’
‘What birthmark?’
‘Right there on your neck. It’s... quite an interesting shape.’
‘I don’t remember having any birthmark.’
‘Oh? Well, I hope you’re not getting a rash of some sort. Say, are you doing anything tomorrow? Around three in the afternoon?’
‘I have no idea. I’ve just been spending the day in my office killing time between people coming to me asking for medical treatment I don’t know how to give them.’
‘We’ll be having a celebration. You’re welcome to come. It’ll be in that room right there.’ He pointed to the observation lounge.
‘I don’t have any way to tell the time. All the clocks in the medical facilities stopped working when the station was hit.’
‘That’s ok. I’ll come pick you up.’
‘Ok. It sounds like fun. What are you celebrating?’
‘Oh, we’ve just had a bit of good news. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. I’d explain now, but it’s kind of a long story, and I have a lot of work to do.’
‘Uh, all right, then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow around three.’
‘See you tomorrow!’ David continued down the corridor, leaving her to continue on her quest for oxygen.
* * *
Rob was banging, apparently at random, on the metal portions of a pair of space suits when Lt. Grevy entered. ‘Here’s what I was able to find.’
‘How much is it?’ Rob asked, not looking up from his work.
‘Twenty kilograms, compressed.’
Rob continued to look down, but his arm stopped moving. He held that pose for a moment, then said, ‘That’s about 16 hours. We’d need at least ten hours each for this to work.’
‘Well, that’s all I could find.’
‘Ok, ok, ok, I’ll make it work somehow. I’ll figure something out.’ His head twitched violently to the side, his arms convulsing across his chest briefly. ‘Maybe I’ll find David. He can get me some more oxygen. Yeah, that’s it. I’ll find David. I can make another suit. That won’t take long. I can do it.’
Anya peered down at the former prisoner. ‘Ok, well, I’m going to be in my office. Call me when you’re ready, ok?’
‘Yeah, yeah, call you when I’m ready. I can do that.’
He found David some time later, wandering around on G deck until he encountered the former prison guard. ‘I think I can get us off of the station. I was going to take Anya, but I can make another suit for you too.’
David’s face read confusion. ‘Even if you can get off the station somehow, if you had a ship capable of carrying you any distance, there’s nowhere to go. You’d need an FTL drive to reach anywhere.’
‘No, I can do it,’ insisted Rob. ‘I know how it can work. I just need some more oxygen. If you can find some for me, I’ll get you off the station too. I can do it.’
There was a pause before David responded. ‘Ok, I’ll see what I can find.’
Rob ran back to the engineering section. It was there, where the pieces of his work lay scattered about the floor, that he encountered Barakasura.
‘Prisoner four-one-five-zero! What are you doing here?’ the Ax’Tulurian bellowed as best he could with lungs not designed for human speech.
Rob was terrified by the sound anyway, and the sound of insect-like clicking that often followed Ax’Tulurian vocalizations didn’t help. ‘I’m just working on a project, I’m not hurting anybody, everything I need is here; well, almost everything, but that’s ok because the last thing I need should arrive soon.’
‘I see,’ growled Barakasura. ‘And what is that?’ He pointed to one of the suits still hanging on the wall across the room. Rob turned to look, but didn’t get a chance to respond, as Barakasura’s stun baton came down on the former prisoner’s shoulder, shocking him into unconsciousness.
As the alien looked down on the twitching form of his target, he thumbed the key on his comm panel mounted on his sleeve. ‘David? I’m on my way. I have a sacrifice for the ritual.’
‘I have someone as well,’ David’s voice crackled through the miniature speaker, only slightly distorted by the communications system.
* * *
Petty Officer David Spencer had managed to assemble all thirty of the initiates in the observation lounge. They stood about in the disarray left by the chaos that had gripped the station for the last three days. Lt. Grevy sat in a chair next to the dais arranged near the window which looked out into the shining point of light which the station orbited. Everyone looked at David expectantly.
Barakasura entered at the far end of the lounge, a body draped over his shoulder. Murmurs of joy spread through the initiates as they watched the alien walk towards the dais. As he laid Rob’s unmoving form upon the dais, David felt his breath catch. Why did it have to be him? he wondered.
Anya turned to him. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘It’s time to make our sacrifice,’ he replied. Then he turned to face the other members of his religious order and commanded, ‘Seize her.’
Anya’s screams were quite loud as the assorted crew members grabbed her and bound her before laying her cautiously next to Rob on the platform. She looked pleadingly at Barakasura. ‘Why are you doing this?’
Barakasura met her gaze with an expression of pained resolve. ‘It’s because of the Ax’Tulurian Blood Bond that you and I share,’ he answered. ‘It’s why you’ve had a birthmark suddenly appear on your neck.’
The cultists gathered around, chanting, ‘Xilthcha shamura,’ as they watched the two leaders of their order perform the ceremony. David held up a bowl to catch the blood as Barakasura cut along his forearm with the blade of the prophet which hung from his neck. Then, once he had a couple of centilitres, he moved towards Anya.
‘I’m sorry,’ Barakasura said to his companion. Then he carefully sliced open her skin, not enough to be fatal, but enough to produce a fairly significant quantity of blood. David was there, catching the crimson flow in the same bowl, mixing with the alien blood already there.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ shouted Rob, who had just awoken. In a flash, he had leapt from the dais and was dodging cultists to run out the door. Perhaps he would have made it if one of the cultists, also a security guard, hadn’t used a net launcher to entangle him.
In short order, Rob was again on the dais, his arms and legs now bound, as David stood over him. ‘I’m sorry about this,’ David murmured as he poured the mixture of human and alien blood into Rob’s mouth.
Though he fought it, Rob ended up swallowing most of the blood. He was covered in a slick scarlet coat, and much of the ground around him was equally glazed. Barakasura stood over him, intoning gravely. ‘The prophecy has come to pass. We will atone, by washing our hands in their blood. Xilthcha shamura!’
‘Xilthcha shamura!’ responded the initiates. As Barakasura removed the blade of the prophet from his neck, David continued the homily. ‘Our master, the Shining White Lord, has called us to him. With this ritual, we are purified to enter his presence.’ He took the dagger from Barakasura, and with a swift movement, plunged it into Rob’s abdomen.
Rob doubled over, screaming in pain, the blood he’d been forced to swallow flowed from the hole in his stomach. David was there again, catching the blood in the bowl. Afterwards, he held it up to the Ax’Tulurian, who placed his hands in it. He rubbed the dark liquid over his palms and fingers, then placed his hands upon Anya’s face.
‘Xilthcha shamura! We have atoned!’ he cried out. The other cultists let out shouts of joy.
David untied both Anya and Rob. ‘The ceremony is complete. I’m sorry we had to do that to you. Can you maybe see to his wounds?’ this last he said to Anya.
It was at that moment that the structural integrity of the station began to fail in earnest. A portion of the ceiling fell behind the dais, appearing to crush Barakasura. The others fled in a panic, and David dropped the blade of the prophet in his haste to escape.
David and Anya helped Rob to limp to the engineering section to acquire the suits. ‘These two are good,’ Rob pointed out the ones he’d been working on. ‘I’ll let you guys take them. I know they’re good, because I fixed them. I’m a nice guy like that. I’ll use this one here. I didn’t have time to fix it, but I think it should be fine.’
Carrying the suits, they stumbled through the rocking corridors towards the airlocks. Once there, they managed to put on the suits. As they stepped into the airlock, another shuddering crash rocked the station. The doors malfunctioned, and David found himself tumbling into space. The inner portal closed on Anya’s leg, the splintering sound of breaking bone echoing through the air in her suit. Only Rob was able to jump through the door in a controlled manner.
Anya pulled her leg free from the door, and sat watching as the station continued to crumble around her.
David drifted slowly along the walls of the station, eventually coming to the observation deck, where he saw Barakasura lying on the floor, his left arm pinned beneath the debris. He watched in fascination as the Ax’Tulurian reached out to take the blade of the prophet, which had begun to glow with a bright bluish light. He used the dagger to smoothly slice off the pinned arm. The wound appeared to cauterize instantly, and as he stood up, the glow grew until it was so bright that Barakasura could no longer be seen.
It was at that moment that the faulty seal on David’s helmet blew.
Rob had been lucky; he managed to land on a large piece of debris floating nearby. From there, he noticed a small craft moored to the outside of the station. I’d forgotten about that, he thought. That’s the ship they used for major repairs to the station’s exterior. I wonder if it still works? And with that, he pushed off from the debris towards the ship. He caught himself on the wing, and was able to make his way inside.
The ship started easily. Rob was able to set a course for a nearby star system and engage the FTL drive before activating the emergency medical systems to repair the hole in his stomach. He lay back in the autodoc, the twitching in his arms beginning to subside as the craft nosed its way silently through the dark towards a new life.
Copyright notice: Although I believe in the public domain, and I want as many people as possible to enjoy my work, please don't try to pass any of my creations off as your own. Share my art, music, and writing. Just don't claim that you were the one to create it. Thank you.
