Nano Writing Month, 2017.29-30

[mc776]

Every day, write some bit of fiction. Preferably over 50 words, but there will be no standard beyond "something". Posting is entirely optional.

Still reserving the right... not to necessarily finish by November 30. No, this is not intended to be the final chapter, which it would be very odd to end on.

We were formally presented in the clearing before the fighting-men and women of the village. They still dared not bring us before the mothers or children or the matriarch, whom they said had been evacuated to an undisclosed location after their scouts saw our battle outside the city. We had offered to remove our helmets as a gesture of goodwill when my respirator auto-tool gave us the go-ahead, but the effect was so unnerving on everyone there that they all but demanded we put them back on.

Orgoth and Ai were watching (and listening to) everything through Gunnerbot. They were not able to speak directly, at least not with any expectation of being understood; the Meditator had explained that, the way they read our minds, they weren't getting much that someone with a bad poker face wouldn't already be giving away, and we had to speak with the intention of being heard by another person before that utterance could be parsed. And none of this could be done with someone who was physically out of telepathic range.

I am Very Large Hunter Weeping At The City Gates, Chief Meditator of the Not-Entirely-Worthless Village The Second. We are here in an unprecedented dialogue with a people that hail from another star. One of their kind is known well enough to you, and I grieve with you for those whom we have lost. But let us not hasten to revenge, as the Tyrants and the Naked and the Worthless do, lest we become like unto them. And yet they are the slayer's kin, who as you know have slain tens of thousands of the Worthless that were in the city. In such spirit let us, having brought them out, come to know who they are and whether they be cause for danger or joy or both.

The Meditator turned to face us. Kinsmen of the slayer, please give us your names and titles, that we may understand. He turned to face Finkelstein. Let us begin with the one who alone spoke truth when faced with death, and end - he turned to face Alvarez - with the one who tried to unspeak it.

For the purpose of this meeting we had agreed that the telepathic connection be cranked up slightly to make sure we were all on the same proverbial page. (It helped, for instance, reduce the amount of context required to be stated to explain what a "page" was.) This meant that when we did this round of introductions we got a small echo of what it sounded like to them when they were not only picking up the sounds of the names and titles but the stuff we'd associated with them. (Mercifully only two of us were introduced by others.) I will try to replicate a bit of the effect for this part of the story only; otherwise the narrative would be unreadable, it being understood that, except for Gunnerbot's translation for the benefit of Ai and Orgoth, this was all understood in about the same time as the spoken words.

I am Child-of-the-Allfather-and-the-Deathless Second Stone of the High Priest, Chosen Seeker and Guardian of That Sacred Knowledge the Creator Has Given to All Mankind. It is an honour and a blessing to be among the first of our people to speak with yours; may the light meeting with light upon this day be an opportunity for forgiveness, that the sorrow of the destruction we have wrought never be given the final word.

From the look of Finkelstein's face they weren't expecting that either. In fact, my ears told me that what came out of their mouth had been a simple "I am Science Officer Jae Finkelstein. Greetings."

As our de facto leader, Finkelstein continued to introduce those who were not present, but only with explicit verbal consent from them both, with Gunnerbot translating.

There are two others witness to this, viewing through the eyes of my companion atop my head. They are Broken Name of the Black Foe of the World Dethroned Father of Golems and Bringer of Hope to Thing-Made-Man; and The Love that Rises from the East. To you they send their greeting.

"Hi."

"G'day."

Finkelstein didn't know Ai very well at all, so we got a lot less about them. I wondered if we should have let Gunnerbot introduce them instead.

As it was he only introduced himself. Gunnerbot did not translate it, though we did try to summarize for the others later; for the rest of our days I always sensed a bit of envy from Orgoth that we were all present for this revelation about his son when all he heard on the speaker was "Hi, I'm Gunnerbot."

I am Golem-Born-Of-Death, the Heir of the Sceptre of the Violence Through Which the World is Redeemed, the Unworthy Mortal Guide of Men Through the Everlasting Darkness In Hope of Coming Out the Other Side. I am the master of the vessel by which we were carried through the stars. Forgive us, for we do not know what we do.

All this time I had been thinking about what I should say, or more precisely think while I'm saying it, to get the proper effect. Gotta be something impressive, show them we're warriors of virtue and strength. Once a space marine always a fuckin' space marine, dammit...

A metallic voice, the voice a Dalek rang out over the swamp: I am the Slayer-In-The-Darkness and the Worthless-Beast, Mocker of the Meditators of Old, Slave of Tyrants and Son of the Murderer of the World, Bearer of Your Destruction--

Well, fuck. "Uh... can I start over?" All the shrimps were staring right at me, as wide-eyed as those beady yellow peepers would let them. I found I couldn't stand straight; really, I wanted nothing more or less than a nice cozy dozen-odd feet of swamp sediment burying me right then and there.

Out of nowhere a... Cajun?... man's voice, the voice of a singer just past his prime, flowed into my head: Let him. I know what he is trying to do and it is to his credit that he is failing miserably. Commander Vook, you need to stop trying.

I tried to stop trying. The way the telepathic broadcast was working this became very obvious and awkward. I couldn't look at anyone so I kept my eyes on the water we were standing in. Then I noticed a little wiggly fat thing with too many eyes and all of them a little too small swimming by. Thing looked fuckin' hilarious. Wiggle wiggle...

Ai gasped. "Jean! Oh my God, it's you!"

The one and only, my dear! But, ah, let's continue with the introductions first. There was an edge of urgent fear in his voice, but I got the impression it had nothing to do with my predicament. Please.

I looked the Meditator in the eye. I am Broken-Fugitive-Of-The-Worthless, Prophesying-Beast-Who-Has-Slain-The-Lamb, Diseased-Who-Heals, Bearer of the Violence Through Which the World is Redeemed. I am filled with fear, but glad at the meeting, that good may be found in the other even amidst the great evil we have already brought to this place. May our words and deeds to each other evermore be of kindness and peace.

The Meditator nodded and said nothing. He turned towards Captain Alvarez.

The pause was long enough to merit its own scene-change ellipsis.

...

How long had I worked with Captain Alvarez by then? We were both hired onto the Ellobius (then the Angband, before Gunnerbot renamed it to make Hrothgar feel more welcome) at about the same time, Commander Alvarez and Medical Officer Vook under then Captain Morgoth and his sexy SHODAN-eque sidekick Sauron (as she then was), the two rookie crewmates replacing the prosophosid assassin Ungoliant who was poisoned to death when it was discovered she never learned the difference between blueberries and cranberries. (Part of the hiring decision was that Terran plains apes were cheaper to feed and less likely to be accidentally poisoned.) Must've been at least four years in before the captain trusted Alvarez enough to promote her to his place so he could step down and marry E.E.; I think I'd been there at least three by the time we all realized the Tolkien antag schtick wasn't working and they took on the new names.

During those years we'd fought Nudibranchs and more conventional space pirates, smuggled all sorts of crazy shit across enemy and not-so-enemy lines, infiltrated asteroid belt gangs, killed all manner of bad dudes and badder dudettes (I still wake up from nightmares sometimes about that one voidhag queen), faced down weird cosmic things floating in the middle of deep space or dug up by hapless gas giant miners, even rescued a kidnapped President of the U.S.A. once (though his claim to the presidency ended up failing on a technicality).

My point being: in all these years I never saw her as scared shitless as she looked now.

There was nothing at stake: everything about this interaction told me that if she just told these guys that we weren't interested in talk, we just wanted to get the Phlogistroni back and we'd just hole up in our ships until the repairs were done and go away and never come back, they would have totally respected that.

And yet: we were surrounded, unarmed, and exposed. All those expectant eyes and ears and hearts...

...

This was totally unfair. She got the Phlogistroni back and now he is dead. Where's her fat reward and ticket home? Why did they have to be stuck here, being interrogated, grilled by overgrown fucking crustaceans!? Why can't we just do this by the rules, with proper fucking boundaries, she's the captain, take us to your leader, figure out each other's language, work this shit out like fucking adults?

And why did that... thing, whatever it was, AI or ghost or whatever, just have to be named Jean!?

Fucking Jean. Fuck Jean. Fuck Jean fucking Auguste fucking Hé fucking bert. He even sounded like him, too, only sober. Maybe it really was... no, that can't be possible!

Unless... she remembered looking him up on social media shortly after she had left Abbotsford, partly out of morbid curiosity, partly because Mrs. Gibbons had told her her husband had sold him the .50 cal. He'd left a long, rambling status about boarding a passenger liner for Goodhope Station XVI near Betelgeuse. Something about a magic artifact and transcending the limits of the human form...

No. Oh God no. She was not going to do this. Not with him here. How dare he.

Because you deserve it, Captain. Because that's the only way you're of value to anyone. By being paraded as an object to be mocked and ridiculed. So they feel better. So they'll know the truth.

Shut up.

Truth, unlike the shit that comes out of your mouth, that you just bungle like you bungle everything, even a stupid spear-chucking zombie crab can catch you in a lie.

Shut the fuck up.

You know that's how all they see you. Just fucking stupid brain-dead fuckin' meat. You're so fuckin' stupid they wouldn't even let you join the real Terran Interstellar Defence Force and you had to piggyback on some psycho rich bitch and suck her faggot dead boyfriend's dick to get on her little stupid fuckin' vanity project. Not even classy enough to be a pirate wench, just some bounty hunter's bitch.

Shut up shut up, not now!

Might as well just go. They'll all know how stupid you are as soon as you open your mouth. You stupid, selfish, hateful bitch. They'll see everything. You'll make Vook's fuckin' useless faggot bullshit look downright godlike in comparison, you stupid, stupid bitch.

Shit, where's the flask? The shrimps didn't check that compartment, did they--fuck.

Totally useless! Can't even hide fuckin' booze from a bunch of dirty brain-dead alien fucks! You've lost the Phlogistroni, you've stranded the Ellobius, everyone's fuckin' wrecked and Ai probably got gang-raped by Guillaume and Hébert or something and you've finally turned poor darling sweet Gunnerbot into the fuckin' psycho murderer you and your absolutely fucking worthless leadership always meant him to be, and all you can do now is just fuckin' stand there and be useless and worthless worthless worthless hey maybe you should just let Herbert the Pervert there finally stick himself inside you at least you'll be of value to someone and maybe he'll teach you something about hiding things in compartments--

...

What Orgoth and Ai saw on the screen was the captain tensing up, looking like she was about to break something or pull out a gun and shoot everybody or explode in a spectacular fireball or start ugly-crying or all of the above, pacing about, squaring her shoulders against the Meditator, clenching her fists, then calming down and stating in a small, still but clear voice: "I am Captain Cristina Alvarez of the U.T.S. Ellobius. We are honoured to be on your planet". Meanwhile, every shrimp was backing away from her with hackles raised, with the two other Terrans stepping back too and staring at her in shock.

For those in the clearing, horrific writhing shadows of uncleanness and abomination were twisting about her as though she were walking through fire; when she spoke, she stood taller than anyone thought a slayer could stand, and the swamp itself fell under a great darkness, but of a different kind than the first:

I am the daughter of the High King, him who created heaven and earth and all that is in them, who being dead at the foundation of this strange aeon slew death that all may live, protector of the Firstborn who loved the world in its youth: who in their innocence first faced the primordial Worthlessness that brought its downfall.

I am first among my warriors and a servant to them all. We have been witness to the horror and the beauty of men and beasts and the very gods who abide in the endless night beyond the stars. There is great majesty, and terror, and love, in those secret places of heaven: I am fallen too far from my lineage to have ever deserved to have partaken of their glory.

I have fought and slain, and the stain of blood lies upon me the grief of which I struggle against with every breath. I have partaken of the life of the Worthless, and the Tyrant, and many times have stripped myself Naked to flee from the weight of my transgressions: but for the love of my loved ones here and in the heavens I would have long since faded into the Nothing that you have seen in your kinsmen in that hideous city.

We have loved our world even as you love yours; but corrupted in our thoughts we turned astray too many times and became one with Worthlessness in our repeated folly. Forever we have struggled against men born with the vanity of the Tyrant, the callousness of the Worthless, and the cruelty of the Naked, when all such things were in our midst, and within our hearts; and in our unending strife our race took to the stars in vessels created for war.

Such a vessel and the warriors they bear are my charge. It was first named for the terror of Worthlessness that filled the imaginations of our people, like the wicked city but intended to be so from the beginning; but having tasted death, and life, we crossed over to better things, in lowliness casting aside the old categories that had once enslaved our thoughts.

You have every right to suspect our motives. You have shown us hospitality far greater than what we could have hoped. Whatever chance or fate brought us here, let us be glad in whatever healing and discovery this first contact may bring.

There was a pause. Before anyone could come up with a response, they all heard a splashing in the distance from the north. Several shrimps were swimming into the clearing approaching the Meditator. Some of them were swimming oddly, while others appeared to be missing limbs. A few were being carried by their fellows.

The Naked are attacking the village! They have brought fire!

Comments

[steorra]

"Broken Name of the Black Foe of the World Dethroned"
I totally didn't get that before but now I do.