Hate And Heresy

The long journey up to the access hatch had Meek irritated by the time it was over, but with a hand placed upon the small scanning pad they were inside the bridge. A dozen stations with empty desk tops and vacant chairs awaited a crew that would never again occupy them. Had Meek kept her crew, the room would be a well-oiled machine of system monitoring and situational assessment. Oh her own, Meek simply did her best to fly the ship without hitting anything.

The bridge was a large square room that sat atop the huge spaceship. Windows provided a view of the long distance to the bow with their own eyes, but when magnification or other information was more important, the view points were covered in informational displays. There was a high chair in the center of all the quiet crew stations and Meek sat in it with a tired slouch.

"I've sat in this chair too many times with the intent to murder," Meek said. "I'd look out these windows at the next planet to crush or the next barricade to obliterate. I don't deserve to exist anymore."

"Oh, hush," Moya replied, wiping the dust from a vacant desk. "No one deserves anything. It's all subjective. If you want to die, that's a different thing entirely. But if you spend the rest of your life doing good, perhaps even saving lives, lots of people would suddenly believe you deserve to be honored and celebrated."

Meek sat up and considered starting up a system diagnostic routine. Her finger floated above a touchscreen on the arm of her chair.

"Don't you miss your parents?" Meek questioned Moya. "That's something that eats me. When you smash an army you leave the loved ones to grieve for the rest of their days. I'd bet your family must have been upset with you being sold."

"I imagine so, yes," Moya agreed. "My mother was always worried if I was all right. If I was getting enough to eat. I didn't know my father. He was sold away from the mansion to work somewhere else when I was very little. The way my mother behaved was normal to me. It was all I knew a mother to be, but after spending a great deal of time away from home, it's easy to see she had a lot of hate and sorrow under her skin.

"I don't think I feel much. Or maybe, I don't feel much correctly. You probably had it right when you said we were both f.u.c.k.e.d up. But while you're really torn up inside, I'm just sort of going along with whatever happens and taking what I can get."

Moya stood before her master and bent over to match their eye level. Two pairs of eyes ruined by anger and hate glared at one another despite no ill will between them.

"What do you want to do, Meek?" Moya asked. "Even if your god comes back and sets you to task, you'll eventually finish and have only your own life to live."

"Unless the task ends in my death," Meek said. "Gods don't give a shit about mortals. We're just tools to exploit on this plane."

"You think the god that removed you from your path of genocide is evil?"

Meek lifted her hand and removed a stray eyelash from Moya's face. The slave had remained completely calm and still.

"Maybe not evil, but he has his own agenda," Meek replied.

"But, what if you live?" Moya asked. "What will you do?"

Meek didn't have a clue what she wanted with a life of her own. Like Moya, she used to have a clear purpose to her existence. Without her crusading, Meek was aimless and empty and still only waited for more godly direction. The blonde couldn't find an answer, but she enjoyed the view of Moya's cleavage as the masked woman leaned forward.

"I don't think I'll be able to kill all of the Ordan," Meek then said. "I'll be running and hiding for the rest of my life."

"With me right behind you," Moya reminded. "Like what you see?"

"Koi!" a child's voice called out.

The voice was very young and soft, but its volume was immense. It didn't do them any harm but the voice shook the ship and disabled the two women for just a moment. Moya felt all energy leave her as the voice called and she fell onto her master's l.a.p. The child's call penetrated their minds and their hearts. An incredible sadness threatened to take them over.

"That was Kool," Meek said, trying to gather her wits and help Moya up. "But where?"

Meek tapped the screen of her armrest a few times and the bridge came to life. Digital and mechanical systems woke from their long slumber with a soft humming in the air. Without any command from the captain, the ship put a video feed on the windows ahead of them. Sensors had found an unidentified being on the ship. Upon the narrow top, walking toward them and grabbing hold of antennae along the way to stabilize a poor balance, a small boy with a missing arm trudged along. Blood trailed behind the struggling child and shortly after the feed was shown, he looked up at the camera.

"Koi, please, I have little time," the child said, seemingly meeting their eyes with his.

Getting to the exterior of the ship from the bridge wasn't quick, but after hopping down a stairway and rushing through a maintenance hall they were outside. The heavy mechanical door to the exterior was pushed out with modest effort and the women ran with all their might. The injured god saw them coming and decided to sit, saving what little energy he had left.

"Kool, my word, what's happened to you?" Meek asked, skidding to a halt as she reached him.

"No time for that story," the little god replied, his voice normal and small. "I need you to listen and do as I say. The lives of the galaxy hang in the balance."

Kool reached into the pocket of his ragged pants and pulled out a tiny memory card. The little black plastic thing was accepted by Meek but her confusion could not overpower her concern.

"Please, Kool, there must be something we two can do to help you," Meek pleaded.

"No, child," Kool said. "The card. Upon it is a location in this galaxy. It is not exact, but it was the best I could do. You must go there and find what is called the Old Throne. Take ownership of it, child. You are the only one trustworthy of such a burden."

"Kool, I don't understand," Meek said, wanting desperately to give her god aid. "I will do as you command, but what is this throne? Why must I be the one to have it?"

"F-forgive me… child… that is all… I have left," Kool weakly muttered.

The little god's head slumped forward as he left them. With Kool's death the air became cold and all was silent. Meek could hardly believe what had just happened.

"Sorry for your loss," Moya said, kneeling down to lower her head once for the dead. "Is there a ritual we need to do for him?"

"I um… I don't know," Meek replied, dropping down to her knees. "This all happened so fast I… what the f.u.c.k is going on? I have to go find and take a throne?"

"You have the responsibility of a god's dying wish," Moya said. "You okay with that?"

"F.u.c.k no, I'm not okay with that," Meek replied, looking at the little memory card, her breath unsteady. "But it'll be done. This is now my purpose. I won't let Kool's efforts be in vein, whatever they were. I'll find out whatever the f.u.c.k this is all about and handle it for him."

"Someone was able to kill a god," Moya reminded her master. "We could be up for some real trouble."

"We were just found by my people. We already had trouble."

Away from the aftermath of the battle with the sisters, Meek and Moya buried the remains of the god Kool in the early evening. The spaceship upon which he died had many coffins for the storage of any dead crew. None of the alloy boxes were designed for someone as small as the little god, but it still served the purpose well. Meek made sure to make the grave as inconspicuous as possible; no markings and only as much disturbed ground as was necessary. The filling of the hole was stamped and flattened as much as she could manage with a shovel.

"You made that labor look easy," Moya said, wiping sweat from her brow. "I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, I'm definitely babysitting you with all this headache we have now," Meek said. "I hope this is good enough for a burial. I don't know what we could have done to make it special but also hidden."

"What do your people usually do with your dead?" Moya asked. "I was surprised that the caskets are so sturdy. My people burn the dead and say prayers. Or they would, if they had the freedom to do so. Mostly just get buried on the owner's land."

"If we can recover bodies they get taken home," Meek explained. "That's why the boxes are tough. The gods demanded there be a ceremonial burial to ensure their followers make it to the correct afterlife. I was told whoever didn't receive their ceremony might end up trapped between realms. Don't know how true that is. Seems pretty f.u.c.k.e.d up, given how much war the Ordan are involved in. Can't take home a soldier who is in a million pieces."

"What about you?" Moya questioned. "What does a Red Knight of the Queen get when they die? You know, just in case I'm widowed and have to send you off."

"Just burn me," Meek replied. "Or bury. Whichever is easier. Unless you have a giant statue of the warrior Dorothy, you can't give me the burial our people demand. I don't f.u.c.k.i.n.g want it, anyhow. That would send me to the gods I hate."

Meek took a look up to the night sky and exhaled as much frustration as she could.

"Well, let's go inside now," Meek said. "I want to have a drink and pass out."

"Don't you want to know how I want to be buried, if you lose me?" Moya asked.

With an intimidating smirk, Meek grabbed hold of Moya's bottom with both hands and pulled the masked woman to her. Moya slipped her hands under her master's shirt and held on with enthusiasm.

"Don't need to know," Meek said. "I'm protective of my property."