Star Trek - NF - 005 - Martyr Read online

 

  "Yes. We had heard rumors, news from other sources, but we waited until we could verify it firsthand before we informed you, Overlord." "Gone where? Have they abandoned their world?" "Their world is likewise gone, Overlord." This fully captured the Overlord's attention. "The world itself? How is that possible? Was it"for the briefest of moments, there actually seemed to be a

 

 

 

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  moment of concern upon his face"was it the Black Mass?"

 

  "No." Prime One shook his head quickly to dispel any concerns on that score. "No, not from without, but from within was the planet lost."

 

  Prime One then, very quickly and in as broad strokes as possible, outlined what had happened. As opposed to the exaggerations that were racing through the other populated worlds, the Redeemers' information was fairly accurate. Prime One spoke of the great bird, of the Excalibur and Captain Calhoun, of the destruction of the Thallonian homeworld, and of the survival of Si Cwan of the royal house. All of this was absorbed by the Overlord, his face inscrutable except for occasional flickers of greater interest visible in his glowing eyes. When Prime One finished, the Overlord seemed to mull over the significance of it all.

 

  "We live in cold," he said after a time.

 

  Prime One nodded. This much was, of course, evident simply by looking around outside. "And we have lived in cold since the departure of Xant. We are darkness, Xant is light."

 

  "We are darkness, Xant is light," repeated Prime

 

  One.

 

  "We are cold, Xant is heat," the Overlord continued, and Prime Oneas he had so often in his life as a Redeemerrepeated the prayer. There were ninety-seven of them, each of them describing what Xant was as opposed to what the Redeemers were. It was their most sacred belief that all that they were had to be the opposite of all that Xant was. Only then could Xant truly turn their lives around upon his return. He was their beginning and end, their means to salvation.

 

  There were other religions which endeavored to follow the specific teachings of their gods or messiahs, but to the Redeemers, that seemed preposterous. How could any mortal being hope to have an insight into the

 

 

 

  workings of as holy a mind as Xant's? When Xant had departed, there seemed only one reasonable course of action all those centuries ago. Rather than try to comprehend and obey His teachings in an imperfect manner, it was decided to operate in as far removed a manner from all that Xant was as they possibly could. Only in this way would Xant then be able to return and show them the right, true, and proper way to live.

 

  And they knew that there would be signs signaling Xant's return. They had no idea what those signs might be, but they would come, of that the Redeemers had no doubt.

 

  "The creature is flame to our cold," the Overlord said thoughtfully. "It is light to our darkness. It is great, and we are small."

 

  "Could it be, Overlord?" Prime One seemed almost afraid to frame the question. "Could it . . . could it possibly be?"

 

  "All things are possible, Prime One. The question is Are they likely?"

 

  He stroked his chin thoughtfully as Prime One waited for him to voice an opinion. But when none seemed forthcoming, Prime One forgot, himself. He blurted out, "Well?" and was immediately mortified, looking for all the world as if he wanted to snatch the word back from the air. Trying to urge the Overlord to speak on a matter! It was presumptuous beyond imagining. The punishment for it would be

 

  Prime One lost control of his legs as they began to tremble. The Overlord stared at him for such a long time that Prime One felt as if he could actually sense death having entered the room, hovering over him and waiting for the slightest push in its direction.

 

  And then the Overlord . . . smiled.

 

  Oh, it was not much. It was rather small as smiles go, and rather unimpressive. It wasn't as if the Overlord had a good deal of practice at it, so it was

 

 

 

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  moment of concern upon his face"was it the Black Mass?"

 

  "No." Prime One shook his head quickly to dispel any concerns on that score. "No, not from without, but from within was the planet lost."

 

  Prime One then, very quickly and in as broad strokes as possible, outlined what had happened. As opposed to the exaggerations that were racing through the other populated worlds, the Redeemers' information was fairly accurate. Prime One spoke of the great bird, of the Excalibur and Captain Calhoun, of the destruction of the Thallonian homeworld, and of the survival of Si Cwan of the royal house. All of this was absorbed by the Overlord, his face inscrutable except for occasional flickers of greater interest visible in his glowing eyes. When Prime One finished, the Overlord seemed to mull over the significance of it all.

 

  "We live in cold," he said after a time.

 

  Prime One nodded. This much was, of course, evident simply by looking around outside. "And we have lived in cold since the departure of Xant. We are darkness, Xant is light."

 

  "We are darkness, Xant is light," repeated Prime

 

  One.

 

  "We are cold, Xant is heat," the Overlord continued, and Prime Oneas he had so often in his life as a Redeemerrepeated the prayer. There were ninety-seven of them, each of them describing what Xant was as opposed to what the Redeemers were. It was their most sacred belief that all that they were had to be the opposite of all that Xant was. Only then could Xant truly turn their lives around upon his return. He was their beginning and end, their means to salvation.

 

  There were other religions which endeavored to follow the specific teachings of their gods or messiahs, but to the Redeemers, that seemed preposterous. How could any mortal being hope to have an insight into the

 

 

 

  workings of as holy a mind as Xant's? When Xant had departed, there seemed only one reasonable course of action all those centuries ago. Rather than try to comprehend and obey His teachings in an imperfect manner, it was decided to operate in as far removed a manner from all that Xant was as they possibly could. Only in this way would Xant then be able to return and show them the right, true, and proper way to live.

 

  And they knew that there would be signs signaling Xant's return. They had no idea what those signs might be, but they would come, of that the Redeemers had no doubt.

 

  "The creature is flame to our cold," the Overlord said thoughtfully. "It is light to our darkness. It is great, and we are small."

 

  "Could it be, Overlord?" Prime One seemed almost afraid to frame the question. "Could it . . . could it possibly be?"

 

  "All things are possible, Prime One. The question is Are they likely?"

 

  He stroked his chin thoughtfully as Prime One waited for him to voice an opinion. But when none seemed forthcoming, Prime One forgot, himself. He blurted out, "Well?" and was immediately mortified, looking for all the world as if he wanted to snatch the word back from the air. Trying to urge the Overlord to speak on a matter! It was presumptuous beyond imagining. The punishment for it would be

 

  Prime One lost control of his legs as they began to tremble. The Overlord stared at him for such a long time that Prime One felt as if he could actu
ally sense death having entered the room, hovering over him and waiting for the slightest push in its direction.

 

  And then the Overlord . . . smiled.

 

  Oh, it was not much. It was rather small as smiles go, and rather unimpressive. It wasn't as if the Overlord had a good deal of practice at it, so it was

 

 

 

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  understandable. Prime One couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. At first he thought he was imagining it, but it didn't waver and slowly, ever so slowly, the trembling stopped. "It's a sign," the Overlord said. Prime One began to ask, Are you sure?, but wisely managed to hold his tongue before uttering the words. "If you wonder why there will be no discipline at this time for your transgression," continued the Overlord, "it is because I would be loath to soil this day with punishment or bloodshed." The Overlord rose from his chair, standing half a head over Prime One, and he clapped a hand on Prime One's shoulder. "Yes, Prime One. A sign, most definitely. We cannot allow our frozen surroundings to chill our imaginations and perceptions as well. Nor should we permit our lengthy wait for some sort of sign to delude us into thinking that there never will be a sign. But this cannot be ignored or explained away, Prime One. If these stories are trueand I assume you would not waste my time with them were that not the case then it presents a clear and concise signal to us, telling us that Xant is preparing to make His return."

 

  Prime One began to tremble once more, but this time it was with excitement rather than fear. "To think, Overlord . . . after all this time, all this waiting . . . Xant is to return, and we are the fortunates who are alive to see it."

 

  "Indeed, Prime One. Come," and he clapped Prime One on the back in a manner that bordered on the jovial. "Come, let us inform the brethren. Let us begin the preparations. Our prayers must not cease, that is to be understood, of course." Prime One nodded in brisk understanding. "Nor must we be lax in continuing to spread the word." The Overlord held up a cautionary finger. "It is, after all, rather tempting to simply sit back and say, 'Ah, well, with Xant on His

 

 

 

 

 

  way back to us, our job is finished. We need not spread His word, for He is come to take up the task Himself. No, Prime One," and Prime One just as quickly shook his head, changing cranial direction so sharply that it caused a slight cramp in his neck muscles. "No, we cannot slacken."

 

  "Not slacken, no, Overlord."

 

  "We cannot let up."

 

  "Never let up, Overlord."

 

  "And after Xant has returned," the Overlord continued, "after the new Golden Age of the Redeemers has been put before us, after we have taken our true and rightful place in the hierarchy of the universe . . ."

 

  "Yes, Overlord, yes!" Prime One was exploding with enthusiasm that was bordering on the orgasmic.

 

  "Then, and only then . . ." The build up was staggering.

 

  "Then what, Overlord?!" Prime One asked in exultation.

 

  "Then . . . you will be disciplined for your transgressions."

 

  It brought Prime One screeching to a halt, both physically as he'd been matching the Overlord's strides, and emotionally as he felt himself brought to the brink of theological ecstasy only to be shoved off into an abyss. "My . . . my transgressions?" It took him a minute to recalibrate himself. "You mean for ... before? When I. . . ?"

 

  The Overlord nodded. "Of course," he replied matter-of-factly.

 

  "But . . . but you said"

 

  "I said, 'at this time.' That does not indicate forgiveness, Prime One. Merely leniency. But it will not be for some time yet, so be of cheer! Celebrate!" He nodded approvingly and then, in one of his rare forays from his sanctum (which, in and of itself, was enough to alert the others immediately to the signifi-

 

 

 

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  understandable. Prime One couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. At first he thought he was imagining it, but it didn't waver and slowly, ever so slowly, the trembling stopped. "It's a sign," the Overlord said. Prime One began to ask, Are you sure?, but wisely managed to hold his tongue before uttering the words. "If you wonder why there will be no discipline at this time for your transgression," continued the Overlord, "it is because I would be loath to soil this day with punishment or bloodshed." The Overlord rose from his chair, standing half a head over Prime One, and he clapped a hand on Prime One's shoulder. "Yes, Prime One. A sign, most definitely. We cannot allow our frozen surroundings to chill our imaginations and perceptions as well. Nor should we permit our lengthy wait for some sort of sign to delude us into thinking that there never will be a sign. But this cannot be ignored or explained away, Prime One. If these stories are trueand I assume you would not waste my time with them were that not the case then it presents a clear and concise signal to us, telling us that Xant is preparing to make His return."

 

  Prime One began to tremble once more, but this time it was with excitement rather than fear. "To think, Overlord . . . after all this time, all this waiting . . . Xant is to return, and we are the fortunates who are alive to see it."

 

  "Indeed, Prime One. Come," and he clapped Prime One on the back in a manner that bordered on the jovial. "Come, let us inform the brethren. Let us begin the preparations. Our prayers must not cease, that is to be understood, of course." Prime One nodded in brisk understanding. "Nor must we be lax in continuing to spread the word." The Overlord held up a cautionary finger. "It is, after all, rather tempting to simply sit back and say, 'Ah, well, with Xant on His

 

 

 

 

 

  way back to us, our job is finished. We need not spread His word, for He is come to take up the task Himself. No, Prime One," and Prime One just as quickly shook his head, changing cranial direction so sharply that it caused a slight cramp in his neck muscles. "No, we cannot slacken."

 

  "Not slacken, no, Overlord."

 

  "We cannot let up."

 

  "Never let up, Overlord."

 

  "And after Xant has returned," the Overlord continued, "after the new Golden Age of the Redeemers has been put before us, after we have taken our true and rightful place in the hierarchy of the universe . . ."

 

  "Yes, Overlord, yes!" Prime One was exploding with enthusiasm that was bordering on the orgasmic.

 

  "Then, and only then . . ." The build up was staggering.

 

  "Then what, Overlord?!" Prime One asked in exultation.

 

  "Then . . . you will be disciplined for your transgressions."

 

  It brought Prime One screeching to a halt, both physically as he'd been matching the Overlord's strides, and emotionally as he felt himself brought to the brink of theological ecstasy only to be shoved off into an abyss. "My . . . my transgressions?" It took him a minute to recalibrate himself. "You mean for ... before? When I. . . ?"

 

  The Overlord nodded. "Of course," he replied matter-of-factly.

 

  "But . . . but you said"

 

  "I said, 'at this time.' That does not indicate forgiveness, Prime One. Merely leniency. But it will not be for some time yet, so be of cheer! Celebrate!" He nodded approvingly and then, in one of his rare forays from his sanctum (which, in and of
itself, was enough to alert the others immediately to the signifi-

 

 

 

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  cance of the moment) he strode out with his hands draped behind his back.

 

  And Prime One was left behind, to sink down onto the floor and murmur, "Hurrah," which was about all the enthusiasm for celebration he could muster at that particular moment in time.

 

  IV.

 

  " SI CWAN? "

 

  It was the fourth time that Robin Lefler had said Si Cwan's name without getting any sort of response. She was beginning to get just a little concerned. She sat on the other side of his desk in his quarters and saw him staring off vacantly, as if he'd forgotten that she was there. The quarters remained relatively simple in terms of decoration at this point. By Si Cwan's standards, it was even less than simple. It was rudimentary. Then again, one had to understand that Si Cwan's bed front his time as a Thallonian royal would likely have taken up the entire quarters just by itself. But he'd forced himself to make do, and was actually rather pleased with himself when it came to his ability to adapt. Still, he was much more pleased with himself than anyone else was with him.

 

  She moved her hand flutteringly in front of his face and then said with more force, "Si Cwan!"

 

  It snapped the Thallonian back to attention as he

 

 

 

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  cance of the moment) he strode out with his hands draped behind his back.

 

  And Prime One was left behind, to sink down onto the floor and murmur, "Hurrah," which was about all the enthusiasm for celebration he could muster at that particular moment in time.

 

  IV.

 

  " SI CWAN? "

 

  It was the fourth time that Robin Lefler had said Si Cwan's name without getting any sort of response. She was beginning to get just a little concerned. She sat on the other side of his desk in his quarters and saw him staring off vacantly, as if he'd forgotten that she was there. The quarters remained relatively simple in terms of decoration at this point. By Si Cwan's standards, it was even less than simple. It was rudimentary. Then again, one had to understand that Si Cwan's bed front his time as a Thallonian royal would likely have taken up the entire quarters just by itself. But he'd forced himself to make do, and was actually rather pleased with himself when it came to his ability to adapt. Still, he was much more pleased with himself than anyone else was with him.