Mesopotamia - The Redeemer (39 page)

Truth relayed a message to Flash.
“Stay on the father ship to command the main forces! Arrange a
circular formation of aircraft closely around the perimeter of
Samos with open audio-visual communication! I'm going in the moment
that the initial forces take over the station!”

“Yes, sir.” Flash immediately
conveyed the instructions as commanded.

Truth harnessed himself into the
stabilizers in one of the tiny aircraft in the father ship.
“Ready!” he commanded the pilot. The pilot warmed up the motors and
waited.

Dozens of heavy boots stomped down
upon the quiet docking platform. The noise intensified as the swarm
of soldiers split into units and invaded the station's corridors.
The squadron leaders shouted orders and the badgers operated
quickly and powerfully. The shining halls filled with black.

The initial forces were comprised
of fifty badgers. They navigated the station swiftly by aid of the
map that they had memorized based on Smoke's reliable reports. The
plan was a simple one: comb through all of the spheres and seize
control of the Pythagoreans. The bewildered Pythagoreans stood
dumbly in the face of the invading forces, who pointed threatening
weapons as they shouted commands at them.

“Everyone into the dining hall!”
shouted the squadron commander. “Move! Faster!”

“I will not say it again,” said the
commander and shot a robed engineer in the back.

The Pythagoreans' cries were
silenced when he shot again, this time at a young scout. Her blood
sprayed onto the pearlescent white wall. They were led in a line
toward the dining hall. This scene repeated itself in a number of
other places throughout the station. The Pythagoreans did not
resist but the Gnostics did not hesitate to shoot those who did not
manage to compose themselves.

“This is your station master
speaking. We are currently under Gnostic invasion. Cooperate with
them quickly in order to minimize unnecessary bloodshed.” Sophia
tried to speak in an authoritative and confident tone on the public
announcement system, but the fear was apparent in her voice.

The badgers continued to race with
polished efficiently through the corridors, searching for any
Pythagoreans who had not yet been corralled into the dining
hall.

A gloomy air settled over the
dining hall. Sounds of sobbing mingled with the Gnostic shouts. The
residents of the station sat bound on the floor of the room. Now
and then, single shots could be heard and more Pythagoreans were
tossed into the room. The scouts tried to console their friends and
maintain their composure, but most of them were chalk white and
shaking with fear.

After they had combed through the
entire station and the badgers had seized control of each sphere,
the commanding officer of the invasion reported to Truth: “The
station is secured. We encountered no substantial opposition.”

The layer of aircraft surrounding
the station opened in order to allow the chief commanding officer
to pass though, closing immediately behind him. When he reached the
docking platform, the badgers were waiting for him.

“Remaining forces, inside!” he
ordered.

The additional forces, including
pilots and flight commanders, followed Truth. They waited next to
the platforms for further instructions.

A squadron of badgers escorted the
commander in chief. He walked through the station's corridors and
was surprised to find that the shining walls were dry to his touch.
He wanted to linger and examine the exquisite shades of pearl, but
told himself that now was not the time. Now and then he saw a
Pythagorean corpse lying on the floor. He wondered to himself how
many times he had stepped between corpses following a conquest.

Truth addressed the commanding
officer in charge of the invasion who had been escorting him. “The
invasion seemed too easy. Where is all of the resistance?”

“As you said, Commander, the
Pythagoreans are pacifists,” answered the soldier, sheepishly.

“Yes, but I did not expect a total
lack of resistance! Are you certain that you captured all of
them?”

“Yes, Sir. We went through the
entire station and all of the scouts, engineers and technicians are
either bound, secured or dead.”

“Take me to the processor!” said
Truth.

“Follow me, sir!” They began to
move.

“Now we are passing through the
access point to the commanding sphere, Commander,” the force
commander explained.

Truth was impressed by the
simplicity of it all. The thousands of switches and boards that
covered the walls of the father ship were completely absent from
the station. There was no thundering hum of motors in the
background. Lights flashed across the transparent boards together
with arching curves and gradually morphing colors. 'It's a world
inside of a shell, completely cut off from the rest of the galaxy,'
he thought to himself. “Pacifists,” he muttered.

“Sir?”

“It's hard to believe that they
built all of this without the use of force, without the need to
defend themselves, without worrying that someone would come and
take it from them. For all these years, they just sat here and
waited for us to arrive, and in the meantime they built us the
particle processor.”

“Everything is in the hands of the
Master of Light, Sir.”

“His ways are wondrous,” he
murmured the usual blessing absent-mindedly.

“This is another access point. It
leads down to the residential sphere, Sir.”

The residential sphere was tinted
in lighter colors and the spaces were smaller. When he peeked into
the rooms, he noticed the smells of people, of bed sheets and
cosmetics. He was surprised to discover that smell here. What did
he expect, he mused to himself, angels?

“The forces are ready and waiting
on the docks to enter at your command, Commander!” Flash's pale
face and sunken eyes were visible on the mobile audio-visual
display connected to Truth's wrist.

“Wait, Flash. I am still scouting
the station.” Truth retained his firm, calm composure on the
outside. 'Everything here is so orderly and calm,' he thought to
himself. 'I have never encountered such a place on Earth. I was
sure that there would be some sort of setup here, that at any
moment someone would jump out of the wall and attack us. I prefer
to see my enemy directly in front of me. Instead, I see only a few
Pythagoreans who did not even resist when their home was taken
over.'

“Commander, I do not believe in the
Pythagoreans' dedication to pacifism—” Flash tried to bring up the
issue once more.

“Hold on,” Truth cut him off.

“This is where we descend into the
processor sphere, Sir!” The soldier entered the wide tube. Truth
slid down behind him. The corridors in this sphere were smaller and
more arched. Because their field of vision was decreased due to the
winding corridors, he was completely surprised when they discovered
the bridge that led to the station's core. The beauty of the giant
orb mesmerized him: liquefied shining metals in a rainbow of colors
blended together without losing their distinct hues.

“Holy Master of Light,” he
whispered to the soldiers accompanying him as they too looked at
the liquid with fascination.

His heart pounded with excitement.
He was now closer than he had ever been to his purpose as redeemer.
'This is the chariot that will carry us into the heavenly
pleroma.'

“So this is the particle
processor!” he said after a short while. He turned to Shadow, who
was in charge of the badgers that had taken over the processor.
“You stay here with your forces. No one may leave or enter without
explicit permission from me.”

“Yes, Sir!” answered Shadow.

“Take me to the processor,” he
commanded his escorts.

“Follow me, Sir!”

Suddenly, the external spheres of
the station began to function again. The Gnostic soldiers froze in
horror at the sound of the harmonious melodies of the light
spheres. What sounded to him like rating noise did not stop Truth.
“Where is the module?”

“Your order has been filled.
Thunder and the technicians are stationed with the module in the
command sphere.”

“Stay alert. Flash!”

“Flash here.”

“The time has come. Instruct the
deployment of the additional forces in Samos' spheres.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Sophia and Enosh lay bound, their
mouths gagged, on the floor of the simulator. Smoke stood silently
next to them with the rest of the Gnostic soldiers.

“Pick her up,” ordered Truth.

Two badgers grabbed her and lifted
Sophia roughly to her feet. Enosh remained on the floor, watching
helplessly as the events unfolded around him.

“Flash, connect me to the general
audio-visual system,” said Truth. “I want to show all of the
Gnostic soldiers our moment of victory.”

“With all due respect, Sir, don't
you think we ought to move on with the module?”

“Connect them all!” he ordered.
Flash obeyed the order though he objected to Truth's show of
arrogance.

“Your station is in our hands,
Pythagorean,” said Truth as he ripped the sticker off of her
mouth.

Sophia stared at him. This was a
man who had murdered her people, who wanted to decimate the
universe, the man whose arrival she had been anticipating. With
incredible effort, she held back her anger and focused on the task
she must complete.

“Who is that?” Truth gestured with
his hand.

“Enosh the Socratic,” she
replied.

“Socratic?”

If looks could kill, Enosh's
expression would have pierced Samos as it passed through Truth's
gaze.

Truth turned to him with chilling
calmness. “If you are interested in killing somebody, ask Filan
which one of his business cronies sold us the secret location of
Samos. And you, cursed Pythagoreans, now you shall pay for your
sins. Orpheus would never have dreamed that his handiwork, the
zenith of Pythagorean technology, would fall like a ripe fruit into
Gnostic hands.”

“Cursed Orpheus,” Truth riled his
soldiers.

“Cursed Orpheus!

Cursed Orpheus!

Cursed Orpheus!” The audio-visual
filled with the voices of the soldiers watching the events.

Truth looked contemptuously at
Sophia.

“I have a right to be heard!” said
Sophia quietly but firmly.

“Silence, female!” Truth
interrupted her. “You no longer have any rights in this station.
Samos belongs to me.”

“You are obligated to allow me to
speak,” she insisted bravely.

“Take her from here immediately,”
he uttered with disdain.

“In the name of the Master of
Light, I have the right to face the Blood Challenge and speak
before you and before the Gnostic soldiers!” Sophia said
determinedly.

The Gnostic soldiers heard her
request on the audio-visual system. According to the Gnostic law,
anyone who wanted to take the Blood Challenge must not be barred
from doing so. Everyone knew that; that was their way. They
wondered if the commander would honor the ancient law in such a
circumstance.

Truth was taken aback. If this was
the case, then she was more prepared for their arrival than he had
anticipated. He thought hastily, frantically trying to get himself
out of the trap she had laid for him.

“We mustn't let her speak. The
Lilith will trick us,” whispered Flash.

“We mustn't?” muttered Truth
angrily.

“Forgive me, Commander. It is not
my place to be telling you what is allowed and what is
forbidden.”

“Know your place!” Truth
snapped.

“But still, Cap—“

Truth cut him off and addressed the
audio-visual device. He had no choice. “The Pythagorean believes
that she can withstand the Blood Challenge,” he said mockingly. “A
Pythagorean female!” He turned to her in disgust. “Do you want to
perform the ritual?”

“Certainly!” she replied.

“Bring the chickens!” commanded
Truth.

Flash was silent. He wanted to
protest but did not dare speak out against the commander. One of
the soldiers managed to navigate through the corridors of Samos to
the docking platform to one of the aircraft. He brought back a
slaughter knife and a cage containing two small black chickens.
They were intended to be used for Samos' purification ritual.

In his left hand, Truth grasped the
squawking chicken's neck and in his right he held the knife.
“Female, infidel, impure as you are: you don't stand a chance. Your
breaths are numbered,” he hissed.

Ever since Enosh had arrived at the
station and she had begun to clarify the circumstances of her life,
Sophia had sensed a gaping wound in her heart. Now, however, she
felt the healing presence of her father. He infused her with
courage. She was ready.

Truth wanted to finish the ritual
quickly and move on with his mission without any further delays.
“In the name of the Sacred Serpent, Master of Light,” he cried out
as he decapitated the chicken with his right hand. He immediately
pressed the severed neck to his lips, gulped the blood, and cast
the chicken to the floor along with the knife.

Truth ordered that Sophia be
released from her restraints. She picked up the knife from the
floor. Images and thoughts raced through her head: her father,
gripped with fear as he came to terms with his impending death; the
sympathy he must have felt toward the living creature that he was
about to kill; the regret that he had not withstood the Blood
Challenge; the words he wrote to her, imaging her in his mind's eye
as a mother before she had committed herself to a monastic life.
Could he have possibly imagined that she would one day face this
same test that he did? Sophia wanted to believe that it was so. She
saw her father standing before her, as if alive, encouraging her
wordlessly.

Everything depended on her at this
pivotal moment. She drew courage from Enosh's gaze and focused her
eyes on Truth, who looked down for a split second. She felt a deep
sense of peace.