Our Contest

by Phillip Murrell

  Abel stands from his throne and gives his Templars a standing ovation. Claire quickly joins him and has Iris film it all. Leebuch also stands and, once she does, all Malignant follow. Kimmy jumps back and drops her hatchet by the unanimous movement.

  Leebuch gestures for them to quiet down.

  “Relax, Templars. We are all friends here now. Our Contest is finally over.”

  The Malignant, Flaimeson, and Millantra cheer excitedly.

  “Who has claimed my bridge?” Leebuch asks.

  Flaimeson beams at the news, but he gestures toward Votary to take the honor. Votary in turn points to Gallery and Knight Terror as they’re brought in on stretchers. Both are conscious and smile.

  “They did this,” Votary says as he points at the first wave of Templars.

  “We wouldn’t have been able to do it without your hard training sessions,” Dante counters with his long bident tucked under his arm.

  This starts a humorous exchange as each Templar attempts to pass the honor to the next. Claire gleefully collects it all but tells herself to remember to obscure their faces for her audience.

  “I’ll accept the surrender,” Claire jokes.

  Leebuch looks at her. “Then you have my unconditional surrender. I hypothesize we can consider you a Templar just as we do the others.”

  “I’ll say we can,” Smith hollers.

  Claire smiles as she realizes her joke led to the end of the galaxy’s longest war. She hopes none of the Templars mind. She gets the feeling they don’t.

  “Now that that’s over, I believe it’s time for Claire to go home. We’ll bring her back, but she deserves to celebrate with her loved ones more than most,” Abel says.

  “I can stay, Father,” Claire protests.

  “It’s Abel, please. I know that Benji needs you now. It would be cruel to delay it.”

  “So, you’re asking me to choose between reporting on the biggest story of all lifetimes or to go to the man I love?” Claire says.

  “What if you arrived in style?” Abel asks. “Votary, take Claire to one of the escape pods and program it to land in Colberton. Her arrival will give her the hero’s welcome she deserves.”

  “At once, Father,” Votary responds.

  Claire is thrilled at the opportunity to return to Earth, especially in a spaceship, and allows Votary to escort her to a nearby escape pod.

  As they exit the bridge, Claire is surprised by how few Malignant are still in the halls. On Earth, the celebrations will go on for weeks, but the Malignant just gave the equivalent of three cheers, then went back to work.

  Aliens.

  “I’m glad you’re still alive,” Votary says, breaking the silence.

  “The same to you,” Claire responds. “How many times have you saved my life?”

  “I don’t keep track.”

  Claire laughs. “Was that a joke?”

  “No.”

  “Just glad to get me out of your hair, huh . . .”

  Claire pauses in the middle of her sentence. Votary doesn’t seem to notice or care.

  “Wait,” Claire says.

  She stops walking of her own will, but Votary’s grip on her arm drags her down the hall. He releases her when he seems to realize what he’s doing.

  “Please come, Claire. We’ll have you back up here. I promise you. Benji needs you.”

  “Why am I being kicked out?” Claire asks.

  “You aren’t.”

  “I can tell when people want the press gone. I didn’t realize it at first, but that’s what Abel just did. He got rid of the press.”

  Claire motions with her head at Iris floating behind her.

  “Why are we leaving?”

  “They have business to discuss.”

  “Then why aren’t you a part of it?” Votary doesn’t respond. Claire presses her point. “Votary, why didn’t Leebuch have someone who actually works on this ship escort me? It makes no sense for Abel to have sent you.”

  Votary still doesn’t respond. Claire knows he’s considering her opinion.

  “Perhaps we should go back . . . together,” Votary eventually says.

  Claire has to jog to keep up with the quick strides Votary uses to close the distance back to the bridge. The two charge in, and Claire sees yet another bewildering alien sight.

  All the furniture is gone. No terminals, no chairs, no throne, not even a single smoky black rock. It’s all gone. The crew of the bridge, along with the Templars, all stand in a U-shaped formation along the perimeter of the bridge. Gone are their armor. Each person stands in a comfort suit. Claire only knows this because she can see scraps of them poking through behind metal binders wrapped around them. Even Leebuch is restrained. Fear, hatred, and confusion sit on their faces.

  In the center of the formation, wearing a dingy gray hoodie, is Abel. He frowns as he sees Claire walk back inside with Votary.

  “I really wanted to spare you this ugliness, Claire. I am sorry,” Abel admits.

  “Father, what is all of this?” Votary asks as he spreads his hands.

  “Before I answer that,” Abel says as he points at Claire, “I strongly suggest that you stay out of the way. I do not want you to die, but I do not care if you do.”

  The callousness in Abel’s voice wounds Claire. This isn’t the same person who was here when they left moments before.

  “I won’t move,” Claire meekly states.

  “Good.” Abel turns his attention back to Votary. “This is my celebration.”

  “I don’t understand, Father?”

  “You are going to kill me now,” Abel says.

  “What? No! I wouldn’t. I would never.”

  Abel holds up a hand. It ends Votary’s protests.

  “Take a look around at your peers,” Abel says. “They are held by my power, but underneath them are Truncanian pressure release mines. If they step up, they die. If you do not kill me inside of ten minutes, they die. All your friends. Just strike me down.”

  Votary paces at the entryway.

  “What did I do, Father? Why are you displeased with me?”

  “Votary, I am 52,934 years old. My parents were lost when I was only 917. I tried to live on. I really have, but you people are pathetic. You squabble like children. I do not just mean Earthlings. I mean all of you.” Abel turns as he gestures to his Malignant captives. “All of you are ISH. I am the only real person.”

  “I can’t kill you, Father. I don’t have that power.”

  “You do. I know you do. In all my life only one being could hurt me. His name was Baldr. He was my friend. For some reason, his purity stopped my augmentation. I knew I had to find one of his descendants. It took millennia to find this planet, then centuries more to find you. Your power is as unique as his. You are the only person who can kill me.”

  Claire can hear the tears interrupting Votary’s speech. He clearly loved Abel, and this is the worst kind of psychological wound.

  “I love you, Father.”

  “But you should not. I have manipulated you your entire life. I got your family to move to Colberton. I ensured your parents died when you were just six. I convinced you the world was a terrifying place and pushed you well past your limits to ensure you could survive the rigors of this war.”

  “Why? Why, if all you wanted to do was get me to kill you?”

  “I felt I owed you that much. The Malignant would have destroyed this planet without my intervention. I thought it would be a fair trade, but I knew you would have to experience loss.”

  “What, Father?”

  “It hurt losing your fellow Templars. Perhaps if they had their relics, it would not have been so. I purposefully held back tools and only introduced them to you when I felt you needed support. Then I made sure you were often somewhere else when I knew a weaker Templar would fai
l. Sir Stretch, Constructor, the first wave of this very attack. They died because I let them.”

  Smith screams into the binder that covers his mouth. The hate in his eyes indicates his support in Votary giving Abel his request. Votary paces as he fights his own demons at the relentless revelations.

  “Father, I don’t believe you.”

  “Then believe this. Earth’s gravitational pull is grabbing all the debris from the boreship and those around it. They will still destroy the planet. I could move them away, but I will not until you attack me.”

  “You lie,” Votary accuses.

  Explosions erupt from outside the Womb. The view screen shows that Abel destroyed two more Malignant cruisers and pushed the debris straight toward Earth.

  “You have maybe thirty seconds before thousands more die from your hesitation.”

  “Stop it!” Votary screams.

  “That is what your mother screamed when I peeled the flesh from your father’s body and fed it to her.”

  Votary draws his escrima sticks.

  “Fuck you, Abel!” Votary screams.

  “Indeed,” Abel calmly states.

  Votary charges Abel. Abel opens his arms and welcomes it. The view screen shows all debris vanish from space. Claire wishes Votary luck in what he’s about to do.

  The first escrima stick cracks Abel in the face. His skin peels and oozes blood from the thorns. Votary drops to a knee and swings his other baton at Abel’s knee. The bone cracks. Abel screams. He wobbles backwards and puts both hands into the front pockets of his hoodie.

  “Wait!” Abel shrieks.

  He sounds terrified. Like many suicide victims, he apparently decided that he’s changed his mind. Votary doesn’t appear to be listening. Claire shuts off Iris, but she forces herself to witness the attack.

  Abel’s hands come free of his pocket; he holds a pair of marbles. The one in his right hand transforms into a flail with an apple shape. The same weapon Karen had moments before dying as Compel. The one in his left hand elongates into a deadly spear. Abel swings the flail at Votary and tears off the light gray drone on his left shoulder after Votary leans into the attack. Abel also thrusts with his spear at Votary’s chest. Alpha ejects and catches the spear. By separating from Votary, the durable drone spares Votary an agonizing death. Four inches of the spear enter Votary’s left side as Alpha sparks and deactivates.

  Votary stumbles backwards. Abel tries to run away and get out of Votary’s negation bubble. The injury to Abel’s knee makes him move too slowly, and Votary catches him from behind. The Templar tackles Abel and smashes his face into the orange Malignant floor. Votary grabs a fistful of Abel’s hair and smashes his face two more times.

  Votary grimaces and grabs his left side. Claire sees crimson drops spill from ebony flesh exposed by the damaged armor. Abel rolls onto his back as Votary straddles him. Abel is defeated. He seems once more to be at peace with his form of suicide.

  “I love you, S—” Abel begins.

  Votary cuts him off when he wraps both hands around Abel’s throat and squeezes. Abel struggles for several moments. His body changes as the strangulation continues. Abel transitions from the Asian youth whom Claire is familiar with to a white male in his forties. Abel’s age drastically increases as his life force seeps out. By the time the struggle ends, Abel is a wrinkled corpse. The world’s oldest man finally looks it in death.

  Votary slowly stands. He grips his left side and keeps pressure on his open wound. He glances down at Abel’s body and stomps onto his face. Abel’s head flattens under the weight of Votary’s boot.

  Claire watches as the metal bindings on the prisoners disappear. The bombs beneath them deactivate rather than explode as the time limit expires.

  “Traitor!” Flaimeson screams.

  Votary slowly turns as his former ally spear tackles him. Flaimeson is unarmored, and the attack appears to hurt his shoulder when he collides with Votary. Votary reverses the grip and brings down his fist onto Flaimeson’s face. The Malignant spy turned Templar ally dies under the armor-enhanced strength of Votary.

  “Enough!” Leebuch screams.

  No other individuals move toward Votary. He slowly stands and sways from his injury.

  Leebuch wipes tears from her eyes. Many other Malignant do the same. The joy of just moments before is gone.

  “I will not attempt to comprehend Father’s actions. Nor do I blame you for yours, but you are no longer welcomed on any of my vessels,” Leebuch says.

  “What does that mean?” Votary asks through pained breaths.

  “It means you are exiled to Earth. You may never leave it. If you stay, we will not molest you. If you depart. You will die.”

  “At least give him some medical attention first!” Kimmy shouts.

  “No,” Leebuch says.

  “Fair enough,” Votary says. “I’m through with alien games.”

  Smith and Kimmy rush Votary. Kimmy places her hands on his stomach, but nothing happens.

  “I’m sorry,” Kimmy says.

  “It’s not your fault,” Votary answers.

  The other Templars swarm, too, and try to provide emotional support to their team leader. He allows it.

  When they release him, Votary pulls a tube from one of his waist compartments. He aims the nozzle at his injury and sprays a controlled blast of adhesive to his wound. It will hopefully prevent him from bleeding out.

  “You should not be here,” Leebuch commands.

  Votary uses Smith’s strong back to help him walk through the hallways. Claire rushes behind and also helps him. Votary chuckles at the attention.

  “That’s enough. Just these two.”

  The other Templars grumble but allow Votary the peace to leave.

  Father Tom enters the church that he used to call home. He wears blue jeans and a plain green t-shirt. Inside his church he watches with sympathy as regular parishioners take turns reading from the Bible. Father Rich apparently never returned after he fled a few weeks earlier.

  All heads turn to face Father Tom, and he becomes aware that people are staring at him. He pats his outfit.

  “I apologize for my attire, but God doesn’t have a dress code.”

  Father Tom’s hope swells when he hears the polite laughter from people who used to respect him.

  “Would you care to read, Father Tom?” the woman at the podium asks.

  “Nothing would give me more joy,” Father Tom says.

  He holds back his tears as the assembled give him a standing ovation. He takes his place at the front of the congregation.

  Father Tom clears his throat.

  “What an exciting day,” Father Tom says.

  He’s answered with sniffles. The Malignant left just a few hours after attacking, but the devastation will take years to repair. The psychological damage may never go away.

  “I don’t want to read from the Bible just yet. I want to speak about humanity first. I’m humbled by your reception of me. It was difficult to come back here, but after the Malignant attacked, I knew I had to. I wanted to know how many of my friends needed me. The answer is simple; all of us need each other right now.”

  Heads nod. The people accept him again. He looks for the familiar faces of the past two years. Many are absent. Father Tom hopes it’s from moving or hiding and not from death. The coming weeks will reveal which faces belong in each pool.

  “Humanity is what we need to rebuild. Amazing things happened tonight. We must rebuild together. If we can use this evening as a way to make us finally accept each other as brothers and sisters, it’s ultimately the good day that God intended.”

  Father Tom stumbles over his words and frowns after saying some, but he allows the Holy Spirit to give him the inspiration to let the words flow without filtration.

  “God wants us to love one another, and I’
m not referring to a powerful augment named Abel.”

  Father Tom picks up the Bible on the podium.

  “The God of this book is the only true God.”

  “Amen,” someone says from the pews.

  It makes Father Tom smile. He’s home again.

  “Now, why don’t we play a game of Bible lottery and find a passage?”

  The parishioners laugh as Father Tom literally thumbs through the pages until a young child tells him to stop.

  Father Tom smiles at the passage.

  “Matthew 13:13. I swear I didn’t plan this.”

  The laughter is louder than it should be. The cathartic moment prompts this.

  “Therefore, speak I to them in parables: because they seeing see not; and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand.”

  Father Tom searches for another child to select a random passage.

  “Here we are,” Smith announces as he randomly swipes at smoke from a vapor board until the door slides open.

  “I had Flaimeson make me one of these,” Votary says as he reveals a keyboard from a leg compartment. “It wirelessly connects, but it lets me use actual keys.”

  “I should have thought of that,” Smith says. “Are you going to be alright?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Votary says before a fit of coughs overwhelms him.

  “We’ll see you again, right, Votary?” Claire asks.

  Votary stands inside the escape pod.

  “My friends call me Toby,” Votary says before closing the door.

  Smith and Claire are left in shock as the vessel departs from the Womb and flies to Earth.

  Votary’s capsule speeds toward Earth. He computes coordinates to take him to his home. The flight will take a few hours. He hopes he’ll make it.

  Claire’s report is played over every television on the planet as she explains what happened.