Colt: The Cosmic Prayer (Hidria Book 1)

by Williams, Joseph

  Yet not a single soldier fired and Nuri ventured another two steps toward the commander without incident. They might have allowed him to creep even closer if he’d kept going, but he didn’t dare abandon his lone prospect of reliable cover just yet.

  “You’re not Hidria,” the commander said, eyeing him up and down.

  Nuri said nothing. He didn’t feel up to formulating an agreeable explanation of the trials or the transformative nature of knowing God. It wouldn’t do him any good in the short term, and in the long term, it would actively degrade his mind with the seconds and breaths he wasted on heathen alien ears.

  Recognizing that Nuri had no taste for argument, the commander handed his weapon to a nearby soldier and paced thoughtfully around him. “What brings you here?” he asked.

  “God,” Nuri answered.

  The alien scoffed but, likewise, didn’t argue.

  “We haven’t detected any other ships since we landed. How did you get here?”

  Nuri turned to stare into his mask. “God brought me here,” he said firmly. “Through Colt.”

  “What’s Colt?”

  He shook his head. “Not what. Who.”

  The alien commander gaped at him with arms folded over his chest. After a few moments, he started pacing again. This time, however, he wasn’t looking at Nuri at all. He was scanning the rows of grave-markers for some clue only he would recognize. “Are you here for her?”

  “For Colt?”

  “Is that what you call her?”

  Nuri frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “The Corpse Queen.”

  He stared at the alien blankly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  The commander stopped and turned back to regard him. “Are you here for the Corpse Queen?”

  Nuri shook his head. “No. I’ve never heard of the Corpse Queen. I’m here for God.” He took a moment to assess the soldiers’ reactions, many of whom had lowered their weapons with this new development. “I don’t even know what planet I’m on.”

  “Operandom,” the commander told him. “It’s the Dikoval word for ending place.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  A murmur rose from the soldiers, but the commander continued unperturbed. “There aren’t many visitors to Operandom, especially ones who don’t know where they are or how they arrived. Did your ship crash?”

  Nuri shook his head. “I told you. I came here for God, through God.”

  The alien stepped up so his face was within an inch of touching the Called armor plating, although Nuri still had to look down on the shorter creature. “What business does God have on Operandom?”

  Nuri shrugged. “None, as far as I can tell. Or plenty, depending on your faith in The Divine Incendiary. The Duri Masters still argue over the Divine’s obligation to the bodies of His departed souls.”

  “Duri?” the alien groaned. “Murderous imbeciles. So you do serve the Duri, then, even though you aren’t Hidria?”

  Once again, Nuri said nothing. He sensed that telling the truth would mean more trouble and lying would be an affront to God, particularly during His holy trials. He didn’t even bother correcting the heresy that the Hidria served the Duri. The Hidria served only God.

  “The Duri represent everything that’s wrong with this galaxy,” the alien declared. He raised his voice to a theatrical shout, although Nuri didn’t think he’d done so purposely. Many heathens were similarly riled up by the mention of Duri teachings, since the Called were a constant threat to their planets and customs. It had been a slow expansion by the Duri Masters, but with the support of human colonies throughout the galaxy, they’d quickly gained strength in key trade worlds as well as footholds in strategic communication relays. Enough to make examples of several smaller planets and civilizations with a few carefully orchestrated attacks.

  “Terrorists,” the alien continued. “Spewing fear and hate-speak to every world and killing any weak settlement that opposes them.” He turned back to Nuri, and though his face was covered by the atmosphere helmet, the creature’s derision was palpable. Nuri could feel his scowl through the darkened faceplate. “If you serve the Duri, it wasn’t any god that brought you here. It was slavery to a belief in supernatural drivel.” He stepped back to Nuri’s side and wrapped an arm over his shoulder. “You’re one of the Called then, aren’t you?”

  Nuri didn’t respond, but that was all the answer the alien needed.

  “How old were you when you were taken?” he asked quietly. The malice had abruptly vanished from his tone, replaced by sincere pity. The implication that Nuri had been trained against his will appeared to resonate with the commander.

  “Young,” Nuri answered stiffly. He didn’t like the alien’s arm over his shoulder, nor the condescending attitude which implied he was somehow a pitiful creature because the Duri chose him to carry out the will of the Divine Infinite.

  “They’ve brainwashed you,” the alien said, shaking his head slowly. “You’ve been misguided.”

  “I’ve chosen to follow the will of God. That doesn’t make me misguided.”

  “God doesn’t exist,” the alien countered, but softly enough that it was clear he hadn’t meant the assertion to spark further argument. Still, fury rose in Nuri’s chest unbidden. He fought back the urge to snap the alien’s neck and take his chances with the rest of the godless heathens on the cemetery planet. He’d dropped more enemies with heavier weaponry on his own before and could do it again, especially with the considerable rage he felt hearing the alien mock both God and the Duri faith.

  “Why are you here, then?” he asked sharply instead. “Why are you looking for a Corpse Queen?”

  Removing his hand from Nuri’s shoulder, the alien beckoned the subordinate holding his blaster. The weapon was promptly presented to him. “My people are at war,” he said. “We’re losing. Badly.” A few soldiers flinched at the frank assessment of their dire situation. The movement was subtle, yet still telling to Nuri’s trained eye. They were desperate. The cemetery planet must have represented one final opportunity to alter their fates before they were enslaved or exterminated by their enemies.

  They’re all going to die, Nuri thought. Otherwise, a man who condemns God as superstition wouldn’t be walking among the dead searching for a Corpse Queen to change his fortune.

  His expression softened. The annihilation of a species was always troubling. The alien commander may have considered him a pitiful creature for growing up in a forced faith, but Nuri found his situation much more pitiful. Seeking knowledge of God was a nobler pursuit than seeking out the dark magic of a dead witch. Just by searching for her presence and meddling with evil forces, the entire squad had assured themselves swift passage to Tscharia once they were reduced to dust by their enemies.

  “If we find the Corpse Queen and raise her from the grave, she will serve us in the war. No mere army can stand against her.”

  “An army of God can stand against anything,” Nuri countered. “You should repent your sinful ways and pray for salvation from the Divine Infinite instead. If you seek help from your witch, she will fail. You will all burn in Tscharia.”

  The soldiers laughed cruelly (a little too quickly and cruelly by Nuri’s reckoning), but he sensed unease among them. Mistrust, even, as though some of the soldiers weren’t as devoted to the cause or convinced of the mission’s merit as the commander believed.

  Maybe the commander himself has his doubts.

  The alien watched him closely as the laughter died down among the others. He was trying to decide whether he should take the suggestion seriously or if Nuri was merely mocking him under the guise of naivety. “God doesn’t exist,” the alien reiterated flatly. “Tscharia doesn’t exist. You’ve been brainwashed and I don’t have time to make you see the light.”

  “Nor do I.”

  The alien nodded. “Then at least we agree that we don’t have time to be enemies, although I could have had my warriors kill you by now. I’d rathe
r let you live so you can learn your way out of your foolish beliefs on your own.”

  “I appreciate the gesture,” Nuri said, though he felt anything but appreciative for the mockery of his beliefs.

  “However, I can’t let you off on your own,” the alien continued. “I’m not foolish enough to take that risk. If you want to live, you’ll have to come with us. Once we find the Corpse Queen, you can go back to wandering this horrid place as it pleases you.”

  Nuri scowled. “I won’t take part in searching out agents of the Evil One unless the aim is to kill them.”

  “She’s already dead,” the alien pointed out. “And besides, you don’t have any choice. The alternative is we open fire on you here and now. And I doubt even a Called soldier could escape three dozen blaster bolts aimed at his head fast enough to stay alive.”

  Nuri raised an eyebrow defiantly and held the alien’s stare. “You might be surprised.”

  The tension held for a moment, then the alien stepped back and clapped his hands together. “You’re strong,” he said. “The Duri train their murderers well. I’ll grant them that. But we both know that you’re coming with us. You can be a conscientious objector if you would like. If it makes you feel better, you can tell yourself that you’re being forced, and you’ll be correct.”

  Heathens! his Duri Master said. You cannot search for this dead harlot with them! You have been called to a higher purpose!

  Nuri said nothing. Two alien soldiers bound his wrists and confiscated his weapons. His jaw clenched as they carelessly tossed his deactivated laser blade into a hovering crate of supplies they’d concealed behind a tombstone, but at least none of the creatures had defiled the holy weapon with their curious, heathen hands.

  You’re allowing yourself to be distracted, Colt said. The sound of her voice inside his head was startling after so much vocalized conversation with the alien. The Duri Master had spoken up since then, but the strength of that voice was fading the further Nuri was removed from the onset of the trials. He wasn’t sure if that meant he was falling further and further from God or further and further from reality, although he acknowledged the two possibilities were not mutually exclusive. You’ve lost sight of the true path of God. You’ve lost His voice and His teachings.

  You said it yourself, he countered. I don’t have a choice.

  Colt’s voice fell silent again, although this time he suspected it was because she’d left him to ponder her admonishment and meditate on the true purpose of the trials. His outlook and the trials themselves had certainly ventured down a different road than he’d expected when he’d eagerly dove into the ancient structure, the place where he’d symbolically offered the severed head of the Evil One to the Watchman as both an insult and a threat.

  I was quoting scripture then, Nuri recalled as the soldiers led him roughly down the aisle to an unknown gravesite. Scriptures and Duri dogma. I’ve been too preoccupied with myself and the perceived dangers of the illusory world around me to remember why I’m here.

  You say you’re here for God, the Duri Master agreed, and yet you have forgotten your purpose. These are nothing but hollow words for you now.

  He swallowed and closed his eyes, surrendering to the direction of the alien warriors to meditate on his selfish fall from his Duri Master’s teachings. There was a rebellious voice buried deep within him that protested that all Duri words were just that: hollow, pointless, self-glorifying words, and he was an imbecile to follow them.

  A younger, foolish self, he thought, suppressing the rebel who’d considered betraying the Duri Masters on countless missions while he was an adolescent. Through trust in God, I have seen the light of faith. I will never stray again.

  His foot knocked the edge of a tombstone and he was yanked roughly back to the center of the aisle.

  “Watch yourself,” his alien guide snapped.

  He offered no apology.

  Those of faith will be delivered from the hands of the Wicked, and the Wicked shall see the awful glory of God through His swift retribution. Do not trouble over the hour of your death, for the Lord will not permit the unholy to take the life of one of His precious emissaries.

  It was a common Duri prayer that was to be spoken in times of capture and despair. The words normally stirred Nuri to the verge of tears, but on Operandom, he’d forced his body to become inhuman. There were no tears or breath for him to waste on pointless sentimentality.

  “Do you have any idea where you’re going?” he called to the alien commander.

  “The way will reveal itself,” he responded without turning from the holographic map he studied as he walked.

  “That seems a lot of faith in the supernatural for someone who claims God and Tscharia do not exist.”

  Something caught the commander’s attention before he could respond. The bait Nuri had lain was left untouched.

  Distraction yet again, Colt scolded him. A religious or philosophical debate at this point would only delay you.

  Ironic, he countered, considering you, yourself, are a distraction designed to cloud my thoughts from the Divine Infinite.

  If that is how you understand my purpose, then you are a hopeless case. You will never be Hidria.

  You claim that I already am.

  “Spread out in groups of four,” the commander shouted to his troops. “We’re running out of time.”

  The soldiers began to separate wordlessly as the commander cursed and slammed his fist on the door to a large mausoleum, splintering the Khduovian wood. Along with splinters of bark, Nuri noticed bits of blue light piercing the toxic atmosphere from beyond the door. Immediately, he knew that Colt was inside.

  “I know where you can find your Corpse Queen,” he shouted to the commander as two more alien guards pulled him down another row of headstones.

  Lying is an affront to God, the Duri Master told him.

  Is it still an affront to God if I lie to perform His will?

  He knew that if he could infiltrate the mausoleum and find the portal Colt concealed within, he could leave the planet entirely and be transported to yet another reality. Even if it didn’t bring him any closer to finding God on Prime, he wouldn’t needlessly waste any more time with the doomed aliens or their sacrilegious quest. If lying was the only way he could resume his mission for the good of his soul—and, potentially, the good of the galaxy so long as he passed the trials—then it would have to be a lesser sin.

  We are all sinners, Colt reminded him.

  The commander turned and approached him slowly, clearly erring on the side of caution while he worked out whether he believed Nuri or if the human was merely distracting them out of spite. “I thought you said you’d never heard of her.”

  “I haven’t, but I can see that she’s in this mausoleum,” he told the alien, nodding towards the splintered door.

  The commander glanced back where Nuri was pointing and shook his head. “You’re lying.”

  “I see blue smoke curling out from the doorway,” he said quietly. “She’s in there.”

  Without turning, the alien motioned for two of his soldiers and pointed them toward the mausoleum. “Check it,” he told them.

  What if they search it first and can’t find her? Then the lie will be for nothing.

  “I can check it for you,” Nuri said. “If you can’t see the smoke in front of that door, then I doubt you’ll see the signs of her inside, either.”

  The alien nodded as though he’d had the same thought and had merely waited for Nuri to suggest it on his own, then pointed to the splintered door and pushed the small of his back. “It doesn’t hurt to look,” he explained, more for the benefit of the murmuring soldiers, Nuri suspected, than himself.

  The soldiers made way for Nuri as he trudged ahead of them through the toxic atmosphere and descended three steps to the mausoleum’s entrance.

  “Go with him,” the commander directed two aliens standing near the doorway. “Keep your blasters on him.”

  Nuri glared at th
e alien commander, yet he didn’t blame him for taking precautions against deceit, especially considering deceit was exactly what he planned once he stepped through the doorway.

  Too risky to move right away, he thought. They’ll be expecting it. Better to wait until their guard is down, then take these two out and bar the door.

  He stepped through the narrow doorway (clearly built for a taller, thinner species than either one currently inhabiting the planet) and tried to clear his head while his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Colt had been through the mausoleum—he could feel it—but her trail had gone cold. He supposed she’d purposely diminished to get him to cooperate with the aliens though he did not understand why. Still, he held out hope that he’d find another doorway into the ancient, labyrinthine temple so he could continue his path toward Prime and God.

  You don’t even know where you’re going, Colt mocked.

  He ignored her voice and tried to focus on her presence.

  “She’s not down here,” one of the soldiers reported back to the commander.

  “Hold on,” Nuri told him.

  He opened his eyes. He could barely make out a thin trace of billowing, blue smoke from the back of the building, but it was there. The sight of her essence made his muscles clench. “There,” he said, pointing toward the smoke. “Do you see it?”

  The soldiers moved forward with blasters drawn, examining the air in the mausoleum in all directions so closely that Nuri could tell they couldn’t perceive it. “There’s nothing,” the first one said. “He’s lying.”

  The commander appeared in the doorway and looked in at them, shining a light from a spherical object that had materialized on the right forearm of his suit.

  “I’m not lying,” Nuri told him, holding his hands up to show he wasn’t attempting a quick play for freedom.

  At least, not in the way he thinks.

  “Show me what you see,” the alien responded.

  He didn’t seem as skeptical as the other soldiers, Nuri noticed, and that would at least buy him enough time to figure out what Colt wanted him to see in the mausoleum if he couldn’t find a doorway back to the ancient temple.