Hell Ship

by Philip Palmer

  I realised that he truly wanted me to believe him; and I marvelled at the pettiness of this creature, in thus trying to win the affection and respect of his own slave.

  The following day I remembered the words of Minos when I woke.

  All around me, my fellow giant sentients were lost in dreamless sleep. I alone was awake. But something was different. I felt-I felt And then I rose up and walked.

  I walked! And slithered; then I expanded my cape; and I spoke:

  “My name is Sai-ias,” I said. And no one could hear me, so I said it again:

  “My name is Sai-ias, and I am free.”

  My tentacles were mine to command; I could speak freely. And I could fly, if I so desired, wherever the winds might take me.

  The next day was the same.

  And the next day.

  And the next. Free!

  When my fellow sentients woke, I acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. I acted as they did; I spoke as though possessed by a Ka’un. I ate like a savage. I did not converse. During exercises, I was as brutal as I had always been.

  Later, I journeyed from one end of the hangar bay to the other where the Kindred dwelled, just to see what it was like. It was not in fact so very different; except that the Kindred slept on wooden benches, and the stench of their unwashed bodies was ripe and disgusting.

  When challenged by a Kindred warrior about my presence there, I said I was carrying a message to a particular Kindred chief who I knew had died during our last combat. I was told he had died in combat, so I snorted rudely, and made my way back to my end of the hangar bay, where the giant sentients were lodged.

  At the end of that long day I lay down and slept with them; or rather, pretended to sleep.

  It was, I knew, imperative that no one should know of my state of freedom. For there was no-one here who could be trusted. The Kindred were pure evil; the giant sentients mere puppets.

  And I wondered how this had happened. Was it a mere accident? Or was Minos playing with me? Or perhaps trying to win my confidence and trust? But if so-why?

  And I wondered too what I would do when the time for battle came again. Would I reveal myself as the true Sai-ias by refusing to fight, and be entrapped once more? Or would I fight, and slay, and hence keep my freedom for a little while longer?

  And hearing that thought in my mind, Minos spoke:

  You must fight, Minos said. For my crew know nothing of my gift to you, and they must never learn. But this will not be for ever. This terrible state of affairs will not last for ever. Trust me, Sai-ias; I implore you, trust me!

  I did not know whether to believe him, or to trust him; but at least I knew part of the truth. This, my state of freedom, was Minos’s doing.

  And I realised too that Minos had come to rely upon me, and perhaps even to like me, for reasons both strange and mystifying. For he spoke to me, and to no other. He gave me the freedom of my limbs, as a gift with no prior or subsequent conditions. He was the captain, the master of this vessel-the king in effect of all the Ka’un. And I was his favourite!

  And over the weeks that followed, with Minos’s voice in my head, I learned so much about this ship and our captors. Minos confided in me as if we were long-established friends; as if we were equals! He told me that his ship had the power to travel between different universes, not just between stars, though I did not comprehend his explanation of this. He told me also of the sad history of his people, and their war with the evil Parakka. And he told me how he and his crew had yearned to make a fresh start, in some new universe or other. But they were never, because of the folly of others, able to do so.

  There were only a handful of Ka’un still surviving, Minos admitted. Once the ship had held thousands of their kind but war and natural disasters had thinned their numbers. But only the extremest acts of violence could kill their self-regenerating bodies; they could not die of old age. That salvation, he said bitterly, was denied them.

  Many times, he also admitted, the Hell Ship had come close to destruction. It had been blown up, hurled into a sun, beset with metal-eating viruses, bombed with un-matter, and in a myriad other ways savaged and brutalised. Each time the ship-which is organic and living, in some way I cannot fathom-has reformed itself. And the Tower itself has always remained intact. The Tower, he told me, was the replica of a sacred building upon his own home world; The Tower of the Living Saviour, which for some reason he reverenced.

  For many years, I had believed the Ka’un to be immortal. But no. They can be killed. And many have been, over the aeons.

  And those that survive are few. They are tired. Their hopes and dreams have all died. Their loves and desires have decayed into distant memories.

  And Minos, I believe, after all these aeons, is beginning to regret the many terrible things he has done.

  Sai-ias?

  I am here.

  Tell me of your art.

  Art? Why do you ask? My people have no art!

  None? No poetry? No paintings? No sculpture?

  Our life is our art.

  Minos laughed; a sound that made my head throb.

  Good reply.

  We believe each child born is a work of art; thus, we raise it to be pure and true and beautiful of spirit.

  Even better.

  I did not know what painting was until I came to the Hell Ship.

  You have gained something then, in your time here. A ray of hope to be found in your otherwise dismal plight!

  You taunt me.

  Forgive me-I was merely teasing you. I am allowed to tease, am I not? I was an artist you see. I painted with-flame, I suppose you would say. With my own body. I was considered to be a genius.

  And then you became a warrior.

  I had no choice. I often dream, you know, of giving it all up. Going back to my art.

  Giving “it” all up?

  You disapprove.

  You destroy worlds!

  I can’t bear you to disapprove of me Sai-ias.

  You are a murderer.

  I care about you. You are my friend. I sometimes think you are my only friend.

  You are a monster!

  Perhaps I was. But I can change. You can help me change.

  Can I?

  I would like you to.

  Then-you must surrender the ship to its captives. And if you do, we will be merciful to you. This I pledge; you have the word of Sai-ias!

  You know I can’t do that, you sweet-souled beast. I wouldn’t be allowed to do such a thing! Lyraii and Darol would not permit it. You don’t understand what leadership is. You cannot be a leader if others do not follow.

  Even so, you must do what you can, Minos. The killing and the destroying of worlds must come to an end.

  I agree.

  You agree?

  You have persuaded me. We can change. I can change. We can wage peace instead of war! If you help me, Sai-ias. Only if you help me!

  How do I know I can believe you?

  You have to trust me. As I trust you. Do you trust me Sai-ias?

  Yes, I thought at him; yes, I do!

  Minos’s pledge was extraordinary; but for me, it came as no surprise.

  For I have always believed in certain fundamental truths: that love is more powerful than evil. And that even the worst and cruellest sinners can be redeemed, and brought to virtue. That is my faith and my philosophy.

  For a sentient soul is not a fixed and immutable thing; it can grow, evolve, become better and wiser, as truth and love are absorbed by it. And my kind pride ourselves on our ability to turn dark souls into bright souls; to leach out evil and encourage good. I was telling the truth when I advised Minos that for us, life is art; we have raised up many species into noble sentience, and of this we are proud.

  And as for Minos-the new, kinder, peace-loving, spiritually redeemed Minos-perhaps his transformation may be considered my own and greatest “work of art?”

  Minos’s voice was in my head every time I woke from dreamless sleep.
Wake Sai-ias, it’s me!

  And it was there when I trained in the arts of war with my fellow giant sentients: Well fought, Sai-ias, I am proud of you!-Bravo Sai-ias!-Deftly done, Sai-ias, you are a marvel! And it was there too for long portions of the day, all day long.

  Here’s a thought, Sai-ias… Have you ever wondered, Sai-ias, if… Won’t it be marvellous, Sai-ias, when…

  I wondered how he had time to run his ship, so many hours did he spend with me!

  It was clear that Minos relished my company. He depended on me. He loved to tease me and joke with me, and he savoured my mockery in return. He came to regard me-yes, I’m not afraid to say it-as his friend.

  I suspected that Minos had experienced precious little companionship and no love since the Hell Ship began its long terrible journey through the universes. His fellow Ka’un were desiccated-literally withered with age, hence the black skins-and empty of soul. They rarely spoke to him. They had no fondness for him, or for each other. Friendship was an emotion most of them had forgotten.

  And so, for many aeons, Minos’s life had been barren and entirely empty of joy.

  Perhaps, then, my role was to fill that void?

  I learned too that Minos hated with all his being the pursuing alien ship that so nearly destroyed us. He called it the Nemesis; and, he told me, it nearly wrecked the Hell Ship once before, in a battle that took place in Nemesis’s own universe.

  But the Nemesis was gone now; the Hell Ship had successfully eluded it for the second time. And Minos was resolved never to fall into the same trap again. He will if necessary, he has told me, remain in this current universe for ever, once we have formed an alliance with and befriended the native sentients.

  I could be happy in this universe, I have decided. Space was not black here-it shone with a rainbow coloured radiance from the light of trillions of closely packed suns. The planets were plentiful and many were wondrous beautiful, for most had rings that shimmered in the sunslight. And the entire universe was straddled by an asteroid trail that stretched between a hundred thousand stellar systems, like a river between the stars.

  Are you ready for this?

  I am ready.

  I am so proud of you, Sai-ias. Today, everything will change!

  This was indeed a major turning point in my relationship with Minos; and indeed, in the history of the Hell Ship. For my role on this next mission was to be not a warrior, but an ambassador on behalf of the Ka’un!

  As Minos had explained to me, instead of waging war, this time he and his fellow Ka’un were going to negotiate a fair and lasting peace with the peoples of this universe. Here, they will make their home. And in time, so he pledged, the captives on the ship would be liberated. All this Minos had promised me.

  My joy knew no bounds!

  Our first port of call was a planet populated by one of the three most successful spacefaring sentients in this sector of the universe we were inhabiting. These creatures were airborne flat-creatures-sessiles who had discovered the power of flight, and had then become sentient. And now their entire civilisation hovered above the ground, in the clouds and above mountain peaks.

  The Ka’un’s miniature cameras flew down to the planet and showed me images of floating towers of a soft soapy substance moulded into flying palaces-a sublime creation from these rare and strange beings.

  I called the creatures ShiBo, because they reminded me of the flying plants of my own home planets. I yearned to befriend them. I have faith in you, Minos said, inspiringly. Go and speak to these creatures, and tell them we want to be their friends.

  I shall do so, Minos; and I shall make you proud of me. I could hardly believe how much had changed in the last few months! For the first time in many centuries, I was no longer sad. I felt my life had a purpose.

  And that purpose was to make peace with the ShiBo.

  The Hell Ship itself was rendered invisible, by means I did not fathom; and I arrived in the ShiBo stellar system in an illusory vessel at the forefront of an imaginary fleet.

  It was important, Minos told me, to create the illusion of massive force, in order to pre-empt aggression. Imagine, Minos had whispered softly, that you are visited by a single alien spaceship from a place of which you knew nothing. Wouldn’t you be tempted to lash out with a pre-emptive strike?

  No, I had replied.

  Perhaps not, Minos had conceded. But many would be so tempted. Fear of the unknown is the commonest emotion among all the sentient species we have encountered. And a single ship-that’s both to be feared, and easily defeated. Too great a temptation. So our mock fleet will help us in our road to peace.

  The mock fleet was flanked with battle cruisers the size of gas giants. It would indeed be a crazed species that launched an attack on forces so entirely overwhelming.

  We arrived and broadcast a message of peace in the language of the ShiBo, which our advance party robot spies had already recorded, and the Ka’un had somehow translated.

  The response was immediate. All the lights on the planet of ShiBo went out, for ten seconds; this was their signal for “Let us negotiate.”

  It was a phenomenal accomplishment; there was no artificial light on the ShiBo planet, but the plants were bioluminescent. The ShiBo had the power to switch their planet’s vegetation off at will.

  In the game of power, that was a point to them.

  I was accompanied by an escort of myself-a dozen illusory versions of me, subtly distinguished to make us seem like different beings. This one had a blacker hide; that version was larger; another version had blue eyes not scarlet, and so forth. We also wore body armour partially covering our segments, and a breathing apparatus was attached to our bodies.

  I was alone on this mission, with no Kindred, and no other giant sentients in the landing party. And I was-still-free. I could move my own limbs, I could speak; I was not subject to any coercion. I was doing all this of my own free will.

  Our landing craft departed from the mother ship, and we slowly cruised down out of orbit. As we-I and the other Sai-iases-entered their atmosphere in our landing craft, ShiBo jet planes provided us with an escort; these were robot controlled, ovoid in shape, with no visible weaponry. However, apparently-according to Minos’s research, which was thorough-each plane could dispatch a thousand bombs, each of which was powerful enough to make a sun spit and flare.

  I looked at my screens and saw the ShiBo world below and I marvelled. It was so very beautiful. The land was scarlet and blue-rich in red-leaved plant life and criss-crossed with rivers and patched with lakes and seas. It reminded me of my own world.

  We landed in a field of red, and my sensors recorded the death screams of a million living vegetal beings, and I regretted the need to kill so many. But they were, after all, merely blades of grass, and we had nowhere else to land: there were no rocky plains or deserts on this fertile planet. But each patch of ground was alive with plants which sang at night.

  The doors of my landing craft opened and I slid out on my lower segment. My illusory escorts accompanied me, and we made our way down to the plain of grass. And above the grass hovered the representatives of the ShiBo leadership.

  Be persuasive, Sai-ias.

  I shall.

  The ShiBo flapped like sails in the air, but I fancied I could read expression in the contours and ridges of their flat bodies.

  “Do not be afraid,” I trilled, because my translator was turning my natural tones into a high pitched treble trill.

  And the trills of the ShiBo that greeted me in return were rich and beauteous and I felt as if I had fallen into a lake of music. My translator failed miserably to render any of it into intelligible speech, and I deduced that for the ShiBos language was, first and foremost, an act of beauty. Meaning to them was secondary.

  And so I trilled back, as beautifully as I was able; I sang the low rumbling song of the Day Dawning, and heard it transformed into bird song so delicate and sweet it felt as if my heart would burst from joy.

  My song was
greeted by a profound silence.

  What just happened? I asked with my thoughts.

  You have just committed a gross error of etiquette, it seems, Minos’s voice said in my head. Or perhaps, pray do not take offence, they just hate your singing?

  “I come in peace,” I said grumpily, and waited for my meaning to register among their flat floating brains.

  “We welcome you in peace,” one of the sails replied.

  “Your planet is very beautiful,” I told the sail.

  “You are a vile and an ugly beast, you disgust us, and you cannot sing,” the sail replied.

  That answered one question; this species knew nothing of flattery, diplomacy or, indeed, good manners.

  “I am considered beautiful on my own world. You, by contrast, look utterly ridiculous to my eyes,” I retorted, in the same spirit of offensive candour, and the trilling swelled in what the translator told me was approbation. These creatures appreciated plain talking.

  “Are you the masters and conquerors of this universe?” I asked, “Or do you live in peace and accord with your fellow sentients?”

  “We live in peace and accord,” said one of the sails.

  “Then you do not incur my contempt,” I said.

  “We accept your lack of contempt without any trace of contempt,” the sail replied.

  “My name is Sai-ias,” I told this particular sail.

  “My name is [what came out was gibberish-so I decided to call him Sail],” said Sail.

  “We wish,” I said eloquently, slipping into my role of ambassador with remarkable ease, “to find a place in this universe where we can dwell and be happy. We do not wish to take territory from any other sentient creature. We will not threaten this planet or any of your kind. We merely wish to dwell here, in the universe of Many Suns, for all eternity.”

  “That cannot be,” said Sail.

  “This is an entire universe, there is room for all,” I explained, somewhat irked by the brevity and rudeness of the creature’s response.

  “You must return from where you came,” said Sail, “or we will destroy you.”

  Stay calm, they’re just trying to provoke you.

  “I cannot be threatened,” I explained, in my calmest tones.