Sabira spent the majority of the last nine shifts laid out in bed, too drained to move. Sometimes, when she got up to relieve herself or to eat, everything would abruptly start spinning, and she’d stumble to the floor. Gabriel told her she had multiple concussions. As long as she got plenty of rest and took her medicines, she would recover in a few days. After three shifts in the infirmary, she was well enough to walk down the short hall to a crew cabin. Inside, two forma mattresses rested on low frames. Torque lay curled in a ball in one bed, the other was unoccupied. There Sabira resumed lying around in slightly less misery.
Often, when they were alone together, Sabira pretended as if she were asleep while sneaking glances of Torque examining her new hand, trying to coax different shapes out of her fingers. From what Sabira could tell, Torque was slowly but steadily improving her control over the forma prosthetic. After a few shifts, she could transform her new fingertips into basic tools and back with nothing but a thought.
Just like all the others, with the exception of Dawn, who had never drunk the eon, a thin, soft fuzz of hair had begun growing on Sabira’s scalp. When she first noticed the hair with her fingers, she pulled away in disgust. She plucked a few small strands to examine. They were so fine, she had to strain to see them. From what she could tell, they were the same stark alabaster as her skin. Originally, she’d planned to ask a lem to shave them for her but grew less and less certain with each day. She decided to wait, for now, and see what having hair on her head might be like. The thought of covering her old bloodline and ownership glyphs felt right, even if it was with something as unsettling as a mop of hair.
When Sabira wasn’t sneaking glances across the room at Torque, she noticed that each time she drifted back to wakefulness, the fresh cuts and bruises from their escape were steadily disappearing. The old scars remained, of course. Even those could be healed too, Gabriel had promised, once they arrived in the Constellation. If she wanted, that is.
Like the tattoos on her face, each scar had been earned, had its own story. Each a thread woven into the fabric of the story of herself. Could she give that up just to look prettier? Not that Gabriel’s promise didn’t tempt. She could have two whole breasts again. Why should she feel guilty for wanting something as natural as that?
During those long shifts of drifting in and out of sleep, she often returned to the same dream. Worms crawled out of her heart by the hundreds. They burrowed through her skin, deforming her, mutilating her. Until, finally, the worms enveloped her completely in a leathery cocoon of scars and old memories.
Maybe wiping away the old wounds could be part of her story too, she thought, after waking from such a dream. Yes, those cuts and burns were intrinsic to her story, but that tale wasn’t finished yet.
Exhausted as she felt lying there hour after hour, she also felt something she couldn’t fully grasp yet. As if not only was she recuperating, but rejuvenating, growing stronger. As if she were still only at the very beginning of her story, after all.
Yet, it was impossible to consider how her tale might only be getting started without feeling the weight of Maia’s and Rain’s absence. They weren’t the first to die before her very eyes in an instant. A dread certainty settled over her that they wouldn’t be the last. And yet, somehow she remained convinced her story was just getting started, even though she knew better than most how a tale could find its end from one breath to the next.
The dead were on Gabriel’s mind as well. He came to their cabin to tell them about the funeral ceremony for Maia and Rain. He was going room to room to invite everyone individually but had come to them first.
“It’s time for us to leave,” he said. “Four days’ ship time doesn’t possibly seem long enough, I know, but it’s all the time we can give. But first, we need to pay our respects to our dead. Then we will talk about what comes next, and we get moving again.”
Sabira had never experienced a ritual ceremony for the dead before. Never even considered the possibility of one, not for a human at least. There were stories of great rites performed in the domed palaces when a Divine Master passed through the Gates, but she never knew of it happening in her lifetime. The old hens whispered how the Godseers sacrificed thousands of the unseen. The rites didn’t end until the dead Master’s palace was painted, spire to foundation, in hearts’ blood. But funeral rites for a human? To even consider the thought would have been blasphemy.
One more blasphemy to add to my score.
“What are you going to do to us at the ceremony?” asked Torque, her gaze lowered, fixed to a single blank spot of the deck floor. Her right palm rubbed back and forth across her left elbow.
“Talk, mostly.” Orion kept his large voice subdued, intimate. “And listen, too, of course. If there’s anything either of you’d like to say, you’re welcome to. Maybe a favorite memory about them, or a conversation. Anything you’d like to share, really.”
“You won’t have sacrifices?” Torque asked, downcast gaze still unwavering.
“I think we’ve all already sacrificed enough,” he said, “don’t you?”
The next day they said goodbye to their dead.
At first, Sabira didn’t understand how Gabriel and Orion considered this a ritual. There were neither drums nor sacrifices, not even blood markings. Maybe the translation of Connish into Khvaziz got twisted around, or maybe there just wasn’t a word in her language to encompass what a funeral actually meant.
They all gathered in what normally served as a secondary hangar. One of the Shishiguchi’s two landers remained planetside on Dlamakuuz, leaving the hangar empty. The forma lining the secondary hangar had been reshaped to resemble wild, fractal growths of vegetation. Much of it resembled the vines and flowers of Glish. Other sections resembled the orchids and fields she had glimpsed in the aggie caverns years ago. But many more of the flora depictions looked completely alien to Sabira. The overall effect vaguely reminded her of half-remembered old hens’ tales of alien worlds where plants and animals roamed feral and unmastered.
Orion, as usual, joined them synced into a lem. The detail of Orion-lem’s appearance was much finer tuned than normally, so that he looked almost flesh and blood and not the flat, blank texture of quickly shaped forma. The inorganic nature of his presence was given away by an ever-shifting web of conkanj glyphs, the written form of Connish, crawling all over him. Gleaming like veins of tiny sapphires, the webs of conkanj drifted across his skin and slipped over to roam across his white cloak.
Gabriel wore a ceremonial uniform of black and dark, muted purple. A thin, black cloth lay in intricate folds across his scalp. His rapidly regrowing hands and their forma prosthetic extensions were covered in simple, pure white gloves.
The free brood were all given new clothes of soft, shapable forma-cloth. Gabriel asked that they adjust their clothes to either black or white for the funeral. They all chose to attend in black, except for Cal and Ed, who adjusted their clothes to white. Ed wore a discreet, transparent respirator over his mandibles. The eeshl rested quietly, curled on his lap.
In the center of the room hovered a rectangular pod and a hologram. Maia’s body rested inside the floating pod, visible through glass-like walls. She was dressed in a gown of deep, vibrant green. Beside her shimmered a holographic composite of Rain. His image floated a meter above the deck, lying with eyes closed and long, thin hands crossed at his chest.
The funeral ceremony proceeded just as Gabriel had described. They gathered in a circle around the two hovering figures. Gabriel stepped forward from the circle to speak first. He thanked everyone for joining him in saying goodbye. He said once they had returned to the Constellation, they would bring Maia’s remains to the Temple on Nu’esef where she would be interred in her order’s catacombs. Since Rain’s body was lost to the destruction of the Zol-Ori, images and memories were all that remained for them to honor.
Sabira couldn’t understand why Gabriel was making them perform this ritual. Why have everyone concent
rate on such deep sadness like this? Tears built up, not in her eyes, but deep in her throat. Refused to let them break through and burst, pouring down her cheeks. She was the free brood’s warrior, their protector, she couldn’t let them see her sobbing like a lost little mine rat.
“The first time I met Maia, it was in a vision,” said Gabriel. “It’s almost as odd to say as it was to live through. But it’s true. For years, a mentor of mine had told me about the Eleusis Neos ceremonies at the New Temple on Nu’esef. That if you wanted to truly realize your humanity, one must face whatever the sacrament had to show.
“The Ministry eventually sent me off to Nu’esef at the Embassy there. So as soon as I had the opportunity, I asked permission to join in a ceremony and partake of the sacrament. I could finally prove to myself that I could face whatever the eon had to show me, just as my mentor said.
“And the eon showed me her. It showed me all of you, too, in a way. When I awoke the next morning, I found the courtyard where I had encountered her in vision the night before, and there she was. Expecting me. She had seen me in vision too. I’ll never forget that moment. That’s where our journey started, our mission to find humanity’s lost brothers and sisters. The sacrament had brought us together, somehow. I don’t know how that works. The eon is just as much a mystery to me as any of you. Maia was the Oracle, after all.
“Maia played many different roles to many different people. To me, she was my true friend. She was also a scholar, a scientist, and a musician. But ultimately she chose the path of the shaman. She was never troubled by the paradox of herself. In fact, it inspired her. Maia was driven by paradox, by mystery. It gave her purpose. But all great mysteries have their dangers. She knew—we both knew—we would face death in our quest to find the first diaspora.
“Then, beyond all possibility, our visions came true. Orion discovered the way through the Old Portal, the Shattered Gates, and we found you, all of you, on the far side of the galaxy. And just like the eon warned us, faced our deaths we did. And Maia was so unbelievably brave. Until the very end.
“I don’t know why her and not me. Maia never tolerated dwelling on what-is-not and what-could-have-been. She would say, ‘Reality is hard enough to deal with, why waste yourself on made-up bullshit?’ So, to honor Maia, I won’t lose myself in questions like ‘Why not me?’ Instead, I will choose now to face reality for what it is, as it presents itself to us.
“The reality is this: We live on, we fight on, together. I’m honored to stand beside you. I will do all I can to stand as your protector and your friend. This I swear, in honor of her memory.”
Gabriel took a step backward to rejoin the circle. After a moment or two of heavy silence, Zonte took a step forward.
“If it’s alright, I’d like to say something about Rain,” Zonte said. Gabriel nodded his approval.
“It’s weird, isn’t it, to be looking at our dead? Not only to be encouraged to talk about them, but to have names for them. For them to have identities. It’s just so weird. But it feels right, too, don’t you think? It’s right for us to have these things, even when we’re dead. Dancer’s tits, this feels terrible, saying goodbye to Rain and Maia when we’ve only just become a brood. But it’s a blessing, also, to be able to say their names and tell their stories after they’ve gone. Maia and Gabriel and Orion gave us that blessing. And for that, Maia and Rain paid with their lives.
“Every time I think about it, I just want to scream and cry and scream some more. I’m so mad they were taken from us. Rain, he—I know for fact, he told me this before back in the Embassy—he was so grateful to be freed from the Unity. He said he’d rather die now, that very moment, as a free human than to live as a slave again. He was the oldest of us. He had lived to be older than most nameless ever get to, and I just wish he had gotten more time to be Rain. He was like a—there’s not really a word for it—like a brood-father, I guess you could say, to all of us.
“Goodbye, Rain. We were blessed with freedom. We were blessed with names. But we weren’t blessed with time. Thank you. I’ll miss you terribly. Goodbye.”
One by one, they stepped forward from the circle to share a memory and say thank you and goodbye to their dead friends. While they shared their stories and farewells through wet eyes and trembling lips, Sabira’s jaw clenched, her throat squeezed tight. She remembered how she knelt, half naked before her entire task, as Warseer Vohg burned the nine eyes into her back. She didn’t cry then. If she could manage such a blinding pain, then she could restrain this crushing sadness. But the wet sound of Dawn’s sobbing threatened Sabira’s composure more than a warseer’s prod ever could.
Eventually, Sabira realized most of the eyes around the circle had turned toward her. Even Edlashuul’s sense tendrils bent her way. She took a step forward, and suddenly every word she had ever known was lost, thrown down a dark shaft.
“I’m not sure what to say. In my crew we had a caller. When something needed to be said to the crew, whether it was orders or prayers or the drum, he would be the one. If he were alive, he might know what to say right now, if he were here instead of me.
“I knew Maia and Rain much shorter than any of you. But in that time, they were kind to me. They helped me in ways I didn’t know I needed. I’ll be grateful for that as long as I live.
“In the Servants, we said a prayer for the dead and then we got back to our duties. We said, ‘Should you find yourself before the Shattered Gates of Heaven, may the Gods find you worthy of eternal service.’ We thought we knew the Gods and what their Will for us was. We thought we knew what waited on the other side of dying.
“Maia changed all that. Or, she helped me to change that for myself. I don’t know if the Gods and Heaven are waiting, or there’s nothing, or something else entirely beyond what we can understand. It’s all a mystery, now. Everything I thought I knew has been replaced by questions and doubt. And that’s so scary, but it’s beautiful too. Maia gave me that. I hope you both find peace in your mysteries, Maia. I’ll try and find peace in mine.
“I have a brood-sister I left behind on Nahgohn-Za. She was nameless, a hen. She had already birthed her first brood when I finished my discipline and shipped out. By now she must have had a second brood already. I’ll never see her again. I’ll never meet all those little mine rats running around her. But I have new sisters now. Brothers too. All of you are my brood now. And if you’ll have me, I’d be honored to stand beside Gabriel as our brood’s protector. I think that’s what Maia and Rain would have wanted. It’s what I want, too.”
After the funeral, they feasted in the ship’s dining hall. They ate from the stores of sweet fruits and nuts from Dlamakuuz. The kitchen’s semblers fabricated an unending array of dishes atom by atom. Some of the dishes were familiar recreations, the protein pastes and fiber breads she was accustomed to from the Labyrinth. Others were exotic in every way possible, full of strange textures, tastes, and smells. Sabira sampled a little of everything but came back most often to the comforting blandness of the more familiar dishes.
Gabriel pulled a crate out of the back corner of the kitchen’s storage locker. Inside were a half-dozen fragile-looking glass bottles tightly encased in packaging foam. He pulled one out with more than a little flourish and proudly presented the bottle to the group. Sabira thought it looked like it was full of old, dark blood.
Gabriel said, “I brought these with me from home. I’ve been saving them for the right occasion. This, my friends, is wine. It’s from the West Valley region of Babylonia, where I grew up. Known as some of the best wine in all the Constellation. Ironic, since half my homeworld thinks the vineyards should be burned to the ground, but that’s Babylonia for you. Come come, get fresh glasses. This is for everyone. Oh wait, sorry, not you, Dawn. Well, I’m sure a little sip won’t hurt. But just a sip.”
He took a strange little device out of the crate and used it to open the wine bottle with a satisfying pop. The bottle was quickly emptied out as glasses of deep red
liquid were passed around.
“In the ancient days, wine too was considered a sacrament,” he said. “But nothing like the eon, so don’t be nervous. Now, don’t get me wrong though, it’ll still knock you on your ass if you drink too much too fast, but a few bottles of wine among friends is all fine and good.”
The first sip made Sabira’s mouth pucker and throat tingle in a way she didn’t really like. By the time she finished off half the glass, however, the taste had grown more and more agreeable. The wine intoxicated like diggers beer. The harsh edges of her perceptions softened, and a deep, warm release of tension exuded from her belly and flowed into her limbs.
By the time Gabriel was well into pouring the third bottle, the conversations around the dining hall had grown steadily louder and sloppier. With arms wrapped over shoulders, they shared more stories of Rain and Maia, and shared personal stories too. They shared more laughter than tears, but tears there were still.
When the wine made her dizzy, Sabira knew she’d had enough, and she drifted farther back from the center of the gathering. She’d spent the last few days with the world throbbing and spinning around her head and had no desire to resume the sensation. The urge to slip away and curl up alone in her cabin grew undeniable.
Orion was telling a story from his youth involving too much wine, a pretty girl, and some unfortunate bodily noises the wine had apparently instigated. Taking advantage of the ensuing, drunken laughter, Sabira stepped out of the dining hall and headed down the corridor to her cabin.
She slumped against the cabin port, trying to remember the proper gesture needed to get the door to slide open. Instead, a hand softly touched her back, and a whispered voice asked her to wait. She turned to find Playa smiling back, Zonte just behind her.
Before the Shattered Gates of Heaven Part 4: Sacrificial Altars (Shattered Gates Volume 1 Part 4) Page 7
