Origin: Eternity's End

by Uneeb Qureshi

  Ali stood to leave, checking his phone incessantly. Unable to remember what exactly he was waiting for, he continued with Monica. “I’m sorry my memory of his arrival that day has lapsed somewhat, time is not a friend to memory.”

  “Wait!” She begged. He looked at her uneasily, “Sheppard asked me to write his true story, I know nothing about him, I can’t do this whole thing alone! I mean who does he think he is abducting my friend and I and then taking us through this wild adventure across the galaxy…and now telling me I have to go to some derelict planet on the other side of this galaxy alone!?”

  “We’re here to help you Monica, but Sheppard wants you to undertake that task alone. We can help you reach the destination, but what remains in those vaults is something only you can see.”

  She sat there silently for a moment, pondering on the past few days she grew uneasy. “This has been the craziest week of my life…I feel like I’m in someone’s sick and twisted story, and they’re writing it out for me…”

  “That sounds…crazy to me?” Ali said with a smirk.

  “Oh shut it…” She said with a little annoyance, she was too wracked in thought to be spoken to like that.

  Ali put his hands on her shoulders and whispered, “All of the people you have met, all the dangers you survived and all the planets you have seen happened for a reason… whether you may know it now or not, you were at the right place at the right time. You were destined for something greater, and you changed those you met in ways you may never understand.”

  “You mean all of this happened because Sheppard wanted it to? Does he think he can change peoples’ lives like this?”

  Ali shook his head, “Far from it. Sheppard is not God. Although he used to be revered as a god by ancient civilizations. And based on your expertise, did the story I recanted not seem like a familiar one?”

  She glared at him and tried to piece the story together. “The only thing that comes to mind is…” Her face lit up, “The story you told me…that was the epic of Gilgamesh?” Her heart raced, she finally saw the patterns, all the stories she had been told about Sheppard had some mythological connection.

  Ali smiled, “Now you see what he wants you to find? He wants you to write his real story.”

  “I…” She could not finish the sentence lest she lose her train of thought.

  “There are a great many things Sheppard kept a secret from his people for fear of them losing faith. He is a man seeking redemption and he has been looking for answers ever since.”

  “Then what is it that he is truly seeking?”

  “He wants to ensure that mankind survives the test of time. You could say he is a scholar-warrior, he wants mankind to see what he has seen, the edges of the universe and everything there is in between…together.”

  “So he wants peace?”

  “Doubtful. He knows war is in our nature, it is a fact. But it is the illusion of peace that can be achieved, and he wants mankind to put its differences aside in the hopes that they might see they stand more powerful united than divided. And then…just maybe peace can exist for a time.”

  Monica raised her hand to tell Ali to stop. She had to collect her thoughts before they could continue talking.

  “You and I are no different. Sheppard took many under his wing. I was once his pupil, do you want to know how I became involved with him?”

  Medina, Saudi Arabia

  633 CE

  The Arabian horse’s broad forehead and large nostrils were all but covered in thin flexible metallic plating. The horse was a war-horse and its demeanor toward its master was that of both respect and admiration.

  Its master, for now, was Sheppard. It had lost its former master in battle months before. Though the horse had a bitter temperament to most masters, it found in Sheppard a capable and respected rider.

  The breeds of the region had a romantic heritage in folklore, their divine characteristics and quick learning made them unusually adept horses for almost any task. Sheppard could not have asked for a better partner.

  He walked his horse through the dead of night unbound by reigns, it was too loyal to him to leave his side. He rubbed the horse’s fine coat and responded to its neighs in clicks, a code language only the horse and rider knew intimately.

  As they continued through the streets they were both struck by surprise. A woman jumped out of the dark alleyway beside them, out of breath and wearing tattered bloody clothes. Her unkempt hair and dirt-stained clothing startled both Sheppard and his horse. Sheppard pleaded the horse to quiet and the horse kept a distance from the stranger.

  The woman shrieked as Sheppard approached her, she backed to the wall and muttered unintelligible remarks. Her face was wet from tears.

  “Please.” Sheppard whispered to her in Arabic. “Remain calm.”

  The woman was frightened. He was wearing traditional Muslim cavalry armor. She wondered if he was he after her as well.

  He motioned for her to stand still. But before Sheppard could say anything else two men emerged from an alleyway and grabbed the woman, one grabbed her by the hair and forced her to the ground.

  “Hold! Stop now!” Sheppard ordered, but they paid no heed.

  Sheppard rushed at the first man and grabbed him by his wrist. His superhuman grip forced the man to release her hair. The man used his other arm to swing at Sheppard but missed.

  His partner pulled out a dagger and stabbed Sheppard. His lamellar armor absorbed the blow and the blade was lodged deeply in the metallic layer.

  With a quick jerk to the man’s shoulder Sheppard dislocated his arm and wrenched it backwards, forcing his elbow to snap forward. The excruciating pain caused the man to scream in pain. He then proceeded to grab the man by the rung of his tunic and throw him toward his friend, forcing both of them to collapse on the ground behind them.

  Several residents of the city’s district were awakened by the commotion and rushed out to investigate. Sheppard removed the dagger in his back with a slight grunt as he walked over to the attackers.

  He picked them up just as a night-watch approached them. The sight of the injured thug’s arm caused a stir among the on-lookers, forcing most back to their dwellings. The patrolling night-watch detained the men.

  “I am Shep, Amir-ul-Ashar of Amr ibn Al-As. These men attacked this woman while I was riding my horse. Place them under arrest.”

  The men obliged and asked of the woman, “I will escort her home, please send Amr ibn Al-As my apologies. And that I will not be joining him tonight in light of these events.”

  The night watch detained the men and dragged them through the streets while Sheppard tended to the woman. Several neighbors offered the woman water and shelter but she refused.

  “Please, take some water.” Sheppard offered her his canteen, she accepted hesitantly. He ordered the bystanders to disperse as he helped her onto his horse. She huddled, trying not to be touched by Sheppard lest he hurt her.

  He gave her some space, unpacking his cloak and weapons from the horse’s saddle. He signaled his horse forward at full pace. He jogged through the streets with his horse behind him trotting faithfully.

  “Young woman, where do you live?”

  She did not answer.

  “I could jog all night at this pace, as will my horse. Where would you like to be taken?”

  “No!” She realized the way he was headed and asked to stop.

  Sheppard and the horse came to a halt. “What is it?”

  “Please, I am not from here. Take me any way but this way…”

  “If you are not from this village it is best to leave in the morning, do you have any family here?”

  She nodded. “They are in this city but they told me to meet them at dawn.”

  The whole ordeal was becoming stranger by the minute. But at the moment he was rousing too much suspicion amongst the locals. Sheppard about-faced and turned for his home.

  His dwelling was a modestly small stone home far from the city outskirts. It was outs
ide of the city but close enough to the mosque to hear the call to prayer in the morning.

  Sheppard helped the woman down from the horse and showed her inside.

  “Stay here,” he told her. He had too little things of value to be worried about leaving a stranger in his home. He felt if she left during the night it would be one less thing to worry of when he awoke.

  She sat, casually staring at his belongings. She was bruised and her clothes were soiled, probably from the attackers’ earlier. He pitied her but he was not used to female guests. He left some food and water on his table and stepped outside of his dwelling.

  He removed his horse’s war mail and mounted it with just the saddle in place. He and his steed sprinted back into the city to the dwelling of a close friend.

  Sheppard dismounted ran to the door and stood at the side of the door out of politeness, he did not want to seem like an intruder. He was not sure if the inhabitants would be up this late at night, the night prayer was just hours before.

  After a minute or two he turned to leave, but was met at the door by a man. Sheppard recognized him and removed his helmet to greet the man.

  “Brother Rahman, it has been some time old friend.” The two greeted one another cordially.

  “What brings you here at such an hour?” Rahman replied.

  “I am sorry to disturb you—” Rahman’s wife was behind him asking about the visitor.

  “Brother Rahman, I have an unusual favor to ask of you. A woman was attacked by thieves earlier. She says she will look for her family in the morning, but she is at my home and as you may know I do not keep women’s clothes.” Sheppard smiled as his friend chuckled.

  “I will ask my wife, I will have someone send for the clothes soon. Get some sleep Brother Shep, you have been up for days…”

  Sheppard nodded, and returned to his horse. “I’m sorry to have woken you this late old friend.”

  Brother Rahman nodded and closed his doors; he knew Sheppard was not one to take advantage of women. Hearing of his hospitality was all the conviction he needed.

  Sheppard rode off toward his home again post-haste after receiving the clothes. His horse rode full-pace never tired or weary.

  The desert sands picked up amidst the galloping breeze. It was invigorating. Riding off into an endless expanse reminded him of his travels near the center of the galaxy.

  The chaotic center of the Milky Way first appeared as calm as the desert sands at first glance, but the mysteries it held were just as violent as the deserts and oceans of Earth. But unlike the cosmos he did not feel at home anywhere but the Earth, he was its eldest child.

  His home was near Mount Uhud the ancient site of the battle between the Medinans and Meccans just years before. Sheppard had arrived just after the war and saw in these people a hope of the future. They were a proud people, placing death and the hereafter over their life.

  Their lifestyle was Spartan and their commanders were their equal. They made no distinction between their rich or poor, noble or commoner, master or slave. When the call to prayer was announced all would stop and pay their respects to their creator.

  And while his life was one of constant death and escape; he needed reprieve in the isolated wilds now and again. He dismounted in front of his home and whispered to his horse to return to the stable. The horse instinctively ran into a small mountain alcove.

  Sheppard removed his armor on the way up to the door. As he entered his home a figure emerged from the darkness to attack him. It was the woman he had saved in the city earlier, he grappled her wrists and forced her down, dropping the clothes he was carrying in the process.

  When she saw his face and the things he was carrying she apologized and he let her go.

  “I’m sorry, I thought you were—” She shook her head.

  Sheppard nodded, “I’m sorry if I hurt you, I acted on instinct…” He finished removing his armor and he laid it on the table beside the door. He removed his greaves and stepped onto his carpet while reciting a prayer.

  He continued, “You seem very unsettled, are you sure you are okay?” He bent down to sit on his carpet and laid his hands on his thighs as if meditating.

  “Please, join me for some tea. Tell me about your family.” He motioned for her to sit by the table. She took a place across from him, still wary of his intentions.

  Who was this man, just helping her me out of kindness.

  “Do you not want to know my name?” She asked.

  “You seem very frightened right now, I don’t want to make you anymore uncomfortable. If you do not wish to tell me I will not ask, you are a guest in my home and will be treated no less.”

  He prepared the mint tea from the herbs he had collected earlier and grounded them on the table in front of her. He paused for a moment to check his dirty hands.

  “I apologize, today has been quite an unusual day.” He removed a small pouch from his satchel and squeezed its contents into his hand, the gelatinous substance quickly sublimed in the air; he vigorously scrubbed his hands with it, pouring more to dissolve the blood and soot from his hands.

  “What is that?” She asked.

  He smiled, he always loved explaining things. Questions made him humble. “It is a spirit of wine, separated from its liquid form to stack in a grainy dust. It is a very powerful cleaning tool. Here.” He asked for her hand and she opened it with hesitation, as he poured the gelatinous substance onto her hand it felt cool to the touch.

  “Now scrub your hands with it quickly, or it will disappear.” She proceeded to rub it and felt the cuts on her skin burning. She paused for the pain, the whole experience was unsettling. “Don’t stop! It’s cleaning your hands, the pain means it is working.” She continued hesitantly until her whole hand was wet from the substance.

  When she smelled her fingers it wreaked of alcohol. Sheppard chuckled, “It smells strange but it makes your hands clean, so you don’t get sick.”

  She nodded and continued to smell her hands, she had not seen such things before. He watched her curiosity and laughed while continuing to prepare the mint tea.

  As they waited she glimpsed at him periodically, instinctively lowering her gaze. He was intimidating to look at, handsome as well. He stared outside of the window and saw it was pitch black outside.

  I’ve almost missed the night prayer.

  He got up and excused himself for a moment. He went outside and proceeded into the desert with a small carpet he kept for praying. When he found a flat mound to pray on, he covered his head with a hood to protect against the sands. He performed the ablution quickly as not to waste time, the sand was warm and pleasing to the touch.

  He began the prayer promptly and focused. The howling wind of the night did little to perturb his concentration. The woman peered out the window and saw him. He was a good man, she thought, God-fearing.

  Though she felt it wrong to search through his home, she wanted to know more about him. She peered at the shelves of books he kept, many were written in Arabic, Latin and Hebrew. Upon closer inspection she recognized one of the scrolls as the Torah, its ornate casing was ancient but beautiful. When she approached to touch it, she paused.

  He might know I was looking through his things.

  For a moment she felt pity, the man obviously lived alone.

  “You are curious?” He said as he re-entered his home.

  She jumped, not wanting to seem ungrateful to her host. The woman took her place at the table again across from him.

  He lowered his gaze and returned to the kiln where he heard the water boiling. He removed the pot using his gauntlets and poured two cups of water into ornate porcelain. He handed her the cup at the table and poured the tea leaves into the water allowing it to mix. He took a stirring utensil and mixed the leaves. The woman followed suit, she had not received this sort of hospitality in some time.

  “You look tired…” The woman said, she stood to help him get up, but he refused.

  “You are my guest.” He responded.
“You may have my room behind you,” He pointed to the doors, “There is a bath in the room next to it, the water is self-purifying so do not worry about wasting it.”

  “No, I cannot accept this, this is your home, and I will sleep in this room.”

  He shook his head, “You’ve suffered enough tonight, you need the rest more than I do.”

  She did not want to feel ungrateful to her host. She proceeded into his room but took a moment to thank him. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your help tonight. I did not wish to burden you when I ran into you…”

  “A human being should not feel oppressed anywhere they go. You were lucky you found me before they found you.” He smiled, “God works in mysterious ways.”

  She smiled for the first time in a long time, this man wanted nothing from her except for her to be his guest.

  “You should rest now, the day is fast approaching. I will return you to your family in the morning.”

  She nodded and closed the door behind her; his room was modest but organized. The bed was large and soft, draped in a skirt that hid the bulk of his belongings underneath. She felt it excessive to search his belongings anymore, he had earned her trust.

  She opened the door to his bath and saw an elegantly strewn tub that looked completely alien to her. A control panel on the left lit up as soon as she walked in. The temperature of the room began to heat as the water was warmed for her. She locked the door behind her and undressed before entering the water.

  Noxious fumes emanated from the water as jets of bubbles flew from two ends of the small pool. The chlorine in the water turned into gas which was vented outside of the structure.

  No wonder he lives so far from the city…this place is almost magical…

  The fumes dissipated and the water was ready for her, she took a step into the water placing her feet on a limestone surface. The water was perfect, she sat in the deep end and felt invigorated. The jets of water resumed and soapy bubbles appeared on the surface causing her to panic.

  “Please remain calm.” The bath said in Arabic.