Goddess of the Galacticide Episode 71 - The Lost
Updated: 6 days ago
“You’re burning it.”
“I’m not,” said Cha Dzeeny, “I like my skewers extra dark on the outside.”
“Fine, but this is not just your meal,” said Baaii. “Maybe the Prophet does not like hers that crisp.”
“I’ll serve them like they’re supposed to be prepared. Now, keep the Prophet company and get out of my kitchen.”
Baaii pulled her padded top over the gun stuck in her leisure pants, smiled, nodded, and left for the residence’s main living quarters.
“It’s not your kitchen,” she said and blew him a kiss.
Cha inhaled, savoring the aroma. The smell of home, sizzling on the heatplate, marinated to perfection. He cut back on the spice for Vriishany’s sake, but he would not compromise on the searing.
The meat brought in on the last transport was the finest quality his hands had ever handled, firm yet easy to cut. He turned off the heat and washed his hands.
There was blood on his hands. A girl who looked like a young Vriishany cried near an enormous tree. The tree looked dark and twisted, but it gave her peace. A liquid spilled on his feet.
The small sink ran over, and water sought its way across the kitchenette’s counter. He shut it off.
“What are you doing?” asked Baaii.
“Making a mess.” He tried to sound casual, but when he turned to Baaii, she had one hand behind her back, reaching for that sidearm, no doubt.
“I… thought you were in trouble. Is everything alright?”
The spores must have alerted Baaii. They never deceived, never lied. How long had he been standing there, washing his hands?
“I didn’t sleep well.” Not the whole truth, but part of it.
“Bad dreams?”
“No, just… strange. Do you mind taking the side dishes? I’ll bring up the skewers in a pass.”
***
“This is the best meal I had in an orbit,” said Vriishany Omga.
“Not too crisp?” asked Cha, eyeing Baaii, while the Prophet pulled the last meat cube off the metal skewer.
“No, it’s perfect.”
Cha grinned with the satisfaction only being right could provide. Baaii rolled her eyes. It didn’t just smell like home, it felt like it, too. Eating, teasing, laughter. Dinner with family. The previous time he recalled that mural, he was certain it was going to be his last meal. The woman sitting across the table had caught him preparing the abduction of the woman sitting at the head of the table. Out of the many realities the Goddess could see, this had to be the strangest.
“How is my sister?” asked Vriishany. “Has she asked for me?”
“Not yet, my Prophet,” said Baaii.
“How long did I sleep?”
“Almost two spins, my Prophet. You must have been exhausted.”
“Two spins? Are you sure my sister has not asked for me?”
“I’m certain she is very busy,” said Cha. Why did he say that? He had seen Linuka Omga sitting alone, and the human guards he had asked confirmed she had had no visitors in many spins. Vriishany Omga was not a little girl whose feelings were devastated by the truth. Her questions were justified, and Cha was just as curious about the Goddess’ reasons for having Baaii and him tend to her Prophet.
“Maybe it was the man on the transport. He seemed eager to see her.”
“I am sorry, my Prophet, there was a man with you on the transport? We thought it was only you.”
“Not on my transport. The other one. I saw him only briefly, on the large Remnant ship, when we picked him up in the Prral system.”
Cha put his empty skewers to the side of his plate. “The Prral system, Prophet?”
“Yes, we travel quite a lot.”
Baaii gave him a small, subdued head-shake. She was right; this was not a security matter. But what if it were? Cha had not thought about the other transport since it landed during the heavy rains, and assumed it was a decoy-only to help sneak in the Prophet and keep her out of the spotlight. How negligent of him! Maybe the other transport brought important goods, news, or personnel. Something important for the plan.
He nodded. “I can relate, my Prophet. Long-distance space travel, especially outside the darkstring network, can be taxing—for the body and the mind.”
Her eyes lit up, greener than the hues even Green Wave could produce. “These are the worst! Some worlds are so hard to reach—but they might need the word of the Goddess the most.”
“You’re not that well traveled, Cha.” Baaii smiled, but she wanted to cut his throat. Cha had to know, though, and there were times he trusted her intuition, and there were times he trusted his own.
“What do you mean? I was part of Kel Chaada’s expedition to the Dark One’s galaxy and went there again with the Goddess. That’s four crossings of the inter-galactic void. No one has traveled more light-orbits than I have.”
Vriishany laughed, and Cha joined her gratefully. Baaii didn’t. She started collecting the dishes, as if she had decided to dodge whatever was coming next, waiting out the end of his questioning in the safety of the annex.
“Please tell us about the people you meet, Prophet. Are they eager to see you?”
Vriishany’s smile turned off, and she contemplated his question as if she had never considered it before. “Not at first. When we arrive at the temple, there is usually no one there. The people are all elsewhere, and I think they are lost.”
“The temple, my Prophet?” Baaii sat back down, a stack of dirty dishes still in her hands.
“There are temples for the Goddess?”
“Yes, they seem to be everywhere we go. They’re different though; some are simple, some are nicer.”
“And the people,” asked Cha. “Are they always the same?”
“No, not always. Sometimes they really need our help. They look hungry and exhausted. They don’t really know what to do without the word of the Goddess.”
“Are these all fringe worlds then? Unincorporated, no government?”
“There is no one taking care of these people. But not just on the periphery. It’s like this everywhere. People don’t receive help, and they don’t know how to help themselves. Most of our message is about reminding them how to take care of each other.”
“Reminding them, my Prophet?”
“They seem to have forgotten. Most do not know when they last ate or slept, or what their name is. They really need our help.”
“I’m glad,” said Cha, “that you are looking after them. Are they much better when you leave?”
“Oh yes. Finding a faith to hold on to energizes them, gives them a purpose, structure. Things to strive for.”
A plan, thought Cha.
“Thank you, my Prophet, for sharing this with us. If you excuse me, I’ll help my partner moving these dirty dishes out of your way.”
Vriishany let herself fall against the dining chair’s backrest. “Thank you for the great meal. Do you think you could cook this again really soon?”
“It’ll be my pleasure.”
***
Baaii put the dishes on the floor, closed the annex door, and checked three times if the lock was engaged.
“What were you doing, Cha? This was dinner, not an interrogation.”
“This world…,” Cha began. “This whole galaxy feels wrong. You must feel it too. No amount of spores or faith, or loyalty can gloss over the cracks. Vriishany, the Prophet, she travels the galaxy. I’ve seen the galaxy, Baaii, and I’ve never been to places like she described. Not once.”
He could feel the liquid again, this time on his hands. Blood was dripping off them onto the floor. Baaii stepped forward and held them.
“I can feel your distress, Cha,“ she said, “but it’s like screams in a language I don’t understand.”
“The temples. They’re already there, on the worlds she visits. That makes no sense. You noticed that, too.”
She didn’t respond. Baaii let go of his hands. A truth she wasn’t ready to share. The blood kept dripping. “Tell me.” It was more of a whimper than a request.
“I had a dream about a temple,” Baaii said. “And in that dream I knew this was a Goddess temple, although I had never seen it.”
“You… you’re dreaming, too?”
“I usually don’t. But since the Prophet returned…”
Cha held his breath. He had to know. “The Prophet, was she in your dream?”
“The Prophet?” asked Baaii. “No, but there was something odd about the temple. In the center stood a large tree.”
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