Deicide the God Eater
The First Chapter

Men have fear and reservations. Men have honor. Men havesensibilities. Look into my eyes. Do you see a man in there? - The Great White

Among them, mostly the young, were the parentsof humans who would never see the sun that had nursed their civilization intoexistence. The descendants of the sunworshipers were still in shock at how thoroughly they had been beaten. First contact with the crew of the Aeolipilehad been hopeful, it emboldened one’s sense of self to see creatures that camefrom across the universe that owned similar faces, but when those familiarfaces spoke perfect English, Chinese, and Latin, a cloud of suspicion toucheddown and spread fear and hysteria throughout yet another Earth. Relations had broken down quickly when it wasexplained exactly what these intruders wanted, for every man, woman and childto take refuge inside a vessel they insisted upon calling an ark.

The reason given for this exodus was thoroughlychuckled at by Earth’s scientific and skeptic community. How could the Universe be shrinking so fastthat it threatened the present generation? But the Executive Officer of the Aeolipile explained at length thesituation that was upon them and even provided video footage, all while theAeolipile’s Captain slumped in unrestrained boredom. And this is what they disagreed on; theuniverse was not shrinking, but being consumed by an unseen force.

Some believed, and rushed to be taken aboard thealien ship, others simply wanted to get away from Earth, to escape whateverlife they had ruined there and start anew, but as always, no Earth would partwith her children so easily and a short and ugly war followed.

The combined strength of Earth, now threatenedby the alien menace, rose up, only to be thwarted by a seemingly impossiblenumber of troops; faceless soldiers all cut to similar dimensions, wieldingonly black blades. In only a few hoursthe assault was complete and there were still billions left to be herded onboard the alien shipsbeneath a muddy sky. Many would neverdoubt, even hundreds of years after, that the absurd war was by design, tosoften them up for life in captivity, to make them fear the black blade, sothat only the strongest and most fearless amongst the humans would dare to riseagainst the one that had condemned them.

All overthis cratered and ashen planet were portals which led into the starshipAeolipile, so large its Navigation Officer would not risk maneuver through sucha tightly packed galaxy as the Milky Way. Instead, smaller ships, by comparison, had dropped the troops used inthe assault, and similar ships were used to recover the refugees, their ownportals leading to their quarantine decks. The process the Aeolipile crew used to divide the humans by class andstation was not lost on the humans, especially those that benefitted from thedivision; colonialism seemed to be a natural evil, like slavery and war, it wasan event that a nation worked through and had never passed over by foresight ormoral courage, not even the Aeolipile.

The captainof this vessel, Lord Antino Elias Myann II, had led his forces across thereaches of space to bring exoneration from the punishment handed down from theFates, for what transgression exactly, it was doubtful anyone could say. Against their will, these humans would berescued from a horror no one would understand until thousands of years intotheir future, if anyone survived the calamity. Soldiers and paramedics gave as many explanations as they were allowed, butmany civilians were still in shock from the attack. Only hours after Earth had fell, refugeeswere then told their very existence was collapsing and their planet would beconsumed by the Aeolipile for fuel and building materials. With the loss of so much already, manyshrugged at the soldiers’ stories, for what would they gain from the lie andeven if it were the truth, why would it matter now? Earth was dead without all of her childrenand animals to populate her. They knewany of those strange accented words which came from behind their shiny, blackfaceplates had been passed down from a person they would never meet, a man thesoldiers referred to as Deicide.

From a greatdistance Deicide appeared as any other human, only in close vicinity would onenotice that his large lips barely held back several sets of edged teeth andthat his dark brown skin was covered with ancient war wounds, many on his faceand neck. His nose was long and wide, asif the corner of a lost pyramid had been grafted to his face, above it were twosad eyes that sparkled like colorless jewels. At the front of his close cropped hair were two long hair-like antennas,each tipped with a tiny red bulb which gave off a faint illumination, even indaylight; they seemed to react to the bodies moving around him, independent ofhis gaze. Deicide strode between theseeming endless columns of people filing into the portals ahead. He nodded to his soldiers keeping watch overtheir new guests; they saluted Deicide by placing their right fists to wheretheir lips would be behind the masks, a gesture stating that their fists werehis fists, that his strength was theirs.

The blackfaceplates of the soldiers reflected the tired faces of the masses. Deicide seemed unconcerned with the numbersof refugees, for he knew they were beaten; no leader could rouse the fightingspirit of this many disheartened people. He knew trouble would come soon, but not until the first generation ofrebels had been born on the inside, after they had been emboldened by thefanciful stories told by their parents and grandparents as bedtimefairytales. It was always the wondermentof the sun that did it, humans did love their fire, he thought, chuckling tohimself. However, his lips tightened andhis forehead creased when he thought back on why anyone would worship anything,especially the sun, had not his existence showed them that all things wereinevitably mortal? People forget, butthey would be reminded.

Deicideceased his advance when a strange group met his gaze, their heads were notbowed and they did not look away when the noble approached. They looked as though they were fighting theurge to spit on him, and Deicide’s humanoid appearance could only frame thisevent as a grotesque betrayal, but Deicide was not from Earth, and manyhistorians would argue whether he was human at all. He and his wife Nott were the last of apeople known as the Abstrusians, a civilization that strived for the evolutionand immortality of their species above any goal. Their work now involved collecting specieswith genetic similarities to their own so they could begin to fill out theirranks once more; it was humans and their numerous mutations that happened to betheir closest genetic relatives. At thesame time that Deicide admired the passion and ingenuity that humans possessed,he despised their irrationality, their jealousy and greed. He was sure that if he did die, if such athing was even possible, the humans would start a war over who would get tocarry his head on a pike.

Deicidecontinued his walk, looking upon the shuffling masses with listless eyes. He had seen these faces countless timesbefore, even in sleep he could not escape them, always desperate and pleading,yet he could no longer be moved to care for the civilians if their basic needs hadbeen met. They were the meat of the squalidfloods which populated the Districts that would power his starship. Comparatively, only a few had access to breakfree from their designated station, just outside of their rat wheels wasAeolipile Citizenship; a chance to live a long and productive life. For someone to move through the class systemthey would need to be not only special, but useful as well. Beautiful girls, fools and ruffians had theirplaces, but as always, those who had ears thirsty for knowledge or hands thatremained clean, despite their exposure to filthy unspoken deeds, were covetedin the courts of the powerful, as they had been since the beginning ofcivilization.

As Deicidecontinued to pass among the queues, a woman broke from the line and droppeddown before him, groveling at his feet; he sighed as she recovered somethingfrom the queue and passed him a crying infant. He took a moment to look over the child wrapped in the gray bundle; evenif it was misshapen or deformed the Aeolipile possessed technology that couldcure it, but Deicide would not accept just any child into his legion. He let his hair-like antennas dangle besidethe child’s face to mesmerize him, and stared hard into his eyes. As his mind worked the lights on the tip ofhis antennas began to flicker. Children,through their innocence, possessed none of the barriers that adults acquiredthrough the trials of life and their brain’s network was open to all who knewhow to navigate it.

Once asoldier had asked him what he was searching for in the children, Deicide hadjokingly replied:Some resemblance. In truth, this was exactly what he was searching for, a similar temperedchild that could be trained as a military officer, politician or spy; keptclose he could use the child to gauge the temperature of the Districts, whichwere nests of terrorists and rebels. Proddingand goading them into a froth when required, making brutal suppression oroutright war a necessity, as his wife Nott had always told him: Strife meansprogress.

Unable toreplace any of himself in the child, Deicide settled on the darkness he could see,the carnal leftovers from a time before civilization, when a man could easilybe mistaken for an ape. Many would callthis instinct, others, a will-to-power,a deluded few would deem it original sin, but Deicide called it potential. He watched as the child’s pupils opened wideas his new lord peered inward to the core of the child’s psyche. Nott and her team of scientists were unableto explain the hold that Deicide had on beings that possessed the baser ofhuman traits; people who would develop a strong taste for vice and ruination,cruelty and malice. He was able to viewthese attributes as easily as one saw a mole on the face of another.

Deicide handedthe baby over his shoulder without looking back and into the arms of a staffmember he knew would be there. The childwould be raised as a member of his army, the Deathless Array. Made up of artificially enhanced soldiers, theywere suited in an armor called a ‘Skid’, it was as thin and flexible as awarm-up suit, yet still able to withstand an onslaught by modern weapons. The Deathless Infantry were known to fightonly with their hands because of their superior strength, or with the alienweaponry known as the Spine Blade, sheathed inside the crevice that rode along thecenter of a soldier’s back. Created frominert vestige material, the black blade solidified when it was unsheathed fromthe railing along a soldier’s vertebrae; every time it was drawn, its edge wassharpened to perfection.

Along withthe ground and aerial armor divisions they were a vicious force thatsteamrolled every form of opposition they had ever come across. World wars and intergalactic skirmishes cameto swift truces when the Aeolipile broke into their realities; Deicide’spresence had a way of spreading unity amongst his enemies. Wealthy merchants and politicians who caredonly for their livelihoods the day before the Aeolipile descended, suddenlyfound new perspectives once it had. Religions, some thousands of year’s dead, were revived with new vigor,sermons and masses were given in the street as the Earth was subjugated.

Deicidestrolled between the columns of stone-faced refugees as they marched towardtheir new existence as a number in his machine. He was stopped again by a pleading family; his face became a mask ofapathy. A child grabbed the bottom ofthe black cloak wrapped around Deicide’s neck and shoulders. As the boy turned the material over in hishand, the cloth began to bleed a writhing black ooze. The creature emitted a choir ofunintelligible whispers as a pair of yellow eyes emerged from this black oiland took hold of the boy with its tentacles.

The boy’sfather lunged toward Deicide; Deicide’s living cape began to emit thousands of femininegiggles as the needled tentacles began to bleed from her perimeter. With only a thought, Deicide held hiscreature at bay as the father was accosted by Deicide’s Risk Eaters, militarypolice who upheld the law onboard the Aeolipile and held authority overDistrict civil servants. Deicidenarrowed his brilliant eyes; his irises were like diamonds. Deicide approachedthe man; the alien creature, now out of its dormant state, bubbled andscreeched from his shoulders. It seemedto possess some level of sentience; its chatter disturbed onlookers, alreadyshaken by the Deathless attack.

“The war isover, old man, accept fate,” Deicide said; his veins were black with thevestige that ran through his system. Theman continued to look at Deicide with hate in his eyes, not realizing Deicidecould snatch his spine through his chest like a bone plucked from a sardine. Deicideglanced over the man’s body, he was old, but he looked strong, especially fitfor his age. He sighed and ran his tongue over his edged teeth.

“Releasehim,” Deicide said; his voice reverberated through the chests of thosesurrounding him. Deicide removed theblack creature from his shoulders; it protested this separation and wailed ashe tore her from his uniform. This seeminglysentient creature was known as the Abyss, unexplainable and deadly, she addedto the mythos surrounding the noble. Inhis youth, this creature had manifested itself as Deicide’s shadow, whisperingthreats and taunting his enemies, but as he grew so did his bothersome shade. Before Deicide had reached adulthood she hadmanifested herself into the physical world; acting as an extension of his limbsand an indicator of his temperament. Mostknew to avoid the captain when the Abyss’ oily blackness began to churn.

No longerdraped by his guardian, it enabled the masses to see that Deicide had twoappendages running from his lower back like two black tails, umbilicals thatran through small portals which folded space; they were connected to a fullyautomated life support system inside the Aeolipile. These were a more organic, less clandestineversion of his soldiers’ plug units; they were lined with a skin like material,wafting behind him like two serpents. The old man before Deicide licked his cracked lips, then quickly removedhis thick coat and gripped his blade. Hesurged toward Deicide like a dart and entered his killbox, it was other-worldly; a plane where cosmic law could bealtered or rewritten, bindings that had held mortals since the beginning ofall, were less than a trifle to one who had mastered their own sovereignty. The man seemed unnerved at Deicide’s laxityas he moved freely about the space, while his own steps were measured and slowas Deicide pressed his will against the man without touching him, the kniferattled in the old man’s weathered and dusty hands.

The elderman took a few more steps and then the knife fell hard through the dusty earthleaving a tiny hole. The man’s breathingwas intensely labored and his knees looked as though they would buckle at anymoment. Deicide continued to increasethe gravity inside the killbox. The man paused; his eyes were wet and histeeth clenched, shoulders sagging as if he had just relieved Atlas of hiseternal duties. Deicide nodded slowly asthe old man collapsed to his knees. Deicide crossed the space between them and crouched down beside the oldman’s ear. The Abyss returned to Deicidein a high arc, folding herself around Deicide’s neck and shoulders, pooling herextraneous length around his feet, until most of his body was incased in liquiddarkness. Soldiers behind Deicidestepped back to avoid touching the alien fabric.

“You canallow me to save you, or I can have you separated into materials that would beof more use to me,” Deicide said, grinning wide, wearing the ominous smile ofan ancient wolf god. The Abyss began toemit child-like giggling and hushed, mocking voices.

The mancould hardly breathe. “You…You’re amonster,” the man said. He released along, sour breath. Deicide’s nostrilsflared as the scent met the membranes inside his nose; he was always encouragedto breathe through his umbilicals when off the ship, even if there wasbreathable air. The smell of the man’sbreath told him the ingredients of the man’s last few meals and that he was inpoor health after being subjected to Deicide’s sovereignty, he would never makeit through the indoctrination process now, Deicide thought.

“Those of uswith lofty goals tend to be regarded so,” Deicide said. The old man looked up to the churning blackenedsky, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes. Deicide turned his gaze upward as well.

“Why, why does He hate us?” the man said, letting his chin fall on his chest.

Deicidesqueezed the old man’s shoulder. “I’msure it’s not hate old boy,” Deicide said. “He just doesn’t care enough to stop it.”

Deicidestood and then bellowed down to the old man. “Your answer?” Deicide said. Theman nodded and Deicide shrank his killbox down to his person and turnedaway. He hoped this display would encourageother humans to join him without the need for further violence. It was far easier to control the civilianpopulation when they had been indoctrinated into the culture of the Aeolipile, thosethat became full citizens would quickly learn that their new master was somewhatmerciful. It was a much better optionthan to be antagonized by his military police, forced to live in the urbanentanglements of lesser Districts, a forest of skyscrapers and high rises, allcentered around an immense power plant that supplied the Aeolipile and theDeathless with a constant flow of energy. Each District was the metropolitan embodiment of the world its peoplewere taken from, each one sat upon a metal disc far less than the size of theirhome planet, each civilization stacked onto, or adjacent to one another. Housing; residential and industrial, wasprovided through construction machines loaded with artificial intelligences. Once the city was established, it was up toits residents to manage it through local governments and civil servants, withassistance from those acting as law enforcement overseers, the RiskEaters. If a District seemed to befailing, those who applied for asylum were escorted through the Apartheid Gatesthat separated each city, there they would be allowed to continue work inanother power plant or whatever their chosen profession. A failed District was then shuffled from itsposition and down into a place called the Fringe Zone, or the ‘The Fringes’;there it was to become whatever the residents chose. A select few ran by organized crime syndicatesthrived in the Fringes, but most became rotted and forgotten ghettos, whereviolence was commonplace to all those within.

Deicide madehis way uphill toward his old friend and mentor the Great White; a Grade ThreeEater and Chief Commander of the Deathless Array. He had known the man nearly all his life andowed much of what he knew about fighting and warfare to him. Deicide stood next to the taller man andoverlooked the throngs of the dejected and weary people below. White’s face was stern, as always, his skinthe color of chalk, his eyes were dead, blue disks and his slicked backed hairwas a dark gray. When the two met manycenturies ago, White was a political prisoner. He had been sentenced to a life of servitude on the mines of 2302 Vergessen,a large asteroid that held a temporary mineral refinery for the few investorsstill occupying Earth.

White hadbeen a legendary war hero caught on the wrong side of a power struggle, and ratherthan let the prideful man have an honorable death, the Earth Separatist partyhanded him a slow and humiliating demise on the corners of the galaxy. As an adolescent, Deicide had been tasked tocommandeer the ship transporting White through a desolate stretch of space. The veteran had been one of the first officersto join Deicide’s ranks. Before White’sarrival, Deicide’s army was composed of mainly of mercenaries, runaways, andsome of a more sinister element, those with dark desires of bloodlust, warlovers and pirates. However, even afterthe cleansing fire of the military law was applied, certain traits remainedwhich seemed impossible to breed out of the soldiers. Their indifference to violence and thesuffering of others made them an excellent fighting force, but a callousculture would rise inside the Aeolipile, one that cared little for theneighbors they were supposed to be rescuing.

Deicidefolded his arms. “Would this have endeddifferently if you had remained in Earth’s good graces?” Deicide said.

“Surewould,” White said, his growl escaping between his jagged teeth.

Deicidecocked his head back, genuinely surprised. “How so?” he said.

“I’d ratherblow it up than let you have it,” White said, turning to Deicide with a slightgrin.

“Yet, you’veonly preached against scorched earth tactics,” Deicide said.

“How else doyou spite an enemy that wants to steal the whole Earth?” White said.

Deicidegnawed on the inside of his lips as he reached for an answer. “Then I suppose I should thank them forridding themselves of you,” he said.

Deicidegrinned, but found it hard to keep his smile as his eyes fell on White’s leftwrist; a silver bracelet was there, with the inscription: Do Not Revive. He remembered approving White’s request sometime ago, but this was the first time he had seen the man wearing it. Deicide wondered if White had really hadenough, or had he somehow been spooked by the stories of humans losing theirminds after numerous recycles. The GreatWhite had always seemed indefatigable, never once showing any signs that hishealth, mental or otherwise was degrading. It was only when that chit came across his desk, did Deicide rememberthat White had started his life as a human, and in the space provided for thereason for termination of services was only: I’m tired Ant. Still, Deicide would begin savoring his timewith White, and prepare his speech for the inevitable ceremony, as well ashaving a proper place built to house the memories and the possessions thatcaptured his life; for he believed that anyone of any value deserved to beremembered, friend or enemy.

The black vestigehanging from Deicide’s shoulders perked up as a female eater made her way tothe two men. She was a petite, but muscletoned woman belonging to Deicide’s staff, known as Baby Sister to everyone, includingher enemies, she was a Grade Five Eater and the youngest of a family of a dozenchildren, she wore a patch on her left arm, a throne surrounded by sleepingwolves. Deicide preferred an air ofinformality amongst his troops, at least from top-down, a nickname of anenlisted or officer amidst one’s peers allowed him to see more than thestuffiness of a performance evaluation would show.

The littleround faced Glebula passed behind the Great White, clapping him on the back as shecame to Deicide’s left side, making sure she avoided touching any part of theAbyss that hung from Deicide’s shoulders. Baby Sister was likable enough to interrupt two of the highest rankingpersonnel without a rebuff; and though Deicide found her coarseness endearing, manyof her peers waited for her to fall out of favor. She saluted Deicide with a quick peck on herfist, a salute that was done more for the discipline of the lower ranks thanout of any sort of honor.

“Lady Nottsent me,” Baby Sister said; her voice was unnaturally raspy for a woman herage.

Deicide’svoice was laced with annoyance. “Sincewhen did you become my wife’s messenger?” Deicide said. “You’re a Non-Commissioned Officer.”

“Since youstarted ignoring the Lady’s messages,” Baby Sister said. “She said they went straight to your messagetraffic. Didn’t they clog up your HUD?”

“Hmm,”Deicide said. “The Abyss’ salinitylevels must be causing malfunctions with my ocular implants. I can’t get pictureor sound,” he said, almost believing the lie himself.

Baby Sisterreturned a puzzled glance. “What does thevestige have to do with your implants?” she said.

Deicideshook his head at Baby Sister missing the hint. “Your job is to hurt things Baby Sis, not mediate my marriage,” Deicidesaid. The Great White chuckled, stillamazed that a man with so much power could be irritated by so little.

Deicidesighed and motioned for her to carry on. Baby Sister turned her palm up and activated the media output switch onthe wrist of her glove. Hovering aboveher palm was a holographic image of Lady Nott. After a half second delay the image began to move and Deicide waslooking into the mustard yellow eyes of his wife. Her form perplexed many, those exposed to anynew alien race tended to say that they all looked the same, but Nott andDeicide shared few similarities besides the sharp fingers and antennas. Her skin was a pale gray, like the surface ofa marble statue weathered by time. Herface seemed to be drowning in the river of black strands that poured from thetop of her head. Nott had explained thatsome of the differences could be attributed to Deicide’s constant exposure toalien worlds, but those who knew Deicide in his youth had never noticed much ofa change in the man’s outward appearance. And those few that had access to all visual files concerningAbstrusians, had they permittance to speak on the matter would mention thatDeicide looked just as much Abstrusian as he did Human.

“Are you tryingto upset me?” Nott said, her tone wasjovial, but Deicide gathered she was angry by the slenderness of her eyes,which normally took up a sizable portion of her face. She was speaking in the ancient language of theirpeople, it sounded like a strange, rhythmic, throat humming; only Deicide couldunderstand it, but his throat anatomy did not allow him to speak it. Instead he spoke back to her in theAeolipile’s official language, Circum, a compiling of languages and dialects broughtby crew members who were plank owners of the ship. The original crew members were assembled mainlyfrom many of the human mutations living on the outskirts of the countless MilkyWays they came across. The squat Glebula,the long limbed Arbaronians, with a sprinkling of the fair skinned Homosoliums. Deicide had come across humans and theiroffshoots in his first recruitment phase as they crisscrossed through theuniverse and multiple dimensions, he found they were closely related in anatomyto Abstrusians, mostly even tempered, and frankly, easier to look at than someof the species he had come across in his travels. He was sure other races of people thought thesame of him; even when the language barrier had been eliminated by his wife’sresearch, he could never get some people to trust him because of hisappearance; jewel-eyed Ant-Man he had been called. It was the first time he had felt self-consciousabout his antennas.

“Itcertainly wasn’t the goal dear, but I was willing to risk some collateral damage,”Deicide said.

“You thinkof my values as collateral, my love?” Nottsaid, cocking her head to the side, her flickering blue-tipped antennas driftedacross her eyes.

“At times,”he said. “We already treat these people as cattle, why should you care if Ibash a few?”

Nottauthorized a digitized order form that popped up on her desk, “Because refugeesbecome citizens,” Nott said.

“Or rebels,”Deicide said.

“I neverdenied that,” Nott said. “Just remember, we’re here to rescue them.”

Deicideraised an eyebrow and one of his antennas, before remembering that footage wastransmitted back to the ship through hovering cameras and from the soldiers’ocular implants. At that moment somestudio inside the Aeolipile was dicing this exchange up for some televisionshow for bored stay-at-home parents. Deicide nodded, but he was uncertain whether Nott could say that theywere trying to save everyone. Rescue ofcertain species was merely a byproduct of saving themselves; they needed thehumans and the other aliens onboard just as badly. Deicide and Nott could not rebuild their ownrace by themselves.

“And who wasit that sent me here?” Deicide said. “Whosaid we needed a higher ratio of humans?”

“I told youto show a bit muscle, not humiliate them. If only you’d extend the same fist to your army...” Nott said.

“They do asI ask, nothing less,” Deicide said, putting his arms around Baby Sister andGreat White.

“They’reknuckle dragging clods,” Nott said.

Deicidesqueezed his companions tighter. “Don’ttalk about my beloveds like that,” he said.

“I wasreferring to the rest of your ranks.” Nott said.

“As if yourbutton mashing zombies are any better?” Deicide said, knowing that she had bredout the traits which she disliked in her staff. He felt it was unethical to engineer with the wild variables, though hewould admit that some personality types were unlovable.

“I’ll be inyour office.” She said; then cut theconnection. Deicide pushed Baby Sister’shand away from his face as the screen faded. He hoped by the time he arrived in his office Nott would be in a bettermood. Deicide began to form rebuttalsfor possible arguments she would throw at him. He enjoyed the mental sparring most times, but never on issuesconcerning combat or the treatment of hostile civilians. It was the one subject he felt his wife couldnever best him at; her total battle experience might have involved a viciouspillow fight, or two, but little else. What would she know of killing an enemy, watching the color drain out ofhis eyes, feeling his hot blood pooling around your knife and fist? No, Nott was a smart, pretty thing who knewnothing of cruelty and malice, only cold numbers and theory.

“Tomorrowstill a day off?” Baby Sister said. Deicide nodded as he had a hundred times thatday to the same question. Theadvancement of instant widespread communication did nothing to change themilitary, still rife with rumor and hearsay, so the lowest still doubted theword of everyone but the Commanding Officer.

“Oh, Quartersis still the same time,” Deicide said, jabbing her in the shoulder with anindex finger.

Baby Sisterscrunched her freckled nose. “Aw, whatthe hell? The only thing good about a dayoff is the sleeping in part,” She said.

“You cansleep in, just after you wake up normal time,” Deicide said, making his way tothe closest portal.

Baby Sistercupped her hands around her mouth. “CanI come in pajamas?” She said.

Deicideturned and yelled back. “Ask ChiefCommander Hellmouth,” he said, knowing the hard-faced woman would slap anyone whoapproached her with such a silly request, even on her best days. Deicide had seen the woman belt jaws forconsiderably less infractions, including his own, adolescence was the harbingerof great disequilibration and he was glad he was done with it. He plodded up the hill and slid through thefold in space and into the Aeolipile. Heshivered at the change in temperature, the decks of the Aeolipile were cool andsterile, not like the muggy, stale atmosphere Earth had attained from years ofpoor maintenance. He wondered what sortof backwards government felt that they need not hold mastery over the elements.

A loud voicesounded from the 1MC speaker: “Aeolipilereturning.” It signaled that Deicide wasonboard.

The shippossessed technology that allowed it to fold space multiple times over,thousands of Quarterdecks all over the ship were receiving and processing eachindividual, from the smaller ships situated at Earth. Petty Officers of the Watch,Corpsmen and Supply Department personnel were just the beginning of the pipeline;the masses were briefed, documented, immunized and given rations and clothingfor their next monotonous thirty-six hours, which equaled a full day onboardthe Aeolipile. Over the next few monthsstringent testing would be done to separate future citizens from the rest ofthe chaff. Those who held worthypositions of power were given special privileges once they entered theDistricts. For some, mainly politicians,shrewd business people and those with a high degree of skill in any fieldlittle changed but the scenery outdoors.

Deicidepassed a loudspeaker that was spewing garbled noise from his wife’s languageprogram; it was a sort of command-speak, which all sentient beings could understand,a guttural drone that rooted itself in the inner workings of the mind, like thecrying of a baby, or the beat of a drum. It explained to the refugees their situation and gave them instructionson how to handle their new living arrangements. Deicide nosed around the in-briefing desks,waved to a few Corpsmen and slapped the backs of a few Petty Officers beforecontinuing onward. He was extremely wellloved by the military, crew members and privileged citizens of the Aeolipile,he set aside time to eat at least one meal a day in an enlisted mess hall, ofwhich there were thousands and made sure he was seen throughout the ship withdaily walks and friendly, non-inspection visits to each department.

Abruptly thevoice of Hellmouth, his Risk Eater Chief Commander, a Grade Three Eater, camefrom behind him. With it being so earlyin the day, he knew her to be wearing her warm-up suit, with an empty Skidunderneath, mildly transparent from the lack of black vestige running throughit.

“Ask me what,Ant?” she said. The gold toothed woman wasvery direct with junior officers to enlisted personnel, and even Deicide. Besides his wife, she was the only one whocalled him by his nickname consistently in public. The diminutive of his birth name did notbother him, especially when he was told what an ‘Ant’ was. He was proud to be linked to a creature thatcould lift more than ten times its weight.

Quicklyremembering what he had said to Baby Sister earlier, Deicide answered. “Nothing,” he said, quickening his pace.

“You gonnago to PT tomorrow?” she said, catching up to him.

“It’sholiday routine, Shay,” he said, not wanting to be lectured on the evils ofsedentary lifestyles.

“And? If you don’t train everyone else is gonna thinkthey can slack off,” she said.

“You canstill workout your people out,” Deicide said. He glanced over his shoulder and waved to a group of young eaters thathad immediately stopped goofing off, not at his presence, but that ofHellmouth’s; for their sake he hoped she forgot their faces, but notlikely. Hellmouth continued to speak oftransgressions made in Deicide’s youth as if they had happened only a week before.

Deicidestepped onto an express moving-walkway and hopped up onto the railing, an actforbidden to everyone onboard for safety reasons. Deicide watched as Hellmouth’s thick lipstightened as he made himself comfortable on the rail, then he glanced over theside and through the transparent decks of the plaza. The interior architecture of the Aeolipilewas a marvel of design and technological advancement, as well as aestheticallypleasing; the insides appeared to be completely seamless and sleek. Swooping white arches of amazing curvaturenever seemed to replace angles or sharp corners, reflective surfaces alwaysmaintained a mirror finish and glass, or some substance much like it, waspolished until it was virtually undetectable to unassisted eyes. Items such as emergency procedures,directions, and bull’s eye markers only appeared in the event of an actualemergency or the prompting of a resident without optical nanomachineimplants. If a member of the crew orpassengers fell under any sort of duress, or most likely, a state ofbewilderment, the machines monitoring their functions would automatically leadthem in the right direction to safety with neon guidelines along the walls,floors, ceilings.

Hellmouthcleared her throat to capture Deicide’s attention. “We’ve talked about this before, Ant,” Hellmouthsaid. And they had, at length, butDeicide felt that after living more than a few thousand years he was man now,even if Hellmouth would never think so.

“Shay,refusing to work out on my day off isn’t a political statement,” Deicide said. “I’m not telling you how to run yourdepartment.”

“And I’m nottelling you how to run your ship, but they follow your lead, don’t they?” shesaid, jutting her thumb back to the group of the loitering eaters, laughing ina semicircle. Deicide shrugged, an eatersoldier was only expected to be fearless and unmerciful in battle, he caredlittle of what soldiers did in their personal time, they owned it; unlikenon-eaters that were kept busy every moment of the twelve-hour workday. If the eaters were the lions, then thenon-eaters were the hyenas, jealously waiting for their turn to enter thebrutal examination period.

“And aboutyour little speech before the Earth-jump,” Hellmouth said.

“Hmm?” Deicide said, glancing at a violet-headed,eater behind them on the walkway.

“I don’tthink the Females appreciate being called girls,” Hellmouth said

“I’ve heardthey don’t appreciate being called Females,” Deicide said, speaking more to thewoman behind them, than Hellmouth, a person he felt had strong-armed more thanenough of his attention over his unnaturally long lifespan.

“Rather becalled a female than a fucking girl,” Hellmouth said, shooting a discouragingglance at the violet adjacent to them, and she knew full well the type of womenthat Deicide was weakened by, a subtle nod from Hellmouth as she glanced at thetop of the woman’s left breast; she had memorized the name on her tape.

“You know Ididn’t mean it like that,” looking back to Hellmouth. “And I remember sayinggirls and boys. I was trying to play thefriendly father figure,” Deicide said.

“From theyoungest face wearing the heaviest of brass?” she said.

Deicide letout a small chuckle. “Genetics. You should have Nott do some work onyou. I hear it’s cheap,” Deicide said.

“Tempting, butI don’t want to live forever, sweetie. You’d have your answer about God much quicker if you didn’t,” Hellmouthsaid.

“Themission; I don’t want to die before I’ve seen the end of this,” Deicide said.

“Sometimes Ithink it’s the only thing you see,” Hellmouth said. Deicide turned his gaze away from her. She pinched his cheek and then hopped overthe railing onto an adjacent walkway heading in the opposite direction. The violet had ceased beckoning with hermatching eyes, now specifically forbidden from interacting with her Captain inany informal setting, she turned away and found an interesting section on thesleeve of her uniform. Deicide thoughtof penning a convincing appeal and sending it to his wife Nott, she was prettyenough and being an eater she obviously had superior genetics, but it was neverwise to sneak around the backs of women that truly cared for his well-being andsafety, even if that love was at times stifling and a bit possessive.

Deicideslipped from the railing as the end of the walkway came closer. Soon after doing so he was accosted by crewmembers and Aeolipile citizens, all needing things, all talking at once. It was why his personal staff of Risk Eatersand Deathless troops usually accompanied him, even on the ship sometimes in theCivilian sector, though some of their notoriety was just as bad. Some of the more dashing Risk Eaters wereconstantly mauled any time they strode in public areas. Deicide waved them away politely, while theAbyss narrowed her giant yellow eyes that swam in her unending blackness. All it would take is a thought from Deicidefor the Abyss to spear them all into the air, like a demented black menorah. As Captain, Deicide always had to hide thefact that he was a brooding misanthrope; he loved the company of his entourage,degenerates that they were, they understood his moods and knew when he wasprone to his fits of anger and melancholy. In the most extreme of either emotion, Deicide was known to barricadehimself in his estate with frightened socialites or unlucky officers,practically holding them hostage with the Abyss. As Nott had written in her notes long ago,that the Abyss was a cannon always loaded, and forever pointed at everyone andeverything, except for the boy she coveted.

Deicide camebefore a row of Gates, they were similar to the portals he had used to enterthe ship, but these were permanent unlike the Dynamic Gates and could not bemodified without a technician. Itallowed quick access between decks like an elevator without the trifles ofbuttons, doors, or close quarters flatulence. They were only located on certain regions of the ship to allow quickaccess to forward, aft and amidships spaces. Instantly, Deicide passed through the warped reality and was inside theOfficer’s Plaza, commonly referred to as O-Country. It housed the living spaces and common areasof all officers onboard, as well as their families. These were no modest staterooms, to whicheven the lowest, unmarried enlisted man was accustomed to; these were luxurycondominiums fit for the high born and dignitaries.

Deicide haddecided to take a short cut and strode through the narrow hall which led to sidedoor of the office complex; he was bombarded with multiple levels of securitywith each step, all without impeding his movement. Robotic arms shot out to prick him withneedles, green laser beams scanned his eyes, while he recited his name. Many had laughed at the multiple levels ofsecurity, for this room especially, as only two fully sentient beings hadaccess to this room, one of them was Deicide and there was only one Deicide,but there were those onboard that, with some hi-tech finagling, were closeenough. The black doors ahead slid open silently and he passed over a lightedwalkway inside a dark room full of females, what some would guess to be secretaries,their faces lit by the blue illumination beaming from their holographicdisplays. It was known as AmanuensisAlley and remained a mystery to nearly everyone onboard, even to Deicidesomewhat.

From behindthe glass Deicide caught the eye of one of the women working closest to him, asshe raised her head, so did all the others, with frightening synchronization,they smiled in unison and continued their work. Unlike husks meant for combat, which were as disposable and recyclableas a sheet of paper, the Amanuensis were permanent, as they learned just as anyother creature would, all connected to thick umbilicals that hung from theceilings, nourishment and oxygen was supplied to them for they would never movefrom their desks, or move at all, seeing as they had no legs. They filled the giant blind spot of even themost advanced AIs, dedicated organic thought; a computer could never appraiseart, or assign values to abstract concepts.

The ideabehind an array made sense to Deicide when it was applied to other fields, heused it to artificially multiply the size of his army, to increase the power ofhis ship, but it evaded him when he was told these women would make his externalbrain, forward and aft, more efficient, though not necessarily smarter. His wife had strongly discouraged speakingwith any of them, as this would cause a condition called disjecta membra, causing a steep decline in his synchronizationwith his external ship memory and his vestige, the Abyss.

The tasksput before the Amanuensis were varied, devouring volumes of history, crackingcodes Deicide had tripped over hundreds of years ago, tallying essentialfigures and statistics, one of them might have even kept a log of every mealDeicide had ever eaten, all information could be useful at some time, as was a beliefheld by his wife. It was the reason shehad assembled the Amanuensis alongside Deicide’s combat array, both male andfemale husks were subservient clones extracted from Deicide’s DNA. However, to say they were clones was notquite correct; they all resembled him to some degree, lighter or darkervariants of his brown skin, seemingly jeweled irises, and his sharp fingers,but the spiritual machine that drove Deicide could not be replicated. They were empty, hence their names, organicmachines bred to do a singular task.

Finallyarriving at his office Deicide found the expected queue waiting out front, itdisappointed him how so many had access to rooms so close to confidential data. He sighed and stuck his hand out of theAbyss, which was wrapped around him like a cloak, so that he could press histhumb against glossy digital-ready forms and chits. He was still unsure why he was signing any ofthese, especially for Supply Department; there were dozens of people with theauthority to sign casualty reports and production confirmations. Finally, he came to a woman sleeping in thefront of the line; she was wearing the patch of Deicide’s entourage, a thronewith sleeping wolves at its feet. Her chit was sitting on top of her bob-cut hair;Deicide picked it up, and without looking at it, crumpled the glossy digital-readyand flung it at her, waking the young woman. He turned and burst into his office, and the woman was directly behindhim, protesting loudly.

“Why not?” Rodelasaid.

Deicide kissedhis wife as he passed the long black corner couch and shook the Abyss away fromhis shoulders; the creature then spread herself across the ceiling in blackwebs. Pieces of Deicide’s desk emergedfrom the walls and floor as he came closer to it; in mid-stride he changed hismind and fell into a recliner in the adjacent corner, the desk pieces returnedflush with the surfaces from which they came. From the arm rest a holographic display shot out a control panel and heselected his display windows to show him the view outside, an endless spread ofstars divided by a fluorescent road of dust, like crystallized moonlight. Deicide paused to reflect upon the boundlessradiance before turning back to the dark haired woman berating him.

“Why? Why can’t you just take an assignment insidethe ship?” Deicide said, stretching his arms out. Even with so many speech lessons he had notrid himself of the habit of talking with his hands. Any agitation or excitement would onlyincrease his animation; it caused many to jokingly mimic his gestures. A poor impersonation of the Captain waslooked down upon, but good ones were often rewarded with laughter and cronyisticbackslapping.

“All thattraining was for what exactly?” Rodela said. “They made me a Velveteer, a body guard for rich brats.”

“It’s a goodjob,” Deicide said. “And I think they’reoffended by that term now. I think theyprefer to be called-

“It’sboring. I want a career,” Rodela said. “I’m not trying to hug a desk or be an armednanny,” Rodela said.

“If you’rein the Districts you’ll still be someone’s bodyguard,” Deicide said, shakinghis head. “Just come work for me again.” Deicide knew what her answer would be beforeshe could move her lips to speak; and it was his fault, he knew it, he hadinsulated himself with his favorite soldiers and felt little guilt from thedecision. He would much rather be deadthan bored. But those he surrounded himselfwith, mainly the younger ones, were from good stock and ambitious, along withtheir penchant for being bull-headed.

“So I canget soft?” Rodela said. “I just got outof secondary training; I could run with the new taskforce Hellmouth wants inthe Districts.”

“She’s notlooking for friendly faces,” Deicide said.

Rodela baredher fangs unconsciously. “And I am?” she said, curling her pointy fingersinside her fists. With the hostilemotions she was making any eater would be within their right to challenge herto a duel. Deicide, being The Eater,could strike her down and receive little more than a chiding from the moresensitive hearts amongst the heavy brass.

Deicidewaved away the menacing gesture. “If youwere any sweeter I’d put you on toast,” Deicide said, turning to Nott, whorolled her eyes and turned away.

“Can youlook at me as an adult for one minute?” Rodela said. How could he when she had just gotten out ofher Milk Tooth phase, Deicide thought.

Deicide lethis hands fall into his lap and held Rodela’s gaze. He thought it was unfair for her to use thatagainst him, it was she who had broken every link in the chain-of-command bycoming here. Few people were evenallowed to enter this office, let alone barreling through the doors screamingat the person who owned it, a person who also happened to be the captain. Yes, she was coming from a position ofprivilege and entitlement, and how could she not; knowing who her mother wasthat is? And did she not resemble hermother? So much so that it hurt him tolook at her straight in the face. Needlesslyreminding him of her honeyed skin, lips that interlocked into a melancholicpout when not formed into a timid smile, at least it had been timid, in thebeginning.

“Everyoneshouldn’t know that side of themselves, Rody,” Deicide said, sinking back intohis chair. “The Grinders will make sureyou do, they won’t go easy on you just because I favor you.” In fact, they may be much worse, he thought,remembering his own training in his younger days, when the Eater’s program wassomeone’s baby, just as terrible and novel as any other passing thought, butthis child of invention had the fortune to be born to a parent that had thecourage, or perhaps the sadistic desire to see it through. Deicide had been one of the first, and theonly to survive the practices, and they made sure he understood why, that hewas different, having the ability to detach himself from the fight; the perfectvessel for revenge.

Rodelacrossed her arms. “I don’t need yourhelp,” Rodela said.

Deicidepushed himself up with his elbows. “Yet,you’re here begging,” Deicide said.

“You knowwhat I meant,” Rodela said. “I’m notasking for a favor. I just want to betreated like anyone else. I know that’shard for people like you.”

“And why isthat?” Deicide said.

“Cause youfeel like you own everybody, even people you care about,” Rodela said. “Especially people you care about,” finishingwith her eyes gazing at the floor.

“What? How is that even fair?” Deicide said, but he knew deep down she wasright, not in any slave-master sort of relationship, but his people hadsomething of his in them, nearly all of them. How could he not feel overly protective or scared for them and theirfragile human features, but there would be others, many, many others, maybe oneeven more special than Rodela, but he doubted it.

“I wantthis,” Rodela said. Her eyes weresteady; burrowing into his pair. Deicideglanced over to Nott who was staring into infinity, purposely avoiding his eyes;the Abyss had snaked around his arms and legs and was speaking to him in alanguage only he could understand. Then Deicideopened his hand to receive the digi-ready; as Rodela smoothed out the crumpledrequest chit against her thigh. As heplanted his finger firmly on the shiny ragged, sheet, Rodela hugged his neck; andthen she hurried from the room.

Deicide easedback into his chair with a half-smile across his face and accessed the holographicpanel once more and turned on some music from his home world. To any other listener it would sound like awoman singing sad and beautiful notes, but an Abstrusian’s ears would be filledwith a woeful sonnet narrating the tale of the birth of their people’s lastchild, eerily prophetic and pleasing to the ear, Deicide liked to think thesong was written for him, even though it was written nearly 200 years before hewas born. If Nott was successful, Deicidewould not have to be the last full-bloodied Abstrusian; their people had beatenthe indifferent goddess of nature before, with diligence and creativetechnology. However, when they couldcheat their biology no more, cruel, but necessary sacrifices had to be made.

Nott had removedherself from the couch and seated herself on Deicide’s lap; the enormity of herhair nearly covered both him and the recliner, he hated seeing her with herhair tied back. He recalled the earlydays of the Aeolipile when she had ceased to be his tutor and schoolmarm, whenthey had become lovers, but now, some thousands of years later, she was as cruellychaste and motherly as she had been when he was child, at least toward him,anyway. Not that he would fault her nowfor taking a lover; in fact he wished she would, the woman seemed to live onlyfor the mission, she was the savior of their race, he only the protector.

He reachedthrough the black forest of hair and to her back where he ran his fingers overthe numerous cables and plug fittings that ran down her spine. Nott’s umbilical apparatus, while being farmore of a physical hindrance than Deicide’s lighter, clandestine tail-units, boastedfar more features; enabling her to be completely in tune with the Aeolipile,her legion of techs, operators and A.I.s Nott had personally developed to keepthe massive ship functioning.

Theumbilicals also provided her with a crude sort of telepathy, which Deicideabhorred for its messy and stilted flow. It was extremely difficult to understand and decipher messages from her,as they were copied and translated thousands of times over into dozens of machinelanguages before it ever arrived into his internal memory. Often times, a message would come out theother side unraveled and smashed into a single indescribable emotion, or evenworse, his mind would process this signal as a strange combination of cravingsor flavors.

Unbeknownstto Deicide this was happening because their bodies were now on differentevolutionary paths and every day that passed they grew further apart. Deicide perceived none of these changes inhimself though, as easily as his memory could be supplemented with information,data, at least minor things, could be deleted without causing any stress. Through Nott’s handiwork, Deicide would bethe picture of the Abstrusian male all civilizations would know, that of afanged, muscled warrior; in truth Abstrusian males had lost their teeth, as didthe females, and much of their muscle mass through thousands of years ofselective breeding.

Nott placedher hand on top of Deicide’s; as it slowly crept up her leg. She smiled and pushed it away gently, thenblew sharply at his antennas causing him to flinch. He playfully bared his fangs and she gave hima toothless grin. Without teeth or gumsher mouth was little more than a tiny slit used only to speak the Abstrusianlanguage to Deicide, as her umbilicals provided her with all necessary nutrientsfor a healthy existence. She could stillmanage speech in Circum, the official ship’s language, but only with a strangeaccent that many not a part of her corps of scientists and technicians couldunderstand. Her long spells of silenceand use of hastily scribbled notes and messages had given her the undeservedreputation of being an ice queen, adding this to the fact that her intelligencegrossly outstripped that of anyone onboard, including Deicide’s.

“How’s yourwork coming?” Deicide said. Nott shrugged and looked down at him, herlarge yellow eyes seemed as though they saw everything in the room at once.

“Stillnothing.” She said. Their people’s curse continued to follow themacross the reaches of space. SinceDeicide had come of age the two had struggled to have a child, it had takenprecedence over Nott’s other projects, but their efforts had beenfruitless. Tragic, as the Aeolipile andher exertions had provided countless people with wonders and miracles only inscribedin Holy Scriptures and ancient tomes, even eternal life only required a coupleof years of adequate service and a few signatures.

Deicidegrabbed both of her hands, trying to ignore the Do Not Revive bracelet on her left wrist. “You’ll do it. I know you can,” he said.

“I don’tknow. I can’t see myself doing thisforever, Ant,” Nott said.

“Don’t starttalking like that again,” Deicide said.

“I’vealready trained the team that’ll replace me,” Nott said.

“You can’tbe replaced,” Deicide said, gripping her tightly.

“You have your children and your women, you don't need me anymore,” she said. Then she tugged at his left ear scarred bytooth marks, showing that he had been claimed by another woman, an eaterwoman. The man’s mentors had always toldhim to keep his scars, to remind him of his mistakes, though Nott could makethem vanish with a gadget she had invented in her spare time.

“But they’re not OUR children, and those women aren't you,” he said.

“You’ll haveto part with me soon, my love,” she said.

“As if I’d everallow you to leave,” he said.

Her tiny shouldersbobbed as she laughed. “You would lockme away? I control every door on theship,” she said.

“Then I’dbuild a tower in the shaft of the engineering plant and place you at the verytop,” he said.

Nott stareddown at her lap. “The last half is yourmission, not mine,” Nott said.

“You wouldlet me bask in glory alone?” Deicidesaid.

“If you knewwhat I knew you would see no glory in this fool’s errand,” she said.

“You insultme and yet you’ve held me up this whole journey,” he said.

“I wouldrather aid a foolish man that thought of me as an equal, than a much greater manwho treated me as a child,” she said.

“I’muncertain of what I should feel at the moment,” he said. Then she kissed his face repeatedly, instantlyleaving love bites all over; almost as if his blood longed to be inside her.