Hell Ship

by Philip Palmer

  One year after this message was broadcast to the stars, the Death Ship appeared in the skies above these people’s planet. The Dreaded were hailed as saviours, and a new spirit of cooperation spread through the lands of these once-aquatic peoples. Violence ceased. The elderly mellowed, and realised the folly of their brutal ways. The children learned to respect their elders, awed and shamed by the presence of alien sentient life.

  The Dreaded were welcomed by these people with open arms, and according to several broadcasts transmitted to the stars, they were acclaimed almost as gods.

  There is no record however of how this species and its planet were destroyed by the Dreaded; but destroyed they were, along with the rest of this universe. All that remains is a lament by a sentient being ashamed of his own people for all their flaws and frailties; and, as Star-Seeker Jak has ironically observed, unaware that that there are other creatures in existence who take evil to infinitely greater extremes.

  Sharrock

  “I have a tale to tell,” I said.

  It was Day the Fourth, a day for poetry and tall tales. And I held all those gathered before me-who comprised almost all the sentients of the interior world except for the Kindred, and the sessiles, the aquatics and the plants-with my fierce gaze.

  “A tale of adventure and courage; duplicity; guile; alien artefacts; and beautiful jewels,” I continued, and I knew I had their rapt attention, for such is my way with words. “For I stole a precious stone for my beloved wife Malisha, from the treasure house in the palace of the Galli, the chief family of the Southern Tribes in the city of Sabol on the planet of Markdsi. It was a jewel that had previously been stolen by the Galli from an alien species of peerless power. And I stole it from the thieves; for those effete Southerners could not keep it from me!

  “And here is the jewel.” And I held it in my hand; a beauteous red stone, which shone like a furnace in the dim candle-light.

  “I stole it for her, for my beloved wife Malisha,” I continued. “And, after fleeing Sobol in a small spaceship, I was pursued and then captured by soldiers of the Southern Tribes. But I kept the gem safe by hiding it in my mouth, in the place of a tooth which I had ripped out.

  “Then I escaped, and stole another spaceship. I survived a space battle. I was marooned for many months when my craft was trapped in waves of energy that prevented all means of propulsion, a doldrums of deep space. I saw, or thought I saw, space ghosts. All these adventures I briefly mention here; they were to be the matter of a glorious tale to be told by the fireside late one night, to my naked and sated and beauteous wife.

  “Yet this never happened. The tale was never told; for Malisha died, terribly. My daughter Sharil died. My people died. I came to this place and I found brave and noble souls, yourselves. And I commend you all for your spirit; I am proud to know you.

  “But all this is mere preamble, to set the scene, and acquaint you with the character of the story’s protagonist, namely- myself. The tale I tell today is this: One day on the ship called Hell, a decision was made. One fateful day changed the destiny of all. One day all the peoples of the ship resolved to work together; not to fall into Despair, but to work together with one aim. And that aim is: to comprehend this place and how we are kept here and why we are kept here. And to use this knowledge to destroy our enemy, and to escape our captivity.

  “That is the tale I have to tell; except I cannot tell it, for it has not yet happened. If we succeed, then shall I speak more.

  “Who will join me?”

  When I had finished speaking, I looked at Sai-ias. I knew what such a course of action would mean to her. It would be the repudiation of all her dreams of peace and contentment; the destruction of the equilibrium she had so painstakingly achieved; and the beginning of a vicious and merciless war which in all likelihood none of us would survive.

  “I will join you!” Sai-ias roared, and relief swept over me; and all voices were raised to celebrate the dream of liberty I had conjured up this day.

  There was much work to be done, and many nonsensical notions to be discarded to help us to achieve our aims.

  For instance: translating air!

  The very idea was absurd. There was no technology I could conceive of that could allow air to translate, on a long term and universal basis. Miniature mechanoids floating in the air equipped with databrains and a translator code could do it of course, for a brief while. But what mechanism would be used to convey the translation into the mind of the listener? It would be sheerest chance to swallow the one portion of air that contained the translation of the words we were hearing!

  What’s more, in the course of time, these mini-mechanoids would be dispersed by the winds. So to create air that translates, you’d need as many mini-mechanoids as there were molecules of oxygen in the atmosphere!

  Idiocy!

  In the same way, all the creatures on this world had succumbed to the absurd notion that the Tower was the home of the Ka’un. They were sure it must be true-for the Tower was remote, yet visible; protected by winds; a constant reminder to them of the Ka’un’s power.

  But what warrior would put his army in plain sight of the enemy like that? Did these creatures know nothing of subterfuge and military strategy?

  Sai-ias and I had proved that the Tower was nothing but a myth; but it was one of many.

  For, as I now argued to the peoples of the Hell Ship, this notion that air could translate was also a myth-by which I mean a superstition which idiots believe in because they are too stupid to think for themselves. (On Maxolu, we have no superstition; that is why we are so superior to the feeble-minded Southerners with their cult of the Inner God, which to my mind is nothing but an excuse for gluttony!)

  Be that as it may: another Hell Ship myth was that the air somehow creates the light from the sun. But how? Tired air becomes the sunset-absurd! Why not use a hidden light source? Or place bulbs on the other side of the metal sky, and use mirrors to convey the light within?

  These creatures of the interior world wanted to believe such lies. They could not face the truth; that solutions to problems are usually simple, sensible, and pragmatic.

  It was now my job to teach these creatures to discount all these myths and delusions, in order to defeat the Ka’un. The myth of the air; the myth of the light; the myth of eternal life. All nonsense!

  Teaching the citizens of the Hell Ship to see the world clearly and as it really is; that was my first part of my mission.

  “I killed Zala,” I said to them all, “in the battle of the End of Days. So how could she have survived her terrible injuries, and come to live with you once more?”

  A pause ensued; my listeners did not see the reason for the question, but I waited patiently.

  “It was not the real Zala,” suggested Morok, “but a replica.”

  “A machine-replica?” I asked, encouragingly.

  “In our world,” said Tubu, “we had such creations. But they weren’t machines, they were illusions, solid to the touch.”

  “It could be,” I said. “And remember, the real Zala had no memory of her fight with me; and no trace of a scar where I beheaded her.”

  “The memories of those who fight the Ka’un are erased,” Morok pointed out.

  “Not always,” Sai-ias said. “Sometimes the Kindred remember what they do; forgetting only occurs when their injuries are severe, as Zala’s were.”

  “That may be it,” I said, pleased with Sai-ias’s astute comment. “For I utterly destroyed her body: I split the head and brain; and cut her torso into parts; even the waters of the well of life could not bring that to life.”

  “Agreed. Rejuvenation of cells,” said Quipu One, “can explain the healing of most injuries; but some other force must be at work in the case of Zala.”

  “Could it be,” asked Iodoy, “connected with blink technology?”

  “Explain,” I asked, intrigued.

  “It is possible to conjure a creature from here, to here,” clarified Quipu Two, “in the
blink of an eye. Hence the phrase. My people used it as a means of conveying cargo from one planet to another. We called it ‘gapping,’ Ioday’s people called it ‘blinking.’ We and Ioday have discussed the science of it often. But such a method of transport only works if you create a perfect replica of the creature during the process; for it is information that is gapped, not matter itself.”

  The silence was stony; then it yielded fruit.

  “That must be it; that is the technology they are using,” I said excitedly. “For Zala ‘blinked’ away from my planet. She faded, then went. I thought of it as magic; but replication and disreality-bonding could have achieved the same effect.”

  “Indeed,” added Quipu One. “When she arrived on your planet they would have had a second ‘Zala’ in storage. A perfect recording of the original creature; any mechanoid brain with sufficient data storage capacity could do that.”

  “That’s how they make us cheat death! Replication, coupled with rejuvenation,” said Quipu Two. “Making us both immortal, and unkillable.”

  “What about the water of the well of life?” said Ioday.

  “Perhaps,” began Quipu One.

  “Perhaps it contains healing particles,” Quipu Two interrupted, excitedly. “Miniature mechanoid brains, that interact with the cells of our body, using small worlds technology.”

  “Our kind had that,” I admitted. “Once, our people used to die of heart attacks and alcohol poisoning, in vast numbers; but that has not been the case for many years. For at birth now, we are injected with artificial cells with micro-brains that live in our body and clean our body of toxins. In consequence,” I added proudly, “we can drink gallons of the strongest ale, and never get drunk, nor suffer any dismal pangs the following morn!”

  And so it went on; I badgered these foolish beasts to think harder and longer about the powers of the creatures who built our world than they had ever done before.

  The next day dawned: Day the First.

  Once again, our peoples of the Hell Ship travelled their world. But this time, I asked Sai-ias to gather all the aquatics together and dive deep and plumb the depths of the lake; and then dig deep holes in the lake-bed itself to test what lay beneath.

  And I asked the aerials to flock high and peck at every patch of the false sky, looking for gaps, or joins, or weaknesses.

  I told Fray to smash holes in the mountains, to create caves out of sheer rock, in the hope of finding an entryway to the exterior hull by that route.

  I told Quipu to analyse the soil, and examine the water from the well of life with his telescopic visions to ascertain what microbes might exist there.

  Everything was recorded; written by Lardoi in blank books taken from Quipu’s library, and also memorised by Quipu’s five brains.

  And Lirilla flew from place to place, carrying information, cajoling, unifying us into a single exploratory force.

  Day the Second. The Temple was getting close to the sky now; but instead of demolishing it, I made the workers continue building the structure up higher, yet narrower. Until the Temple was a thin finger that reached close enough to touch the sky.

  And those working on the Temple continued past the end of Day the Second, and for many cycles after; until the Tower near touched the sky.

  At which point Fray clambered up the high steps and took a perch up there; and began to butt the hull-metal with her powerful horns. Relentlessly, incessantly, powerfully. It seemed to make no impression; but she continued, and continued, and I knew she would do so until I told her to stop.

  And after six days, a dent in the roof of the sky was visible.

  Day the Third.

  As the work on the Temple continued, I began each Day the Third by making the aerials practise swooping and ripping with sharp beaks. I trained the giant sentients to charge in tight formation; I taught military tactics to the arboreals. I forced Sai-ias to prove her strength by throwing sessiles as missiles. The aquatics too were marshalled, and asked to demonstrate their predatory techniques, their killing skills. And the land predators practised their most basic survival skill; how to hunt.

  Day the Fourth. A day of tales, and poetry. And on this day, each poet was asked by me to imagine a world in which all sentient beings lived in harmony, and the Ka’un were dead. And then to write their visions up into poems that would inspire us all!

  Day the Fifth. Day the Sixth. Day the Seventh. Day the Eighth. Day the Ninth…

  The days began to blur. Some explored, some built the Temple, some trained in warfare strategies and honed their fighting skills.

  And others spent all their time discussing the science of the Ka’un and the geography of our world. Each part of the interior world was to be charted; each creature in the interior world was to prepare for what by now we all knew was inevitable: full-scale war against the Ka’un.

  Thus had I turned these creatures into an army fit to vanquish the most fierce of enemies. And I had also made them think. Just as, in her own exceptional way, Sai-ias had made me think.

  For I had been so very certain, for all my life, that the way of my people was the rightest and most apt way. But now I had come to doubt it all. All the values I had assumed and trusted and relied upon-I now challenged them, utterly.

  War is glory? Death is the supreme achievement for a warrior? Prowess in a duel is a sign of moral superiority?

  All these beliefs now seemed to me-well, fatuous really.

  War may be necessary; military might may be prudent; but there really are, it now dawned on me, more important things in life.

  Thus had Sai-ias taught me; for my mind too, I realised, had been cluttered with myths. Blind and foolish beliefs that could not withstand the cool stare of compassion.

  In comparable fashion, the creatures on this ship assumed they knew the truth about their world; but they did not. Their assumptions were false; their beliefs were absurd.

  Thus had they been, for so many years, and in every respect, the dupes of the evil Ka’un.

  I had one final surprise for them.

  We were sitting, a small group of us-Sai-ias, Quipu, Fray, Lirilla, Doro, and I-in the fields by the forest, in the warm sun. Doro was a shadow on the grass, we barely knew he was there. But he was always there. Fray was restless, but determined to listen to my words. Quipu was animated, gesticulating with his two hands and bobbing his five heads as he mentally wrestled with thorny problems about the physics of the Hell Ship.

  I then discussed with them my various theories.

  “You have told me that for many years you have believed the air translates,” I said, preparing the ground for my argument. “And it also hears every word we say.”

  “Correct, that was indeed once our belief,” said Quipu Three.

  “And it allows us all to breathe, though the atmospheres of our planets are very different.”

  “Correct again,” Quipu One concurred.

  “And the Tower is the home of the Ka’un; and the air generates light; and creatures who fall into Despair live for all eternity?”

  “All fallacies, we see that now,” conceded Quipu One.

  “Yet you’ve already said all this!” chided Quipu Three.

  “Don’t be discourteous,” said Quipu Five, critically.

  “Let the creature speak,” ordered Quipu Four.

  “Even if he is annoyingly repetitious,” Quipu Two sniped.

  “My point now is: how do we know all this?” I asked.

  Baffled stares greeted me.

  But this was the crux of it!

  All on the Hell Ship lived their lives according to various beliefs-or, as I would term them, myths. But where did these fucking myths come from?

  Quipu shrugged, five-foldly. “These are things we simply know,” Quipu One said. And Quipu Two added:

  “Some knowledge is like that. Geometry, the difference between up and down, mathematics. It is called innate knowledge.”