by Martyr(Lit)
felt a distant warmth, leading him to believe that he was in a fairly arrid area.
He tried to call out, but his mouth was dry and raspy, his throat not much better. He cleared his throat, took another stab at it, and this time managed to get out, "Hello?"
He didn't get an immediate response, and he wasn't entirely certain if that was a good thing or not. He felt the bonds at his wrists and ankles, tested his strength against them, and found that they were more than capable of standing up to his best efforts. That didn't stop him from trying to pull his wrists clear, but after several minutes that only resulted in severe abrasions, he stopped to reconsider the matter.
He tried to remember how he had arrived at his present situation, but his memory was hazy at best. He recalled the banquet, and the vague sense of danger. He remembered retiring to his room. Beyond that-nothing. He looked down at his chest and noticed that his communicator was gone. Well, whoever had made off with him was thorough, he would certainly give him that.
Slowly he surveyed his surroundings. Definitely a simple cave, fairly unremarkable, Now if he could just figure out what in hell he was doing there.
Who could possibly have done this to him, and for what possible reason?
Then something flickered over near the wall. He looked up at it, squinting, trying to make it out.
It was some sort of light emission, that much he could see. And it appeared to be taking some sort of form, coalescing into...
A Zondarian.
But it was not one that Calhoun had seen before. He was hairless, with the same glistening leathery skin that the rest of the people shared, but he seemed older somehow.
Calhoun sat up, propping himself up on one elbow, and said to the image, "Who are you?"
He wasn't entirely certain if he expected an answer, but was rather startled to receive one, although it wasn't much of one: "I know who you are," replied the image. It had only partly materialized; Calhoun could still clearly see the cave wall behind him.
"Oh?" was all Calhoun replied. It wasn't the most useful of responses; after all, Calhoun knew perfectly well who he himself was.
"I watched you," said the new arrival. "I watched you arrive. I watched you hailed as the Savior. That is what I do, much of the time. I watch. Watch and record."
"Would you be kind enough to tell someone where I am?"
"They will know," replied the image cryptically. "I have already seen that. That is what I do, you see. I notice certain moments, and then track them to see how they develop. I have already seen what will happen to you. Now, for curiosity's sake, I am studying to see how you got to that point."
"I'm flattered I'm of such interest to you." He felt his arm becoming numb and shifted his position. "Since you seem to be so cognizant of what's to come* would you mind telling me if I get out of here?"
"You will be saved by neither man nor woman," replied the image, and then slowly it began to fade out.
"I appreciate the encouraging words!" Calhoun called out. "Get back here!"
But the image was gone.
Insanely, Calhoun sensed that the floor was warm directly beneath where the image had been, as if it had been generating body heat. But that was impossible.
It had been nothing more than a hologram...
For, for all Calhoun knew, it had been a complete delusion. Perhaps he was simply losing his mind. Now
there was a cheery thought. The image had vanished and he'd been left with more questions than answers.
And then it appeared that his questions were going to be answered in very short order, because he heard a soft footfall approaching him. Rather than immediately tip off the fact that he was conscious, Calhoun laid his head down and narrowed his eyes to slits so that he could still see. He slowed his breathing down as best he could to try and simulate an unconscious state.
He saw someone approaching him, and this, in contrast to his previous visitor, was very much a flesh-and-blood Zondarian. His captor stopped several feet away from him and said, "Feigning unconsciousness is rather pointless. I heard you talking to yourself before, so I know you are awake."
Slowly Calhoun lifted his head. "Ramed, if I'm not mistaken."
"I am honored that you remember me, oh Great One," Ramed said with a slight inclination of his head. "You have, after all, met a great many of us. It is flattering to know you can keep track of who is who."
Ramed's comment about "talking to himself had immediately struck Calhoun as odd.
Ramed had apparently been oblivious to Calhoun's visitor from moments before.
Calhoun decided to keep that information to himself. He wasn't sure if that was going to be of any use, but when one is in a hostile situation, any knowledge one possesses that is not shared by one's opponent is inherently some sort of advantage, even if the details of that advantage are not readily apparent. "So, what did you do to me?" asked Calhoun. "To get me here. To knock me out?"
"A simple drug in your food."
"But I ate and drank the same as everyone else. You couldn't have singled mine out."
"I did not have to. I put it into everyone's drink. However, a drug that can reduce your bodily func-
tions to simulate death can also be completely harmless to Zondarians."
So much for my vaunted sixth sense, Calhoun mused. He rationalized to himself that perhaps he hadn't realized specifically where the danger was coming from because, to so many people in the room, it presented no danger at all. Or, more likely, he just wasn't perfect. That was something he definitely hated to admit.
"And then I simply brought you here after your body was taken to the sacred place of preparation. I am somewhat stronger than I may appear to you, oh Great
One. I admit, you did become a bit heavy the last mile or so, but it was nothing
I could not handle. I have, after all, the strength of my convictions."
"Would you mind telling me what the hell we're doing here? I take it that this isn't something being sanctioned by your peers."
Ramed shook his head. "No. No, not at all. At the moment, in fact, there is great consternation among my people. You made quite the impression upon them in a fairly short time. Although admittedly, you did have help. We told the people of your coming, we told them that you were the fulfillment of prophecy.
Naturally they could not help but love you. See you as a symbol of something truly great."
"And you, for some reason, feel the need to undo all that?"
Slowly, Ramed sank down to the ground near him, as if he were commiserating somehow. "I have no choice," he said simply. "My part in these matters is as predestined as your arrival was. As your death is."
"You are so certain, then, that I am going to die."
From the folds of his clothes, Ramed pulled out a wooden handle. He pushed on it and a long and sharpened point snapped out. "Neither man nor woman will save you," Ramed said.
The words immediately struck a cord within Cal-
houn. It had been the exact words of his ghostly visitor from earlier. But Ramed had made quite clear that he had not heard the exchange; unless, for some reason, Ramed was endeavoring to completely confuse him. But that didn't seem likely. Ramed might be deluded, even demented, and certainly bent on Cal-houn's destruction, but remarkably subtle he most definitely was not.
They stared at each other for a time. Then Ramed said, "Are you not going to beg for your life?"
"Am I supposed to?" Calhoun asked sarcastically. "You seem to be rather cognizant of what's to come. You tell me."
"I do not claim to know every detail," Ramed replied.
"Ah. Well, thank you for clearing that up." Cal-houn's eyes narrowed. He struggled to bring himself up to a fully sitting position and managed by dint of pulling his back up against the wall. "Why do you think I'm going to beg for my life?"
"Well, that is a natural action for one who is destined to die."
"We're all destined to die, Ramed. Beg for my life? I've been prepared to die sin
ce age fifteen. I never expected to live to see twenty. Every day beyond that, I've considered to be something of a gift. So if you're expecting to see me grovel and crawl now, if that's what this is about-"
"No, that's not what this is about. This is about saving my world."
"I thought that's what my presence here was doing."
"You have no say in the matter either, oh Great One. You are as caught up in all this as I am."
"Caught up in all what?" Calhoun said slowly, as if addressing a child. "You have yet to tell me what the hell this is all about."
"You truly desire to know?"
"No, Ramed, it's always been my goal to die in ignorance. Yes, of course I want to know."
Ramed rose, walking away from him and disappearing into the inner recesses of the cave. This, to Calhoun, did not seem the most straightforward manner of answering a question. Moments later, however, Ramed returned with a scroll. It was carefully preserved within a tube, and Ramed removed it from the cylinder with extreme delicacy. He began to read from it, and Calhoun could tell from the way that Ramed wasn't even truly looking at it that either he was making it up as he went, or else he had read it so many times that he more or less had it memorized.
"'Look to the stars, for from there will come the Messiah,'" Ramed said." The bird of flame will signal his coming. He will bear a scar, and he will be a great leader. He will come from air and return to air. And he will be slain by the appointed one. The appointed one, who will be privy to great knowledge. The appointed one, a great spiritual and religious leader, one to whom many will look for guidance, who will hear these words and know, within his heart, that he is the one who is chosen to slay the Savior. He and no other. There will be a great festival to celebrate the Savior, from which the Savior will disappear.
And he will then live for three days and three hours exactly after that disappearance. There will come a great confrontation within the place that was once my home. The Savior will be saved by neither man nor woman, and he will die, impaled on the great spear passed down by my descendants. And in that slaying, the Messiah's death will unite our planet. And...'" Ramed's voice trailed off.
"Oh, don't stop now," Calhoun said drily. "This was just getting interesting."
" 'And if he does not die in the appointed way, then the final war will destroy all? All. All!" he added for emphasis.
"That was truly riveting," Calhoun told him. "And what am I supposed to learn from that?"
"You are supposed to understand," Ramed said in genuine confusion. He waved the spear around for emphasis. "This is prophecy. These are the words of Ontear himself. Most of it has not been made known to the good people of Zondar. Only that the Savior would one day come. That is all they know. But it was the wish of Ontear-a wish carried out by his greatest acolyte, Suti-that only the innermost circle know of the true, full details of what was to happen. After all, who would willingly wish to become known as the Savior of the Zondarian people if he knew that his destiny was to die in order to obtain that unity?"
"I can see where that would be a problem."
"Suti kept the sacred knowledge within his own family, and that knowledge was handed down, from one generation to the next. The secret scroll, passed down, the information waiting for the time that was to come."
"And you're certain that I am the Savior," Calhoun said. "You're so certain of that. And that you are the appointed one who is supposed to kill me."
"Of course," Ramed said in clear confusion. "How can you possibly dispute it?
The prophecy is clear-"
"Is it? How do you know?"
"It could not be more clear!"
"T'hanchips. I think you're looking for an excuse," Calhoun told him. "I think you're just a deluded, would-be murdering bastard who's looking for any excuse-"
Ramed was literally trembling with rage. "How can you say that? You know nothing of me! You know nothing!" He drew closer to Calhoun. "I have a wife! A son! I am a good man, a decent man, who has never harmed a soul in my entire life! Do you think I wanted this task? Do you? I lived in dread of being the
appointed one! As did my father, and his father before him! You have no idea what it was like, Calhoun! No idea of the burden my family has carried! Every day, for generations, Zondarians have hoped and prayed that the Savior would come! And every day, for generations, my clan has dreaded that moment, for we knew that the knowledge we possessed ensured our damnation! If I lived my entire life and never set eye on the Savior, I would have died in peace-no! I lie, for
I would have had to pass the knowledge on to my son, thereby condemning him to a life of apprehension! I have spared him that, at least. For that, I suppose, I should be grateful. I must do this thing, Calhoun. I have no choice, no free will. My people, the fate of my very world, depends on my next actions! I must do that which I find personally repugnant in order to ensure that my planet is united! For if I do not, if my will is weak, if I fail in the endeavor, then there will come a great war which will destroy everything! How can I condemn my people, my world, to that?"
"Your destiny is no more and no less than what you make of it," Calhoun said.
"Letting your every move be dictated by vague prophecy..."
"There is nothing vague about it!"
"There sure as hell is."
"It speaks of your coming from the stars, with the flame bird as your avatar!"
"The flame bird merely speaks of the timing of it. Even if you judge that this is the time, that doesn't mean I'm necessarily the one you're expecting. All our worlds orbit stars, or suns. We owe our lives, our existence to them. We all come from the stars, Ramed. All of us. Singling me out simply because I come from a starship is folly."
'"He will come from air and return to air!' You materialized out of the air itself!"
"You're a spiritual individual, Ramed. Don't you
believe in the ephemeral nature of the spirit? We are plucked from nothingness, and to nothingness we return."
Ramed shook his head and pointed accusingly at Calhoun, coming to within a foot of him. "This is absurd," he said. "In most cultures, prophecies are vague, and those with something to gain try to find the specifics that will serve them.
Here the prophecies could not be more specific, and you seek to dilute them."
"I'm simply pointing out that maybe they're not as precise as you thought. You could just as easily be the savior as me. You're a great leader, after all."
"Oh really?" Ramed smiled patronizingly. '"He will bear a scar.' What of that? I have no scar."
That was when Calhoun lunged forward.
He'd slowly been positioning himself, maintaining what seemed a casual sitting position. The moment that Ramed was close enough, however, Calhoun made his move.
His intention was to slam into Ramed with such force that he would knock him cold. He would then grab the sharpened pike and use it to cut through the ropes that were binding him. For a spur of the moment plan, it wasn't bad.
Unfortunately the ground betrayed him.
There was a thin layer of gravel. Had his feet been free so that he could properly maneuver, he would have easily been able to vault it or maneuver around it. But with his feet tied up, it was impossible for him to move with his usual agility.
Consequently his bound feet went out from under him, and he collided with Ramed in a totally off-balance fashion. Ramed staggered back, spinning away, and his face smashed into the cave wall. He slid to the ground, momentarily dropping his spear, and Calhoun tried to angle around to get it. But Ramed
was too quick, snatching it up and holding it between them, point directly aimed at Calhoun's chest. Calhoun lay on the ground, his purple eyes focused pitilessly on Ramed.
"What did you think you were doing?" Ramed gasped out. Blood was pouring down the side of his face from where he'd slammed it against the wall.
"Trying to make my own destiny, you pathetic idiot," Calhoun snapped at him.
"Just as I've been doing all my life.
You-you're a slave to yours. But I'll shape my own. By the way, congratulations. That's going to leave a rather impressive scar."
Ramed was trying to staunch the bleeding. He tore off a portion of his sleeve and used it to put pressure on the wound. "Very amusing, Great One," he said, with as heavy sarcasm as he could muster. "Very, very amusing. You're trying to confuse matters. To confuse me. But it's not going to work, do you understand?"