Legba

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  Loco shook his head dismissively. “Oh, so suddenly we’re moving him again? Make up your mind, pretty boy…” Loco, Svend, and Legba leaned down and moved the body away from the access hatch, closer to one of the walls.

  The hatch was already open, and Jade scrambled up the ladder from the main engine deck below. She hopped up into the corridor, then walked over towards the still form of the hulking man, who was still wrapped in the blue moving blanket. She stood over him and pointed an index finger. “Who the fuck is that?”

  Olofi gazed at the large, blue object on the floor, confused. “Who is… who? I’m sorry, I think that I’m a little bit lost…”

  Jade stared at Olofi, breathing heavily, still getting over her sense of shock. “Look. All I know is that I just finished replacing that damaged fuel line, and I was coming up the ladder, when a, a fucking huge face fell in front of my face. And I wasn’t wild about it.”

  Olofi peered at the huge blue mass, scratching his head. “This… This thing has got a, a face?”

  Loco nodded. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. And a whole lot more!” He strode over towards the gigantic man’s head, and rolled his body over slightly, leaning him against the wall, revealing a huge, unconscious face sticking out of the blue moving blanket.

  Olofi jumped back, surprised. “Oh!”

  Loco shrugged. “What? I figured it’d be a good idea to leave some space for his face. Make it easier for him to breathe.” He shook his head. “You try to do one nice thing…”

  Olofi edged closer to the massive body apprehensively. “Is— Is he dead?”

  Legba walked over to Olofi and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Oh, heavens, no. Your peerless peer Loco was able to expertly render this gentleman utterly unconscious, with only one surgically precise blow to the head.”

  His eyes still closed, the gigantic man opened his mouth wide, and let out a loud, phlemy snore, which echoed through the corridor. Legba smiled, gesturing towards the man. “See? A specimen of nearly perfect health.”

  The entrance to the Chesed shot open, revealing Shango. He stormed inside, a look of consternation gripping his face. He stood before his crew, his arms crossed. “Does anyone have any idea why the Verracci Police Force is converging on our ship?”

  As Legba darted down the corridor, Olofi pointed at the massive unconscious man who was lying on the floor. “I imagine that might have something to do with, uh, this fellow.”

  Shango looked down at the face of the enormous figure. He massaged his temples, furious. “Could— Could someone, anyone, please tell me why there is an insensate stranger, who may or may not have some sort of growth disorder, lying on the floor of my—”

  Before Shango could finish his sentence, the entire ship lurched forward, sending him off balance. He fell to the floor, landing on his backside, as the Chesed rose, then sped forward. He took a deep breath, then tentatively arose and walked towards the bridge, trying to avoid falling over. The rest of the crew followed him, trying desperately to remain upright.

  Shango entered the bridge, holding onto the doorframe to support himself. On the main screen, the canyon-like interior of the Verracci Docks had been replaced with a vast expanse of open space. He turned to the command deck and saw Legba sitting there, his hands on the controls.

  Legba turned towards Shango, smiling. “If I am not mistaken, you did say that in your absence, we should prepare for take-off. I dutifully made said preparations, and now I am happy to report that we are taking off, just as you had hoped.”

  Shango breathed heavily, furious, and pointed at Legba. “This was your doing!”

  Lebga shook his head deferentially. “Oh, no, I could not possibly take full credit for this smooth take-off. I am quite certain that the preparations made by Jade, your head engineer, were absolutely essential in—”

  Shango threw his right arm backwards, pointing down the corridor. “No! Not taking off! I mean the unconscious giant who’s lying on the floor of my ship! That was your doing!”

  Loco, gripping the walls to stay upright, raised one of his hands. “Actually, just so that we’re all on the same page, the unconsciousness part, that was me. I was the one who punched this huge—”

  Shango glared at Loco. “Shut up, Loco. You’re drunk. Legba used you.” He gazed at the rest of the crew, who were all trying with great difficulty to remain standing in the corridor. “He used all of us.”

  Bentley looked at him, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait. What do you mean?”

  Shango took a deep breath. “That gash in the fuel hose? The one that drained our FTL fuel, and forced us to land at Verracci? That was all him. He was the one who made the gash. He orchestrated the entire thing.”

  Legba stared at the screen that sat before him, fiddling with a control panel. “Shango, I agree that this is a subject that is very much worth discussing, but for the moment, I believe that we should all focus on something that is a bit more simple.”

  Shango glared at Legba. “Oh? And what would that be?”

  Legba didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “We are about to enter FTL flight, so in my humble opinion, we should all have one principal priority: seatbelts!”

  The crew scrambled into the available seats on the bridge, strapping themselves in. Legba turned to observe them, and once he was satisfied that the crew was buckled up, he activated FTL flight. The stars that appeared as dots on the bridge’s main screen immediately transformed into long white lines, and the Chesed zoomed away from the Verracci Docks, at a speed beyond light itself.

  +++

  Aboard the Chesed, Edge of Leviathon-Q Sector

  Shango stalked around the bridge, furious. Legba sat at one end of the table, with Olofi, Loco, Bentley, and Svend sitting opposite him. Jade was on the command deck, navigating the ship. Although Shango was preoccupied, his eyes on the floor, and Jade was focused on her instruments, everyone else stared at the main screen, which showed a live stream of the medical bay.

  Jelly Bean stood in front of the camera, her arms behind her back. At her feet lay the massive unconscious man from the bar, asleep, snoring loudly. He was too large to fit into the examination seat, so he instead lay on an ad hoc pile of bedding, made of spare mattresses and sheets.

  Jelly Bean gestured towards the hulking form at her feet. “I have run a number of cranial scans, and the subject appears to be completely healthy. He remains concussed, but I will update you if his condition changes.”

  Shango looked up at the screen, distracted. “Okay. Thank you, Jelly Bean.” He glanced quickly to his right, and the screen showed a live feed of what lay ahead of the Chesed: an array of stars set against the empty void of deep space.

  Shango approached Legba and glared at him. “So. Are you proud of yourself?”

  Legba tipped his head back and forth indecisively. “Well… I would say that I have achieved a number of technological innovations that are sufficiently remarkable to warrant some degree of pride. I hope you do not think me vain for saying that much.”

  Olofi crossed his arms. “I think Shango meant something more along the lines of: Are you proud of yourself, for pulling off your little plan?”

  Legba beamed at Olofi. “I believe that you give me far too much credit. You say that I, to paraphrase you lightly, did manage to pull off a plan? I will admit, yes, all of my hopes were realized, and my attempts to prompt these events were ultimately successful. However, it is only a foolish man who believes that he can bend the universe to his will. Even if that man does happen to be a god…”

  Loco slammed a fist on the table, frustrated. “All right. Cut the shit. You got what you wanted. And you used me to get it. And you know what? I really don’t appreciate being used. By anyone.”

  Legba nodded sagely. “I can understand that sentiment.”

  Loco glared at him. “What I want to know is: how did you do it?”

  Legba looked off towards the bridge’s main screen, out at the distant stars. “I suppose it’s not t
hat complicated, really.” He turned back to Loco. “You are fond of card games, are you not?”

  Loco narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly. “Sure…”

  Legba smiled. “So you are familiar with their general procedures. You and your opponents all make bets, and then once the bets have been made, you all reveal your cards to one another, and the outcome of the game is decided.”

  Loco twisted his lips, suspicious. “Yes. That is a, a fairly traditional way of gambling with cards. So what?”

  Legba leaned towards him. “Although I am happy to move credits about, whether through gambling or other means, there is a step in this process that is simply of no interest to me: waiting for my opponents to reveal their cards. They already have their cards, so why wait for them to show them to me? Why not simply fold back time, and take a peek, slightly ahead of schedule?”

  Olofi rubbed his chin. “I think the ‘why not’ is simply that, well, folding back time is… impossible?”

  Legba looked at Olofi, smiling. “For most, yes, that is true. For me, though, it is considerably… less impossible. You see, for me, time is like a curtain. It is easy to move, and easy to peek through, if I wish.”

  He turned towards Loco. “I saw what we could gain by going to Verracci, and how you could be of assistance in your state of inebriation, and I acted upon these facts. So I suppose what I’m saying is: you are very welcome.”

  Loco glared at Legba, fuming. “I— I’m welcome? You— You fucking—” He abruptly pushed his seat away from the table, standing up. Then he kicked his chair over, furious and breathing heavily.

  He looked over at Shango, who had stopped moving to watch Loco. “Say. Any more room on the bridge for people who need to pace angrily?”

  Shango waved him over. “The more, the merrier. Or, the more, the more miserable. I should say, it does help a bit.”

  Loco strode towards Shango, and they stomped around the bridge on different paths, their eyes locked on the floor.

  Olofi watched the two lwa pacing around angrily, then returned his gaze to Legba. “I suppose one thing I still don’t understand is this: why didn’t you just tell the rest of the crew? Why sabotage the ship, and engineer this cascade of events instead of just, you know, letting us all in on your plan?”

  Lebga shrugged. “It seemed more fun, I suppose. Besides, I was very busy with Bentley. We had so much work to do, and it would have likely taken upwards of multiple minutes to explain the plan to all of you. I simply did not have that kind of spare time on my hands.”

  Shango marched straight to Legba’s seat. “Okay. So let me see if I understand this. You lied to us. You damaged our ship. You manipulated Loco. You risked our detention and incarceration by the Verracci Police Force. And for what, exactly? So that we could have a giant, washed-up drunk sleeping on the floor of our medical bay?”

  Lebga looked into Shango’s eyes, his expression becoming more serious. “Shango. Do you recall the conversation we had, when you came to me in my cave?”

  Loco raised his hand, waving it around in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh, oh, I do! I remember that! That was the conversation when Shango told you that Amroth had this big plan, to make this corteX app that would give him complete control over all of humanity. And your response was basically, ‘Yeah, I know, and I don’t care.’ Is that the conversation you’re talking about?”

  Legba nodded slowly. “That is the correct conversation, but I fear that I am being slightly mischaracterized. Yes, I did know that this was Amroth’s plan. But I knew more than that. Everyone at this table witnessed the death of Amroth, but things that are destroyed have a way of coming back. I am living proof of that.”

  Bentley frowned at him from across the table, uncomfortable.

  Legba gazed at the rest of them. “However, I am not a special, unique case. Amroth can return as well. I knew that Amroth had this plan for the corteX app, but I also knew that in spite of his death, actions had to be taken to ensure that this corteX app does not survive, even if Amroth does.”

  Svend watched Legba, an involuntary smile breaking across his face. I guess this guy isn’t just all mystical bullshit after all, he thought to himself. He might actually be working towards the things I believe in…

  Legba turned towards the bridge’s main screen. His eyes dashed quickly to the right, and the live feed of space was replaced with a live feed of the medical bay. The gigantic man continued to doze on the floor.

  Legba stood up from his seat and pointed at the screen, walking towards it. “That man, who lies unconscious on the floor of your ship, is named Gakkra. It is true, I took unconventional means to get him here. However, that is only because he is our key to the very innards of Dracon Station, and hence the key to ensuring that all traces of Amroth’s app are utterly destroyed, once and for all.”

  Shango strode towards Legba, staring him in the eyes. He took a deep breath. “Based on what you’ve said, I agree that Gakkra might very well prove useful. However, if you are to remain on this ship, then there are two points that must be completely clear. One: I am the captain of the Chesed, not you. Two: as the captain of this ship, I will not allow you to take the fate of its crew into your hands. Are these two points understood?”

  Legba stared back at Shango and nodded solemnly. “I understand completely, Captain.”

  Shango puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. “Good. Now, given that your work with Bentley was so time consuming that you could not avail yourself of ten whole minutes to explain your plan to us, perhaps you should get back to it.”

  Legba nodded, smiling. “My dear Shango, that is an excellent suggestion.” He turned to Bentley. “My child. As always, we have work to do.”

  She took a deep breath and stood up from the table, following Legba off of the bridge.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Aboard the Scythe, Edge of Klaunox-Orion Sector

  Ivor sat at his desk in his quarters, staring at the ceiling. He leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers idly on the surface of his desk, unsure what he should be doing. He enjoyed the fact that he was the captain of his own ship, but this change had brought with it some growing pains, which Ivor felt ill equipped to navigate.

  Being the son of a captain, Ivor had assumed that being a good captain would come naturally to him. He had been the captain of his own ship for a few months now, and although he did not think that he was doing a bad job, exactly, he often had doubts that he had any idea what he was doing.

  He was deeply aware that the moments that caused him the most anxiety were not fires in munition storage units, or incoming volleys of missiles from enemy ships, or vicious mutinies on his own bridge. Luckily for him, he had yet to experience any moments that were even remotely similar to those sorts of events. Rather, the moments that caused most of his stress were moments like this one: the moments where he didn’t seem to have anything to occupy himself with.

  Most days, he was struck with an overwhelming feeling that there just wasn’t very much for him to do in general. The ship seemed to be operating fine without him checking in on the various stations every few minutes, so why bother? In fact, would that sort of checking in actually be a bad idea, worse than doing nothing? Would his subordinates find that kind of micromanagement annoying, and bristle at it? Or did they expect it, and take his hands-off attitude as a clear sign of managerial incompetence? Were there glaring problems with the day-to-day operation of his ship, but he was completely blind to them? He had no idea, and he had no clue how he might divine the answers to any of these questions.

  Consequently, he had spent most of his days over the last few months cooped up alone in his quarters. He worried that if he spent too much time on the bridge, various members of his crew might be able to tell that he had no idea what he was doing. His cluelessness might then become a rumor that would spread through the entire ship. This rumor would surely then fester beyond his view until he was deposed, or perhaps worse, pitied by all of his subordinates. Remaining in his
quarters seemed like the safer option by far. If he was in fact incompetent, it was probably better to be incompetent in private, far from prying eyes.

  Luckily for Ivor, this depressing train of thought was interrupted by a sharp knock on his door. He turned his seat towards the door and sat up straight in his chair. “Come in.”

  The door slid open, revealing Angela. She strode in, a smile on her face. “Good news. We’ve intercepted a message from Svend, to Blackfriar.”

  Ivor grinned. “Is it a message stating that he has decided to hang himself with a length of razor wire, with a postscript stating that his plan went off without a hitch?”

  Angela’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “Even better. Apparently Svend is with the crew of the Chesed, on their ship, and as of the writing of the message, they were just about to cross into the Leviathon-Q Sector.”

  Ivor sat back in his seat, a wave of disappointment coming over his face. “Well… I guess it is good to know in a general sense where that little rat is, so that we can tear his shiny, metallic guts out at some point, but that’s not really enough information to track them down today.”

  Angela tilted her head. “With that information alone, no. But we know other details as well. May I?” She drew a sleek black remote control from her pocket.

  Ivor gestured towards the center of the room. “Please.”

  Angela pressed a button on the remote control, causing the projector in the ceiling to start up. It projected a holographic map that filled the middle of the room. A floating orange X marked a spot near the edge of the Leviathon-Q Sector.

  She turned towards the map. “We also picked up a report coming out of Verracci. It seems that a rogue ship just escaped, a ship that just happens to be called the Chesed.” A second orange X appeared on the map, at Verracci, and a dotted line of bright white connected the two X’s.