Legba

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  As Ivor made his way towards the screen, he noticed the crew members’ uneasy behavior, and smiled. Hmm… he thought to himself. A general air of distress, fear, and submission. Maybe I actually have a better handle on effective management techniques than I thought…

  Ivor turned his gaze away from his anxious crew, to the enormous screen that loomed before him. Angela had secured a top-of-the-line ship, and the Scythe boasted a host of advanced navigational equipment, most of which was clustered around Ivor on consoles and holoprojection units. He was not sufficiently well versed in technical details to appreciate the technological richness of his environment, but he did understand scale, and the main screen on the helm was really, really big.

  The screen showed a live feed of what lay before the Scythe. It was mostly the darkness of empty space, with some stars twinkling in the distance, but Ivor could see one particularly prominent object that was moving slowly across the screen: the Chesed. It was relatively small on the huge screen, but with every passing moment, the image of the Chesed grew incrementally larger and larger.

  Angela stood behind Ivor, watching as he gazed at the Chesed. She smiled. “What did I tell you?”

  Ivor nodded vigorously, grinning smugly. “‘Come down to the helm. I have something I want to show you.’ And you certainly did…”

  Angela opened her mouth, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Uh… I— I did say that… I was thinking more about what I told you about triangulation.”

  Ivor turned towards her, a look of uncertainty on his face. “About… Uh… Sorry?”

  Angela clasped her hands together. “Oh, you remember. That if we were to plot the most likely course from Verracci to the Dracon System, and we piloted the Scythe to a point that was very close to this path, and we waited, then they would come straight to us.”

  The smug smile returned to Ivor’s face. “Ah. What you told me about triangulation. Right. Of course.” He turned back to the screen. “Do we have our cloaking devices primed?”

  Angela nodded. “Yes. They can’t see us at all. Even if they were staring straight at us, the only thing they would see would be the expanse of space that lies behind our ship. If they follow their current path, then their ship will glide right past us. So close that we could touch it, if we wanted.”

  Ivor laughed. “Excellent. Although we’ll certainly deal with them before they have a chance to get that close.”

  A grin spread across Angela’s face. “I was hoping that you’d say that. So when do we attack? And how? In order to take Bentley alive, we won’t be able to just overwhelm them with brute force. Our attack will require a sophisticated, coordinated approach to—”

  Ivor smiled menacingly, staring at the image of the Chesed. “Oh, I’ve got a great idea. Tell our crew to gather the waste capsules.”

  Angela knitted her brow. “To gather the… the what?”

  Ivor turned towards her. “The waste capsules. We’ll add them to our artillery, and launch the biggest pile of nuclear, biochemical, shitty waste we possibly can, straight at the Chesed. Using pieces of shit to take out pieces of shit. It’s perfect.”

  He looked at Angela’s face, and was surprised to see that she did not seem to share his enthusiasm. He crossed his arms. “What?”

  Angela twisted her mouth. “I— I don’t think that it’s a bad idea, exactly—”

  Ivor frowned. “So you’re saying that it’s not perfect? As in, it’s worse than perfect?”

  Angela stared up at the ceiling, trying to think of a way to be diplomatic. “It’s just— We were told to secure the girl, and bring her back alive, and I don’t see how that’s possible if we destroy the Chesed with artillery and… shit.”

  A look of indignant rage came across Ivor’s face. “‘We were told’? I don’t give a fuck what we were told. They humiliated us. Malleghan has another thing coming if he thinks we’re doing anything less than erasing these fuckers from this plane of existence. And what better way to do that with some stinking bespoke ordinance?”

  Angela gazed at Ivor’s eyes. It was clear that he would not change his mind.

  She brought her right hand to her forehead in a quick motion, saluting him. “Aye aye, Captain. I’ll get right to it.” She clicked her heels together, then walked away from Ivor, leaving the helm.

  Ivor smiled, and turned back towards the enormous screen. He watched the Chesed move through space, ever closer to the Scythe. I cannot fucking wait to see this, he thought to himself. Shit getting wiped out by shit. It’s almost poetic. Although… hmm… maybe it would be more poetic to have shit wiped out by toilet paper? Like, we could fire all of our toilet paper at them?

  Ivor brought his right hand to his face, tapping his fingers on his cheek, concentrating harder than he had all week. I guess we’d be out of toilet paper, though. And we couldn’t even steal any from the Chesed, since it would have ceased to exist. No, forget about the toilet paper thing. The first idea’s the best idea. Don’t overthink it.

  Ivor turned away from the screen and began to stride towards the exit. He watched a dozen crew members scurry out of his way, terrified. He smiled to himself. You know, I should really come up here more often…

  +++

  Aboard the Chesed, Edge of Leviathon-Q Sector

  Loco sat at the ship’s controls on the command deck. He stared at the screen before him and sighed, a look of incredible boredom plastered on his face. Shango sat at the table nearby, looking into the middle distance, preoccupied by something on his corteX. The door to the bridge slid open, and Olofi entered, a smile on his face.

  Shango toggled his corteX off, and stood to greet Olofi. “So. How is Gakkra acclimating to his quarters?”

  Olofi approached Shango, nodding. “Very well, I think. The bed’s a bit small for his frame, but that seems to be a situation he’s quite accustomed to. I’m not sure what kind of place he was staying at while he was living on Verracci, but I’m wondering if his quarters here are maybe a bit of a step up. He seemed pretty upbeat.”

  Loco turned away from his screen, towards Olofi. “Even though he’s still technically our prisoner? Did you really underline that for him? Because I think that’s a pretty important thing for him to remember. As our prisoner. Who’s imprisoned. By us.”

  Olofi glanced up at Loco. “I mean, I didn’t dwell on it, exactly. It seemed rather unnecessary to rub it in.”

  Loco shook his head, a look of disappointment on his face. “Oh, see, that’s where you’re wrong. You’ve got to take the time to really rub these things in, at any available opportunity. How else will people know that they should be miserable?”

  Olofi sighed. He turned away from Loco, returning his focus to Shango. “Whether Gakkra considers himself a prisoner or not, he does seem very eager to help us cripple Dracon Station and Amroth.”

  Shango nodded. “Well, he does seem to have some very good reasons.”

  Olofi smiled sadly. “I’ll say. To be treated in such a disrespectful way, to be given such a demeaning nickname—”

  Loco snapped his fingers. “Hey, we should give him an abusive nickname, too. Help to make him feel more at home.”

  Shango glanced at Loco, not impressed. He returned his gaze to Olofi. “Thank you for the update. If the man seeks revenge, it could be a useful resource for us to exploit.”

  Loco stood up, stretching. “Hey, Olofi, did you see Jelly Bean or Jade when you were out there? I’m getting pretty sick of sitting up here, when we have subordinates who could be doing this stuff for us. Otherwise, what’s the point of having them around?”

  Olofi shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen either of them in some time. Or Svend, for that matter…” He turned towards the bridge’s main screen, considering this fact, but his reverie was cut short as soon as he glanced at the large rectangle that hung before him.

  His eyes narrowed as he squinted at the screen. “What… What is that?”

  Shango turned, following Olofi’s gaze. “What is… what?”
>
  Olofi pointed towards the screen. “That thing. Right there.”

  Shango and Loco both followed the direction that Olofi’s finger was pointing.

  Loco started to nod slowly. “Ah. I think I see. That thing that you’re pointing at? That’s a screen.”

  Olofi dropped his hand and turned towards Loco, staring at him blankly. “Ha ha.”

  Loco smiled. “Yeah, screens are pretty neat. If you look hard enough, you might just be able see another one, maybe even in here. Like…” He turned towards the ship’s controls. A variety of screens filled his visual field.

  Loco put a hand to his chin, pretending to focus. “I think there might even be one somewhere around here… Olofi, could you come up here real quick and see if you can use your heightened senses to—”

  Olofi snorted in irritation. “Loco! Cut it out! I’m serious! Just…. Just look!” He pointed towards the same region of the screen he had pointed at before.

  Shango looked at Olofi and sighed. He placed a reassuring hand on Olofi’s shoulder. “You are probably just tired, Olofi. Maybe you need some rest. Loco and I can handle the bridge while Jelly Bean and Jade are absent.”

  Loco stomped the floor with his foot. “The fuck we can! I’m sick of playing junior technician while everyone else gets to take a nap! What about my rights, and my nap time?”

  Olofi turned towards Loco, his hands on his hips. “Loco, would you please do something useful for once, and check the radar?”

  Loco shook his head, muttering to himself, as he sat back down at the controls. He glanced at the radar and shrugged. “There’s nothing. I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

  Olofi approached the command deck. “Nothing? Like, absolutely nothing? Are you positive?”

  Loco stared at the radar. “I mean, there are minor spots of radiation up ahead…”

  A look of concern flashed across Olofi’s face. “Radiation?”

  Loco turned towards him. “Yeah. You know, that thing that’s all over the fucking place throughout the majority of space? Do you want a grade-school science lesson before your nap?”

  Olofi placed a foot onto the first step which led up to the command deck. “Here, let me take a look.”

  Shango turned towards Olofi. He crossed his arms. “Olofi. Stop.”

  Olofi paused on the steps and turned towards Shango.

  Shango sighed. “If there is anything out there, it is probably just a garbage heap. Which is tantamount to nothing.”

  Olofi began to massage his temples. “But— But I can see—”

  Shango shook his head. “Olofi. There is nothing out there. Go rest. That is an order.”

  Olofi opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything. His posture slackened, and he begrudgingly marched towards the exit, off of the bridge.

  Loco watched the door slide shut behind Olofi. He turned towards Shango. “Hey, can you kick me off of the bridge, too? I figure my nap time is coming up pretty soon, and—”

  Shango walked back towards the table and returned to his seat. “No, no. You stay at your post until either Jelly Bean or Jade comes back.”

  Loco crossed his arms and pouted. “Fine! I should warn you, though: if I don’t get my nap, I’ll be pretty fucking cranky.”

  Shango’s focus drifted into the middle distance as he returned to his corteX. “Ah. A cranky Loco. Now wouldn’t that be a novelty…”

  +++

  Aboard the Chesed, Edge of Leviathon-Q Sector

  Bentley watched her younger self as she stumbled her way through one of the most difficult moments in their collective life. She watched the young, terrified woman with the huge sheathed sword in her arms, half-carrying Legba’s bleeding body down the Chesed’s main hallway, leaving a long red stain in her wake. She became aware that she was observing a moment of incredibly high intensity, yet in a place that had become deeply pedestrian to her. It was a hallway that she walked down every morning to get breakfast, without having to carry any massive weapons or dying tech mages.

  She felt herself becoming detached from the scene. Hmm, she thought to herself. I wonder whose responsibility it was to clean up all of that blood. Probably Jelly Bean. Loco doesn’t seem like the on-his-knees, scrubbing-out-stains type. Although that would definitely be a lot more useful than… than whatever it is he supposedly does…

  Bentley tried to disengage from these idle thoughts. She cleared her mind, such that its only point of focus was the scene that played out before her. She watched the agony that played out on both her face and Legba’s. She noted the even light of the hallway. And yet, it was hard to focus on these things, or think of them as consequential.

  She felt herself getting tugged out of the scene yet again. Something’s wrong, she thought to herself. I’ve been waiting so long to find out what happened on this very day, and now that I’m here, watching it all happen, it can’t hold my interest? What the fuck is happening?

  She returned her focus to the two familiar figures making their way down the hallway, but she noticed that the entire scene was starting to grow faint. Her younger self and Legba, seemingly on the verge of collapse, began to grow dimmer, fading away. The hallway itself was disappearing, fading into an enveloping darkness.

  In the darkness, an object started to emerge. It was the Chesed. Although, instead of seeing the interior of its main hallway, Bentley was seeing its exterior, from maybe a mile away. This was starting to feel very familiar. Both in terms of the visuals, and the prickly sense of fear that she was starting to feel in her body.

  She shook her head, coming out of the meditative state. She opened her eyes and placed her hands on her knees, leaning over in her seat, feeling somehow out of breath. She stared down at her body, and saw droplets of sweat fall from her face, dappling her pants.

  Within moments, Legba’s eyes fluttered open. He looked at Bentley, hunched over and sweating. A look of concern came over his face. “My child. What is wrong?”

  Bentley looked up at him. “I— I just remembered a dream—”

  Suddenly, the medical bay was gone, and she was back in the dream. She was back on the bridge of the Chesed, staring at the main screen. As usual, and as it had in her dream, it showed a live feed of the expanse of space that lay before the ship.

  She turned her head and saw that she was alone. Oh, fuck me, she thought to herself. What the fuck is going on?

  She ascended the short flight of steps that led to the command deck, just as she had in her dream. She again looked over the various terminals and instruments. And yet again, when she stared down at the navigation terminal, she was unable to read any of the letters or numbers.

  This must be a dream, she thought to herself. And I mean, fuck the reading test. I can tell it’s a dream because I already fucking dreamed it!

  Her brow furrowed, as a thought crossed her mind. Oh, shit. That means that if I look at the main screen…

  She turned to the bridge’s main screen. Among the wide expanse of dark space, she saw something moving. A familiar small circle, which was glowing at the exact intense, bright shade of yellow she was expecting. And just as she expected, the circle seemed to be getting ever larger, and ever closer.

  She grabbed her head and screamed. “NO! NO! I DON’T WANT TO SEE THIS PART! I DON’T WANT—“

  Just as she had feared, her perspective immediately shifted. She was yet again seeing the Chesed from a mile above. She watched as the ship glided along the very same flight path, straight into the very same streak of fire, which was shooting directly towards the Chesed at the very same speed it had the last time.

  She braced herself internally, trying to block out the terror of the immolation of the Chesed, of her friends, of herself, hoping in vain that somehow this thing that seemed to be inevitable could be stopped. Just like clockwork, the ship collided with the streak, and the colossal fire began to devour the Chesed.

  Just as suddenly as it had come, the vision disappeared. The image of the immolating Chesed
was replaced with the interior of the medical bay. This included Legba, who sat before her on a stool, staring at her with a look of deep concern. She rubbed her eyes and leaned back in the examination seat.

  Legba leaned forward, apprehensive. “My child. You seem troubled. What… What is on your mind?”

  Bentley sat up in her seat. She felt a fresh layer of sweat on her skin and the adrenaline that still coursed through her body. She closed her eyes and sat very still, allowing her mind to settle.

  She opened her eyes and stared at Legba. “It… It’s nothing. Let’s go back in.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Aboard the Chesed

  Legba could not help but stare at Raven Black’s face as she resolutely pulled his bleeding, dying body, step after excruciating step, down the corridor, getting them ever closer to the medical bay. He observed her eyes, seeing how dazed she was, and how much pain she was experiencing. And yet she still managed to pull him along. And that is without even mentioning the massive sword that she holds in her arms, Legba thought to himself. Plus the sheath. People tend to forget, but that sheath packs on some weight, too.

  He stared at the sword’s black leather hilt, which jutted out of the sheath, bouncing up and down with Raven Black’s every step. That sword absolutely cannot fall into the wrong hands, Legba thought to himself. And yet it looks almost safe, cradled in this young woman’s arms. As though it were her own child. As though the two were connected by… by…

  Despite the intense pain in his chest, and the incredible aches he felt in his dying body, Legba managed to smile. Of course, he thought to himself. Raven Black and the sword could be connected genetically. I would just have to encode her DNA to the sword, and she could thereby become the sword’s one true guardian. Perhaps this is the destiny of Raven Black. That promised destiny which, until now, I had such difficulty discerning. It truly is destiny. And, given how few options I have at this point, I suppose that it must be destiny…