6 Days A Sacrifice: The (Un)Official Novelization (Chzo Mythos #4)

Day Five

                                                                               February 3rd, AD 2386

        "...This, of course, is our resident celebrity."

        "The Mephistopheles killer?"

        "Yes, you'll remember it was all over the news. Last year, the EFS Mephistopheles was relaunched with a skeleton crew of six. The appointed ship's counsellor was one Doctor Jonathan Somerset, and he reported for duty punctually and on schedule. Unfortunately, shortly after the launch, it was discovered that the real Doctor Jonathan Somerset was dead. Pushed down a flight of stairs, presumably by the imposter who had taken his place. Off-World Security was dispatched to intercept the Mephistopheles. Its last recorded communication was an SOS distress call to the EFS Charisma. By the time Off-World Security arrived, this man had slaughtered the entire crew."

        "So...who IS he?"

        "His name is Malcolm Somerset. The only son of Doctor Jonathan Somerset. He was a student of psychology at Ganymede University, wanting to follow in his father's footsteps. But he failed his final examination and dropped out. It seems becoming a shipboard counsellor was his dream, and when his father was called up, he couldn't hold in his jealousy."

        "So...why did he kill the Mephistopheles crew?"

        "That's partly why he remains under psychiatric study. It's a complete mystery. His profile is completely inconsistent with a spree killer. The best theory we have is that he was found out, and killed out of desperation, but that doesn't explain the demented creativity, the sheer bloodthirsty relish with which his crewmates were slaughtered. One man was impaled, another was blinded...the first officer had her head twisted right off. Many of the corpses were dismembered and stitched randomly together into Frankenstein-like monstrosities. Certainly not the actions of a man simply trying to cover up a far less serious crime. But let's leave him for the moment and move on..."

        Malcolm listened to their voices fade away into the dark halls of the psychiatric facility. It was all too common now, for a group of students to come to tour the facility and spend all too much time gawking at him. He never imagined that one day he would be in this position, the person living in the padded cell, when it seems like just yesterday he was a student touring psychiatric facilities himself. He stood up, his back sore from hunching over. He wanted out, but he knew it was impossible now. The only escape he would ever find now would be in the sweet, soft arms of maiden death. A still breath was heard, so faint it was nearly disappearing. Malcolm knew who it was. The bald man in the tattered red robes.

        "You! Judas!" Malcolm yelled, but his anger quickly rescinded to despair. "I was beginning to think you'd gone forever."

        "This shall be our last meeting." The bald man told Malcolm in that ever-calm voice.

        "You'll get me out of here, right? You owe me at least that!" Malcolm tried to grip the bald man's shoulders to shake him, but Malcolm's hands slipped right through, grasping air.

        "What makes you think I owe you anything?" The bald man replied, unphased.

        "You're the one who made me kill my father!" Malcolm cried.

        "I only encouraged you to do what you already intended." This response only made Malcolm angrier.

        "You said I wouldn't get caught!" Malcolm cried, more frustrated than angry.

        "You wouldn't have been caught, had the Mephistopheles left that locker alone."

        "You knew about that?! Did you know about John DeFoe? Was it all part of some plan?!" Malcolm held himself, desperate for answers, feeling like he truly was crazy.