"This is Captain Rolland of the Federation Starship Excalibur. By the time you hear this message, I will be on board the Catechumen vessel Testament." Rolland leaned back into the pilot's chair of the shuttle. He took a breath and surveyed the shuttle cockpit. He was used to riding in the passenger compartment. It had been ten years since he had pilotted a shuttle himself. Nevertheless, Rolland had relieved his regular pilot Kristina Alita of duty. He was making this trip alone.
Rolland felt the back of his head, running fingertips over the unfamiliar mark from his recent neurosurgery. Cutter had patched it with med-salve, which left a small fleshy lump over the hole through his skull. Somewhere in his brain were the two neurochips Cutter had installed, and with them the key to salvation for the Catchumen's prisoners.
"To Federation command: I've decided to take this action entirely on my own. None of my crew were involved or informed of my intentions." Through the viewscreen Rolland could see the starship Testament coming into view, though still just a speck in the distance. He tapped the pilotting console and confirmed his trajectory, straight towards the Testament's shuttle bay. "I know that my actions today are in direct violation of my orders. But I am acting according to my conscience and better judgment. I can only hope that all of you at home will judge me by the same standard."
Rolland paused. For a moment, he considered turning back.
"To my crew: I'm sorry we didn't get to spend more time serving together. However short, though, it's been an honour serving with you all, and a pleasure, and I know you've all got promising careers ahead of you." The starship Testament expanded in the viewscreen ahead, an ornate silver cross centered amidst the sparkling starscape. A halo of reactor plasma gently illuminated the approaching vessel. A sparkling sheen across the sterling hull highlighted intricate surface details. Rolland couldn't help but feel in awe at the beauty and magnifence of the Catechumen ship, even knowing the suffering they had caused.
"I wish you all the best," Rolland said. "I'm just trying to do the right thing."
Rolland clasped his hands to his face, beginning now to feel the full weight of his decision crushing down on him. Breath quickening and heart rate accelerating, he rubbed his face and then opened his eyes, half expecting to see something different.The Testament now occupied a wide stretch of the viewscreen and continued to expand ahead. Maybe I should just follow my orders. The open bay door was now visible. I haven't sent the message yet. I can still turn back. The Testament grew closer and Rolland's self-doubt turned to panic.
Are you doubting yourself? The voice inside his head was nothis own. Rolland felt a presence with him.
Zoojin? Rolland thought to the disembodied voice.
Yes. Zoojin's voice returned to him. I am here with you in spirit.
You're speaking from the Muramasa?
Yes, Zoojin confirmed telepathically. My mind can travel with yours, so long as you allow it.
You're here to help me?
I will offer what help I can, but that is not why I have come, Zoojin answered. To the contrary, I am here to ask for your assistance.
You picked a heck of a time, Rolland thought. This is a one way trip, you know. So how exactly do you want me to help you?
It is my royal duty to free those suffering under the Catechumen, Zoojin explained, but I was unable to penetrate their prison machine. My training did not prepare me for such a powerful experience. The psychic forces within that machine are beyond anything that I could ever have envisioned. I can't enter by my own strength. But you may succeed where I have failed. And with your help, I may enter the prison as well.
How? Rolland asked.
Allow my mind to reside within your field of consciousness, Zoojin answered. I will travel with you incorporeally.
I'm not sure I understand. You want to hitch a ride on my mind?
Precisely, zoojin replied.
And you think I can help you with that? Rolland asked.
You possess the ability, Captain Rolland. I can sense it within you. Even as we speak, your consciousness is expanded. I can show you how to control the powers of your mind.
Okay, Rolland answered. Then show me.
Calm your mind. You must first recognize your true nature as a being of energy and raw creation. I will guide you.
Rolland slowed his breathing, closed his eyes, and stilled his mind. Shrouded in the calmness of his breathing, shielded from his senses, he retreated into his own psyche.
In his mind's eye, Rolland saw a constellation of colours slowly form around himself. A field of gentle green encompassed his body, with spinning spots of coloured light, each one extending a beam of energy infinitely into the distance. He was a spectrum of light and energy. An etheric glow shined outwards from his mind like a star. A brilliant shimmering beam of white joined through his body along his spine, shooting straight up from his head to the edges of reality. The universe shrank to a single, bright point. His vibration resonated with the universe.
I feel energy flowing through me, Rolland thought to Zoojin. I feel like I'm outside of my body.
You are feeling the energy of the universe, Zoojin explained, the energy which flows through everything. It is the fundamental reality that lies beneath the surface. You are experiencing enlightenment.
Enlightenment? Rolland repeated. He never considered himself a religious or spiritual person. You're saying I'm enlightened? He asked.
Not precisely, Zoojin answered. Worldly beings such as ourselves cannot live in a state of enlightenment. It is for us only an ephemeral experience, a fleeting grasp at a reality only partially visible at the periphery of our consciousness. Our nature as independent beings is necessarily as a fraction of that fundamental reality. We exist as a small part of a larger picture, and so we can never fully achieve oneness -not in our lives as independent beings.
Rolland felt the energy moving away from his body. His consciousness sank lower towards his corporeal self. What happens now?
You are ready to draw on your potential, Zoojin's soft voice came to him. If you allow me, I will join with your field of consciousness.
Rolland focussed his attention. The green glow of his spirit floated in mental space. A buzzing purple haze drifted towards him and extended a gentle tendril of light. Rolland stretched his greenness outwards to meet the approaching purple mass, and they touched with an electric sensation.
I am here. Zoojin's voice spoke as they joined. Our minds are joined.
Rolland felt himself falling further from the encompassing energy of the universe towards the physical plane. He became aware again of the seat underneath his body and the air moving through his lungs. He grasped at the energy, only to fall further back to the present. The transcendent experience of his meditation already felt like a half-remembered dream. He was rooted firmly in the present. Will I go back there? he asked.
Yes, Zoojin answered. We all will, in time. Though not before we have learned what needs to be learned, in this life and the next. We are all here for a reason, with our own reason for being. We must each pursue our individual purpose. I will travel with you now, into the Catechumen prison, so together we can meet our destiny.
Rolland opened his eyes with renewed calmness and purpose. The euphoric feeling of his meditation had dissipated. He found himself in the cold physical reality of the shuttle. The pilotting console beeped incessantly, and the front viewscreen now showed the open bay door of the Testament. Rolland reached to the controls and initiated the landing sequence. The shuttle drifted into the Catechumen ship, settling down to the bar floor with a gentle bump. Rolland tapped a command into the computer, finalizing the audio recording and sending it back to the Excalibur. As the pilotting door opened with a pneumatic hiss, Rolland swiveled his legs out over the side of the chair, hopping swiftly down onto the floor of the Testament.
Brilliant stained glass now surrounded him. Rolland took in the vibrant beauty of the room. If this were the heart of religion, he could understand its appeal. Within these walls, a sense of awe and wonder rose up inside him, as though he stood in a portal to a transcendent reality. The surrounding colours mirrored the visions he had just witnessed during his meditation, his fleeting grasp of enlightenment. Rolland's attention was drawn to an image of a monk on the stained glass: calm and meditative, with a halo of bright light around his head, surrounded by coloured discs of purples, reds, and greens. Whatever the inspirations of the artists, the room captured the essence of his own spiritual experience. Perhaps those ancient artists were reaching out for that same fundamental reality that lay just outside of their grasp. It struck him now as profoundly odd that the people whose vessels contained such beauty could also be capable of such destruction and cruelty. The force that produced this awe-inspiring beauty was also responsible for unthinkable depravity: for the prison ship that housed the tortured brains of over a hundred thousand of the Catechumen's victims.
Rolland lowered his gaze to the approaching robed figure, whose footsteps echoed through the large hall: Cardinal Abidan.
"You've come to speak with me alone?" Abidan asked.
"Yeah," Rolland answered. "To tell you what I should've told you before."
"Oh?" Abidan raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"
"That what you're doing is wrong," Rolland answered.
"Is it? According to whom?"
"According to me," Rolland answered, his voice rising. "What you're doing to those prisoners -" Rolland shook his head "- it's unthinkable."
"They have all met the fate that was decreed by our Lord. Revelations, chapter twenty one, verse eight: the fearful, and unbelieving, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death."
"Death is one thing, but you're torturing them."
"They have met the fate that was decreed for their transgressions," Abidan replied. "They were all unbelievers. Revelations, chapter fourteen, verse eleven: the smoke of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever: and they have no rest day nor night."
"It wasn't enough just to take their lives. You built a place just to torture them. I can't imagine anything more twisted."
"You would question the wisdom and judgment of the Lord?" Abidan locked eyes with Rolland.
"Would I question your Lord?" Rolland returned the Cardinal's stare. "Let me put it this way: the only thing more despicable than a lord who tortures people is the pathetic, depraved person that worships him." Rolland looked at Abidan with naked disgust.
Abidan was unfazed. "Second Chronicles, chapter fifteen, verse two: anyone arrogant enough to reject the verdict of the judge or of the priest who represents the Lord your God must be put to death." The Cardinal paused. "I am willing to forgive your ignorance, and so is the Lord. After all, you have not had the benefit of his wisdom. You need only ask his forgiveness." He reached to place a hand on Rolland's shoulder.
"Eat shit." Rolland shook the Cardinal's hand from his shoulder. "And fuck your lord."
"If you are not willing to ask forgiveness -" Abidan shrugged with his hands "- then I cannot help you."
On the far side of the room a panel of stained glass slid open, casting bright rays from a room behind, as though from the sun. A large winged figure stood in the opening, silhoutte visible through the shining light. The figure walked into the bay, heavy steps clanging methodically. Light glinted off its metal body and artificial wings as it approached.
"The Lord's angel will take you." Abidan spoke slowly as the robot approached. "But you still have time. Now is your last chance to repent."
"Last chance?" Rolland repeated as the metal angel drew closer. "I guess you're right about that. This is my last chance." Rolland lunged, swinging a fist at Abidan. He struck the old man on the chin with a loud cracking sound. The Cardinal fell, landing on his hands and knees with a thud. He looked up, tears welling in his eyes.
Rolland was lifted suddenly off the ground. The angel's cold, metal grip tightened around his neck. Rolland's flailing legs bounced ineffectually off the robot. His hands grasped at the metal fingers squeezing his neck, sharp edges of the digits digging into his flesh.
"You should not have done that." Abidan slowly rose from the ground.
Rolland held tight to the robot's wrist with both hand, his legs dangling as he awkwardly. "It was worth it." He managed to squeeze out a few, raspy words. "You piece of shit."
"I'll see you in hell." Abidan smirked.
Rolland felt the robotic grip tighten around his neck, cutting off the circulation to his head.
The robotic angel spoke in a cold, mechanical voice. "Depart from me, you cursed, into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels."
Rolland saw stars, then the world became dark.