They Answered The Call

6,018 light years from Earth

Command chamber of Hive ship

Guardian Fleet, final defense line system.

The command drone sent frantic thoughts to any ships that remained, commanding them to join her as she carefully maneuvered her heavily damaged Hive ship into the last minefield.

Less than forty sisters answered her. Less than forty ships remained of the guardian fleets that once numbered eight to the power of five. Now they numbered two to the fifth power.

They used to reign like queens within the forbidden zone, their ships as numerous as the stars. They performed their duty to the Hive mothers and the queens, diligently watching for any sign of the persecutors their entire lives.

She, like many other command and commander drones, at first truly thought they would be able to defend the forbidden zone. They were not weak and defenseless like the first empire was long ago.

Even when swarms of enemy ships came, she still thought they could defeat them, or at least inflict enough losses to make them withdraw and allow the Hives to send more ships to fight with them.

She saw the futility of her thoughts during her first battle with the persecutors. Her thoughts changed, and now she knew why the Hive mothers and queens imprinted their fear on them.

The enemy did not fight like other animals. They did not flee. They did not let losses affect them. They just kept coming, and more came behind them—a ceaseless wave that never stopped.

Now, she and her thirty-four sister command drones were all that were left. All the commander drones were dead, and she was now the commander of the few guardian ships that still remained.

She watched the viewer as her sisters responded to her command and tried to enter the minefield with their half-destroyed ships. She counted them as they entered: 3 Hive ships and 31 cruisers.

This is all that remains of us. So many sisters and drones, over two hundred cycles of endless shipbuilding that required entire worlds and moons to build, all gone. She sadly thought to herself as her sisters came.

The last ships of the guardian fleet entered the minefield, joining her Hive ship as they assumed a globe formation with her ship in the center. Only one last battle to fight, then they can rest forever.

Harried thoughts came from her sisters and pressed into her mind, asking her for orders. She sent calming thoughts back to them—false thoughts filled with a confidence and courage she did not truly feel.

Eighteen planetary diameters away from the minefield, bright points of light appeared within the battle wreckage, and they danced in the darkness of the void as she watched them maneuver.

She gazed at the massive, rapidly expanding cloud of destroyed ships as the pinpoint lights flared brighter before arranging themselves together and emerging from the debris field in many formations.

The lights grew brighter one last time before they vanished, the black ships of death blending into the distant darkness as they turned off their engines and coasted towards the last of the guardian ships.

She could no longer see them with her own eyes, but it mattered not. The black angular ships were coming, and they knew where the last of the guardians had fled to. There was nowhere else for them to go.

The minefield and her ships hiding within it were the last and final defense of the forbidden zone. She and her sisters were the last of the guardians, and all that remained.

After they died, there would be no sisters left to continue the fight and defend the Hives. She reached out to her sisters, determined to share thoughts with them one last time before dying.

The thoughts of her sisters came to her mind as they responded, sharing their love for her and the pride of fighting and dying for each other one last time. She felt their fear, but none of them had thoughts of fleeing.

She felt joy as their minds caressed hers, and she opened herself up entirely to them, allowing them all to access her mind to commune with her. Death was coming, and she wanted to share herself with them.

Her sisters were doing the same as she was, and they all joined together harmoniously as they communed, giving each other the sacred gift of truly knowing the sisters they would soon die with.

It was beautiful, so many sisters at once giving themselves freely, and they all wept with joy and sadness as they experienced the inner lives of their fellow sisters for the first and last time.

Hundreds of explosions erupted at the edge of the minefield as enemy ships entered it, and she instinctively left the communing to fight them. Many thoughts came from her sisters, telling her to come back to them.

She felt their pleas to join them as she stared at the viewer. Already, scores of black ships had been destroyed and crippled, and the last of the guardian ships were much deeper in the center of the minefield.

After sending thought orders to the drones to continue fighting, she also gifted them with thoughts of love and appreciation. She felt their simple minds react with happiness and contentment to her thoughts.

Their simple minds were not capable of communing like command drones were, and she sent thoughts of gratitude to the drones one last time before leaving them to rejoin her waiting sisters.

The joyful reminisces of her sisters were all around her, and she accessed them, living and experiencing their thoughts while feeling them do the same with her own happy memories.

The essence and memories of one of the sisters vanished suddenly, quickly followed by two other sisters. The rest of them continued to commune, grieving the deaths of their sisters as they shared.

More sisters died, their essences and memories dematerializing as their ships were destroyed. The shared communing shrank, the number of departed sisters growing rapidly as fewer sisters remained alive.

She continued to examine the many memories of the few remaining sisters, and the part of her mind still in the command chamber registered the Hive ship being hit by repeated weapons fire.

She ignored that part of her mind as it tried to get her to fight back, desperate to flee and live just a little bit longer. She shared thoughts with the last six sisters still alive, grateful for being with them.

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The chief cleric hissed in anger and charged at the underling. The lowly ranked Bal’Ri’kan barely had time to register what was happening before his throat was torn out by the chief cleric.

Blood spurted from the underling’s neck as he fell, the victim instinctively trying to stem the flow of his lifeblood with clawed hands as he struggled to breathe through the now torn open airway.

The chief cleric stared at the underling as he choked on his lifeblood, ignoring the accusing look of betrayal in the eyes of the attendant that loyally served him for many cycles.

When the servant finally stopped gurgling and the eyes turned glassy in death, the chief cleric realized that he had been holding his own breath the whole time, and he gasped loudly as his lungs demanded air.

A sliver of regret came to him, and he brutally suppressed it for the weakness it was before raising his head to the bulkhead above and issuing the traditional blood-curdling victory shriek.

All the Bal’Ri’kan in the chamber with him cowered at the terrible screech, careful to avoid the chief cleric’s gaze while he was still blood lusted. Any wrong move now would cause their own demise, and they wished to live a little longer.

The chief cleric brought his head back down and hooted softly as he pointed at the corpse on the ground in front of him. Two trembling underlings scurried over and dragged the dead body away, keeping their eyes averted from the chief cleric as he watched them.

The attendant had the misfortune of being the one to inform the chief cleric of the total losses suffered by the crusader fleets after they finally cleansed the last of the filthy insect presence in the minefield.

Disgusted at the poor performance of the crusader ships, the chief cleric wanted to kill every Bal’Ri’kan in the chamber with him. There was no excuse for the terrible losses the impure creatures had inflicted on his holy warriors.

Over 100,000 ships had been lost, and he seethed at the implication such losses had for their future efforts in exterminating the insect empire. They were not the same insects they first tried to exterminate, and their unexpected resistance filled him with foreboding.

The vile infestation of such creatures was an affront to the Masters, and the holy warriors were charged with cleansing them entirely. As numerous as the Bal’Ri’kan were, the insects were even greater than the chosen ones.

The insects were prodigious breeders and builders, and not knowing how many ships and worlds the filthy vermin had available weighed heavily on the chief cleric’s mind and soul. None of the scouting hunters had returned yet, and he did not want to blindly charge into unknown space.

He would give them more time to pick up the scent and use it to repair what remained of the first wave. This would also allow the second wave to reach him before searching for the insect empire to exterminate them once and for all.

When the holy task was finished, the stain of dishonor would finally be expunged from his clan lore and bloodline, and he would receive the blessings of the Masters if they deemed him worthy.

The chief cleric strode towards the exit, stepping in the rapidly congealing lifeblood and tracking crimson red prints across the deck plates as he left the chamber and headed to the Sacred Sanctum.

Outside the Sanctum, he pressed all four palms against the scanners on the side of the hatch and waited impatiently for the locking mechanism to disengage. The scanners turned red, and then there was a loud clanging sound before the hatch slipped into its recess.

After disrobing entirely, he stepped through the hatch entirely naked and reverently approached the holy artifact, keeping his eyes averted from the Gel’Sha’Nac until he was properly prostrated in front of it.

After performing the ceremonial ablutions, the chief cleric was now purified and could look upon the vessel of the Masters, the most holy of holies. Doubt and fear plagued him as he spoke to it, his heavily scarred warrior’s body trembling in awe of the sacred reliquary.

“Most revered ones, masters of the universe, I seek your blessings. The last of the filthy insects have been expunged from this star cluster, as have all the other thinking beings inhabiting it. This cluster is now properly cleansed, and I gift it to you, my Masters.”

After what seemed like an interminable time, the dark relic came to life as the same strange power that signified the Masters presences came into it, and it started glowing ethereally in seemingly random pulses.

More time passed, and the chief cleric’s leg and arm joints throbbed with pain as they pressed against the bare metal deck plates. The Masters were here, but they did not deign to bless him with their wisdom yet.

The chief cleric started violently shaking in fear as he wondered why they were not blessing him with their wisdom. Had he done something wrong? Did he not cleanse the pollution of the inferior insects fast enough?

The Gel’Sha’Nac dimmed and brightened sporadically, indicating that they were still within the holy artifact. He needed their blessings and wisdom desperately, and he forced himself to beseech the Masters one last time.

“Holy ones, I crave your blessings and your wisdom. I am your most loyal servant, and I beg you to gift me with your holy words. I have lost many ships filled with holy warriors who gladly martyred themselves in the name of the Masters, and we suffered grievous losses fighting the disgusting insects.

We need your blessings and wisdom to better arm our ships. Though we gladly martyr ourselves, we cannot fight and cleanse the galaxy for our Masters if too many of us are killed by the many impure creatures we will face.

Though it gladdens my heart to know the holy martyrs are in the paradise you promised us, I need them here with me to fulfill my obligations to you as chief cleric. They cannot help me cleanse this galaxy if they are joyfully prostrating themselves at the feet of our Masters in paradise.”

The chief cleric wanted to say more, but he realized that he had been lecturing the Masters, and he clamped his jaws shut in panic. Terror grew inside of him, and he averted his eyes; surely, he would die now for such impudence and be cast down into the abode of the damned.

He stared down at the deck plates, his eyes wide in fear as he waited to be struck down by the Gel’Sha’Nac. The ethereal glow grew brighter, and the strange humming that signified the Masters presences within it became louder.

He whispered a terrified prayer to them, begging for mercy as he squeezed his eyes shut in expectation of the killing blow that was sure to come.

He had seen the old images of an ancient chief cleric that had displeased the Masters, the body barely recognizable as a Bal’Ri’Kan after the Gel’Sha’Nac consumed him with holy fire.

Disembodied voices loudly erupted from the holy relic, and the chief cleric shook with fright as he turned his head to the side and pressed it against the deck plates in full submission.

The Masters were speaking in the holy tongue at first, the language of the holy ones, before they finally began to speak to him in the Bal’Ri’Kan tongue so he might receive their wisdom.

Only a true prophet of the holy ones, or an evil one consumed with his own vanity, would presume to tell the Masters how to properly cleanse this galaxy. Which are you, mortal? Our prophet, or an evil one? Answer and tell us what you truly are. You will either live or die by our holy fire, Chief Cleric. Speak truly; choose wisely.

Dread filled the chief cleric, and he frantically thought of the correct answer to their trick question. If he claimed to be an anointed prophet, he would die. If he denied his vanity, he would die.

There was only one true answer, and he spoke reverently, deeply embarrassed as the fear he felt caused his voice to squeak like one of the field voles he specially bred to nibble on.

“I am not worthy of being your prophet, Holy ones. I am vain, and I am a weak mortal. The only true evil I have committed is not having enough cycles of life to live so I may fully cleanse this galaxy and herald your arrival. Do with me as you wish; I live only to faithfully serve the true Masters of all.”

His head was still turned to the side and pressed against the metal grating in full submission, and he fought against the desire to shift his body to relieve the terrible pain within his neck.

His whole body was in pain as the nerves of his arm and leg joints, and now his neck screamed at him to relieve the pressure on them. He forced himself to be still as he recited the Martyrs Creed.

As he stared at the wall he was facing and whispered the holy words of the creed, there was a bright flash of light that filled the Sacred Sanctum, and he was blinded by the sudden illumination.

Blinking his eyes rapidly, panicked thoughts flooded his mind and consumed him as he prepared himself to be devoured by the holy fire of the Gel’Sha’Nac. Instead of holy fire, voices came from the holy relic once more.

You have wisely admitted to your vanity and your mortal weaknesses. We can detect the truth and lies that inhabit the souls of the Bal’Ri’Kan. We have peered into your soul, and we see only truth within you. We see the fiery spirit of a noble crusader within you, and we recognize your achievements.

We find you worthy, and we shall anoint you, Chief Cleric. You will now be under our protection. You are our chosen prophet, and we will bless you for all to see. Look upon us, prophet; We will mark you so all who worship the Holy ones will see our sign upon you and know you are favored by the true Masters.

Scarcely believing the profound blessing the Masters were imparting upon him, the chief cleric struggled to stand as the hormone spikes from the constant fear and tension he was under greatly weakened him.

He shook uncontrollably as relief flooded him, and it took all his strength and willpower to finally manage to stand in front of the Gel’Sha’Nac and keep himself erect.

It would be a grave dishonor to show weakness and collapse so soon after being anointed by the Masters. They would kill him for such feebleness in their presence and wait for another chief cleric to come to them.

He had been averting his eyes from the holy relic, and he forced himself to ignore the stabbing pain within his eyes as he stared into the now brilliantly glowing Gel’Sha’Nac as it moved towards him.

It was like looking directly at the sun, and he could feel his eyes watering as he forced his eyelids to remain open. The holy relic mercifully dimmed as it drew nearer to him before stopping an arm’s length in distance from him.

He was enthralled by the nearness of the Masters, and he groaned with religious fervor as he awaited the mark of the revered ones. A thin red beam came out of the relic, sizzling the flesh directly under his clavicle as the holy relic traced the sign of the anointed one upon their prophet.

He didn’t feel the cutting beam searing into his skin; he was too enraptured to register the pain as he gazed lovingly at the Gel’Sha’Nac that was blessing and elevating him above all others in the galaxy.

The red beam finally turned off, and he ignored the smell of his burnt flesh as he looked down at the favor of the Masters now gracing his upper chest. Seeing the mark of the Holy ones, he groaned again in sheer joy as the true import of the blessing he had just received overwhelmed him.

He prostrated himself in front of the Gel’Sha’Nac again, shrieking with ecstasy and babbling incoherently as he tried to express his gratitude to the Masters for anointing him as their chosen prophet.

The disembodied voices came again, and he silenced himself as he waited for them to gift him with their wisdom. In front of the holy relic, two objects emerged from a small black void that appeared, and then they spoke again.

Take these two gifts we have decided to bestow upon our anointed prophet. One is for you and is our Holy Writ. Any who look upon its words except for the anointed prophet shall die by our hand, as will all who share their bloodline.

The other is for the wise ones. Within it are teachings for them to use so our holy warriors do not die in such large numbers against the impure creatures as they prepare this sacred galaxy for our arrival.

This will help them fight better so we may bring the paradise we have promised. Go from us now and show our mark to all the faithful, Chief Cleric. Show them how the Masters have anointed their chosen prophet.

The Gel’Sha’Nac dimmed and moved back to the center of the Sacred Sanctum, hovering silently once it reached its place. The chief cleric’s hands trembled as he picked up the two objects and hugged them against his chest before walking backwards out of the Sanctum.

He covered his naked body with the garments he had left outside, and he headed back to the control chamber. He left the top garment open, ensuring that the mark of the anointed one was visible for all to see.

He passed several underlings along the way, and they all fell to their knees in shock and adoration as soon as they saw the mark of the Masters on their chief cleric’s chest.

He continued on after blessing them with his touch, and he relished the groans of joy that came from their mouths as he left them behind. Soon, dozens of underlings followed him, begging him to bless them.

He would have the wise ones come to him and delve into the wisdom the Holy ones had gifted. It would allow his holy warriors to kill more of the impure creatures while reducing their own losses.

He stopped outside the chamber and looked down at the sign of the Masters that graced his chest, snarling in amusement as he imagined the faces of the underlings who wanted to replace him when they saw what had happened.

Now he would not have to fear any attack or challenge from others for as long as he lived. The mark of favor was upon him now, and none would dare stand against the anointed prophet of the true Masters.

He had been elevated above all others in this galaxy, and only the Masters could remove their sign from him. As long as he continued to receive their blessings, all the Bal'Ri'Kan were his to do with as he pleased.