More draft work...

The Nowrimo’s Revenge sped through the vacuum of space, unhindered in its approach to the Shalothan system. Three massive vessels of Shalothan design flanked the smaller frigate in a rough triangle pattern, creating a protective ring around the smaller vessel. Neither time nor space filtered into the mind of Reaz Apxlus as he prayed in the makeshift reflection chamber aboard the Revenge.

When the Revenge had touched down on the surface of Jethl’s moon, Apxlus had expected Naoh and Anacen, the warriors who had accompanied their Lord on the surface, to be jubilant about their extended time with Him. Surprisingly, Apxlus noticed that both warriors boarded the ship quietly, and quickly separated themselves from the others by withdrawing deeper into the ship while their comrades greeted their guests.

It had been several hours since their departure from the Fe-Ruq system and the orbit around Jethl, and neither of the warriors that had accompanied their Lord on the surface had spoken to any of the other warriors. Apxlus at first dismissed it as the warriors being overwhelmed to be in the presence of their Lord. But as the time passed, and their guests locked themselves within the cargo hold, Apxlus started to suspect that something was amiss. He had retreated to his reflection chamber to pray for guidance, when, much to his chagrin, he realized he was praying to the heavenly father of the holy man that now accompanied them on their flight back to Shalotha.

Stopping in mid-prayer, Apxlus stood up and quietly stepped out of the room into the cramped corridor beyond. He started towards the ladder to the cockpit, then thought better of it and turned towards the corridor that led to the cargo hold.

“Apxlus,” a voice whispered from above. Apxlus turned towards the voice, twisting to look back at the ladder to the cockpit. The legs of a warrior were already visible as a warrior descended the ladder. Apxlus waited until the warrior became fully visible before approaching him. Stepping lightly onto the deck floor, Naoh turned and faced his commander.

“I need to speak with you commander,” he whispered. “In private,” he added, nodding upwards towards the other warriors that were in the cockpit. Apxlus motioned back towards the reflection chamber and followed the warrior into the room. Looking back to see if any other warriors were around, Apxlus stepped inside and hit the button to close the door behind him.

“What is troubling you, my brother,” Apxlus asked, settling into one of the seats that had been moved against the wall. Noah squatted down and leaned forward on his haunches, clasping his claws before him.

“Commander, have you spoken with our Lord since he was brought back from the surface?”

Apxlus indicated that he hadn’t, and waited for the warrior to continue.

“I have found it very difficult to speak with our Lord,” Naoh said. He bowed his head as if ashamed to admit it. “He does not seem inclined to speak with us.”

“Perhaps you forget that we are merely his loyal servants. He shall speak with us when he deems it necessary.”

Naoh raised his head and looked at Apxlus. “My brother, that is what bothers me. He spoke to Anacen and I only when we were needed to act as escorts. He sat in silence the entire time we were there, up until he sent us away and–”

“Our Lord sent you away?” Apxlus interrupted, clearly surprised by the warrior’s admission.

“Yes, commander. He ordered us to remove ourselves from His presence, and directed us towards the approaching USN officers. He ordered us to allow ourselves to be seen so that we could ‘bring the humans into His glory’. That was the only interaction we had with him until he directed us to escort the USN officer to our ship.”

“Did He speak with the officer?”

Naoh paused for a moment, and thoughtfully rubbed the keratin ridge on the back of his hand. “He did, but we do not know how long he conversed with him, nor what was said before we returned. Once we saw the officers approaching, we allowed ourselves to be seen, and then retreated back to Him to report. He ordered us away from Him again, this time in a different direction. He said that He would call us back when He needed us. We heard a weapon discharge shortly thereafter, and began to make our way back towards Him. By the time we arrived, the male officer was standing before Him, and it appeared that our Lord was laying hands on him and giving a blessing. But as we got closer, we both could hear what He was saying.”

Apxlus waited expectantly for Naoh, who visibly struggled with what he was about to say.

“He ordered the officer to ‘go forth and wage war’ on His behalf. The officer fell to the ground, and our Lord commanded him to do His bidding.” Naoh stopped and adjusted his position, dropping to one knee and balancing himself with a claw on the floor. Apxlus watched silently, not sure that he believed what Naoh was saying.

“Perhaps you misheard our Lord,” Apxlus suggested. Naoh shook his head.

“Commander, if you seek out Anacen at this very moment, and ask him what our Lord said, a thousand times over he will repeat to you what I have just said. Our Lord was very clear in His statement.”

Apxlus thought about this for a moment, waiting for Naoh to add anything to his statement. The warrior bowed his head and stared at the floor, waiting for his commander to speak.

“Sinners,” Apxlus stated. Naoh looked up, slightly confused. “That must be whom He was speaking of. Sinners. He wants us to wage war on sinners, Naoh.”

“There is more, Apxlus. Once we returned, He prayed in a foreign tongue over the body of the officer, and commanded him to wake. The officer woke up, and our Lord commanded him to rise by referring to him as ‘Asreh, Archlord of His Legion’. He commanded us silently to bow before this human.”

“Explain, Naoh,” Apxlus said tersely.

“Both Anacen and I heard His voice in our minds commanding us to kneel before Asreh, but He never actually spoke the words.”

“He was speaking to your souls, then,” Apxlus reasoned.

“Commander, why would He have us bow to a human? Are we to be treated as an inferior species in the eyes of God?”

“Do not question the motives of our Lord, Naoh. Your faith is failing you. He will do what is right for His kingdom. Which is more important – that we are able to serve Him, or how we serve Him? If He chooses for us to perform the roles of soldiers in His glorious army, then we shall do so with grace in our hearts and prayers on our tongues. If He decides that this human warrants reverence, than we shall obey and bow at the feet of whomever He tells us to.”

“What if this is a deception by the Fe-Ruq military, Apxlus? What if this being is not really our Lord? Isn’t it conceivable that they would go to great lengths to deceive us in order to gain an advantage in an attack on Shalotha?” Naoh abruptly stood and was matched in action by Apxlus.

“I have given our situation much thought. Yes, the possibility that His return is a ruse orchestrated by the Fe-Ruqians has presented itself to me. However, I believe our Lord has a reason for everything He does, and we have no right to doubt Him. Where He chooses to appear, whom He orders to serve – none of that is subject to our scrutiny. We are merely His humble servants, and should act as such. Do not forget that this is our long awaited Christ, Naoh. He has returned to our galaxy to bring His glory to us. We need merely to follow and obey, and He will guide us.”

Noah bowed his head again, and stared at the floor. Apxlus reached over and clasped the warrior’s shoulder, pulling him closer. Apxlus began to speak so low that Naoh could barely hear his commander.

“Do not lose your faith, brother. He shall guide us, even if we do not understand. Go and pray, for our return trip shall be over soon.” Naoh nodded, turned, and walked out of the room.

Apxlus stood staring at the door for a moment, waiting to see if the troubled warrior returned. After a few minutes, Apxlus stepped into the corridor and walked towards the cargo hold entrance. Something about the way their Lord had spoken to him when he first laid eyes upon Him in the cell on Je-Fin had bothered Apxlus. It had been an undefined thought, something he couldn’t quite understand. He remembered their meeting quite clearly, and he recalled how his Lord’s response to what Apxlus now realized was a vengeful statement had taken him by surprise. Apxlus’ inference that the Fe-Ruqians would be repaid with revenge for imprisoning their Lord had not been met with an admonishment and pleas for forgiveness as one might expect, but rather with encouragement in agreement of his statement. The brief interaction had been replayed several times in his mind over the past few days, and each time the words spoken by his Lord didn’t match the forgiving spirit that Apxlus had expected Him to be. Perhaps Shalothans didn’t truly understand their God as much as they thought they did.

Apxlus stopped in front of the cargo hold door, debating with himself on whether he should enter. He wasn’t sure if his Lord was resting, or in private conversation with the USN officer. Reluctantly he reached towards the control pad and pressed the button that opened the door.

*****

Marshall sat with his Lord silently, taking in everything He was saying. It wasn’t difficult to pay attention, unlike when he had been in religious studies in his youth. For some reason, he felt compelled to listen to this man. Everything the man seemed to say made perfect sense to Marshall. Or rather, it made perfect sense to Asreh. Marshall chastised himself silently. I’ve got to remember who I am now. My name isn’t Marshall anymore. Asreh. Asreh. Dammit.

The time since the Shalothans had rescued them off the moon of the Jethl had gone by quickly. Upon boarding the Nowrimo’s Revenge, Marshall was introduced to a large Shalothan named Apxlus. He was escorted to the cargo hold, and allowed some privacy with his Lord for a short time. It hadn’t been an hour before his Lord laid hands upon Marshall again, saying a prayer over him.

“Asreh,” his master called out. Marshall bowed his head.

“Yes, my Lord,” he answered in a low voice.

“The captain of this vessel goes by the name of Apxlus. He is not a being to be trusted. Within the hour he will approach us with intentions to speak. Do not let him approach me, for he carries in his heart the spirit of my greatest nemesis.” He looked down at Marshall without emotion while speaking, and turned away when he was finished. He closed his eyes and laid down on the floor of the cargo hold.

Marshall didn’t necessarily doubt his master, but he couldn’t be sure that Apxlus would visit them within the hour. He had waited forty minutes, and was just about to fall asleep himself when the cargo hold door opened. One of the Shalothan warriors stood in the doorway, but at first glance Marshall couldn’t tell which one.

Bowing his head slightly, the Shalothan stepped into the hold and began to approach. Marshall jumped up quickly, moving to intercept the warrior.

“I wish to speak to our Lord,” Apxlus stated, looking beyond Marshall to the still body on the floor behind him.

“Our Lord wishes not to be disturbed, Apxlus,” Marshall answered back sternly, putting emphasis on the warrior’s name. Apxlus took a step back, looking down at Marshall. Several inches separated the two in height. I have no fear of this Shalothan. The Lord is truly with me, he thought as he faced Apxlus. Marshall’s heart leapt at the unexpected absence of fear.

“Commander Tennison, please step aside and let me speak with our Lord. It is an urgent matter in regard to our arrival on Shalotha.”

“There is no Commander Tennison here. I am Asreh, Archlord of His Legion, as so appointed by Him on Jethl. I speak for our Lord while He rests. He wishes not to be disturbed.” The words flowed out of Marshall’s mouth, even before he could form them in his mind. Is He speaking through me, Marshall wondered.

Movement caught Apxlus’ eye, and he glanced down at Marshall’s hand. In it he held his rifle, loosely gripped, but armed nonetheless.

“Please inform our Lord that I need to relay information to Him at His convenience,” Apxlus countered, moving his gaze back to Marshall’s face.

“You can give the information to me.”

Apxlus clicked in his throat, but said nothing. He stared at Marshall for a handful of heartbeats, then looked past him to the man laying on the floor.

“Forgive me, Asreh, but the conversation is of a private nature. I will return later.” He turned to leave. Marshall called after him.

“I thought it was something about our return to Shalotha. Now it’s private?” Marshall could sense the change in his own speech pattern, almost as if his master had chosen not to speak through him anymore.

Apxlus stopped, but did not look back.

“It is both. They are one in the same. I will return later to speak with our Lord privately.” He paused for a moment, and then continued walking out of the cargo hold. Marshall stared after him, not quite sure what to do now.

“Very good Asreh,” a voice from behind him said. Marshall turned and saw that his master was speaking to him with his eyes still closed. Marshall bowed his head.

“My Lord, did you hear his request?”

“Of course I did. I hear all Asreh.” He smiled slightly, but kept his eyes closed. “Do not let him or any other warriors meet with me privately. All of them have tainted souls, and I am not yet strong enough in this life to sway them. I must trust in you to protect me from my enemies until I have gained all of my strength back.”

“You can rely on me, master,” Marshall heard himself say, and realized he didn’t recognize the words as his own. Each time his master spoke through him, he found himself surprised or in awe. He wasn’t quite sure if he was comfortable with it yet, but he resigned himself to the assumption that it must be how his Lord chose to communicate.

“Very good Asreh. Come, let me tell you of our path to be taken.”

--END DRAFT--

A new chapter for the second book...

NOTE: This is a draft of a chapter following a chapter that I had previously posted here. This may or may not make the final edit. Enjoy! -Erik
The Æolus drifted away from the Solar Remedy slowly, running at fractional speed. Kursk sat in the co-pilot seat, watching the medical ship’s gaping docking mouth shrink in his viewscreen as his ship’s artificial intelligence package began the automated departure sequence. After a few moments, he felt satisfied with the separation maneuvers, and contorted himself out of the small seat.

“Follow the pre-programmed course to the Shalotha system. Alert me when we’re preparing to exit the thread.” The noise that emanated from the cockpit speaker as a response from the AI package would have sounded like static to the typical human ear. To Kursk’s military translator implant, it was a normal response that he fully understood and could comprehend.

He made his way to the makeshift medical station that Lieutenant Sarilles had arranged for him prior to departure, and checked in on the human form strapped into the crash sling. Quickly glancing at each of the sensor screens to ensure they were active and relaying positive information, he leaned over until his mouth was centimeters away from Christian’s ear.

“Christian, can you hear me?”

The human form did not respond.

“I hate to do this to you, but…” Kursk’s voice trailed off as he reached for a black satchel located at the foot of the crash sling. He quickly opened it, rummaged through the contents, and pulled out a syringe. He looked back into the bag, then pulled out a vial, from which he filled the syringe. Flicking the tip of the needle, he quickly found a vein in Christian’s arm and injected the entire syringe of liquid into his arm. Kursk leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, watching.

Within minutes, the bio-sensors monitoring Christian’s vitals began beeping, indicating rapid changes in his status. Kursk studied the screens, watching for any deviations from the expected heart rate increases. The sensors began slowing back down, and the beeping ceased as the new levels took hold.

“Christian, can you hear me now?”

Christian took a gasping breath, and opened his eyes. The restraints in the crash sling tightened as he struggled to move his arms and legs.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Christian,” Kursk said slowly, pushing off the wall with his foot and leaning in towards the clone. “Don’t worry, the pain will go away shortly. It’s an unfortunate side-effect of the drug. More importantly, I have more of that, when you need it.” He winked awkwardly at Christian. “Just let me know.” He stopped and pulled away, and began to pace about in the cramped room.

“Christian, Christian, Christian. Oh, the things you’ll see, the things you’ll do. You will be amazed.” He clasped his hands behind his back as he paced, looking over at Christian every few steps. “I need you to understand some things, Christian, before they begin to happen. The more you understand and accept them, the more – how should I say this – enjoyable your experience will be. In about five minutes, you’re going to find that your ability to speak has returned. Try not to scream, as it will echo through the ship, and that will annoy me. Talk, whisper, sing, curse – whatever. Just don’t scream. I hate that. Also, your motor control will be back, which means you’ll be able to try and escape from your restraints. Heed my advice – don’t struggle. You’ll just waste your strength, and I really need you to make a full recovery soon.” He stopped and looked directly into Christian’s eyes. “Did I mention that you’re not on Earth anymore? I don’t believe I did, so there you have it. You’re not on Earth. Not even in the solar system. You’re more than twenty light years from home. How’s that for a shocker?” Kursk smiled a wide smile that featured his gleaming white teeth. “I’m sure you’ll have questions galore when you’re fully calmed down. I’ll answer one for you now though, as it’s one I’ve gotten quite a bit with previous experiences. You’re probably wondering why my mouth movements are not matching the words you’re hearing, much like a hologram out of sync with the voice over. Don’t worry, it’s not the drugs. This might be hard for you to accept, but here goes – I had a neural translator implanted through your ear canal while you were unconscious.” He waved his hand in a dismissive fashion towards Christian. “I know, I know, how generous of me. Don’t worry, you won’t even have to pay me back. Think of it as a gift.” He smiled again, broadly. “It receives and transmits to other implants in the area, such as the one in my ear –,” Kursk pointed to his left ear, “- and translates what I’m saying into your language, whatever language it is that your brain decides to work with. It will work with almost all other translator implants, so you should be able to understand anything that anyone else is saying to you.” He paused, looking at the bio-sensor readouts. “Very good, Christian. Your heart isn’t racing too terribly fast. You may actually be stronger that I thought. It’s time to let you rest for a bit. I’ll be back in a while. Rest up.” Bowing his head slightly, Kursk backed out of the room, and spun out of Christian’s view.



Christian’s biological functions began to return just as the man had said they would. Almost on cue, he could make guttural noises in his throat, and began to form words. The feeling in his hands and feet came back quickly, and he fought the urge to pull against the restraints. He struggled to understand this reality. Or was it a dream? The man had been speaking to him, but it looked as if he was from a foreign film, with the voice dubbed over in English. It was a strange sight for Christian. He couldn’t be sure he wasn’t dreaming. What did he say about drugs, Christian wondered, trying to remember.

Overcoming his initial shock, he looked around the room, still frightened with everything that was happening. He thought back to his last memories. He could see the light floating in the sky, and speaking to someone about it. Katie! His heart jumped. He was with Katie! He looked around the room quickly, searching for any sign of her. Not seeing her, he tried to focus on other events. He vaguely remembered Katie yelling to him, but the details of what she was saying escaped his memory. Someone, something had come down from the light. And then his world had gone dark.

“Oh my God, I’ve been abducted by aliens,” Christian sobbed in terror.



Time passed slowly for Christian. Without any reference point visible, he wasn’t sure if it had been one hour or two since his captor had left him. Thinking back to his introduction to the man, he couldn’t help but wonder how it was that a human had abducted him. Then again, he couldn’t yet be certain that he was indeed twenty light years from Earth, as the man had said. Perhaps he was merely some deranged psychotic that took pleasure in kidnapping people. After all, that was more likely than him being with an alien that happened to be human.

Pulling lightly on his restraints, he found that they tightened ever so slightly each time he tugged on them. After each time, his body felt a little more drained, as if his small bursts of energy to pull against the restraints were using a disproportionate amount of energy. Maybe that guy was telling the truth, he thought to himself as he remembered the warning about struggling.

Without anything else to do, his thoughts continued to drift back to Katie and what had happened to her. Was she nearby? Was she left alone? Was she hurt? His lack of knowledge about her whereabouts made him feel uneasy. He needed to know.

“Can anyone hear me,” he shouted out towards the hallway beyond the door. “Hey, is anyone there. Someone help me!” Within seconds he heard an audible sign, and the sound of boots clomping across a metal floor. The head of the man with the long white hair suddenly came into view in the doorway, peeking around the edge, frowning slightly at him.

“Surely you remember that I asked you not to yell,” he said with a hit of disapproval in his voice. He stepped into the doorway, bringing himself into Christian’s full line of sight. Christian gave him a long look, taking in all of the details. The man’s hair was pure white, long, and pulled tautly back into a ponytail. His facial features were very human, with eyebrows to match his hair, a long thin nose, and smooth skin. His square jaw completed the severe look. Christian wasn’t very good at guessing heights, but the man appeared to be fairly tall as he stood in the doorway. He was wearing a mono-chromatic orange outfit, with matching boots and gloves. Christian assumed that it was some sort of uniform.

“Hello,” the man said, drawing out the word. “Are you listening? Stop yelling.” He bit off each of the words as he breathed them. He stepped over to the bank of bio-sensors and looked over each of the readouts.

“Well, well, well,” he muttered to himself. Looking over at Christian, he gave him a slight smile and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So, can you tell me your full name?”

Christian looked at him defiantly, and clenched his mouth tightly.

Seeing no answer forthcoming, the man reached over and slid his hand under Christian’s jaw, grabbed his jaw firmly, and began to apply pressure until Christian’s mouth opened slightly.

“Shall I pry it out of you,” he asked, his gaze boring into Christian. He shook his head slightly at the man, suddenly afraid of what he might do to him if he didn’t tell him his name.

“My name is Christian,” he struggled to say through the crushing pain of the man’s grip. The pressure on his jaw immediately eased, and he watched as the man pulled his gloved hand back away from his jaw.

“Full name,” the man signed impatiently.

“Christian Franklin.”

“No middle name? No prefix, suffix, or grand title?” The man gestured questioningly at Christian with his hands turned upwards.

“Christian Allen Franklin. I guess my title would be ‘mister’?”

“No, it’s not. You have no title. Yet.” He paused before uttering the last word. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

Christian shook his head indicating that he did not.

“I’ll share what I know about that at another time. Right now, we need to go over some rules before I free you.” Before he could continue, Christian pulled his head forward and interrupted him.

“Where am I? Where’s Katie? Who are you?” The man abruptly stood up and turned to leave the room.

“Wait! Wait,” Christian called out after him. The man stopped, but did not turn around to face him.

“When you learn not to interrupt me, we can continue our conversation. If you would have listened, you would have learned that the first rule is not to interrupt me while I’m speaking. Enjoy your morning.” With that, the man strode out of the room, slapping something on the outside of the wall as he exited, causing a recessed door to whisper closed.

“God dammit, come back here!” He continued to yell for a few minutes, and then stopped when he began to feel light headed. The door remained closed, and he could hear nothing of what was happening outside the room.

“At least I know it’s morning,” he signed to himself. Leaning back again and relaxing, he closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.



Christian awoke to the sound of the man calling his name. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing the looming image of the man as he stood over him.

“Good afternoon. Shall we try again?” The man smirked at him as he watched Christian fully awaken. Christian nodded in agreement and tensed his body, waiting for whatever would happen next.

“What is the first rule, Christian?” The man waited for him to answer.

“Don’t interrupt when you’re speaking,” Christian answered back in a monotone voice.

“Very good. See, you can follow direction. Excellent. Here are the other rules. If you fail to obey any of these three, you’ll be right back here, restrained until we reach our destination.” Christian opened his mouth to ask where they were going, but quickly clamped it shut so he wouldn’t interrupt when he saw the man raise his finger at him.

“Rule number two: You will do as I say, when I say it, without question or delay. Repeat.”

“I’ll do what you say, when you say it. Don’t ask questions; don’t delay.” Christian dragged out the sentence, slowly pronouncing each word. The man nodded slowly, watching as Christian finished his sentence.

“Rule number three: Don’t attempt escape. Repeat.”

Christian sighed loudly. “I won’t escape.”

The man shook his head quick. “No, no, no. I said don’t attempt to escape. The difference is very important. One can’t happen without the other, and you need to realize this. Do not attempt to escape.” The man emphasized each word in his last sentence.

“I won’t attempt escape,” Christian replied, slightly confused about the importance of the wording.

The man sat still for a moment, watching Christian. He thoughtfully stroked his jaw, then tapped his nose with his finger.

“All right. Here we go. Remember the rules.” He leaned over and released the restraint locks, freeing Christian from their grasp. He twisted backwards and did the same to the waist and ankle restraints. As he released the last one, he jumped up and backed away from Christian, poised for any movement. Christian propped himself up on an elbow and rubbed his wrist, looking at the man.

“So, do you have a name or something,” Christian asked awkwardly. He began rubbing the other wrist, trying to erase the marks left by the restraints.

“Kunraa. Kursk Kunraa. You may call me Mr. Kunraa for now.”

“Why can’t I just call you Kursk?”

Kursk quickly advanced upon Christian, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until he had him pinned on his stomach. Leaning down, he hissed his response in Christian’s ear. “Because you haven’t earned the right or respect to use it. Don’t ever say my first name until I say you may.”

Christian grimaced against the pain in his wrist. Just as quickly as he had felt it, the pressure eased up, and Kursk was standing again, watching Christian intently. Once the last remnants of pain had cleared from his arm and wrist, Christian swung his legs over the side of the crash sling, steadying himself against the dizziness that he felt in his head. Lowering his head and closing his eyes, he heard the voice of Kursk coming to him from across the room.

“Recovery from stasis takes a while, even with the stimulant that I gave you earlier. You’ll need to be careful for the first day or two. Sudden movement may cause you to experience dizziness and nausea. Put this on -” Something landed on the crash sling next to Christian. “- and then come out of the room. Go to your left. There is a small galley there. We can eat something and discuss what the future may hold for you. I will be waiting for you. Remember, to your left, not to the right.” Christian nodded and waved feebly at Kursk, afraid that waving too vigorously would make him vomit. He heard Kursk turn on his heel and walk out of the room, followed by the sound of the door closing behind him. Christian was thankful that Kursk was no longer in the room to witness the embarrassment as the bile that had been threatening to erupt from him finally forced its way past his lips and spewed out onto the floor. I hate this, he thought as he loudly wretched another mouthful of bile from his stomach.



From what Christian could tell, he had been laying on his side on the crash sling for about fifteen minutes, willing the nausea to go away. Each time he had attempted to sit upright, he felt another round creeping upwards from his stomach. While he had been laying there, a small droid had hovered in and cleaned up the mess that he had made on the floor earlier. He was thankful that Kursk hadn’t come back in and seen him in this state. He’d probably laugh at me and then make me sleep in the mess, he thought, shuddering at the thought.

Forcing himself upright, he dragged the garments that Kursk had given him and examined them, figuring out how to put them on. Unlike the jeans and sweatshirts that he was accustomed to, this outfit was a one piece jumpsuit similar to what Kursk had been wearing. It was also orange, almost along the lines of a burnt orange. There were a pair of gloves and slip-over boots bundled in the pile. Holding the jumpsuit up in front of him, he twisted it around, searching for any markings or insignias. Seeing none, he slipped into the jumpsuit and clasped the front together along a seam that had a flexible magnetized strip embedded in the cloth.

Leaning over to put the boots on, he immediately felt nauseous again, and quickly sat back up. After a few attempts, he was able to get both on without getting sick. He looked at his gloves but decided against putting them on, instead stuffing them in the side pockets of the uniform.

Stepping to the door, he examined the control panel, quickly figuring out the controls. Touching the pad lightly, the door silently slid open, and a puff of air brushed his face as the pressure in the room equalized with the outside hallway. He began go to the left when something to his right caught his eye. Stopping and turning, he peered down the hallway. Not twenty feet away was a small hatchway, with what appeared to be a room beyond. In that room was a large window, with a black sky and stars showing beyond. Quickly glancing down in the direction Kursk told him to go, he turned to the right and silently padded down the hallway until he was just outside the room.

Peering through the hatch, Christian saw what he could only surmise as a cockpit of some sort, with a large wraparound viewport in the shape of an elongated flattened half-bubble encompassing half of the room, including the floor. Stepping through the hatch, he inched his way along the solid decking until he was at the seam where the half-bubble met the metal structure of the ship. The cockpit controls were situated so that they were affixed to the metal structure, and created a horseshoe shape that appeared to be floating in the middle of the bubble. Two cramped chairs were attached to the control bank, one attached to the control bank on its right, the other attached to the bank on its left. Both were side by side, situated just forward of the bubble-metal structure seam. The position of the chairs provided those that sat in the seats a three hundred and sixty degree view along a vertical plane, and a one hundred and almost a two hundred and ten degree view along a horizontal plane.

Anxiety welled up in Christian’s chest as he peered out into the blackness of space. He couldn’t see any planets nearby, and all of the star seemed to be very distant. He began to feel nauseous again, and leaned over and braced himself against one of the seats.

“Where the hell is Earth,” he muttered to himself.

“The planet Earth is approximately twenty three point one light years away,” a mechanical voice said, seemingly in his head. Christian jumped at the sound of it, half expecting to see someone or something standing right behind him. Looking around the cockpit, he verified that he was still alone.

“Who said that,” he asked quietly. He waited for a response, but didn’t receive one. Standing still for a few moments, he listened to the silently humming the permeated the cockpit, interrupted by the occasion beep from somewhere in the control bank.

Taking a quick look back out into the blackness, he made a mental note to ask Kursk to give him a tour of the ship. Turning back towards the hatch, he quickly made his way back down the hall and found the galley that Kursk had mentioned.

Christian found Kursk sitting near a small table that appeared to be protruding from the wall. He was hunched over a bowl of something that vaguely resembled beef stew. The smell hit his nostrils as he entered the room, causing the sick feeling in his stomach to return.

“Ah, Christian, I see you’re feeling better. I suppose that the noise you were making wasn’t exactly screaming, so I’ll let it pass. Please try to do it quietly, should you feel that way again, as it’s a fairly disgusting sound. Please, sit down.” He gestured towards a bench seat opposite him. As Christian began to sit, Kursk rose and retrieved a bowl from the counter behind him, placing it on the table, then grabbed a container from an opening in the wall and placed it next to the bowl. He pushed both across the table until they were in front of Christian. He sat back down and began to finish his own food, nodding at Christian to begin eating. Looking down at the bowl, he felt sick again. The liquid looked very greasy to him, and appeared to be cold. Grabbing the other container, he hefted it, then peered inside. Water. He quickly gulped it down, hoping it would help his stomach. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he asked for more. Kursk silently rose and filled it back up from a spigot within the wall opening, then handed it back to Christian. He quickly drank half of the water, then set it back down. His stomach gurgled, and he decided to force himself to eat. He looked for the utensil, but couldn’t find one.

“Kur-,” he stopped himself when Kursk arched his eyebrows. “Mr. Kunraa, where can I get fork or something like that thing you’re using to eat?” Kursk gave him a bemused look, then pointed to the side of his bowl. Christian bent his head down to look at it, and saw that the utensil was attached in a groove on the side of the bowl. After fiddling with it for a few seconds, he finally managed to slide it out of its holder, and scooped up a mouthful of the greasy stew onto the utensil. He had just managed to make it to his mouth when Kursk reach across the table and backhanded him in the face, sending the food flying off his utensil, and causing stars to appear before Christian’s eyes. He momentarily lost his balance, and partially slid off the bench. Reaching up to his mouth, he could feel a trickle of blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth.

“What the hell,” Christian yelled back at Kursk, blinking to clear the stars from his field of vision.

“You didn’t pray over your food first,” he answered back disgustedly. “Let’s call that Rule number four. You will respect God and show your devotion accordingly.”

Christian slid back onto the bench all the way, and then bowed his head, trying to remember how to say grace. He made a quick sign of the cross, and closed his eyes to pray. He could feel Kursk watching him, and he wondered if he was expecting Christian to pray aloud. God, thank you for this food. Please help me get home safely. He opened his eyes and picked up the spoon-like utensil, slowly bringing a mouthful to his lips, watching Kursk intently. Seeing no movement from him, he quickly opened his mouth and ate the food, letting it slide down his throat.

Finishing the meal in minutes, Christian sat and waited for Kursk. He took a painfully long time to finish eating his food, obviously enjoying every mouthful. Once he was finished, he pointed to Christian’s bare hands.

“You’ll need to wear the gloves that I gave you,” he said, adjusting his own gloves.

“Why?”

“Rule number two,” he stated tersely. Christian gave him an annoyed look and made a show of fishing around for the gloves in his pocket. Glaring back at Kursk the entire time, he pulled the gloves on roughly. Once he was finished, he clasped his hands together and leaned forward on the table, smiling sardonically at Kursk.

“All right, I have them on. Now, why do I need to wear these? Can you at least explain?”

“During certain emergencies, we may need to cut off all life support systems except for oxygen. It will quickly grow very cold in here. In order for you to still function without freezing, you need to have protection. The gloves have cinch rings built into them-,” he reached over and pointed to the cuff of the glove, “-that will allow you to work in a virtual vacuum comfortably. In order to activate them, you need to squeeze like this.” The glove sealed tight at his touch. “The other way these will seal is when the sensors built into the material detect an oxygen level below ten percent. Should that happen, it’s best that you find a life support unit and get it sealed. Usually you’ll have already noticed the low oxygen level prior to the sensors going off. The glove will only unseal manually, like this.” He pressed the back of the cinch seal and held it down until the mechanism released. “Your boots work the same way. Obviously, it’s very important that you keep these on at all times while on the ship, even when sleeping.”

Christian listened carefully, trying hard not to show his concern at the possibility of what might happen to him. It was all so surreal. He couldn’t believe that he was actually on a spaceship, being lectured about how to use a spacesuit.

“Where are the – what did you call them – the life support units,” he asked Kursk. He braced for another backlash, concerned that he may have interrupted him.

“Come, I’ll show you. We need to tour the ship as well, so you understand where everything is.”

Kursk stood, and motioned for Christian to follow. Looking down at his gloved hands, he still couldn’t believe what he was experiencing. Following the large, white-haired human, Christian began his tour of the starship.