"Do you really believe in all that bullshit?" asked Kless.
"I am certain you would like to hear me say 'no, not at all.' I fear I may disappoint you," said X'til quietly.
The two were in the galley. X'til had suggested they meet there because it was "the scene of the crime." Kless had agreed because it was a small space that was easy to defend, generally deserted outside of meal times (when it was desserted), and avoided by the two factions who simply would eat together in areas they controlled rather than in a public space. Kless had admitted to X'til that he was trying to avoid being seen, as there would be many former prisoners who would be out to get him.
This would be their third meeting for the two of them in this location within a day. The second had been when Kless gave the log to X'til.
"And if a Y walked in here, let's say happened to wander into the room out there, alone, with just the two of us here, and you were armed...like this." Kless pulled out his intimidating black weapon and handed it to X'til. "Would you just say, 'oh, I am so sorry, but you know both of us cannot walk out of that door alive. I suppose you must kill me,' or would you perhaps put that gun to better use?"
X'til slowly extended the weapon and pointed it at Kless' head, then slowly lowered it till it was pointing at this throat. Then lower still until it was pointing at his crotch. "Shall I assume this weapon is inactive?" asked the Brother. "I assume I could still break your jaw with it."
With a quick sigh, the security officer took his gun back, pointed it at the door and squeezed the trigger three times quickly. Nothing happened beyond the sound of the trigger clicking. He holstered it. "That was not the point. I was asking if you'd 'enlighten' the Y, not try to get your jollies from scaring me," Kless said in an admonishing tone. Brother X'til seemed unperturbed, including the small smile on his face.
"It doesn't matter," Kless admitted. "I'm sure you love the stars and they love you too. The one we're orbiting is either an errant one or they just move in mysterious ways and all that crap. However, what does matter is that I did what you asked, quickly and in good faith. I'd like to check up on your end of the bargain."
"We have problems with your pod. One Technical Sergeant Jenkins is trying to fix it, but he's wasting his time, of which little remains for any of us."
"I think I know who you're talking about," admitted Kless. He had no reason to lie to X'til, but by the same token, no reason to tell the truth. It was one of his little rules. "You don't think he can do it?"
"In a word: no. While I am not aware of his competence, it would seem that the gravitational tides of events are pulling him in too many directions at once, and he is rather...distracted as well. I have only recently learned of the pod's status and prognosis. I do not find the situation satisfactory."
"I thought you were here for the long haul?" questioned Kless.
"I am here at the unspoken request of our leader, the Neutron Star. I would leave would he bid me to do so, spoken or unspoken."
"Well, are there any other pods?" asked the security officer.
"None that I know of that are functional. Do you know of any?"
Kless decided to break his standing rule of avoiding honesty whenever possible and said, "There's one in the Deck 40 science lab. But it's inop. Needs something like 40 meters of Be conduit, otherwise it's a rock."
Brother X'til steepled his hands together and put them under his sharply pointed nose and looked downwards for a few moments. "I have heard, through the confessional grapevine, that a goodly amount of it exists. However, it might not be easy to obtain."
"Where?"
"The detention center. A place you had, briefly, called home, and one I assume you have been avoiding since the so-called break-out."
"Yeah...that'd be the first place they'd look for me. I didn't want to make it that easy for them to get me." As he thought about the detention center, Kless unconsciously put his hand on his holster, where his real weapon was, almost as if to verify it was still there like some big, high-energy pacifier.
Kless said, "I heard maybe half of each group joined a faction to focus on killing the other group. But the rest of the them are kind of floating around the ship in general, but a lot of them are around the central bay, kind of as a fuck-you to me, thank you very much."
"I'm told The Children have picked up many new members. And even among those who have not outright joined the fold, many are sympathetic. Perhaps I could put in a good word for you, for what it is worth."
"I'd prefer to just go in guns blazing," Kless said. "But...you bring up a good point. One I was thinking about recently. I don't think your word would do that much...currently. I'd need something better. But you need something better as well. Perhaps the cult needs some new, excuse the term, blood."
"As I said, we are already getting new recruits."
"I meant at the top. The two of us had a good operation going along the border lines. It'd be like old times again."
The Brother closed his eyes for a moment, yet his face showed only a soothing calm. He opened his eyes and smiled. "It would perturb my orbit if I said what I really thought of your idea." After a quizzical look from Kless, X'Til added, "it would be rude of me."
"Think about it. Whether it's the old you or the new one, they both can benefit. Hell, they both can work together. Anyway, I'd like to see your escape pod to see how much of a lost cause it really is."
"I can help you with that. I can escort you to and through C-Section. Stay close by me."
"Good. But first, I'd like you to meet a couple of my friends."
"You have friends, Faeto?"
"Associates, then. But they can be quite helpful. I think you'd all get along famously."
They continued talking in quiet tones as they left the galley.
****
It was a busy day for Clark and Travers, Kless' lieutenants. Arranging for hundreds of prisoners to "escape" was easy. They both had the authority to engage master override on all of the cells in the bays and even though it could be traced to them, all such evidence would be gone soon enough. But orchestrating the escape so they were not required to kill dozens of escaping prisoners took more effort. All things being equal, they would have preferred the straightforward method of gunning down lots of prisoners as they escaped, but orders were orders.
Clark had flashed a vest with X'tonu'u colors while passing by the port detention bay, and Travers had let Y'valatic colors show while adjusting a cuff-link in the starboard bay. While it was clear the guards knew none of the other customary cultural trappings, both sets of prisoners immediately understood that they had an ally as an insider, even if they were only a sympathizer to the cause rather than one of their own. It didn't matter.
After the release and the ensuing chaos, both guards befriended two subgroups within the faction. The first were the obvious ones--the batshit crazy agents of chaos who would stop at nothing to kill their enemies. They didn't get too close to those, only enough to learn their names and to pass their own names (fake, of course) to these wild cards, in case at a later point Kless decided some area of the ship had an intolerably low amount of mayhem and slaughter.
The second group was less directly dangerous, but harder to identify: those who would not only join the Star Cult, but do so out of a genuine belief. They could be just as useful and somewhat more controllable. And, because of their confinement, they would have heard the Cult's words and be vulnerable to them, but would know few members or what they look like, beyond that they wear brown robes.
The benefit of these prisoners was that if they were True Believers they could safely be mixed with their complements in the other group, being told that The Will of the Stars said they were being tested. If they could lay down their hostilities and do as they were told, they may survive, assuming they followed The Will of those who interpret The Will of the Stars.
Clark and Travers had been "accidentally" allowed to stay behind by the other guards because they themselves were considered to be wild cards. Sadistic brutes who would in no way make it safer to transport the 100 prisoners of the escape fleet. To be fair, the other guards had arranged it to be their own choice, a sort of morality litmus test. If they followed some straightforward orders, they could have made it to an egress point in Section A with time to spare. They were to transport one of the worst of the "wild card" prisoners from his holding cell to the sensory deprivation cell, make sure he was secure and would not be getting out, double check the systems were operative, and then leave. They would be on their own, and this time they need not bother with paperwork because no one would ever be checking up on them.
The PA speakers and annunciators had been disabled in that area; they would receive no warnings or countdown. The prisoner had been mildly sedated, so the first part of the task would be easy. As the drug wore off, he became more belligerent, though physically, he was no match for either one, let alone both. But mentally, he was crafty, and could easily find their soft spots and knew where to attack. And being batshit crazy, he did not care, or rather did not think, about any consequences of his actions.
The other guards figured if Clark and Travers were "good" it would take them less than 5 minutes to complete the job, and they would board the ship without a problem. If it was 10 minutes or so, they would at least be out of the detention center, hear the warnings and could send a message that they were on their way, since the Captain had said he would make sure no one was in transit and just missed by a hair's width. Most figured they'd spend 15 minutes with the prisoner and another 15 gloating about it, which would mean they failed the test and the fleet would be gone before they remembered.
They spent two and a half hours with the prisoner in the sen-dep cell and then another hour and a half broadcasting highlights to all the other prisoners. Few prisoners would have been able to identify the body from the sights and sounds presented, so both groups assumed it was one of their own and were "justifiably" outraged at the other group, whom they blamed for this atrocity. It was half a shift later, when they went to take a break for food, that one of the prisoners in the other cells reminded them about the evacuation. They merely shot him a dozen times with their pulse guns out of anger for missing their appointment; he was long dead before they stopped shooting. But on the balance, they had truly enjoyed their day.
Now, both had a assembled a group of the True Believers, about a dozen each. They had been given a handful of Star Cult phrases to say to keep them under control. The two groups were now meeting for the first time on one of the lower decks in Section B. This would be the true test, even though it had all been planned for them.
Clark and Travers approached from opposite directions, leading their small clan. Both groups spotted each other at roughly the same time and assumed a cautious pace. The leaders motioned for the rest to stay several paces behind them, as the two met, face-to-face. For brutes, they played the role well, though it was quite easy. They simply acted as if they hated each other, though in truth, their hatred of each other was generally far less than for almost anyone else on the ship, which was why they got alone so well. They both made a show of putting their weapons away. They walked closer until they were merely inches apart.
Clark of the the X'tonu'u made the traditional gesture of "hands together with finger pointing upward" while Travers made the Y'valatic gesture of "hands together with fingers pointing downwards." Then together they both made what appeared to rest as an odd gesture of one hand pointing up and the other pointing down, and then switched which was pointing up and which pointing down. And finally, they made the Star Cult gesture of the exploding sun and clasped each others' arms cordially. The two groups understood, ran to each other, did the same, and become one band of hooligans, bound by the solidarity of their dedication to the Star Cult.
"Come on," said Clark to the group. "We've got an important mission," said Travers, "...for the Stars."