Chapter Two: The Feast
Today, the first day of a new assignment, was always a good day. The Harvest was over, now came the feast. After the feast came The Games. The Games would give them a winner and then the mission would be on. There would be much violence and bloodshed to come, but for now they allowed themselves to set their minds to something far more civilised and mundane. They would ignore the pain and mortal fear being experienced on the lower decks. The lives of the inferior life-forms being of no significance to them in any way.
The six crew members approached the table for the pre-Games feast. The chosen ones were below decks on their way to becoming something much more formidable. This was time for the crew to become better acquainted and fill their stomachs. The tournament would last a few hours at the very least.
The Captain sat, which gave permission for the others to do likewise. He opened his arms at the food before them as though this was indeed a banquet to behold. "Eat everyone. Please."
"Thank you, Captain." They said as one.
"Call me Baal. We are family now. This adventure before us will be long. Captain is too formal for such a long time."
"Yeah, but don't piss him off, Newby," The Navigator was looking at the youngest of their crew, "or he'll feed you to the Followers. Then it will be a 'Festival of the Gods'."
They all laughed with a boundless air. The first day of the mission was always freeing. It was feeling of liberation to be enjoyed.
"Thank you, Nav." The Captain appreciated good cheer. "Come on then: let's have the introductions. I'm not going by rank every time I want to address you. You- Newby. What's your name? Tell us something about yourself."
The youngster stood, but was told to sit immediately. Feasts were not formal occasions. "Apologies. I'm used to the academy."
"No academy here, crewman. I told you: we're family."
The young Stores Officer smiled gratefully. He had been told this was the way it was in the 'real' universe, but it was one thing to be told something and another to find it to be true. "My name is Yeshua. I'm in command of stores, though I hope one day to become Weapons Officer"
The others enjoyed this and jabbed the current Weapons Officer playfully.
"After your position, Wepps." Said the Logistics Officer, not without a touch of competitiveness in her voice.
Yeshua continued, "But ultimately, I'd like to be sitting where you are Captain- I mean, Baal. Sorry."
Baal smiled at him, "And one day, you may find yourself in my seat. Better to be the jockey than the steed."
The others agreed.
"And tell me something about yourself. Who you are." Probed the Captain.
"Well, I'm 24-"
Yeshua was almost shocked by the response he got for saying this. The other crew members apparently couldn't remember when they were 24 themselves.
"24?" One asked.
"That's right. I know I'm young, but-"
"Tell him how old you are, Wepps." Said Logistics.
"50." Answered Wepps.
Yeshua knew there would be some ancient fellows aboard and so allowed them to have their fun.
"Hundred, or thousand?" Asked the Navigator.
"Thousand." Confirmed Wepps.
Yeshua nodded and smiled. 50,000 was no age, really. There were many in his family who had stopped counting when it became too cumbersome to use the word million in their answer. "My uncle is about that age. He's in the Senate. Senator Balaam."
"Balaam?" asked the Captain curiously. "Isn't he the odd fellow with the age issue?"
Yeshua nodded. "He allows himself to look old. Says it fits him better. I've never known him any other way."
"Body dysmorphia." The Logistics Officer contributed. "Had a philosopher on a previous mission who had it. Had no right hand. He didn't like having two hands, he said."
"Hermes." Said Baal. "Yes, I knew him. We were working on Ripple technology at the time. Long time ago." He remembered. "But it wasn't two hands he didn't want. It was just his right hand. He felt it wasn't right... to have a right hand." He pondered this for a moment. "Still, it takes all sorts. Just like Newby Yeshua's Uncle Balaam."
They all laughed, including Yeshua. He was just happy he was fitting in.
"So, tell me your names, so we can continue without the reference to rank. It's annoying me."
"I'm Logistics. Name of Asherah."
"Weapons. Kane."
"Navigator. My name's Peter."
And the last one to introduce himself was the First Officer: "I'm the Captain's First Officer. Odin."
"Good." The Captain judged. "Baal, Odin, Kane, Asherah, Peter and young Yeshua. The names of true gods. This will be a good voyage." He looked at Odin, his First Officer. "How long, Number One?" And looked at the man's executive compendium sitting on the table.
Odin tapped the purple disc, which lay next to his plate revealing a display which only he could see. "It's been just over half an hour, sir. Seeding is well underway by now I fancy."
"Should we call it two hours before The Games begin?"
The people around the table had no objections. All was going well. Let it go with the flow.
"So," Baal looked at Kane, "50,000... you must've seen some things in your time. Me- I'm just short of a half million and I've never seen a Supernova first hand. Can you believe that? Tell, us about yourself, Wepps."
The feast continued in good spirits. On the deck below, the Followers all lay unconscious, dead, or in a state of metamorphosis... all except one. In the end room, Elizabeth sat still in the corner. She had not moved since the face-hugger had attacked. Now the creature lay motionless on the floor beside David, its objective complete.