Last Daughters #012

The Herald

“Sir, something’s not right about that ship.” I hear the sensor officer blurt out. I found myself turning to look at her tattooed face. She met my gaze with a small shrug, giving away her uncertainty.

“Explain” The first officer said while he sat beside the Matriarch who was currently in a trance.

The sensor officer flicked the image on her touchscreen to send it to the main display for all to see. It confirmed what I saw earlier: There was something barely visible pulsating around the rusty ancient wreck, which was now a hundred thousand kilometers from us and closing.

“Incoming transmission sir. Should we respond?” The communications officer said. This drew the first officer’s attention away from the main display. His thick brows were now furrowed. Be it from annoyance, hesitation, or terror, I did not know what.

“Since when did pirates answer hails?” He said with a raised tone. I noticed him grasp the hilt of his sword, which was a habit of his when he tried to calm down. That of course, was a no.

Regardless, the main screen displaying the derelict switched to show a figure bathed in sickly, pulsating blue light. I was sure none of us answered the hail, if not, they were asking for a bullet to the head. It was clear though that the transmission forced itself in. That’s something beyond what any comms system that I know of can do.

The figure was dressed in the trappings of Moz’s traders. In the periphery, they were well guarded and so were feared. But here, they are easy pickings for the likes of us. Then again, the figure appeared menacing, and was clearly unaware of who we were.

Her shadowy face either displayed a grinning expression, or rather it was the face of someone who threatened to bite. Her eyes also darted to and fro with inhuman alacrity. It was as if she looked unfocused, but alert all at the same time.

This was someone who didn’t look or feel like the stoic, calm, neat, but oftentimes sarcastic and condescending follower of Moz. A chill down my spine, and my instinct, that small voice inside my head was now yelling at me: “Run!”

As the signal of the transmission cleared up, we saw her bare arms looming over something that she stood over. A ship’s console perhaps? We also saw that there was a large gaping hole on where her stomach ought to be. It didn’t look like any wound that I have seen before though.

“Where’s that coming from?” The first officer calmly asked as he stared at the strange woman on the screen.

I turned to look at the communications officer who I saw was frantically manipulating his console, no doubt trying to find an answer to the first officer’s query. After a while, the harried officer gave me a cursory glance displaying an expression that could only be described as bewilderment.

“I am the herald.” The strange expressionless woman suddenly said with a distorted echoing voice. “I come bearing gifts from the beyond.”

“Sir.” The communications officer said after a few seconds of silence.

“What?”

“I’m sure that it’s coming from the derelict.”

Before anyone could say anything else, our ship suddenly lurched violently. Even our instruments and our lights flickered, then turned off momentarily.

After a while, the familiar red colored emergency bridge lights turned themselves on, This prompted me to focus on my display, which now indicated that the ship’s guns were rendered offline. I frantically tried to turn them back on, but then my display wasn’t responding.

“Engines down!” Someone yelled out. “We are on back-up power!”

Just like that, our sizable and powerful ship was rendered helpless. This of course meant that the powerful Matriarch cannot be waked. She was currently “communing” with the ship after all. And yes, everyone was now in a full-blown panic.

Amid the chaos on the command bridge, there was nothing I could do but stare at the blue tinged woman on the main display, whom I saw was now cackling maniacally while her dark blank eyes which darted around before, now gazed forward.

JPG | 4961 x 7016 px | 600 dpi | 1/1
LD012