The pulsing white light, dimmed by intakes of blood, put the modest chamber in a stark, bloody light. The cathedral styled room arched highly to its ceiling with squat columns supporting the structure every five meters. The walls, consecrated in sanguineous sacrifice, still remain a reddish brown almost the color of rust. Lengths of scripture covered many sections of the wall in a dark, flat black paint, the contents providing the history and glory of the ship and its masters.
A stasis throne dominated the rear of the chamber, its machines and powercells humming gently as they provided life support and function to the figure shadowed inside. The crude, red light pulsing from the tank, shimmering sickly off the fresh blood spilled on the floor of the chamber ten paces from the throne. A small recession had been molded into the floor sized for an adult body, with run offs leading to a gurgling machine next to the stasis throne.
A corpse lay there, pooled vitality slowly being drawn out and pumped into the tank and figure shadowed inside, tubes of crimson gold snaking from its arms and back. Deep incisions had been made to the neck, wrists, and inner thighs of the prone corpse allowing for maximum flow. The smell of death and freshly spilled crimson fluids filled the air in the chamber; always a welcome scent to its host.
Two robbed and hooded figures stood before the recessed corpse looking at the throne as the last of the blood was being slurped from the corpse by the pumps and machines. One glanced down at a stained hand, its fingers a red, sticky mess with a glint of metal from the blades implanted in the fingers.
"Does our Lord realize how long left he has left in this world?" The blade handed figure asked quietly, making a sign of loyalty towards the throne.
The other simply nodded before replying in a rough, gravely voice. "Indeed. Our Lord has realized his fate these past years and prepares to move on in honor to our forebearers. It wont be long now until even the stasis throne can no longer keep him alive."
"He has not sired a heir to his line these past seventy years. He must proclaim a chosen heir who will take over command when he passes on."
The second figure looked up and into the stasis throne at the shadowed figure for a moment before replying quietly.
"He has proclaimed his heir. It has been determined at last and been recorded by myself and the Keeper."
The blade handed robe looked at its associate, "And who has our Lord chosen for command of the vessel and fleet then?"
"Me."
A look of surprise with a hint of guarded jealousy flashed briefly across the features of the blade handed figure before it responded. "Very well then my Lord. If it has been recorded by the Keeper then it has been officially proclaimed by our Lord. Will you allow him to pass on his own or will you have the Keeper expedite his journey to the aether?"
The new Lord sighed, the motion moving his robes. "I'm am unsure yet. I imagine with his honor and loyalty to the cause, I'll let him have is last few days in peace among fellows. I'll make the announcement in ten hours when the Keeper is done writing down the proclamation."
"Khu'Salaht will be in rage at his denial of leadership of this vessel. Its honor is great and victories many. The last few in result of your foresight and knowledge of the Path."
"Khu'Salaht is a mindless butcher who would waste the resources of this vessel and fleet in a desire to do harm to those stuck below us. He'd pollute us with unworthy blood from unworthy sacrifice. We'd be thrice damned by the Covenant under his leadership before the end of the next cycle."
"And you would lead us to greater glory and honor then my Lord?"
"Perhaps, perhaps not. I believe I was chosen as heir due to the fact that I know what is worth our time to engage in. Simply fighting and polluting us with unneeded sacrifice and bad blood does nothing for us and tarnishes everything our late Lord spent two centuries building upon. I'd like to think my foresight and actual intellect suits us more than mindless combat."
At last the gurgling of the pumps and machines finished indicating the corpse was fully drained of its vital blood. The two figures stooped down and drew symbols in the spilled blood before pulling the corpse out of the recession and taking it out of the chamber. The light of the stasis throne began to turn darker as the intake of blood stained the pure white light, a slight smile on the shadowed figure hidden at the new vitality given to it.
The proclaimed heir, turned and make a sign of honor and loyalty. "It has been an honor to serve under your my Lord. I only hope to continue your legacy and bring greatness to us all."
After that the two figures and the corpse left the chamber to its final slumber until three days later, the past Lord moved on from this world into the next. The proclaimed heir took control of the vessel and fleet quietly as the Keeper broadcasted the proclamations and dictations of the previous Lord to the fleet.
Two days later the fleet of golden, blood stained ships moved from anchor above the local star and moved on in their silent journey of secrecy.
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Topic: [Story] Heir Proclaimed. (Read 934 times)