Papuru Star: Coalition Carnage

Chapter 29: The Gospel of Plunk: Illuminance, verse two

As I write these correspondence, revealing the nature of one I find to be the most incredible of individuals, my reminiscing has forced me to comment on my lack of factual knowledge regarding the Deities I owe my existence to. Many mysteries surrounded my creator, the Ancient and his son, Ramza, at that time. One aspect of Deities that I am fully aware of now, but didn't even question back then, was how they reproduce. Did they have mothers? Who was Ramza's? The reason this thought strikes me now, was that Ramza's genuine personality did not suit one whose morality was modeled after the male half of his creators.

The aversion to violence was the only trait the two seemed to share, next to the Godsend power, obviously. Their views of the many alien races of our relatively new solar system varied, though. The Ancient was benevolent and empathetic for the most part, but rarely, if ever, made himself available to the needs of those many. He was responsive to us of his home planet of Oym, but even then, was aloof, like he wished to be anywhere then where he was.

Ramza, by contrast, took the additional step of actively interjecting in the lives of those same individuals, albeit clandestinely. He didn't want the people to believe in him, but in each other, which is why he went incognito. Like the time we were on Aphlis, the water world under the control of the Klugh. They are a race of conquerors who had subjugated every other race on the planet. It's unknown to this day how many sentient species existed under the seas of Aphlis, but they didn't live like they were under oppression. Ramza and I spent a great deal of time there; him as one of the Klugh and me, his living weapon, a rapierfish, learning of the Klugh and their culture.

The underwater city of Dehiemo held at least half a dozen distinct cultures, all living together in a harmony I rarely see off my own world. A little pixie dust gave us official documents signed by Gammon the Conqueror, ruler of the Klugh, that Ramza hands over to the city's Overseer, a Klugh whose typical burgundy skin was covered in tattoos that glew in the near lightless water.

We were assigned to patrol a neighborhood of homes made of the same substance as the Overseer's tattoos; a beautiful sight swimming into the city, if you have the benefit of night vision. During one such patrol, a school of whippersharkers had ambushed a group of teenage fish folk out for a good time.

The whippersharkers were doing what comes naturally to them, while the teens were daring the open waters surrounding the safety of the city, seeking adventure. My friend and I felt a kinship with them and humanely directed the carnivorous fish out to more easily preyed upon, non sentient sea life. The pacifist deity was conflicted by this outcome as well; for animals didn't eat each other where we were from, only the fruits and fauna found in nature. But the serpentine fish needed sustenance and neither of us had the ability to miraculously fill empty stomachs. Even with the ever versatile pixie dust, which should never be consumed or used on anything to be consumed. He had to choose which lives were unlucky that day, knowing that nothing he did could stave off the circle of life. Death was a constant threat to mortals everywhere and couldn't be prevented. But sometimes, those who bring finality, do so under nefarious reasons and those are the people that deserve Ramza's righteous anger.

Those like Van Black, who, during his epic encounter with the Deity of Unluck, had no qualms in the taking of life. I can remember as clear as if it were yesterday; my lovely wife, yelling at the holoview image of a shadow with striking muscle definition, approaching a distracted Ramza from behind. With no natural light in the Underbay, it was hard to tell, but Van Black's open hand looked like it was vibrating. The four women in view were chained together by the ankles and wrists, clamoring out the back of the overturned transport with Ramza's help and only had time to react to the danger with wide eyed fear.

The decision to free the captives override self preservation and he gripped the chains between two captives with glowing hands. The bonds crumbled to rust colored dust, a microsecond before Van Black's shaking palm entered Ramza, mid back. My friend actually screamed, scattering the freed women into a run from the wreak. The Superstar from Quil extracted his hand, while light brighter than the star engulfed him. Van Black recoiled from it, hands to its featureless face, while the light produced by the wound he caused, seals up, the clothing gone from Ramza's bare back. Simultaneously, the smooth stone form of a Yuni emerged from the cab of the vehicle with a look of confusion.