Ceteroquin: The Space Opera Missionary

This is the third part of The Trapping of the Ceteroquin. This story appears in full in M/U's 2020 speculative fiction anthology, Demiurges and Demigods in Space, Vol. 1 and will be run as a serial online every Tuesday and Thursday for the next couple of months and each entry can easily be found here. To read this in its entirety, along with all of the other brilliant pieces included in the collection, you can obtain paperback and PDF copies in our store, with Kindle versions available on Amazon.

Nick, the priest, was perhaps the only one on board the vessel who was truly spending this time in a manner people normally expect from missionaries and mystics. He was, in fact, alone in his own chambers. During the advent of any space travel, in contrast to many of the others, who spent this time in various states of undress, he instead would retreat to don the ritual white robe typically only used for the performance of high rites (which were themselves typically semi-secret and thus witnessed only by a few). 

He was kneeling on a cushioned, flamboyantly-patterned carpet in front of a small but ornate altar. There were coals in a well-worn bronze bowl, freshly lit, very slowly turning white. Softly, he recited a prayer. Meditative music played from his embedded speakers. Satisfied that the coals were hot, he dropped several small multi-colored resin pebbles on top of them. They began to sizzle and melt, releasing a fragrant smoke that slightly altered perception solely with its fragrance. Thus elevated, he went on. 

It did not matter if the others were ever aware that he did this (most of them weren’t) and it did not particularly matter to him even if what he was doing didn’t actually “work” or “do anything real” or wasn’t “necessary.” Regardless of destination or its nature, he began each journey with a ritual blessing and an offering of secret prayers for the safety of the ship and all those aboard it. 

This was the way. He believed in it, not least because he had seen firsthand their efficacy and power.

It also, of course, was his role aboard the ship and his role within the Group – hell, it was even his role during a performance run. He did play guitar and perform frequently in musical numbers and also filled in minor roles in the theatrical productions, but his primary function was to act as priest.

This was perfectly safe and above board; religion itself was not banned or suppressed. Interfaith clergy – which was what Nick officially was– of all shapes and flavors were found in every civilization across all the stars. Each one of those civilizations held different beliefs and traditions, and Nick was trained to speak nearly all spiritual languages. Even on strict scientism-oriented worlds, he could transfer his skills to the language and methodology of psychology and self-betterment. Universal among the worlds and among all their people was the need for guidance, spiritual fortification, and even things like absolution and transcendence. Even when people frequently found him to be particularly skilled at his trade, he remained outwardly the least suspicious of the entire troupe.

He among them all was most highly initiated in the Mysteries that made them outlaws. Art, as with religion, was hardly prohibited. In many cases, it was encouraged, even subsidized. But the Old Mysteries and their associated sacraments, that place in which art and religion came together and transformed and transcended through until becoming neither and both and something else entirely, this was not considered fit for popular consumption or even awareness. 

The penalties were severe, but the benefits were magnificent. What better way to spend one’s time alive than in the service of light and life? To a one, everyone on that ship believed this, but none more than their priest. 

He was also, at the same time, a lighthearted fellow with quite a good sense of humor, who managed to avoid taking himself, other people, or even the entire mission too seriously. Sure, it was Everything, but what is even that but a drop in the ocean? 

That’s the real reason why he was such a good priest. 

He sensed the same danger that the others did; all Group members were trained to be attuned to such things. As a priest, however, he recognized that observance of the regular rites was even more important when faced with danger. 

Upon completion of the compulsory acts of blessing and offering and prayer, he turned to a crystal cube inlaid on a little crystal pedestal. He aligned the cube so that smoke coming from the bowl filled his view as he looked through it.

This was something only he could do. If perhaps it was not productive for the others to spend any time hand-wringing over the future, preparation for disaster was as much his affair as it was Hancock’s. He stared into the cosmic smoke and waited – but not for too long – until he could see what he was looking for. Just a flash, not the whole thing, but just a glimpse. 

It was more than enough for him to know what he already knew – but now beyond all doubt. The rendezvous on the Blue Striper was a trap.

He bowed his head slightly, drew in his breath, and steeled himself. This wasn’t his first time. There would be no avoiding the trap. The course was set, the instructions given. They would follow. The trap, in essence, was the point. One never knew – not even as a priest – precisely the reasoning behind such things. Sometimes, parts of the Group, even despite the best of precautions and security and even the blessings of the Good 51% of the Cosmos, were known to get compromised. If that were the case here, avoiding the meeting would only prolong the problem, affecting not just The Journeying Jesters but the entire Group.

Of course, sometimes, the mostly nameless leadership atop the Group simply moved ships across the galaxy like pieces on a board. The Group acted based on decent reasons and decent strategy, which led usually to decent outcomes (though not always free of casualties). 

But other times, even priests like Nick knew and would sometimes acknowledge under duress or after several drinks, even the Group gets it wrong. 

He said one more prayer, that the Group would not, in this case, be wrong.

He extinguished the coals. There would be several hours before he would be needed for anything. He dimmed the lights and walked to the bed. Perhaps, he thought, this would be a good time to fall asleep watching a film. Head clear and mind at ease, pure of heart as anyone this side of the grave, he did just that.