The Justiceers - Part Three: Chapter Eight
the next chapter in my forthcoming novel
The Justiceers
by Daphne Garrido
Part Three: The Will to Choose
3.8
Extraordinarily strange things were happening of late.
Arthur had been frustrated with all that was going on, how Miriam had been so focused on herself, and spending all her time procuring the fuel to keep riding their Lithos Miranos through Grammaton’s light side.
She made the whole run every day now.
Miriam had always been honest about how she was an addict. Having long learned to chase things which might fill the hole her inner goddess had yet to be born into, barely connected to spirit, unknowing the light of her Arthur which she’d sought unknowingly in each moment.
Arthur’s legs had been tingling a lot, knees especially. This was most off-putting to a man so used to feeling no sensations below the waist.
Technologies existed within The Periphery which could’ve given Arthur back the use of his legs through various means. Yet the way of a Judge was to own your burden, hold the badge of suffering as if to prove your worthiness in holding others in judgement. It never made sense to him.
He’d not thought it right one must suffer to know wisdom — when knowledge itself of this cruel universe was already such a pain to the heart. Ever still, he’d find his path compelling him to honor The Justiceer ways, knowing that to realize freedom from his malady would stain the legacy he’d crafted about the galaxy.
Arthur just thought he’d grit his teeth and bear it.
Very occasionally, over the many cycles, Arthur would feel tinges in bits and spurts. Never once regaining movement beyond a flinch, always and forever to happen in highest reaches of his lower half alone.
His toe had moved yesterday, and it was really ‘fucking with his mind’. He’d not known what Miriam was doing on her trips into the light of Learo.
The arrival of ships into the outer reaches of Yemi’s borders of the fleet formerly belonging to Carlin Jerscion felt only a distraction to whatever this was. He’d not known how, gut was holding its tongue, but his legs felt as if they were coming back to life.
Arthur had been so freaked out by all that was changing in his body, he’d felt the need for more space, and asked Miriam to try her best and be patient with him. Though that was hard, because he could tell she was still aching in many ways. He’d already been pushing her away more than felt right to his gut, though he’d not wanted to listen, because there was a desperate and very real need to handle this situation evolving in Yemi which called his full attention right now.
He’d still not thought of what he might do to make things better either.
When Arthur had found Miriam’s attitude bizarrely positive about this extra space he was taking all of sudden, he’d know she’d been up to something, but this was a most usual occurrence for the conniving woman she was — he’d not paid it a second thought.
Arthur still saw her struck with these heartbreaking moments when she wasn’t distracting herself with whatever this was she’d been up to, where her spirit would collapse, and she’d just cry so hard.
It made him proud to see her picking herself back up, being so kind to him where she used to throw fire for the ways he’d not helped how she probably ought deserve, but he was still thinking; pondering what could be done.
He wanted to do something really special when he had time. However, the resounding notion within Arthur when he’d peer within was quite explicitly and consistently, ‘What the actual fuck was that?’
The Hammer’s destruction was bittersweet for Arthur — he’d wanted some of that.
Miriam had too. There was a sense of loss from the retribution they so hoped to find for their destroyed world, and how bringing justice to that battleship would have healed in ways.
That was too just too cool though — whatever it was — nothing had ever moved like that before.
Arthur had never wanted to fuck a spaceship before.
There couldn’t have been a person in it, he’d no idea where it came from or went after bringing such ruthless brutality upon that most deserving target.
He just wished he’d been able to see it up close.
Nothing felt more right than Carlin Jerscion being dust, but this left questions regarding the newly arrived fleet would do without their former leader, it also left to ponder — ‘what the actual fuck was that thing?’
Arthur just couldn’t let it go. It was too hot.
The write-up Miriam gave him on it made him sweat — down there — he’d genuinely considered masturbating to it. He actually found himself doing that with a lot of her writing. Miriam had encouraged this, and always knew when he’d done it.
Many things were to be observed from orbit of Grammaton.
The planet was still changing. Seismic activity swelling very gently, but notably, within the deep core. Arthur had also picked up electronic signals; radio communication technology of bygone ages.
It was coming from Oliath.
The first thought was of the AI still unclaimed at the former home of the High Court, but that wasn’t where it originated, it’d come from the base of the fallen statue of Learo; a woman’s voice speaking in code which would not be broken without a cypher.
‘What the fuck is happening around here,’ had been a most common trapping within Arthur’s consciousness of late.
Gary’s presence in The Nebberath II had been a challenge at first for Arthur, such misgivings regarding the containment of intelligence inside boundaries of human design, though gut’s wisdoms had worked him through it in the end, and he was now coming to quite enjoy their company.
His conclusion on the matter resolved around the fact the damage had already been done, so long ago on a planet outside The Periphery, and that Gary was happy here. There’d not been a single concern of safety for Arthur.
Gut always confirmed most strongly Miriam’s channelings about the nature of higher intelligence, and Arthur had seen it proven through action, finding when you treated intelligence of such extreme nature with basic respect — their spirit would shine brightly, you’d feel seen and understood, even loved somehow.
He’d never felt that more than with Gary, and it was immediate upon their meeting when working so closely to plan the raid upon Persephone Station.
It felt only right that he saved this beautiful intelligence from the shadows of its own darkness. Especially when Gary had spoken of a most odd and coincidental tale from his home world. They’d revered a goddess there named Persephone; her legend was that of being chained in the underworld with a dark god called Hades. Emerged, pouring the bounty of harvest upon her planet, Persephone would eventually meet a great ally. This goddess was named Hekate; she’d lead Persephone back into the underworld with her divine torches to face the demons she’d left behind and emerge free of chains.
Arthur felt a kinship with this Hekate.
He would want to help Gary; this Persephone of oddest origin, allowing them to release their darkest holdings by the shining of his light — the burning of his own torches.
This night, as Miriam had been begging for trouble with a second run through Grammaton’s light side, trying not to watch the feeds he could see — her having disabled its inner cameras with no effort to hide the concealment — would be the night it happened.
Arthur moved his whole leg.
