Page 47 of Metatron
Surprised but somewhat appeased, I staggered out of it and noted my hands were free of the manacles that Astaroth had previously placed on me. I’d also lost my clothes, the replacement being a slim-fitting cat suit that was most definitely not my style. The fact I’d been dressed while unconscious had me patting my body seeking out signs of abuse.
Nothing felt sore, and I could only hope Astaroth had been serious about keeping me unharmed that I might make a worthy gift for Satan. Not something I ever expected would happen to me. Funny how I’d gone from not really believing to being in the midst of a religious revolution.
A glance around showed a dozen other capsules, a few them of with occupants. Human, like me. Or so they appeared. One with a female face had me running my hands over the outside looking for a way to wake her. Solidarity in numbers and all that. Alas, I couldn’t figure out how to work the sleeping pods. I finally found the one door that led from the room, and I exited to find a hall, seamless in appearance, the black striated with a red that pulsed. I put my hands to it, for just a second. The zap had me snatching away my stinging fingers. Not a very friendly vessel.
I headed for the far end of the hall and entered the cockpit I’d seen before my sleeping bout. The pilot remained in his seat, all four arms moving. Astaroth, wearing a dark suit, stood by his side, looking at the screen with his hands tucked behind his back.
My entrance didn’t go unnoticed.
“The sleeping Templar awakes, just in time.” Astaroth half turned to greet me. He swept a hand at the screen. “Welcome to Hell.”
I stared with interest at the strange thing we approached, a place hard to describe for I had no basis of comparison.
Hell wasn’t round like a planet, nor rocky like an asteroid. While it might have begun as a meteor, the surface had long since been covered in a mishmash of structures with no rhyme or reason. Fluting projectiles with porthole windows in one spot, squat container-looking boxes stacked unevenly to the side of it. A giant indent with pustules of fabric all over it.
Small vessels zipped around and through the hodgepodge of Hell. A few looked like absolute junkers made of scrap metal, while others were sleek and smooth, reminding me of Zilla’s, only where her exterior was a pale gray that glowed, these were dark with a hint of pulsing red like the ship I found myself upon.
Did Hell have its own version of living ships?
One thing I didn’t see was flying demons or imps in space. Apparently, even they couldn’t survive without oxygen and a gazillion degrees below zero.
As we neared a massive dome, it opened, the center of it retracting far enough to form a hole the ship could slip through. We entered a hangar not as full of space craft as I’d have expected. Scattered in the massive space, a dozen or so small vessels and a few larger ones that I guessed were used for troops.
Shapes scuttled around, workers judging by the coveralls most wore. But before you think I spoke of humans, let me correct that misassumption. Like our pilot, I didn’t know what the fuck I looked at.
Some appeared bipedal, with a head and two legs, a few even had two arms, but many also sported tails, a few had more than two limbs, and there was the squat bubble without a head or face that appeared to be leaving a trail of slime that bubbled and fizzled, leaving a clear floor behind.
Astaroth saw me staring. “Lautussas. Their excrement dissolves dirt and grime, even rust. They keep the vessels clean of space barnacles.”
“Taken as slaves from another planet, I assume.” No point in ignoring my captor, not when he seemed willing to answer some questions. And I had many. While my situation might be impossible, I wouldn’t give up.
“Everyone comes from somewhere.”
“Even demons?”
“Even us. If our history is to be believed, we, too, once lived on a planet.”
My sarcasm couldn’t help but say, “Did Hell show up and kidnap your people too?”
He snickered. “Our planet was Hell, and when it ran out of resources, we took to the stars and haven’t stopped scavenging other worlds since.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to find a place where you can cultivate what you need instead of stealing?”
“How shortsighted. Part of life’s enjoyment is conquering.”
“Oh really? And how much of that have you done? Because last I heard, you were on the run with your companies seized, and you even admitted we put a dent in your imp population.”
His lips pinched. “Early in my isolation, I was still learning to use my power. By the time I’d mastered some control, humanity had exploded in growth, multiplying like cockroaches.”
“Looks to me like you have some on board.” I eyed the chitinous creature clambering up the side of a vessel with tools dangling from its many pinchers.
“Not many because we sterilized the females to avoid them laying hundreds of eggs at once.”
The sheer callousness shouldn’t have shocked, and yet, looking at the many beings, slaves in this place, I couldn’t help but feel a touch hopeless. Every single one of them represented a place that failed. Would Earth be next? Metatron seemed to think we could fight back. I wasn’t so sure now.
As we landed, I glanced back at the room where I’d woken. “Who are the other people you kidnapped?”
“Hedges to my bets. The Dark Lord isn’t the only one that might need bribing.” Such cold disregard in that statement.