Judgement Day

The nave felt larger and more ominous than usual. On the far wall hung the host mother's vessel as well as two other vessels to her left and right.

A panel of judges had been assigned to miles to see how to dispose of him.

His suit was beginning to lose power and as he walked the distance that felt like like an eternity between the large double doors and the opposite end of the nave, he began to shake. Finally he collapsed to his knees as he reached the place in front of the three judges.

"Get him an umbilical" Called the judge hanging to the left of the host mother. "He won't be able to stay conscious for his trial otherwise."

"Sustained" said the host mother.

A large writhing tube came out of the ground and attached itself to the main port on the back of mile's head. He felt a fresh flow of sanguis dei course through his veins and the strength returning to his muscles. He was able to rise to his feet again.

"Now that he is able to stand we can begin the trial" said the judge to the right of the host mother.

The host mother spoke first "this court has been gathered to review the recent notable behaviors exhibited by Miles Numan of the arkangeles material abundance enforcement fleet, and to reconcile such behaviors with the holy code."

The judge to the left began to pick up just where the host mother had left off. "Most notably the subject has recently exhibited instances of blasphemous disregard for divinely appointed authority." It was likely that an amorphous blend of consciousnesses was controlling all three host bodies, the line that separated individual identities became vague and blurry in the higher ranks.

The host to the right of the mother then spoke "The gravity of this behavioral incident has been increased given the high level of responsibility that was entrusted to the subject at the time. During the time of behavioral disturbance, the subject was given authority over a team tasked with delivering purifying light."

"Miles" the host mother looked down and made eye contact, communicating a patronizing and possessive lust, though though it was alternating with the other entities that had been invited to carry out this proceeding. "We are most interested in understanding the cause of your behavior previously today, help us understand"

Miles remained silent. Any words he offered now were merely a formality, now that the umbilical was attached, all of his thoughts and emotions via hormone levels could be read easily by the committee without his needing to speak.

"Does the subject refuse to participate?" Queried the left judge.

"Miles, speak to us" the host mother said

"There's nothing to say, my thoughts are on full display." He said softly.

"We can well read your thoughts, but your will is still unknown to us. You choose the potentiality of your thoughts only through your speech." Said the right hand judge.

"You've all made of your mind about what to do with me before this meeting even started, what can I possibly say in my own defense?"

The court was silent. The combined mind of the host mother and the judges was calculating a decision.

The silence was broken by the voice of the host mother. "Very well miles, you have demonstrated your wickedness and a hardened heart. Originally we had planned a demotion and a reassignment to a colony on the outskirts of the kingdom of god your skill is still useful to use despite your disgrace. However, your refusal to cooperate has earned you banishment by mode of severance."

Severance referred to a literal severing of the tubes and wires which provided the suit that the arkangeles wore with power, as well as a fresh supply of sanguis dei. In other words, "severance" was a death sentence.

Miles' response should have been stronger, he should have pleaded for his life or made some sort of grand appeal by referencing holy scripture. But he did none of that. He watched this whole trial as if it were happening to someone else. He was an uninvested spectator to the events that determined his life and death. It was no different than any other day as a soldier for the arkangeles, be silent, offer nothing in your defense, align your will with the authorities. Miles simply didn't know anything else. And his silence at this time, though he wasn't aware, was definitely the best course of action.

"Anything else to profess ?" Asked the host mother.

"Again, what would it matter…" He muttered.

"Very well" she concluded. "Severance"

The 'umbilical' attached to miles gave his suit the power to last a few days at the most. Once the cord was cut he was going to need to find a way to fend for himself and to feed himself and his suit. This would be impossible without some kind of supply from the arkangeles. As a large pair of Gilded scissors was produced by the judge on the right hand. Miles simply curled up on the ground, decorum was useless, his pride, diminished — He awaited and accepted his fate.

She descended down from her charging station on the crucifix and gripped the umbilical with one powerful hydraulically assisted arm; yanking miles up to his knees. Where the cord was taught between her hand and the base of miles' skull, she made another powerful, hydraulically assisted cut in one clean motion severing the cord entirely. Miles collapsed again and the sanguis dei as well as his own blood began leaking out of the incised cord, forming around him a blackish puddle with yellow sheen.

"This subject is hereby dismissed and formally excommunicated" announced the host mother. Her words were dictated by the common consciousness that the three shared on the crucifixes above.

Miles made a weak attempt to lift himself but faltered. He was trying their patience now. "Get out blasphemer!" The host mother shouted.

His vision was blurry and his consciousness half viable, looking back he couldn't remember how he had managed to crawl his way across the nave. Neither could he remember where or how he had managed to slump himself in to an escape pod chartered for anywhere, deep space. But as he awoke hours — or was it days? — later; he was surprised to still be alive.

————————

The temperature was still overwhelming on this particular day and the heat rose off of the asphalt surrounding a modest stucco building was visibly distorting the air above it in the sunlight. The arkangeles crest hung above a main entranceway, but it was in no way as impressive or commandeering as the usual architecture associated with arkangeles. Miles sat on a ledge outside this small building, sweltering in the heat. He wore a uniform that was military-esque, it was mandatory for all of the boys at his school.

This was the only recruiting office in the entire southern hemisphere of this planet in a forgotten corner of the holy kingdom. Miles' home world was deeply impoverished and producing one main export for the holy empire— and a small supply at that —fresh recruits for the arkangeles war machine.

A moderately heavyset man with kind eyes appeared in the doorway, "I can see you now, Miles" he said.

Miles stood up and walked inside. "This way" said the man and he pointed him to a small office.

The room was modest yet lived in. Behind a single desk sat a well worn and comfortable looking chair. There wasn't much else to note except a bookshelf which wasn't oversized but looking on the verge of collapse under the weight of the books inside of it. Nothing on the bookshelf was of the usual staples of holy scripture, except for the few mandatory peices, instead it was crammed with psychological tomes. a window overlooking the village of stucco, asphalt and sparse vegetation outside and a place for miles to sit across from the man who had now taken his seat with a sigh.

"Please Miles, sit." He gestured towards the chair across from his. Miles' eyes darted around the room as he took his seat hesitantly. This wasn't his first visit to a recruiting office, when he was young he had toured various arkangeles facilities as was also mandatory for children. But he noticed almost immediately the lack of usual propaganda hanging on the wall. No slogans advertising glory, honor or holiness; simply a bookshelf, a desk, a chair and the man sat in front of him.

He felt his tension ease as he leaned back in to his chair and met the man's warm gaze.

"What brings you here today, Miles?" He asked.

"Well…" he hesitated "I want to become an arkangeles."

"That's apparent," he chuckled. "I mean, really… Miles, what brings you here?"

Miles understood now that the man was asking for his reasons for joining the ark Angeles, but the way the question was worded hinted somehow that the man sitting across from him wasn't looking for the textbook, or scriptural answers. Yet still, out of habit, Miles began reciting rhetoric.

"Of course, sir, to be one of the blessed and chosen few to be tasked with the charge of bringing the splendor of god's kingdom to the ignorant in all corners of the universe. To submit my own will to that of the lords, to deny my every wish and desire for my life in service of the highest holy will. To become a sacrificial lamb through the slaughter of my own selfishness and wayward—"

"I'll stop you right there" the man interjected with a hint of concern. "Miles, I've already read the many holy scriptures and I'm familiar with all forms of self flagellation disguised as piousness; I'm looking for YOUR reasons."

Miles' thoughts skipped a beat, the first reason being that he was completely unaccustomed to anyone associated with the holy order of arkangelesspeaking to him on such personal terms, the second reason because he hadn't ever really thought to consider the personal motive for any of his actions up until this point, and the third reason because the man had just criticized holy rhetoric- this was a dangerous and even punishable heresy. Needless to say the question shocked and confused him.

Miles remained unable to speak, dumbfounded.

The silence felt louder than a thousand young men like Miles shouting holy slogans. The Man made his second interruption of the day. "Miles, everything you say here is completely confidential. The holy order does maintain records of these conversations for exactly the reason that we've just witnessed here. Any young man like yourself that walks through that door wanting to join up with the Arkangeles already has the exact scriptural passage from the holy books lined up and ready to spout. That's all very well for the image and advancement of the ideals of holy empire but it tells us nothing about your true allegiance and motivations as a soldier. No Miles, that won't do… we need to know the real Miles Numan which is why this conversation is protected under complete confidentiality. Whether you enter the order or not. Nothing you say leaves this room, ever."

Miles, wasn't taking the bait. He knew better than that. This must be some kind of trick, he thought to himself.

"The holy scriptures tell us how to live and think, but each of us has our own special relationship to these words. The unique type of relationship that can determine whether or not one is fit to serve as a soldier amongst the ArkAngeles is a secret of the empire. While the correct answer remains unknown to you, your only chance of ever stepping foot on an ark requires your complete and unfiltered honesty. Otherwise you can forget your dreams right here and now. If that's the case, I'll have to kindly ask you to leave Miles, and I wish you the best in your future on your home world."

There was silence again, Miles settled back in to his chair uncomfortably. He decided to trust the man, if what he said was true after all, he had no choice but to open up completely. He wasn't going to risk his only chance to leave his planet behind.

Sensing miles was reconsidering, the man encouraged him. "I'm listening miles, go ahead. No judgement here."

"…well, you see…" miles started off meekly "The truth is that…" he paused, he knew that the words that came out of his mouth next would be a blasphemy punishable by death. But at this point, death at the hands of the arkangeles or in the ever constricting atmosphere of his home world were indistinguishable. He continued on.

"The truth is that I hate the holy empire. It has taken everything from me inside and out. But I hate my life on this planet even more."

The tension could be cut with a knife. Miles awaited his death sentence. But to his surprise after a few moments of expressionlessness the man across the table broke out in to a wide and cunning grin that had lost the warmth that had seen in it just a few minutes before. "Excellent, Miles." He said. "Welcome to the Holy Order of Arkangeles."