False Gods

Bleu shifted uneasily in her seat as they waited for the shuttle containing Dustin and the security detail to launch. Beside her, Rye hummed to herself as she adjusted the controls. A crackle from the communicator made Bleu jump - but it was just Sammie, checking they were in position. Rye grinned and mouthed “don’t be scared” before replying to the human. “All good Sammie, ya got the green light to go from our end.”

The shuttle began to move a moment later; the plan was that they would enter the atmosphere ahead of Dustin’s craft, to draw attention. Bleu was glad that Meli had talked Rye out of ‘decorating’ their vessel to be even more eye catching. It was bad enough that she was having to hold colorants between her upper and middle hyperdermal layers so that she appeared as void-black as Defia (not to mention the almost-plasticine appearance she’d taken after consultation with the other shape shifter) without arriving on the planet in a ship looking like a human Christmas tree.

Looking like a Fractal drone seemed to largely involve looking like a potato with spikes she decided, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. While the humanoid form Bleu usually used wasn’t exactly natural for her, it was a lot more comfortable than this - and it came with some distinct advantages when interacting with Dustin. She did still want to go on a date with him - and enjoy the natural aftermath of a date - in her fully natural form at some point, but asking your boyfriend if he would mind fucking you while you look like a bowl of jello with eye-stalks was something she was still working out how to accomplish.

As Bleu’s thoughts drifted, Meli leaned forward. “Emely says she’s got their language cracked.” The Velca said softly, handing the Queri woman a tiny translation unit. Nodding, Bleu swallowed it, moving it around inside herself until it was lodged just in front of her vocal chord array. “Testing” she said softly in English, then added “It’s me, God.” The unit activated seamlessly - her voice came out in a language that she wouldn’t understand were it not for the translator talking directly into her flesh.

The Feliax woman wrapped her arms around the doctor a moment later. “Sorry you’re having to play dress up, bubbles.” She said, giving Bleu a kiss on the cheek. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re awfully brave doing this.” Bleu sighed and relaxed into the hug, her own thoughts about the matter drifting for a second before she nodded. “I am being awfully brave, aren’t I. When Dustin gets back, he owes me some serious pampering.” Then the medic frowned. “He will be alright, won’t he?”

The assembled women glanced at each other for a moment before Rye gave a laugh that sounded significantly less sure than her usual casual manner. “Sure he will. Dusty’s amazing, no way a few drones in a dark creepy bunker’s going to stop him. He managed just fine the time he saved my life from one of them, and the time we fought one in that monastery, and Defia says those were combat-styled drones where as all he should find down there is nice peaceful observation units. Anyway, too late to worry about that now ladies - everyone buckle up, we’re going in.”

As the other women scrambled for their seats, Rye set the shuttle into a steep dive, it’s outer hull glowing with the heat of re-entry. “Gotta make a big splash to draw attention away from Dusty” she muttered under her breath, toggling the thrusters and monitoring their angle of descent. Their craft streaked through the sky, a sonic boom echoing over the landscape. Meli raised an eyebrow at that. “Don’t these shuttles have dampeners to avoid sonic shock?” The Velca asked.

Rye tapped the controls, bringing them down to skim rapidly across the surface of a lake, heading for the area they’d flagged as being home to people that might be amenable to persuasion, many of whom their scanners were now showing as rushing back to their homes from nearby fields. As the water fountained in great steaming clouds on either side of them, the bunny girl grinned. “They do, nerd. Turned ‘em off so we’d make a bit more noise to give cover to Dusty.”

Moments later the shuttle slowed, the engines whining like the roar of an ancient beast as Rye disabled some of the noise cancellation before setting the craft down in the middle of an open area right by a statue that appeared to be a crude approximation of the form Bleu was currently mimicking. “Alright, your holy-fakeness.” Rye said, grinning over at the medic “Time to go talk to your followers.”

Bleu rose from her seat, checking that the layer of dark colorant was in place, then opened the shuttle door and stepped outside. As she emerged, the crowd of assembled natives stepped back, some of them flapping their iridescent wings and rising into the air in their haste to back away. A few whispers from the crowd were picked up by her translator; ‘vanishing one’ being the most common. Taking a deep breath, she looked around and began the speech Emely had planned for her.

At first, the crowd looked scared. As the medic waxed lyrical about the ways in which worship had been corrupted, they began to make suitably angry noises. When she stated that the living night had sent the vanishing ones to herd their kind like cattle, they looked ready to riot. Dropping her voice low, she explained how the vanishing ones had cut them off from the light of the stars, and of the other children who lived there. It was all a bunch of made up bullshit, but she’d dealt with the Queri medical board before now so convincing a bunch of pre-industrial yokels that she spoke truth was child’s play.

At that point, Bleu announced that she was one of two who had been chosen to bring the light of the stars back to the people of this world; good old apocalyptic pap that they ate up, with the entire crowd seemingly on tenterhooks. “I bring you children of the stars to walk among you, while my sister goes to smite those who kept you in darkness.” She said, gesturing to the shuttle. The crowd gasped as Emely stepped out, her tails fanning out behind her like a halo. Rye’s long ears and Meli’s round face got similar noises as the three women moved to flank Bleu like an honour guard.

“My lady…” an elderly man said at last. “Do you mean that those who have vanished will return to us? While we know that those taken by the priests for sacrifice cannot return from beyond the veil, what of those that the false gods have stolen from us on moonless nights?” Bleu frowned; this wasn’t in the script or in anything Defia or Emely had planned for. Improvising wildly, she gave what she hoped was a comforting smile. “If they have not been sent forth from this place by those who kept you in darkness, I am sure my sister will return them safely to you.” She said, really hoping as she did so that her words were true.

A little over an hour later, Bleu, Emely and Meli sat in the largest of the nearby homes - a vast wattle and daub structure that put the ladies in mind of an upturned beehive - discussing the situation on the planet with the community leaders. It was exactly as they had feared; the occasional disappearances that Defia had suggested might occur as part of Fractal monitoring of the population had been used in ages past by a group of individuals to establish a twisted form of religion dedicated to worshiping the Fractals; ritual sacrifice to the gods was only one of its many not charming at all features.

“We have for many years tried to minimize the numbers that are sent to the great temple” said the oldest of the group there, a woman who’s wings were so faded with age that they looked more like wool than the delicate membranes on the younger of her kind. “But there is only so much we can do. The priests control everything - food production, weaponry - especially the forests that produce the thickwood needed for bows - anything and everything we would need to mount a successful rebellion.

Bleu grinned internally and leaned forward. “Tell me, elder, what wisdom have the false gods given their chosen prophets regarding weapons of war?” The answer, she was pleased to hear, was little to nothing. The vanishing ones were apparently very big on messages of keeping their prophets in luxury and attractive men and women - and not so hot on technological advancements. At that point, a thin wooden bolt shot into the room with a distinct twanging sound before embedding itself in the far wall, vibrating slowly. Trying her best not to let her worry at nearly being pierced by the projectile show, Bleu leaned forward. “I prefer to share knowledge rather than demands.” Then, raising her voice, she added. “Rye, why don’t you come in and show the elders how a repeater-crossbow works.”