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Title: Resistance (#3252)
Author: NeumeIndil
Chapters: 1

Archive: Riddick (The Chronicles of)
Category: Movieverse
Description: Not everyone converts when promised the glory of Underverse. Set before the destruction of New Mecca, on a planet destroyed by the Necromongers.
Published: 10 Jan 2007
Updated: 10 Jan 2007
Warnings: Character death
Type: Angst
Characters: OFC, Vaako, Lady Vaako


Chapter 1 - Resistance

First the comet that wasn’t a comet lit Her sky. Then, they landed, thousands of them, menacing in their armor and cold precision, killing most, keeping few. I was one of those few, perhaps a hundred, led to the meeting chamber, always so serene and peaceful until that morning. I’d never expected such alienation in our own worship space, though as always I felt Her support beneath my feet renewing our connection with each step. Yet, here they were, the Necromongers they called themselves, with their living-but-not-alive eyes and pale skin, killing us in droves, destroying all that came across their path. What lesson, I wondered, is there in this? Who will remain to pass it on?

As the small man spoke, I became impressed by their fervor, their unquestioning belief in what they feel is right. The depth to which they’ve taken that faith is extraordinary, perhaps the strongest faith in all the galaxies. But join them? Even on pain of death, I cannot, for they reject as weakness the one thing that defines the nature of life itself-- tolerance of that which we neither like nor understand, acceptance rather than blind rejection of pain. This is Her way on our planet and every other planet known. This is the way I have embraced. Without pain, there is no pleasure, no seat from which to look back at what has been endured on the journey. Even death, when it comes, is welcome, for every journey has a destination. As I watch my neighbors and friends kneel before a man in dark armor, I choose again, a decision that will, likely, be my last. Drawing a breath rank with the stink of burning and metal and death, I step out of the line of kneeling people, most of whom I’ve spent hours with in the gardens or around bonfires, feeling the comforting touch of Her presence in those simple things. They deny it now, convincing themselves they’ve never felt Her kiss their cheeks with the fire’s heat, never heard Her voice on the wind. I cannot; She has become a part of me, as I’d wished. To deny her now would be to deny myself.

The man nearest me looks strong, grim, and yet there is something about him that draws me. In another life, another galaxy, he would be attractive, but now there is only death before me, either by the slow decay of all I once knew- an atrophy of the soul- or the quick, merciful ending of the body, freeing the spirit for that which is beyond and releasing back to Her the physical shell, beginning the healing of all they had destroyed. Perhaps joining the rank upon rank of black-clad, ashen faces that surround the hall would save this shell, but mine is not a soul able to destroy needlessly, and any semblance of a life within this group of zealots would cripple me. So it is with clear purpose that I approach him, attracting eyes all around the room. Let my end begin the new beginning.
~*~

The girl approached him meekly, irritating him even as she intrigued. She was not unbeautiful; they’d kept her for a concubine, perhaps, or a performer. Watching her intently, I moved closer to my husband. What would he do with this bold little one? He has a weakness for the innocent ones, an urge to save their sweetness from death, or perhaps for himself.

“Kill me.”

“You will not join us?” he replied.

“Never.”

“You will never feel pain again, never again feel fear. Only by joining us will you find peace. Is that not the goal of your people? Peace? Oneness?” he asked, speaking louder to address those few emboldened by her quiet defiance.

“I have felt it,” she replied, fixing her gaze on his boots, or her own bare toes. “Here, before you came. I have felt at one with all that is. I wish to join that bliss again, and I pray only your mercy. Kill me. I wish to see and hear no more.”

“You refuse to listen—”

“If you will not grant that mercy,” she continued, speaking quietly but with such conviction those within earshot grew quiet, “then I ask you, give me a weapon. I will see it done myself, so that you do not have the responsibility of my death on your hands.”

“That is not the way it works among the Necromongers, girl,” Vaako replied, lifting her chin until she met his eyes squarely. Only the tiniest flick of his eyes told his thoughts, but I knew it well. He found her intriguing, her strength, perhaps, her looks as well. He wished to know more, to understand. He wished to have her for himself.

“Among my kind,” he said softly, “you keep what you kill.”

The girl paused for a moment, hesitating several times as if to speak but stopping at the last moment. Rather than words, she replied with action and stepped forward. A thin white hand hovered just above my husband’s belt and I smiled as I realized her plan. Pity, I thought even as she lifted his knife from its sheath, here is an intelligent one. She would have been useful. Her blood pattered onto the hard packed dirt floor before Lord Vaako, or anyone else, could act, but her eyes never left his as her life drained away and she slumped finally to the floor, his knife jutting at an angle from between her ribs. Gasps and cries rang through the room, echoing off the high domed ceiling flooded with the light of a sun that, in a few hours time, would never strike the planet’s surface again. If she had meant to be a rallying point for her people, she had failed, the little fool, and instead most fell flat on their faces, sniveling for mercy. A few seemed galvanized by her example, but they were quickly silenced by the presence of the fighters closing in around Vaako and the girl’s body. For his part, Vaako seemed subdued, saddened, perhaps, by the waste of such beauty and intelligence. The weakness showed only momentarily and only to those closest to him, those who knew him well enough to manipulate him. He would pay for those moments spent staring down at the girl’s remains, the pool of red at his toes soaking quickly into the floor. I would see to it myself.
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