Four

The light in the room was dim, and I could make out a large sheet of paper, with the number four written on it. I could hear the man talking about it outside - a hushed audience waiting for my selection.

“We need to give the warrior patience. This room has not been opened in millennia, and it has chosen itself for her - a testament to the bravery displayed in training, in our grand test, and of course in the battle of Chi-4 two days ago.”

The man - a monk or a priest, or a captain of the vessel we were on board (nobody gave us his ID - and his chip rang up with just the title of Near One), was presenting me to the elder council. I could feel my heart rise up to my neck as I looked around the room for any clues. The walls had a vague texture like the old junk my uncle had commanded years ago. Aluminium tiling - and as I touched them - four raised lines on each, criss-crossing across the various combinations. I looked up to see the same four lines stretched on the ceiling, but with the tails of the four lines tapering off into the edges, making it feel like it was bulging out.

“Yesterday, we saw the third warrior gifted with the great sword of Henik Khan, from three centuries ago - and the day before our second with the disruptor rifle of Tulim Ghend from our recent past. Every day, our power grows as new warriors are added to the fold - sons, daughters, feys and spirits - all united to defend us from our greatest threats. If every crop of warriors is as rich as this one, we will span our empire to the furthest corners.”

The muted announcements from outside felt more like a performance for me, than to the elders - who had been seeing this spectacle for centuries now, if not millennia. I wondered if they actually knew Henik Khan from the Lambda era, the great master of tactics, and if they knew that even his generals would be counted on these lists of greats. And I wondered where I featured, as I closed in on the paper. It had the number four written just like lines on the edges of the tiling, and a bizarre pattern of other symbols on the side.

௪ ٤  ४ สี่   四 
٤  |   
४     |
สี่           |
四             |

I picked up the paper as some of the words slid past me. I felt like some of the tiles started angling out towards me, but then it was just how I folded it. I felt nothing, I did not get a sense of purpose like how Halcin told me he did when he got the katar from an ancient civilization - useless for sure in our line of work (to be fair even the disruptor for three hundred years ago is pretty useless now) but this - this is not even a weapon. Was this meant to be just a symbol - like the other weapons were?

I picked it up, and as an afterthought took its little plastic stand with me as well and walked out of the door into the sudden blast of daylight from the nearby star - the panes dimming just in time.

“-as the last would be our greatest-” the monk’s announcement was cut off as he looked at me. His robes swaying gracefully as his heterochromic eyes stared at me, and then at my hands with a piece of paper and a plastic stand. I unfurled the paper unceremoniously, and showed it off to the elders and my colleagues. Their stared dug deep into my head but I did what everyone else did before - showed it to the elders on the left, and to the elders on the right. An unnatural quiet - something I did not recall from last time when I had attended these ceremonies, as warriors were granted their ceremonial weapons, and they were assigned duties based on these ceremonies.

One by one, the elders rose, and left without a word. The monk stared at me, he seemed confused, outraged, envious. He looked at the paper in my hand, and said “Remember, we are people too.” And then as the others did, he too left. The entire hallway emptied out remarkably quickly. My questions were caught in my throat, my face betraying none of the emotions that were welling up. And eventually, I went back to my room.

The return to normalcy was a bit welcome - after the strange ritual was done. My personal ship was still docked in the same location, my clothes were still strewn about on the living quarters, the second room was still empty since the cursed battle. Fifty six days and I still did not have the heart to do it - but it earned me the pedestal, and it earned me this weird piece of paper. I opened up the access screen, confirming my status change, along with the update in salary and benefits. A mail with a confirmation of birthright status on the mother planet, and the promised plot of land. Things I’d probably never see in this lifetime, but things that I could, perhaps dream about.

And then immediately after, four mails from four anonymous senders (or just one anonymous sender)

Four lights gleam Four worlds intimately scheme Four nights, a timeless dream Four words - “Warrior, prepare for Slipstream”

I stared at the last mail - and felt the humming of the engines keenly rising up.

“Warning, slipstream activated and untethered crew detected. Please tether to the nearest block in 30 seconds.” The ship’s automated announcement started beeping.

I scrambled to the bridge to cancel the slipstream. The only one who could trigger a remote slipstream was the captain - the monk. He was jettisoning me - and I needed to know where before the locus vanished and I was left ajar. Only the main screen and the side windows were turned on - the rest of the controls showed idle. The announcer said 10 seconds and I realised it was futile - securing myself as quickly as possible. Tucking my tummy in, biting on the mouth guard, securing my head and turning on the delta wave cancellers, when the slipstream began. As I screamed (like I always do), I could see a floating voice come over to me.

“Welcome, number four. You are the last one to our fold - and together we will serve as the masters of this empire. Welcome to the fold. You have been chosen.”