Deus ex Machina
by T. J. Young
Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion
The next morning, Brother Kellen awoke early. He had not slept well. The image of the stranger haunted his mind, making him restless and uneasy. The man seemed to lack appropriate humility and reverence, but at the same time there was an indefinable melancholy about him that Kellen found sympathetic. He seemed to bear some burden that tormented him. Perhaps, Kellen mused, he has suffered some tragedy recently. Maybe he is even partly responsible for the tragedy, which would explain his desire to see the relic. He might wish to cleanse his soul, to heal his spirit.
So thinking, Kellen performed his morning ablutions and prayers, then left his chamber to fetch Unwin. He was hopeful that the Abbot would grant the man’s request to view the relic. Kellen himself had seen it only a few times, and he had been struck by its beauty and the latent power it seemed to contain. It was an inspiring, potent, symbol of God’s mercy. He looked forward to seeing it again.
As he hurried down the hall, he passed some windows and noticed that it had snowed several inches during the night. The monastery and its grounds were covered with a blanket of pure white. He paused for a moment, admiring the quiet beauty of the scene. The sky was relatively clear now and a low sun illuminated the trees and the yellow stones of the monastery walls. Birds chirped in the branches and the air was full of the sweet, pure, scent of new snow.
He was looking down at the courtyard fronting the chapel. The courtyard was empty, but there was a trail of footprints leading from the refectory to the chapel, as if someone had recently walked that way. Probably the Abbot, Kellen thought, preparing for the mass.
Kellen turned away from the window and continued down the hall. When he reached the stranger’s room, however, he was startled to discover it was empty. The man was gone. Not only was he gone, there was no trace of his ever having been there. The bed did not even look slept in. Feeling uneasy again, Kellen walked quickly to the refectory, thinking he might be there, but he was not. He searched throughout the dormitory and the common rooms, but the stranger was nowhere to be found.
Then Kellen remembered the footprints he had seen in the chapel courtyard. He also remembered the stranger’s odd request to see the relic. A lump began to grow in his throat. He hurried out to the front of the monastery and noticed a similar set of footprints leading from the gate down the hill toward the plain below. The lump in his throat started to choke him.
In serious distress, he ran back inside and up the stairs to the Abbott’s chambers. On the way, he prayed to Almighty God that the relic was safe.
* * *
Kirn Elias, Pilot of the Eighth Rank, stood at attention before the Council, his back as straight and stiff as he could make it. He was apprehensive, uncomfortable, his brow furrowed. The atmosphere in the hall was hot, stuffy, and extremely formal.
The procedures of the Council were rigidly prescribed and had been for centuries. Armed guards stood on either side of the raised dais on which the Council sat. The Chair of the Council, busy with something on his desk, was hardly even looking at him,
“Report, please,” the Chair said, “and speak loudly, Elias. We are recording this, as you know.”
“’Yes, sir. Mission 446902. Recovery. Planet Epsilon 3, called Earth by its inhabitants. You may recall, sir, we had a previous mission there two cycles ago.”
The Chair said nothing, still not looking at him.
Elias coughed slightly, and the Chair stopped what he was doing and looked down at him.
“Yes, previous mission,” the Chair said impatiently. “Naturally, since your purpose was recovery. Go on.”
“The previous mission ran into difficulties on entry and was abruptly aborted.”
“So?”
“There was a... um... ” Elias hesitated, his throat suddenly tight, “death, sir, of one of the crew. Flight Director Ridou, sir.”
The Chair’s eyes narrowed. “Ridou? Yes, I recall that now. Very unfortunate. The report found mistakes, did it not? The entry pilot failed to compensate for an atmospheric disturbance.”
Elias shifted his feet. His body temperature was beginning to rise. “There was an attempt to revive Ridou at the crash site, sir,” he said, “but it was unsuccessful. The team then decided to return to base.”
“Yes,” the Chair said coldly. “I remember this now. You were the pilot, weren’t you, Elias?”
Elias nodded stiffly.
“Your team was careless and left behind a regenerator. You were sent back to recover it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well?”
“I was not successful, sir.”
“No?” The Chair’s face registered surprise. He set down the implement he had been writing with. “Not successful?”
“No, sir.”
“Explain, please. What happened? Were you discovered?”
Elias felt a wave of emotion pass through him, a mingling of shame, anxiety and embarrassment, yet coupled with a desperate pride and a defiant sense of righteousness. He gritted his teeth and tried to remain calm. He spread his feet, unconsciously assuming a more defensive posture.
“No, I was not discovered, sir. I... I just decided it was better to leave the device behind.”
The Chair stared at him, his mouth working, a mixture of astonishment and anger mingling in his face.
“It saves lives, sir. Many lives. They are a technologically primitive culture without adequate resources of their own. And they are suffering from a devastating plague: thousands have died, whole villages have been wiped out. I could not bring myself to take it, sir, and condemn them to still more agony and death.” He spoke quickly, feeling relieved to be able finally to say what he felt.
There was a moment of silence. The entire hall went quiet, the other Council members turning to face him.
“Elias,” the Chair said in a steely voice, “do you mean to tell us you had the opportunity to recover the item, to complete your mission, and you deliberately refused to do so?”
“Yes.”
The Chair blinked several times as if he could not believe what he was hearing. “You deliberately disobeyed an order of this Council?”
Elias said nothing.
“Do you know what you have done?” The Chair’s voice rose with incredulity. Disobeying an order of the Council was almost unheard of.
Elias felt his body beginning to tremble. He tried to meet the Chair’s fierce gaze, but could not. He looked away.
“Our presence may be revealed to them, Pilot Kirn Elias! If they discover how the regenerator works, they may even become a threat!”
With an effort, Elias lifted his eyes. “I very much doubt that, sir. They are so backward, so primitive, I don’t think—”
The Chair cut him off. “How long did it take you to make the return trip?”
“Several of their years, sir. We had to return Ridou—”
“If we dispatch another recovery mission, how much more time will pass before it arrives?”
“I don’t know, sir. The planet is several parsecs away.”
“It will be decades of their years!”
“Very likely, sir.”
“And you say they are already using the device!”
“Sir, the device helps them. I am convinced—”
“They are potential enemies, Elias! Your mission was to investigate them, to observe and record their activities, assess the danger they present. Not to aid them! The item should have been recovered. If they suffer from its loss, that is not our concern! It is only the natural course of things!”
Elias slowly shook his head. “You are wrong, sir. The old ways are wrong, “ he said softly. “We have lost sight of what is important, of compassion—”
The Chair struggled visibly to control his anger. “Compassion! It has no place in this, Elias! We are talking about our own survival! We learned long ago that other races, other planets, are potential enemies. We devised a system for silently and discreetly monitoring them, to ensure they are developing peacefully. But we do not reveal ourselves to them! We do not aid them or interfere with them unless our survival requires it. We are not saviors, Elias! We can’t afford to be. Surely you know that!”
Elias felt a surge of strength and met the Chair’s eyes. “No, I don’t know that!” he said hotly. “With all due respect, sir, we have forgotten what it means to suffer. We have hidden behind our fear for so long that we can no longer tell what is right or wrong. We see nothing but ourselves! To alleviate suffering — to end despair and death — that is always right. The regenerator was left behind by accident. Surely now, whatever else it may do, it is wrong to take it back!”
The Chair glared at him. “It is not your place to decide what is right or wrong, Pilot Elias of the Eighth Rank. You are not the judge of that. You are required to follow our orders, regardless of what you may personally believe. There can be no debate.”
“But do you not see? Do you not care?”
The Chair slumped back in his seat, his face deflated. He shook his head slowly. “We have learned to our cost that the price of compassion is high, too high. In the past, alien races have tried to conquer us, leading to wars and deaths of our own. We cannot permit disobedience on such a critical matter.”
He stood up, along with the other council members. He lifted his arm and summoned the Council’s guards. “You have willfully violated an order of this Council, Pilot Kirn Elias,” the Chair said in a hollow, grim voice. “You know the penalty for doing so.”
Elias said nothing. He was remembering that he had gone into the chapel in the early morning, before it was light. The place had been dark and still, smelling of incense and the dampness of centuries.
He had stolen forward to the altar. Next to it was the reliquary, ornately carved and decorated with jewels. With a special tool, he had opened it and peered inside. The regenerator was there, but he had not touched it. He looked down at it, then up at the figure on the cross behind the altar.
At that moment, a shaft of moonlight came through one of the windows and illuminated the figure’s face. Elias stared at it for a few minutes, thinking of Brother Kellen and his devotion to this strange deity. A complex of feelings overtook him: a mixture of pity, defiance, a desire for self-assertion, and an obscure need to honor Kellen’s faith. He realized the fate that likely awaited him if he left the regenerator there, but it seemed a small price to pay. He closed the box, reset the lock, and left the monastery, his footsteps hurrying back down the road.
Elias, with this memory in his mind, stood before the Council. He was resigned but firm. He would be, he thought, a brother, no matter how weird or primitive the faith. It was better to believe than to have nothing, better to have done what he could than to do nothing. When the guards came for him, he did not flinch.
Copyright © 2025 by T. J. Young
