The crowd shifted and churned with confusion as
Douklan wove through them, calling out just loud enough for the zealots nearby to catch his words.
Douklan says:
"Excuse me, make way! I've got to get to BAY FIVE to help with the investigation there! Yep, we've got lots of CLUES THERE about that missing ship..."He stops one of the white-robed zealots.
"What was it called again? The HEAVEN'S VAULT? No, no, wait - it was Heaven something...Heaven's Beak? Heaven's Tail? Oh, no: Heaven's WING, that's it. I've got to get to the team that's investigating the HEAVEN'S WING in BAY FIVE!" "Did he just say Bay Five?" muttered one of the white-robed zealots, frowning.
"Wait—an investigation?" another said, gripping her prayer beads a little tighter.
"They’re investigating Heaven’s Wing?"
Douklan continued, ramping up his volume as he addressed the zealots around him.
Douklan says:
"We've got to STOP the INVESTIGATION into the HEAVEN'S WING in BAY FIVE! BLASPHEMY! SACRILEGE!"
The murmur spread, with pockets of zealots turning to each other in alarm.
"What kind of clues?" one of them asked, gripping Douklan’s arm, desperation clear on his face.
"Are they… are they trying to disprove the prophecy?"
"Who knows what they’re up to in Bay Five?" Douklan shrugged, looking down the corridor that led in the opposite direction from the CeeVee. He fixed his gaze into the distance, his face set with exaggerated determination.
"But that’s where I’m heading. Those so-called investigators think they’ve got the right to dig up our holy ship’s secrets? Hah! Not while I’m around!"
The words struck a nerve, and a ripple of outrage shot through the crowd.
"Blasphemy!" shouted a zealot at the back, raising a fist in the air.
"They have no right to look into the Heaven’s Wing!"
"Bay Five!" a young zealot cried out, his eyes wild with the intensity of his belief.
"They’re trying to deny the truth of Heaven’s Wing!"
The crowd was already moving, zealots pushing past one another in a mad rush toward Bay Five. The air filled with cries of
"Blasphemy!" and
"We won’t let them desecrate it!" Their shouts echoed through the dock, mixing with the clang of footsteps as more and more zealots joined the charge towards Bay Five.
One of the older priests—a wiry man with piercing gray eyes and a face lined by years of devotion—stopped dead in his tracks as the mob surged around him, his gaze zeroing in on
Douklan and Mercer. His white robe was pristine, in stark contrast to the smoke and chaos around them, and he clutched a brass censer at his side, its soft incense tendrils winding up into the air.
"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice sharp and laced with suspicion. His eyes traveled from their armored suits to the stun batons they held.
"You’re not one of us, not with that gear. Neither of you wear the robe of the faithful, yet here you are, right in the middle of Heaven’s business."
He looked back and forth between Douklan and Mercer, a glimmer of wariness creeping into his eyes, as though he were beginning to grasp that something wasn’t right.
Meanwhile,
Corbin, Hank, and Erin moved with purpose, slipping away from the CeeVee’s ramp just as the attention of the zealots turned fully on Mercer and Douklan. The din of chanting and shouts faded slightly as they entered the maze of machinery and storage crates, the air thick with the smell of burnt wiring and heated metal. Erin clutched the med-kit close to her, her gaze alert, scanning for any sign of movement.
Corbin led the way, his eyes sharp as they flitted through the shadows. As they rounded a stack of heavy equipment, he spotted the huddled group of Stellar Express workers, most of them crouched behind a line of overturned crates. Their faces were tight with fear, and one of them—a man in his thirties with grease-stained overalls—had blood seeping from a gash on his forehead. The group looked up in alarm as Corbin, Hank, and Erin emerged from the shadows.
Corbin says:
"Hey, guys, I’m Corbin, the chief engineer on the Celestial Voyager. You’re welcome aboard if you want shelter until this blows over."
The injured worker looked up at him, his face pale but grateful. Erin knelt beside him immediately, opening her med-kit and pulling out a sterile cloth and a small vial of TL4 antiseptic.
"Hold still," she said gently, her fingers already working to stop the bleeding.
The other workers exchanged glances, their fear beginning to fade, replaced by a glimmer of hope. One of them, a young woman with wide eyes, whispered,
"Are… are you here to rescue us?"