"Unfortunately, our time is truly limited."
"Thank you again for your directions and advice, honored preacher of the God-Emperor. It is precisely because of great souls like you that the Emperor's people can understand the will of the Master of Mankind and live beneath the shelter of His light."
"That said, if we're still around after visiting our friend, then we certainly won't miss the Mass here."
Solomon smiled as he politely declined the man's invitation.
Although he had not realized, like Gaia had, that the Jericho Sector was already sliding into grave danger, his sharp instincts had still picked up on something strange about this monk.
The man was far too enthusiastic, and the lash marks on his body were deeply telling.
But what struck Solomon as strangest of all was the reaction of the local residents.
They seemed completely unsurprised by the monk's fervent preaching, and instead focused most of their attention on Gaia and Solomon, the two oddly dressed outsiders.
That sense of not belonging, that unnatural atmosphere, made him smell something familiar.
Some hidden, rotting scheme seemed to lurk beneath these streets that only looked solemn and proper on the surface. Like hunters lurking in shadow, unseen things were casting covetous eyes in his direction.
At that thought, the mocking look in Solomon's eyes wavered slightly, and certain memories he had no desire to revisit flashed through his mind.
Gaia, whose thoughts were still shaken by the revelation of the Jericho Sector's fate, had little interest in indulging this strange monk who had reminded her of that coming disaster. She merely echoed Solomon's words with a brief nod and shook her head at the preacher's offer.
Though they did not share all the same information, the exact same thought had arisen in both their minds:
This was not a place to linger.
The monk stiffened slightly after being rejected. On his withered, bark-like old face appeared deep disappointment and regret.
He sincerely regretted that the two of them could not immediately devote themselves to the uplifting Mass held by the Lady of the Perfect Child, and he pitied them for being unable to come to understand the perfect doctrine at once.
Poor outsiders.
They knew nothing of the Emperor's perfection, nor of humanity's proper duty.
If they did not swiftly punish their own deficiencies, while also indulging their desires to delight the Perfect Lord, then their souls would never enter the Six Rings beyond the Golden Throne spoken of in sacred lore.
The mere thought that fellow humans might be barred from the peace and pleasure of the lost paradise after death filled him with genuine sorrow.
That lofty sorrow, laced with condescension, became so intense that it bored into his heart like worms, until he nearly felt the urge to peel away his own flesh just to soothe the restless agitation inside himself.
Unconsciously, he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his fingernails digging deep into the back of his opposite upper arm.
Under the sting of pain, his mind gradually calmed.
His eyes, burning with zeal and pity, remained fixed on the two of them as he made one final attempt to invite them.
After all, he truly could not bear the thought of anyone failing to understand the Emperor's perfection.
"Oh, may the Perfect Lord forgive your neglect. In truth, our Mass does not only promote the uplifting of the soul. It also embraces the enjoyment of material pleasure."
"We even provide an offering to those who attend. Not a great amount, but I believe it should be enough to make up for the time you'd lose."
Before he could finish, Solomon leaned forward, eyes gleaming, and said,
"By the God-Emperor, a devout man such as myself naturally must attend such a great and holy Mass."
Looking at Solomon's eyes, now shining with nothing but naked desire, Gaia rubbed her temples. Then she stepped forward, her tall, powerful frame cutting between him and the overexcited monk.
"I think we forgot to turn off the engines on our ship. At this rate, we're going to burn through all our promethium."
Then she reached out with one long, strong arm, grabbed Solomon by the back of his coat, and dragged him away like a child trying to stick himself to the window of a toy shop.
As she pulled him along, she kept paying close attention to the monk behind them and the watching crowd around them.
They all cast strange looks at the two of them as they left, making Gaia feel as though needles were pressing into her back.
But aside from that, they made no move.
And so the two of them continued toward the outer districts of Hecius...
...
"By the God-Emperor, we're complete strangers here. How could you possibly think it was a good idea to follow someone into a gathering being held in the name of a Mass?"
On the way, Gaia, quite unusually, started lecturing Solomon.
He, for his part, looked deeply wronged.
Spreading his hands, one eyebrow raised and his mustache twitching, he replied,
"But they were giving throne gelt to people who attended."
Gaia turned and looked at Solomon like he was an idiot.
A gathering that already looked suspicious on its face, once you added a so-called attendance fee, had a very specific name back on Old Terra:
a scam.
She had always thought Solomon was one of those people who looked foolish but were secretly clever.
Now she realized that the moment money got involved, he turned from seemingly wise to genuinely brainless.
She remembered an old saying from Old Terra:
The people who believe strangers are out there handing out money are usually the real suckers.
After letting out a long sigh, Gaia rubbed at her aching temples and turned her gaze toward the edge of Hecius.
Because the orbital elevator came down in the outer district of the city, reaching the outskirts did not require crossing the towering inner defensive walls.
That was a good thing, because both she and Solomon were the kind of people who really could not afford to be inspected, and Dushi on her back was even more blatantly contraband.
Avoiding scrutiny at the defensive checkpoints was naturally the best possible outcome.
Thinking that, Gaia brought her eyes back to the road ahead.
Compared to a hive world, where population density was far worse and resources far scarcer, this place did not have the mountains of garbage and thick rivers of rot that filled her childhood memories.
But this was still the outer district, the place defined by one word:
commoners.
And along the roadside, filth still spawned everywhere.
As she scanned the chaotic, disordered streets, old memories slowly surfaced in her mind.
Just as a wave of melancholy began to rise in her chest, Gaia's attention was caught by a crumbling old wall covered in layers of torn pulp and ruined paper.
To be exact, it was caught by a flyer pasted there.
It had obviously been printed by some individual on their own. The cheap ink had already begun to blur, leaving smeared rainbow-like circles across the rough paper.
Drawn on it was a large hand holding a wrench, sketched at about the level of a six-year-old child's doodle.
But the lines were so crude and forceful that they oddly gave off a kind of wild charm.
Curious, Gaia memorized the crooked Low Gothic words printed across it as she passed:
"Anything fixed here. If it's broken, bring it to King Fix-It!"
(End of Chapter)
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