Author: Daniel Rogers

I’m to be sacrificed tomorrow. I knew I wasn’t going to like this planet, but when your fighter decides to crash, it doesn’t ask how you feel about it.

Gline-doth is a class C Primitive. I’m a little rusty on my planet classifications, but I believe it means they use rudimentary tools and practice human sacrifices. I’m very confident about that last part.

Unauthorized contact on a class C will land you in a dungeon ship for twenty years. Good thing the Confederacy trained me to assimilate while waiting for rescue. Unfortunately, that’s why I’m being sacrificed. I assimilated too well.

I discovered a village nearby, observed their costumes and daily life for a few days, and then used my replicator to replicate clothes and money. I intended to visit the public bathhouse, as I desperately needed one. However, when I activated my translator, some keywords were mistranslated, and I ended up volunteering to be the next sacrifice. I always said technology would be the death of me.

The villagers treated me like royalty. The village Shylamin never left my side. Apparently, he accompanies the sacrificial candidate the week before the deed – I can’t imagine why. I was incapable of pronouncing his name, so I programmed my translator to say his name when I said Bob.

Bob fulfilled the roles of shaman and medicine man, caring for his people’s physical and spiritual well-being. He taught me about the god I’d be meeting soon. I happily learned this god disliked violence and provided a ladder for the sacrifice to enter heaven without being killed. Bob never liked plunging his dagger into hearts and hated seeing all the blood. He confidentially admitted to me he preferred this god over the others. And as far as nonexistent gods go, I agree.

The day of my sacrifice arrived. The villagers paraded me to the sacred rungs with songs, mostly singing of my imminent demise. To my surprise, a ladder was suspended in mid-air when we arrived. It ascended into a stationary cloud, dark, with flashes of lightning. The music ceased, and Bob kneeled before the ladder.

“Oh, great Provider! We offer a willing sacrifice! Please accept him, and bless our village!”

There is room for debate on “willing.”

I approached with apprehension. Ladders have never been particularly dreadful to me. I mean, I don’t walk under them, I was never one to tempt fate. But I was a tad bit anxious about this one. Bob placed his hands on my shoulders and blessed me.

The thought of bolting did enter my mind, but I wouldn’t get far, and I feared how the locals might deal with an unwilling sacrifice. So, I ascended.

Heaven looked a lot like a ship.

“Welcome, Captain Williams.” A Talamarian Captain stood with his First Captain and Lieutenant. I’m not sure what I expected to see, but a Talamarian observation ship never entered my mind.

The Captain continued, “We’re terribly sorry for the whole god-thing.”

“You’re the Ladder god?”

“Well. Yes. Sort of. You see, it’s really just a huge misunderstanding.”

“They’re worshiping you down there.”

The Captain looked embarrassed. “I did say huge.”