It was dark as the procession marched slowly up the wooded hill. Many of the congregation held torches high over there head, illuminating the surrounding woods around the trail. Their black cloaks swished softly against the tall weeds as they moved forward.
Garet walked at the head of the procession, deep in thought as he peered into the darkness ahead, looking for the opening to the temple ahead. The temple had been found when the church had first moved into the monastery. The first group that went out to the woods that surrounded the monastery had returned that same night in frantic excitement, blabbering about a hidden temple.
When they had calmed down enough to be sensible, they had taken the other members of the congregation to the temple. The temple was unlike anything ever seen before. A small entrance in the side of a hill that led them downwards down thousands of stairs. When the stairs stopped, the place opened into a massive room with a high, vaulted ceiling. At the far end of the room was a sculpture of an alien kneeling down on it's haunches, and at it's feet was a throne of black granite. The statue was massive, almost two stories of solid granite.
Along the wall were dozens of alcoves, all containing life size granite sculptures of the xenomorphs. Every one was carved into some horrifying pose, the black granite making it sparkle in the torch-light. There was one other room, branching off from the main room.
This room contained another magnificent sculpture, the image of a springing face-hugger, lunging outward, spidery arms outstretched to cling to some unsuspecting host. It was here that Benedict waited, listening to the sounds of the rest of the congregation outside as they prepared for the ceremony.
"All is ready, Father Benedict." Benedict jumped a foot at the voice and whirled about, looking for the speaker. There in the darkness, stood Garet, half concealed in shadow. "Oh, Garet. I didn't know you were here."
"I'm always here, just behind you."
"Yes, yes, very good. You said the congregation is ready?"
"Yes, they are. Are you all right Father? You look a little nervous."
"I'm fine, Brother Garet, just fine. Whenever you're ready to begin."
Garet stepped out of the shadows and walked towards the entrance. "Come, Father Benedict, it is time to begin." Benedict stepped up behind Garet, shuffling forward slowly as he leaned on his cane. Slowly, the two passed into the main room, to the waiting congregation.
They knelt on the cold stone floor, bent forward at the waists, arms spread outwards towards the massive statue at the front of the room. They remained quiet as Garet and Father Benedict walked forward. Benedict paused in front of the massive statue and lowered his head in respect, seating himself in the throne at the base of the statue's feet. Garet also lowered his head, then moved to the side of the throne.
Then the murmuring began. It was a slow steady hum coming from the congregation. The hum rose in pitch and slowly changed into an intricate chant as the congregation pulled themselves upright, now looking upwards at the vaulted ceiling as the prayed aloud. The chanting rose and floated in the air, enwrapping all that heard it, filling them with the joy that the xenomorphs brought them. Garet, standing next to Benedict, closed his eyes and reveled in the noise. Benedict looked on at this and shudder. "It has taken me this long to realize that I despise all of this," he thought, "and now I am trapped in my fate." Tears of hopelessness formed in the corner of his aged eyes, and he quickly wiped them away before anyone noticed.
Then Garet stepped forward, his eyes glinting madly in the torch-light coming from the walls. "Brothers of the congregation! We are here! We have made it thus far in our religion due to the xenomorphs. They are the supreme power, nothing else is their equal. And now, on this fateful date, we will have our gods in our presence. Brother's," he called to the entrance of the second room, "bring forth our god." There was a stirring, and suddenly the egg came forth. It rested in its splendor on top of a pedestal carried by four of the higher enlightened members of the monastery, all of which were crying in joy as they carried forth the egg into presence of Garet and Benedict. It pulsed slowly in the pale light of the torches, its green slimy surface illuminated by the torch-light. The clamp rested on top of the egg, still holding the egg closed. The four brothers carried the egg up to the front of the chamber, setting it down before Benedict before joining the rest of the kneeling worshippers.
Garet slowly stepped forward, tears forming in his eyes as he knelt and caressed the surface of the egg, gently feeling it's soft pulse as it oozed out slime. The egg lay no more than one foot in front of Benedict's throne, and suddenly, seeing Garet so entranced in this false image of god, Benedict shrunk backwards into his throne. This was not what he wanted. This was not supposed to be the fate of a man his age. Benedict wanted to cry.
The congregation was kneeling again, the tension of them thick in the air. In the front, the four that had carried the egg started to pound out a rhythm on the stone floor, slowly building in tempo as they began to beat the floor harder. The rest of the congregation fell into the rhythm of the beating and started themselves. Garet touched the keypad and pulled out the clamp, backpedaling quickly once it was off.
Benedict looked at the scene in horror, eyes widening as he saw the clamp come off. This was not what he wanted, but it was too late! The pounding of the congregation became more and more intense, drowning out all of his thoughts. He looked at the congregation, at their fists pounding on the floor. Their fists were bleeding! Their fists were bleeding! Yet they continued at that insane pace, pounding and pounding harder and harder, drowning out all other noise.
Then Benedict looked back at the egg. the pulsing became more frequent, and the ooze dripped more freely, the creature inside driven into a frenzy by the noise and the pounding vibrations. For what seemed an eternity, Benedict stared. Then Garet was there, in the corner of his vision, smiling at him and beckoning him to move closer. He looked at the egg again, and the flaps at its top slowly began to open. Benedict began to scream, tears suddenly flowing down his face.
Garet looked in horror as Benedict began to cry and scream. He thought dumbfounded a minute, realizing that Father Benedict was having second thoughts. He no longer wanted to take part in the life of this marvelous creature before him. Then Garet snapped. What an honor, and no longer did Benedict want it! Without thinking, Garet grabbed the back collar of the old man, and threw him off his throne and onto his knees, face right before the opening of the egg. The congregation did not seem to notice this, and the pounding continued. Benedict's face melted into horror, and with a final scream of unbridled terror, he watched as the facehugger inside slowly moved and sprung out, latching onto his face. The creatures flexible tail wrapped around the old man's throat, tightening as he tried to pull free.
He knelt there, before the empty husk of an egg, gripping and pulling at the thing attached to his face, his screams of terror muffled from behind the facehugger. Then the screaming stopped, and he fell face first onto the ground.
With a mighty yell, the pounding and the chanting of the congregation stopped as they threw their hands upwards to the mighty xenomorphs. Garet stood panting heavily, a worried look upon his face. From the back of the room, Hien caught Garet's eye and looked questioningly at him, as if to say "What happened?" Garet ignored Hien, making a mental note to talk to him later. Then he got himself back together and stepped up before the congregation.
"Brothers! Rejoice!!" Garet yelled at the top of his lungs, the shout echoing up at the vaulted ceiling as he threw his robed arms up into the air. "Father Benedict has given us the greatest gift of our lifetime and of all generations to come. He had given us life. Life through our god. Life eternal! Now, as the ceremony comes to an end, let us pray, pray for the future to come. Pray for Father Benedict!"
With this, every head in the room bowed, Hands pressed together in front of them. A low hum filled the room, the same low, dull note for five reverent minutes. Then Garet again broke the silence. "We must take Father Benedict to the birthing chamber this night. Come, let us leave this sacred place, until it is again needed." Reverently, he turned and bowed to the massive stone sculpture.
Then, with the rest of the congregation behind him, Father Benedict carried on a blessed stretcher above their heads, they headed back to the monastery.
The walk back to the monastery was a slow one, the entire congregation exhausted from the ceremony, their fists broken and bleeding profusely from their feverish pounding. Garet walked at the head of the group, trying to ignore Hien's subtle attempts to capture his attention. Finally, Hien must have grown tired, because he decided to speed up and now walked next to Garet.
"What's going on, Garet? What was that back at the temple?" He demanded in a whisper.
"That was nothing. The ceremony was fine."
"I saw what you did. You threw Father Benedict at the egg. What happened."
"Father Benedict had a change of heart...."
"You killed Father Benedict!"
"It's not like we haven't, like you haven't, killed anyone before, Hien. Remember the Med-vac team and all those marines?"
"Yes, but that's different... I never killed a Father, like Father Benedict!"
"He would not have been allowed to leave the church alive..."
"Yes, but....
"..... so we would have killed him anyway! Now lower your voice so they don't hear!" Garet whispered harshly as he nodded back at the congregation.
Sighing, Garet continued. "I did not want to. But Father had a change of heart, and he no longer choose to follow our ways. Benedict was a good man, and I did not want to. We are all forced to do things we do not want to. Now please, speak no more of this."
Hien swallowed down his comments and nodded, slowing his pace to put distance between Garet and himself. Garet shook his head slowly as he thought disgustedly at the situation. This was bad. It was luck that the congregation had not noticed. Probably they had been to caught up in the ceremony itself to notice anything. If they had, it could have been ugly.
Now that Benedict was gone, Garet would have to take his place. Benedict had been grooming him as his successor to Fatherhood. Though he did not relish the title, he was happy with it. So many new privileges with the title of Father.
They were back, in the dark of night. The congregation began to talk more freely as they approached the comforting walls of the monastery. They entered through a side door, entering into the courtyard. The fountain trickled softly in a shadowed corner, while torches flickered and popped as the fire chased away the shadows of the night. The talking again died down as they crossed the courtyard and went down into the stair well leading to catacombs.
Garet had one of the other brothers lead in front, lighting up the torches that perched above their heads along the stairs. The light illuminated the cold, gray stones, showing green mildew and damp puddles forming on the stairs. Then they were at the doors. Hien stepped forward and pulled at the massive lever, grunting as it snapped into the wall, sending the massive doors grinding open.
The front man with the torch stepped into the closed Antechamber, and walked over to the nearest wall to light the single torch in the room. The room illuminated was a stark contrast to the stairwell. The rock here was a warm, dirt tan color, like the rest of the monastery. It was very dry here, no puddles, just cobwebs high up in the corners. At the other side of the room stood the other massive stone door.
Linked together mechanically, as the first door closed, it pulled the other door open, allowing the stale air of the catacombs into the chamber with Garet and the rest of the congregation. Turning, Garet nodded to Hien and the rest of the brothers, then the went into the labrynthian catacombs.
The brother stood in the far corner of the alcove, torch held high above his head to illuminate the scene before him. Before him, the rest of the congregation stood in awed silence as they looked on at the scene in font of them. Laying still on the stone slab in the center of the room, Father Benedict was framed by a massive mural on the wall be hind him. The alien came out of the wall as if alive, its body made of carved black granite. Behind it, embossed slightly, A multitude of images were portrayed. The queen sitting, in all her glory, amidst a multitude of eggs. Above the grasping figure of the alien was a painting of the cylindrical cone of an alien hive. On the other side, the intricate designs and unnatural patterns of the alien's resin was copied, tubes and bumps painted onto the wall by an artist's hands.
And in front of everything, Father Benedict. He lay motionless on a stone slab elevated out of the floor. His face was covered with the face hugger, the creature making obscene humping motions as it implanted it's embryo into Father Benedict's still living body. Garet stood before him, smoothing out Benedict's crumpled robes, making sure that the facehugger would be able to carry out its task.
"Brothers," Garet announced, turning towards the congregation, "this is the Father's new resting place, until he gives us his ultimate gift. He willingly gave his life so that we could have this glorious creature to worship. Until it is time for it's birth, we will remain here, with the Father and this glorious creature," he preached, gesturing towards the facehugger gripping Father Benedict's face.
"Come Brothers, it is time to rest," He said, "let us return to our cells and sleep. Father Benedict will be monitored on the vid screens until it is time for the birth. But we are all tired now, so let us leave this holy resting place."
Arms outstretched, he herded the rest of the congregation out of the catacombs, then had Hien seal the doors as Garet himself went upwards to his cell and slept.
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17 day?! Hey man, I hate to rain on your parade, but we ain't going to last 17 hours!
