The Search for Malaclypse

[Zukeenee]

Charlie Koskinen stepped out of the lift and into the chaotic cacophony that just barely passed for a chapel. It had been a while since he'd left his hole of an apartment for anything other than grabbing a bite from the vending machine on his hall or making a visit to the lavatory. Seeing so many people running about in a (relatively) large room filled to the brim with Discordian paraphernalia brought up old memories. Some of them were even pleasant ones.

It had been at least a year since Charlie had given TAZ the bird and left to find his place in the universe. And at the time, Charlie had decided that the best place for him was somewhere out of the way. Somewhere with a few people who shared his disinterest in the bothersome politics and bullcrap of the increasingly complicated "Zoner lifestyle", but still believed in the old ways of freedom and independence.

And privacy. Privacy was important.

So Charlie had steered his little "Arrow" interceptor towards the Yukon system, and made a home with the "Zoners within Zoners" that occupied Freeport 14. Using the combined credits from selling the Precious Mao (his old "Firefly" transport) and from the small amount he'd "borrowed" from the Temple Fund before leaving TAZ, Charlie was able to rent out a rather nice little room on the station with an excellent view of Beaver Creek. At the right time of day, the system's sun would reflect off the gas giant's surface just right so as to cast the entire room into a faint purple light.

It didn't last, of course. Charlie's flax began to run low, and he had to downgrade to a smaller, less-spectacular room on the station. He also traded his Arrow in for a Dromedary, and began working as a freelance cargo-hauler within the Independent Worlds. Even then, he wasn't able to make ends meet. After another few downgrades and expense-cuts, Charlie was living out of the equivalent of a broom closet with a cot and a desk. His destitute state was also reflected in his wardrobe. Charlie had come up to the chapel wearing the only clothes he owned: A tattered baby-blue bathrobe, two left sandals, and a pair of not-quite-white-anymore briefs.

Earlier today, Charlie had gone out on another beer-run to one of Freeport 14's few shops. As Charlie set off the automatic door-chime, the shop's owner emerged from the back room.

"Heya, Charlie. Whaddya looking for today?" He asked.
"Cold ones, Brian. I've been dry for a day, and I'm not too happy about it."
"Yikes. That last case didn't last too long, did it? Lessee what I got." Brian returned to the back room and peered at the various crates and boxes he had stacked to the ceiling. "Uhh..." he called from around the door frame, "We got a few cases of Aalenbrauen Lager, some Coleraine Stout, and a few Lavablade Lites."
"I'll take the Coleraines. None of the others strike my fancy."
"Alrighty then," Brian said as pulled out a case and brought it to the register. "Still the same as far as cash goes?"
"Yeah. I'll be back tomorrow to help you unload whatever cargo shipments come in from the docks to pay it off. As usual," Charlie said as he grabbed his beverages.
"You sure you're gonna be here tomorrow?"
Charlie paused and cocked his head. "Don't see why I wouldn't be. Why?"
"Didn't ya see that ship out by the Creek? It's kinda hard to miss, considering the lights and the banners and all..."
"I don't have windows in my closet. What's up with this ship?"
"It's supposed to be a 'Chapel' or something. Some big event going on for the next few days. I'm not sure what the whole story is, but it's got all sorts of doodads that sound like the kinda stuff you talk about from time to time. Big golden apples, them five-fingered-hand things, 'Greek' stuff... it mentions 'TAZ'. Looks like the kinda stuff you say you used to be into. I guess I just assumed you were involved somehow."
"Well I sure as hell am now," Charlie muttered. "I'll get back to you on a date for the manual labor. Hope you don't mind, but this warrants further investigation."

And so, after taking his stout safely back to his closet, Charlie had ventured forth to the Main Terminal, found a "free shuttle" that took him up to the chapel, and voilà, here he was. Charlie stood as close to the "center" of the room as he could, taking in the sights and trying to see if he recognized any of the faces in the crowd. The grandeur of the room was an amazing sight in and of itself. The décor was almost completely unparalleled as far as Charlie had known. Well, except for that of the Agape Ludens on Pueblo that Mal himself had organized. But that was hard to beat, anyway.

Charlie reached into one of his bathrobe's deep pockets and pulled out an open box of uncooked spaghetti. He plucked a few raw sticks from the box, stuck them in his mouth, and began to chew. It was something of a habit that he'd picked up over the past year. It was also just about his only meal for the day. At that point, an impossibly attractive woman in an impossibly short toga walked up and offered a plate of what Charlie recognized as "Kallisti Gold" cigarettes. He quickly crunched up and swallowed the remainder of his spaghetti and placed a joint between his lips. After a muttered "thanks", Charlie grabbed another five and stuffed them down his underpants. He sure as hell wasn't going to miss the chance to load up on the good stuff while it was being handed out free.

"So," he said to the woman before she could extend the second plate to him, "Who's running this show, anyway? Is it TAZ? I didn't think they'd come out to Yukon, but..."
"Nope," she replied, "Old guy callin' himself 'Malaclypse'. Don't know much about him, but then I don't really need to. A job's a job."

Mal?! Charlie thought. Mal again? The last Charlie had heard, Mal had left this universe for good. But to hear that he's back, and acting outside the established Church... Charlie got butterflies in his stomach just thinking about it. The very man who had allegedly started it all back in Sol, and who had most definitely started it all (multiple times) here in Sirius, come back to begin again. Charlie had flown alongside him in the Erisian Liberation Front, and again in the Temporary Autonomous Zoners, and had never experienced a dull moment with him. Well, not counting the latter days of TAZ, anyway.

If Mal's here, then it's certainly worth my time to stick around for a bit, Charlie thought. He picked out a particularly comfy looking chair, found a light for his Gold, and waited.

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