The Purpose of the Altar

The guards had tied Kaelen’s wrists with shrine cord. Its rough fibers had been washed in oil before the ceremony, and they left his skin smelling like the altar.

They held him at the foot of the stone steps while the congregation crowded the chamber. No one had gone home. The opened altar stood behind them, dark now, its metal petals fixed halfway apart. Sella waited beside the lowest step with the terminal clutched to her chest.

Orr stood between her and the crowd. His robe was still marked with dust from the ceremony. “The rite was interrupted,” he said. “The machine answered a broken prayer. We have seen this before when the words are spoken out of order.”

A few people nodded. Others watched Sella’s hands.

Kaelen worked his fingers against the cord. One guard tightened his grip on Kaelen’s shoulder. The other kept looking toward the altar, where the blue light had gone faint and steady.

“The record tells you what the machine does,” Sella said. “You all heard it.”

“The record tells you what Kaelen believes it does.” Orr’s voice stayed level. “He has been alone with old scraps of metal and grief. He has confused a tool’s function with a god’s purpose.”

Sella glanced at Kaelen. She held the terminal differently now, with both hands around its edges as if it might slip away. “You said there were more files.”

Kaelen had. He had found the voice logs by chance, but their index ran deeper than the entries he had played. Most were damaged or locked behind plain military labels. He had not known which one mattered.

“Open the combat archive,” he said. “There was a file marked mission brief.”

Orr stepped toward her. “Give me the device.”

Sella didn’t move. “You can listen with us.”

The suggestion landed harder than an accusation. Orr looked at the people behind her, measuring what they would permit. Then he held out his hand. “Play it here.”

Sella found the file. The terminal’s small speaker crackled, then a flat female voice spoke from its battered casing.

“ARES-VII heavy combat platform. Mission designation: enemy-species eradication. Regional purge sweep incomplete. Global purge protocols remain restricted pending reserve threshold. Reserve level: ninety-four point two percent.”

The congregation shifted. A child began to cry, and his mother covered his mouth with her palm. No one sang.

The voice continued. “Full reserve capacity enables purge protocol authorization. Target parameters remain active.”