This is a short from the world of a longer story I am writing. Happy Christmas and Merry New Year!
Phantom
A short story of the Battlezone universe
As the shuttle landed, the Phantom watched from the ruins of what once was DiKnosso’s Italian Cuisine. Old DiKnosso had been dead for three years. His 15 year-old grandson was the guardian of all the graves on Phoebos[1]. He had been nicknamed The Phantom because he would appear out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly. Donning his helmet and his hood, he vanished in a swirl of dust.
Jack stepped out of the shuttle, carrying his shovel. Behind him, several men carried an (empty) casket. Then came five marines carrying shock rifles. And then came the family and friends of the deceased. Jack was a native Phobean, with the characteristic ‘Mohawk’ of razor-sharp spines. Phobeans were microvores, eating algae and bacterium. The spines were a defense against predators. Phobeans could survive in space, being able to hold their breaths for months at a time. This made any need for a helmet negligent, as the spines could be made to lie flat to shield the head. Bending down, Jack started digging. When the hole was large enough, the casket was lowered into the hole, and the marines fired their salute. One off the family members, a Jag Lees, said, “Well Jack, start shoveling.” Jack said, “The Phantom has not arrived. If the Phantom does not protect this grave, then it will be defaced.” “I don’t want any superstition.” Rex, another one of the friends, said, “It’s not superstition.” Then, the Phantom appeared.
The Phantom saluted the marines, then covered the grave with the rocky earth of Phoebos. Then, he said in a gravelly voice, “None shall disturb this grave. She will rest in peace. You have my word.” The Phantom walked slowly away, and when none were looking, disappeared in a swirl of dust.
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