d10 Cults Aboard the Axis Mundi

 

1. The outer hull of the Axis Mundi is covered in hand-etched star charts, sketches of constellations' true meanings, and nigh incomprehensible texts on the deep vacuum and its meaning. The astronomer-monks tend the hull, watching the stars for omens of the future and living spartan lives in hard vacuum. The boldest among them spacewalk freely without a tether, trusting the void to deliver them safely to their destinations. They also happen to make excellent guides to the ship exterior.
2. The Axis Mundi's engines are long dormant, but its reactors never fell asleep. Engine cultists worship the "cleansing" radiation and give themselves to holy cancers as signs of blessings. The engineers among them may be blistered with rad-burns and half blinded, but they're daring workers who will go where no others would with little more than overalls and a wrench. Little reliance on electronics compared to the rest of the ship, they keep maintenance records on tanned skins and take pride in the jury-rigged repairs that have accumulated over time.
3. The Keepers of the Oracles are a small clan, surviving through a combination of security and their particular idol. A trio of damaged machine shells wired together serves as their object of worship, spitting out garbled predictions that diviners interpret to holy scripture. So far the machine shells have been surprisingly helpful in keeping the clan alive and on the move; their next steps of "building a power base" are undermined by a lack of actual power, as the shells' batteries slowly run dry. Plus, those shells are somebody's family - and they want them back.
4. A brotherhood of hackers runs against Axis Mundi security systems nightly. Outcasts of a dozen tribes gather around faded terminals to watch their "paladins" fight against the "dragons" in the system. Every so often one succeeds, cutting a node of the ship's grand and tangled networks away from the AIs' control (and often breaking something in the process). Those nights of revelry relieve the pain of weeks of tense survival. The hackers are consolidating their gains, but not for material wealth; they see an eternal afterlife waiting for them as uploads, if only they can build it.
5. Most everyone on board the Axis Mundi is a cyborg of some form by now, but the Undying are something else. Like the machine shells, much of their old body is long abandoned; unlike the machine shells, what replaces it is horrifying. Conglomerations of rusty metal and poisoned flesh twist into inhuman forms that stalk the ship's corridors with followers in tow. Despite their appearances the Undying are usually harmless; true to their name, they've been around a long time, and they know they can simply outwait most threats. Nonetheless, the various Undying cults are entangled in the cold warfare of immortals, and their more human agents sometimes hire for work off the records - and out of their master's sight.
6. Somnus is not the only psychic on the ship, just the only one who happens to be an AI. The products of Gaia's careful engineering have slipped into the general populace of the ship. Psychic bloodlines have formed over the years in all strata of society; few carry any real power, but those who do often garner a following impressed or terrified by their abilities. The forms these cults take are as myriad as the powers that give rise to them.
7. Everyone wants closure, and some people promise it. The rogue cyberpriest Links has spread word round the upper decks that he can speak with the dead and channel them to those who will pay enough. In reality, he simply taps into the ship's sensor logs and reconstructs the looks from there; the rest is nothing more than the usual "medium" quackery. He's still managed to amass a small following and live large. Under the table, he's exploring new ways to use his panopticon.
8. Unsurprisingly for a ship chock full of theists and cults, there are anti-theists aboard the Axis Mundi too. Their forms and actions are many, but they're united in creed - cutting God to see him bleed. Most prominent thanks to propaganda feeds are the Dead Stars, a loose band of - frankly - terrorists scattered around the fore half of the ship. Anonymous in action, they rally behind the figurehead of Dex, a young firebrand who somehow manages to evade Apollo's clutches over and over... likely because he's a plant who prevents the worst of the damage from even reaching the planning table.
9. The Knights Coronal are the descendants of Vulcan's last strike teams, still upholding their last given orders... sort of. They've made their headquarters in "the Sunroom", the vast glass dome atop the Axis Mundi - once filled with gardens, now accompanied by fortresses. Their military rank structure has degenerated into a caste system over the centuries; when strike teams sally forth now, the dwindling power-suited knights are now escorted by barely-armored serfs aspiring to one of the coveted few suits left. Serfs have been known to go "sun-mad" in the dome's gardens, graced by warm light in a ship so full of cold darkness. As far as they're concerned, this is a blessing. Literally everybody hates these guys, since their idea of "fulfilling Vulcan's commands" usually involves smash-and-grab jobs on local infrastructure and burning out entire compartments of the ship "in the name of the Holy Sun". They're responsible for a lot more of the damage to the Axis Mundi than they'd willingly admit.
10. The Brethren of the Flock are a rarity aboard the ship - actual charity, or something approaching it. They welcome outsiders with a fresh meal, spread their message, and wait for visitors to come. The public face is well-respected even on the upper decks. The Brethren hold on to you, after all; you'll be cared for in their arms. You'll just have to work like hell for it. It's a hard life, but they're fast-growing and rapidly gaining influence on the ship... even as budding schisms loom in their future over what should really be done with outsiders.