“Welcome,” Beiler said when seeing him appearing inside the transport cabin placed in the room.
The room, compared to the craft dimensions, was insignificant. Only a hundred square meters were enough to move that combat monster. Two seats in front of a big monitor and a complex control panel were their only decoration. The roof ended in a peak and it was totally transparent, allowing this way a better view and maneuverability.
“Thank you. You’ve managed to distract my father.”
“It wasn’t so difficult,” he kidded. “Have you found what you were looking for?”
“No. That’s why I’m here. Only you can tell me what it has happened.”
Beiler looked at him thoughtful.
“I’ve decided… that you should know the truth you were hidden for so many years. But the best thing will be that we go somewhere else, here we run the risk of being discovered by your father. Do you agree?”
The novice nodded.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
The captain of the midarian army pressed a button and the seats attached to the control panel started to move until reaching a vertical position. The peculiar shape of the craft demanded the pilotage to be carried out that way.
Next, he took a small command lever and slightly moved it forward. Everything started to tremble. The propellers had been started and the only thing that had to be done now was activating the electrodiamantic energy heaters. It was on them that the key to achieve speeds similar to the light’s lay in. A unique transportation technology in the galaxy that quite a few planets would have tried unsuccessfully to plagiarize. The invention belonged to Grias and he had never revealed how it worked to nobody.
Finally, the pilot activated the heaters and the craft disappeared forming a huge dust cloud.
“Would you like to pilot it?”
Palac shook his head no. His youth made it difficult for him to control his strength naturally. He still remembered with anguish the accident he had provoked in the plistor mine.
“I’d rather you tell me what I want to know.”
“What was your grandfather’s last memory you saw in the Golden Pyramid?”
“His farewell with Grias.”
“Well, you’ve save me quite a lot of work.”
The landscape was fascinating. Planets, satellites and stars in a world of silence and tranquility. «A tense quietness,» Beiler thought when he found no sign of life. Hundreds of millions of years ago, the area they were now crossing was infested with crafts from all the civilizations of the galaxy. Some of the most deadly battles started right there, where thousands of boastful warriors waited for the best moment to attack and loot. «What a bunch of memories!»
“From the moment he was born,” he continued, “from the chosen female’s womb, he was considered the son of the creator God. A wise choice or a paradox, depending where you look since some years before, he was considered a God himself.”
“Why did they believe such thing?” Palac asked.
Beiler turned off the heaters and the craft slowed down drastically. The same monitor that seconds ago showed 298,770 km/s, now only showed 100 km/s.
“The helpers that had been living in their civilization for so many years were the first ones in inculcating such belief. When they communicated with Grias and with your grandfather, they did it looking at the sky, justifying themselves saying that they were talking with God. Some powers used by the infiltrators also gave allowed them to be considered divine beings. Your grandfather accepted the distinction received from them —he made it clear— of being called the son of God without hesitating. He spent the first years in his new body travelling around the planet teaching his peace message. Short after that, he decided to come back to the area in which he was born to focus all his doctrine there. Helped in a first instance by twelve racots selected by Grias, he was respected and admired by everyone. So much so, that in the last moments of his life his helpers were around a hundred. Your grandfather was full of joy, his mission until that moment was resulting perfect. Oh, I almost forgot,” Beiler said with secrecy. “Do you know what he was called in Racot?”
Palac shrugged.
“Despite fighting with all his might to maintain his name, he didn’t make it. Over the years, his name varied from Yewut, Yeshut, Jesut, until it finally reached its definite name. Jesus!” He exclaimed.
“Jesus?” Palac asked with surprise. “What a ridiculous name! And did he accept to be called that way?”
“Yes. He said he didn’t mind since it was very similar to his original name.”
“If they thought he was the son of God, why did they kill him?”
“Your grandfather committed the mistake of abusing several of his powers. He healed ill racots, made materials into food, etcetera. Such deeds helped him make several friends and quite a few enemies.”
The captain pressed the horizontal positioning button and the seats adopted such position at once. Palac walked to one of the windows and started to watch the endless image of the galaxy.
“What happened next?” He asked desperate to know.
“Something completely unacceptable,” he answered with anger. “The years we were outside Mida were used by Cabolun to skip our planet’s rules. He put into operation the creation machine and formed an army of thousands of soldiers. He later used it to mercilessly kill the midarians that were loyal to your grandfather. He murdered our people!” He exclaimed furious. “About sixty per cent of the population on our planet was slaughtered. The remaining forty joined him.”
“Was it my father who killed grandpa?” Palac asked.
“Indirectly, yes,” he answered without vacillating. “He once managed to dominate out planet. He used a transport cabin and travelled to Racot.”
“To Racot?” He asked taking his eyes off the window’s view.
“Yes. As your grandfather did, Cabolun also used the occupation power. He introduced himself in the body of one of the twelve racots that Grias had recommended him and, once he had gained his confidence, he betrayed him. His mental manipulation powers served him to convince the authorities that your grandfather was a very dangerous being. Next, he set him up and he was arrested and judged by the leader of the planet, a racot called Poncio Pilato.”
Sitting in front of the Spores315’s control panel, the captain of the midarian army remembered with bitterness the conversation he witnessed from that precise place.
“Are you king?” Poncio asked.
“My reign doesn’t belong to this world,” Yewut answered. “If it were like that, my defenders would’ve fought to defend me. I am king and I’ve come to this world to give evidence of the truth. All those who are interested in the truth, are interested in what I say.”
“Was Poncio who ordered his death?” Palac asked finishing with his dreaminess.
“Yes,” he answered with that painful memory still on his mind. “First, he admitted not having reasons to kill your grandfather, but he later retracted himself conditioned by the rest of the racots that had been manipulated by Cabolun and demanded his death. His death was slow and agonic. They started by battering his fragile body and then they hanged him on a wooden structure where he died along with several other aborigines.”
“Where are you, my sons? Beiler, come to rescue me. Grias, get me out of here,” he beseeched looking at the sky. “Everything is done…”
“Why didn’t you go and helped him?” The novice reproached.
Beiler came back from his dreaminess again and approached the window where Palace was.
“My craft was sabotaged by Cabolun. It was wrecked in Mida. Neither my numerous army nor me could do anything,” he answered saddened.
“What happened after his death?”
“Your father abandoned the racot’s body he had occupied and went back to Mida. Once there, he unblocked my craft and continued using the creation machine to make his army bigger. I asked him to let me recover your grandfather’s body and he accepted. Once it had b
een rescued, we started to Mida. When we arrived, an army of two million of new and young soldiers was waiting for us in the city of Nalactia. All of them surrounded us when we landed.”
“Yewut has died,” Cabolun said without waiting for me to get out of the craft. “I’m the leader now.”
“He hasn’t died. You’ve killed him!” He shouted as loud as he could. “You’ve killed your father. You’re… you’re… you’re the disgrace of our planet.”
“I haven’t killed anyone,” he answered unaltered. “It was he who decided to go to Racot.”
“Some day you’ll regret what you’ve done,” Beiler said approaching his leader.
Cabolun started to laugh and his army imitated him as if they were a pack of hyenas. They were closer to each other every second. Thousands of soldiers uniting around him, creating a gloomy symphony produced when their armors clashed one another.
“Don’t make me laugh. The soldiers who were loyal to my father have disappeared. This planet has my blood now. Are you with me or against me?” He asked pointing to the squad.
“You’re detestable!” He exclaimed clenching his fists.
“Is that a yes or a no?” He asked raising his voice.
Beiler remained in silence. He looked behind him and he saw some of his soldiers, who were still inside the Spores315. The fear of death could be seen on their faces.
“Answer!” He shouted.
“Yes, my lord. My soldiers and I are with you,” he answered under pressure.
“I knew you would do it. Here you are your captain!” Cabolun shouted addressing to his army.
As on that occasion, Beiler was clenching his fists very tight.
“What happened when you got out of the craft?” The novice asked.
“Cabolun asked us if we would join him and we accepted. We had no choice. If we had refused to, we would have died next to my craft.”
“And haven’t you ever thought about taking revenge?”
“Many times. But your father is very powerful. It’s impossible to beat him.”
“Honestly, after knowing the truth, I’ll never forgive him. What happened with Grias and his team of scientists?”
“When Cabolun went to Racot, he ordered the silotacan and his team to be arrested. At his return, one of his priorities was to destroy the game. However, he didn’t manage to modify the main parameters that would have destroyed the planet since they were all protected by highly complex passwords. Despite being threatened with death, Grias and his loyal helpers refused to give them to him. All of them would’ve preferred to die before being disloyal to your grandfather. For years your father has tried in vain to make his new and inexperienced scientist find the passwords.”
“There’s only one thing I don’t understand. If all functions are supposed to be blocked, why is my father able to keep on provoking catastrophes and introducing diseases?”
“It’s very simple. When Grias was arrested, he only had unblocked these two options.”
“The midarian blood mixed with the racot’s blood produces a deadly disease in their bodies. Do you think such will be the cause of their extinction?”
“Yes,” he answered seriously. “In a few years, the specie will become extinct.”
“Is there something we can do?”
“For the time being, no, there isn’t. His gold armor is very resistant and the helmet has been improved so as it’s a hundred times stronger than an ordinary midarian’s. Only the power of a ray as powerful as your grandfather would destroy him.”
“You have to teach me to use that power. I’ll destroy him!”
“You’re still too young. I threw my first ray when I was one million years old. You first have to grow up and develop. Even though you learn how to use it, you wouldn’t even kill a simple racot.”
Beiler walked away from the window and sat in front of the control panel again.
“We’ll see that,” he answered with anger. “Could you teach me?”
“I’m not entitled to do it. According to midarian tradition, it’s your father who must do it. Talk with him.”
Chapter 26
Steve had received his wife’s call telling him about the accident, so now he was running at full speed along the terminal interior. He reached the area delimited by the company and he stopped conditioned by hundreds of family members and journalists that swarmed waiting for new. Dozens of doctors and psychologists started to give their assistance. A loud murmur was suddenly created when two police officers appeared accompanied by a cinnamon skin man dressing a dark suit. He was really stout and his head was shaved. A big scar rolled down his face from his temple until it got lost in his neck. His face was serious and his look as cold as the snow.
The police officers who were with him entered a room and picked a small strand with a microphone. The man stood behind it and started to talk.
“Hello,” he said with a deep voice. “My name is James Fox Smith and I’m San Diego police chief. Today at 11:39 am, the plane that covered the Albuquerque-San Diego route was landing on runway number three. Approximately two meters before touching the ground, a strong wind gust diverted the plane to the left of the runway. The pilots tried to correct the trajectory and raising it again. When it seemed to regain height, a second wind gust hit it again and this time —the man stopped talking visibly touched—, the plane collided against the ground. The strong impact broke the plane fuselage into five parts and it caught fire. We’ve been able to recover one hundred and sixty-nine lifeless bodies out of the one hundred and sixty-nine passengers who were travelling on the plane: four movement crew members and six flight crew members. Only one person has been rescued alive, but his state is critical. It’s a middle-aged man. Although we haven’t been able to identify him yet, beside his body there were documents that belonged to a person called Kevin Lake Berry. Are there any family members of Kevin?”
Several of the people gathered there raised their arms. Steve felt anguished at hearing the informer’s words. His brother, Josef, had died in that tragic accident. Crestfallen, he walked among the crowd trying to escape from that horror. Dozens of people were sobbing and shouting disconsolately due to the sorrow.
“What are you doing?” Josef asked shyly.
“I’m trying to revive this little bird,” Steve answered. He was caressing gently the little bird on the palm of this hand. “I’ve found it in the garden.”
“How are you going to do it?”
“Praying to God,” he answered with no hesitation. “Only he can do it.”
“Can God do that?” Josef asked surprised.
“Of course he can. He can do that and many more things,” Steve answered without stopping caressing the little bird.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’ve tried to revive it injecting it a homemade mix of caffeine and ginseng, so as I could stimulate its nervous system and make its heart beat again, but it hasn’t moved yet,” he lamented. “When medicine doesn’t work, only God can do it.”
“I think God is sleeping today,” Josef said and both started to laugh.
Steve was broken. That was the first time he saw Josef. That day, the bird did not resurrect physically, but inside each of them an invisible and unbreakable bond was born. From that first conversation, simple and full of tenderness, they never drifted apart.
The Lexus in which Margaret and her father were travelling had just indicated that San Diego was at fifty kilometers. Her father was placidly sleeping, alien to everything. The golden-haired girl was too much nervous and swung her legs uncontrollably. Suddenly, the radio announced the survivor’s name and Margaret burst into tears. «Not again!»
Chapter 27
Josef opened his eyes startled. He was lying face up on an dirt road and some voices echoed in his head without him being able to distinguish where they came from.
“Where am I?” He murmured.
No one answered. He sat up and looked around. The road where he was seemed to have no
end. It stretched to both sides until it disappeared in the distance. On the road margins, there were green fields, streams and some small groups of birds that flew around nonstop.
“Can you hear me?” He shouted at the top of his lungs.
A fluent conversation between Steve and Margaret was being heard by him, but he could not take part of it.
“Any improvement?” Steve asked.
“No,” Margaret answered. “After forty days in coma, doctors don’t have many hopes that he wakes up.”
“I still don’t get used to the idea to see him like this,” Steve said. “When at first the informer said by mistake the name of another person and I thought he had died, a part of me died as well. I’d like to say so many things to him.”
Josef got up from the ground startled. «Forty days in coma? What has happened?» The librarian started to run desperately along the long road without knowing where to go. The voices kept on sounding in that unknown landscape. Suddenly, he approached to a stream and he saw himself reflected on it. Josef let out a choked shout. The image the water gave him back was incredible. He was in his body, but that was his childhood body, when he was nine years old. He was wearing the same pajamas as when his grandfather died.
He took his eyes off the stream and looked at both sides. «Where am I going?» To the left, the road seemed to lead to a sunny place. To the right, the sky was darker as it stretched. He chose the left side. He started to walk hastily, guided by the sunlight. The more he walked forward, the more intense the blaze turned and the farther the voices were heard until they finally could not be heard anymore. «Maybe it’s not this way.» The now nine-year-old boy stopped and started to cry. A new voice, this time coming from the light, sounded in the distance. Josef opened his ears, but was not capable of understanding anything.
The World's Game Page 17
