“Approximately six hours from initialization to lights-out,” MacAllistair stated.
“Then let’s get on it immediately,” Dekker said.
“I still need one of the unique frequencies from the DNIET unit. All my work on it was destroyed when we fled my research station or shortly after. Without it, I can only narrow it down to a few thousand possibilities—that’s the best case scenario.”
Vesuvius cursed and Dekker blinked back his frustration. “At least it’s a starting point?”
“Perhaps if he had a sample of the technology he based his original design off of, he could more accurately trace the signal,” a voice called from the rear of the room.
Everybody turned to look for the source of the unfamiliar voice. Ezekiel pushed his way through the crowd.
“You,” Krav said. “The wanderer. This is the man who gave us your amulet—he said that you wanted to return it to its original people.” Krav and the old man shared many several genetic traits common to their shared ancestry, more noticeable when they stood side by side. Krav looked like he might have been a younger version of the wanderer.
“Ah yes, the brazen serpent.” Ezekiel winked at Dekker and tapped the medallion he wore around his own neck. “You know, in this era, it has developed a myth in its own right.”
“Wait, that’s the real serpent?” Krav asked Dekker as they looked at the old wanderer’s charm.
Dekker shrugged.
“They are both real,” Ezekiel said. “In fact, they are one and the same; the one your father now possesses is around my neck now, but I come to you out of time and from several thousand years in the past.”
“And the myth? Will it truly make anyone who possesses it invulnerable?” Krav sounded as excited as a child at story time.
“Before I was born, my father was shot and nearly killed while he wore it,” Dekker inserted. “The amulet deflected the bullet—which Austicon fired, or it would have hit his heart. It’s not magic.”
“Yes! He was not killed,” Krav stated enthusiastically. “Perhaps not invulnerable to damage, but he was immune to death!”
“That’s a silly myth. Don’t put your faith in things that don’t make any sense,” Ezekiel chided. “Forget any Kabbalistic hooey that doesn’t line up with the truth you already know.”
Krav closed his mouth. He kept quiet for respect, but resentment painted his face a sober hue. He’d already chosen what he believed and that much was evident by his face.
“Doctor,” Ezekiel continued, “Perhaps a quick scan of my apparatus will give you the key you need?”
MacAllistair shook his head vigorously. He keyed in a few commands, aimed a sensor at the old man’s device and let the data roll through the system. A few more keystrokes and a sensor map of the planet began reducing, darkening out areas where the signal was not found.
“Got it,” MacAllistair exclaimed, pointing to the map. A beacon shone on the map.
“No gratitude necessary,” Ezekiel said. He bowed to Dekker. “Watchman, the time has almost come. I hope you’re ready to do your part and fulfill your destiny. When you are ready, at the very end, you will need this. Do not open it until then.” He handed Dekker an ornate, sealed box. Slender, it measured the length of two hands. The old man turned a dial on his contraption; with a quick belch of smoke and ozone he disappeared.
The entire group stared at Dekker incredulously. “Long story; it has to wait,” he replied. “We’ve got a galaxy to save and the clock is ticking.”
“And it won’t be easy,” Krav stated, addressing the map. “Somehow, the underground tunnels have been compromised.” He pointed. “This signal emanates from below the heart of Jerusalem—in the buried catacombs.”
***
With the Salvation still cloaked in orbit near Earth, the Rickshaw Crusader screamed towards its destination, maxing out her shields to offset the intense heat caused by such a steep atmospheric descent. Dekker momentarily wished for a couple Shivan Interceptor dropships.
The heat caused the glassine view-screen to temper and fog, but the landscape remained visible through it. Matty pulled the ship into a tight arc, circling Jerusalem’s border. A massive army had assembled and surrounded the walled fortress.
Called to arms by The Pheema, nearly the entire Krenzin population turned out to wage war against Jerusalem. Many of the more intense human adherents of the aliens’ philosophical religion had swelled the felinoid ranks. At several junctures, heavy beam weapons had been erected; the constant energy barrage blasted against the shielded bastions near ground level.
Millions of vengeful Krenzin surrounded the massive fortress. Jerusalem was not a part of the MEA, and had historically refused any participation with it. The MEA constabulary forces had no authority to intervene and no desire to stop it..
Jerusalem made no visible attempt to swat off the flies, they had no need. Their defenses stood firm and at the current rate, their attackers would be forced to whittle away for months before they posed any actual threats.
Circling the massive city, Dekker attempted to contact Jerusalem. He got the same runaround as on his last visit. He stressed the urgency of the situation, but could not share the specific nature of the concern on open channels—he also couldn’t be certain that the device hadn’t been planted by an internal mole.
“Dekker Knight, your contact has been received and queued for review. We will get back to you as soon as protocol permits.”
Several tense minutes passed. “Krav!” Dekker called to the native. “They aren’t going to let us in, are they?”
Krav bit his lip and then shook his head. “Not in time, no. But I have an idea, send me. I can disable it. I know the way.”
Dekker nodded. Only Krav had the clearance needed to access the city. “Go. We’ll cover you.”
The Crusader arced around and landed near an entry point to the great city. The ship’s underbelly opened, dropping the heavily armed team to the turf. They didn’t have any time to think things through, and the Krenzin invaders were armed, albeit ironically, and very aggressive. The investigators linked their shields together to create a wall of defense.
“Finally!” Guy exclaimed. “You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting for the go-ahead to blast me some of these furries!” He poked the barrel of his weapon over his riot shield and loosed an explosive round. It impacted, detonating within the advancing line. Yelping bodies flew through the air. “I love the smell of burning kittens in the morning!”
Dekker’s team laid down heavy cover fire, creating an obvious threat. But they were just a distraction for their real purpose. Krav sprinted for the entry point and slipped inside. His credentials would get him inside the city.
The religious zealotry of the freshly bellicose Krenzin knew no bounds. They flung themselves at the tiny group of defenders. The sheer numbers commanded by The Pheema would soon overwhelm the better-armed Dekker and his teammates.
Dekker’s earpiece beeped and he tapped it mid-trigger pull. “Krav? Are you in?”
“Krav?” Captain Johns queried. “This is Johns. Listen, you’re all over the media networks. I’ve got The Pheema screaming in the other ear even as we speak. You’re creating a P.R. nightmare. I almost had this thing cleared up and here you’re exacerbating the situation.”
“I don’t think you understand what’s going on here,” Dekker said, popping off a few shots. He had to yell over the noise of his vibrating shield as it took a series of hard hits from an old propellant rifle.
“Then enlighten me! A conflict like this is going to make it harder for me to get into office—I thought we shared mutual interests and wanted the same thing for our planet.”
“You’re going to have to take my word for it. I can’t share my intel with you except in person,” Dekker stated. “It’s that sensitive. Besides, Johns, I thought you were a man of action and not a politician. I took you for someone more like the great General Harry Briggs who said, ‘Only barter when you’re low on amm
o.’”
A moment passed and Dekker thought the connection had dropped. Johns’ replied, “Give em hell, investigator. I hope your ammo lasts out.”
“We’ll square up when I’m done,” Dekker stated. “Something big is happening down here.”
“Not as big as what’s happening up here. As soon as you can manage, you may want to prep the Salvation. Let Jerusalem fight her own battle.”
Dekker looked skyward even as the Krenzin zealots pressed uncomfortably close to their perimeter. The sky flashed with multicolored lightning high above the clouds: laser fire. The galactic conflict had gone from bad to worse. Dekker shouted an order to fall back to the ship; they couldn’t do much more without sustaining casualties.
As they ducked inside the Crusader and closed the hold, Krav connected through his wireless headset. “I’m inside and on my way to the old courtyard.” They could hear his feet pounding as Krav sprinted through the town. There came a bunch of complaints and the sounds like a door being kicked open. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I need it—you’ll get it back promptly!” Then, sounds of a brief scuffle and another apology.
“What was that?” Dekker demanded.
“I stole the bronze medallion from my father’s researchers. It only took a couple extra minutes, and I may need it.”
“It’s just a hunk of ornamental brass!” Dekker yelled into his comm unit. He braced himself as the Rickshaw Crusader climbed on its VTOL engines. “It won’t make you invulnerable. Didn’t you hear what Ezekiel said?”
“I don’t know Ezekiel,” Krav replied. “I have faith, and you should too, Watchman. It might seem a wild notion, but I grew up with a rich tradition, and Nehushtan—the amulet—is a part of that! It’s going to work. It has to work! Sometimes you’ve just got to have faith.”
As the Crusader broke free of the atmosphere they could see a firefight raging above the north meridian plane. Although he couldn’t recognize the ships, his gut sank with dismay.
“I’m here,” Krav stated, “At the old aqueducts where my ancient ancestors once stormed the fortress.” His voice crackled slightly due to the extending distance. “It will take me fifteen minutes to get into the catacombs; the signal is coming from just below me.”
“Confirmed,” Dekker stated. “We’ll monitor you from the Salvation.”
“Not the Crusader?”
“No. We have a bit of a situation. We’ll extract as soon as able—just get down there and save our planet.”
“Copy that.”
***
Krav squeezed through a crack in the brickwork and into a hidden antechamber. The signal pointed the way to its source.
Inside, he spotted the DNIET device exactly as described by Dekker and his scientist friend. A series of blinking lights alternated in a shifting sequence.
“I’ve got it,” Krav reported in.
“Perfect.” Dekker’s voice was scratchy, barely discernible now, this far below ground.
Krav tossed in a number of chemical glow-sticks and stalked through the room; he described what he saw to his support team and searched for traps. Even though the room looked clear, Austicon had a reputation. He tossed another glowstick about a foot from the device.
A red radiation field sprang up in response to the intrusion. The glow-stick landed in the gravel where hard radiation pounded against it; almost instantly, it erupted in flames and melted into a puddle of liquid. Krav drew his flak gun and checked the load: titanium shrapnel charges. He fired both barrels into the superweapon. The bullets liquefied instantly and rained molten metal upon the DNIET’s housing, negating any damage.
Exhaling and steeling himself, Krav placed the serpentine amulet around his neck. “I’ve got this. I’m immune to death. Nehushtan will save me,” he spoke aloud in order to convince himself. The device would have to be manually terminated. He closed his eyes, said a prayer, and confidently stepped forward.
***
“I can’t make out any of that,” Dekker told Corgan who sat at the communications console. “Can’t you clean that up at all?” They couldn’t make out Krav’s transmission.
“I’m sorry, no.”
MacAllistair clarified, “He’s under a lot of stone, and that’s a lot of distance.”
“Then let’s get closer!” Dekker was tense, pacing. Vesuvius walked beside him and put her hand on his back, trying to calm him.
“I’m on it,” Britton said at the helm, closing the gap.
Shifting attention momentarily, “What’s the word on those scans, Doctor?”
“More ships keep appearing on different trajectories. They appear to be the arbolean ghost ships we encountered previously. They’re fighting ships which are definitely of mechnar origin. So far, the MEA forces have hung back. Probably letting our enemies slug out their differences.”
“Well, hopefully there’s some humanity left for them to fight over.”
The comm filled with a sudden blood-curdling shriek, as if Krav had been lit on fire and been left to burn, and then it was suddenly silent. Nobody dared say anything.
“Krav? Krav!” Dekker tried to raise him. Only quiet replied.
MacAllistair made a worried face. He seemed to anxiously dance in his seat. “Oh no,” was all he could manage, his voice tainted by terror.
“What is it?” Dekker demanded.
“Scanners show that DNIET has gone active. It’s locked onto the sun—it’s the beginning of the end!”
“How much time?”
“Once the signal lock is established with the solar source, it signals for the complete energy drain in about as much time as the solar rays take to travel from the source to the device. Approximately eight minutes until the sun disintegrates.”
“Start a counter for seven and a half minutes,” Dekker stated and then he stepped out. He knew his crew would comply.
A few seconds later, Dekker arrived inside his own quarters. He picked up a photo he kept of his father and flipped through the sacred book which the Watchmen had guarded for centuries. He leafed through it briefly, vainly praying for any answer besides the only alternative left to him.
“Come on, God! This was the plan! I’d kill Austicon and reform the Watchmen in Jerusalem! You’re asking me to kill the new life I’ve been working for!” He flipped through the tome again; the pages fell open to the story of Ibrahaim and his child Isaac: a story of the faith and sacrifice.
Krav’s words rang in Dekker’s ears. “You’ve got to have faith.”
“Alright! Fine!” he screamed at God. “But you’re running out of followers, and fast.”
Dekker returned to the bridge with a minute and a half remaining. They’d crawled closer to the planet with Brit at the controls. They held an exact zenith above Jerusalem.
“Drop cloaking field. All power to the weapon banks, target Jerusalem; lock onto the DNIET signal. Fire on my command.” Dekker stood there, silent, watching the clock count down.
Vesuvius stepped forward and took his hand in hers.
“Here goes my second chance, you know,” He whispered to her.
“I know.” She had been there—she’d seen it.
The clock dropped under a minute now.
You’ve got to have faith.
Thirty seconds remained. Dekker tensed as the clock ran dangerously low. Ten seconds. Five seconds. Four. Three. Two.
“Fire. All weapons.”
Dekker’s Dozen #010
Return to Osix
Prognon Austicon watched with a mixed feeling of satisfaction as the full force of the warship Salvation’s weaponry rained down upon the Jerusalem fortress. The planet shuddered and the blast-wave rippled outward, annihilating everything within miles of ground zero, including the krenzin protestors. Austicon knew the pain this choice must have caused Dekker.
He whirled and walked away from the view-screen and tapped a large, stone cask. Just one of two, the sealed vessels had been fit with electronic, remote locks. Austicon gave an order, “Leviathan,
load this onto my ship. The arboleans and humanity may have purchased a little more time, but their end has still been assured,” he grinned.
“These containers hold the arboleans’ only natural predators, the arbophage scarab. Capable of surviving extreme conditions, even complete vacuum, they live to eat: but only eat one thing. These little beauties slip into torpor without sensing suitable food-sources.”
Leviathan mentally contacted two Mechnar units to complete the loading task while his god monologued.
“Everything is subject to the food chain.” Austicon smiled wide and wicked. “Do you know what my natural predator is?”
The psychic assassin knew the answer. None existed.
Austicon stared at the second, sealed and repurposed sarcophagus. “Dump that one into the atmosphere above the planet Rico.”
***
Dekker stumbled down the smoking, hot blast crater. The craggy depression was all that remained of the once stalwart Jerusalem. Frustrated, he kicked a charred femur which lay half buried within the dust. Dekker screamed at the top of his lungs: raspy and painful—the groan of a desperate man.
Small pyres of burning refuse flickered randomly. The flames offered the only color in an otherwise deathly gray landscape.
Dekker staggered through the destruction he’d unleashed and toed through the debris, hoping against hope that Krav had survived. His orders to annihilate the great city, the only community to successfully maintain autonomy from the MEA, weighed heavily on him. Survivors were not expected, but Dekker prayed for at least the one.
He desperately needed Krav to be right. Krav had walked into a deadly situation sustained only by his faith in an ancient myth. Ezekiel had chastised his fellow Jew for such misguided beliefs—but if Krav was right, if he’d survived, then Ezekiel could be wrong. Maybe he could be wrong about Dekker’s morbid destiny, too. If Krav is dead, then perhaps so are the Watchmen, faith, and everything Jude Knight stood for.
Dekker arrived at the lowest depths of the crater and sank to his knees. With bare hands he dug through the ash and slag. He overturned cinders and cracked bone; all flesh had been vaporized—flash boiled by the orbital bombardment.
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