by Phil Wheeler
“I – I don't understand. What are you doing here? What have you to do with all this?”
“Please, sit.”, he said, and pointed to one of the chairs around the table.
In a trance, Dylan walked to the table and sat down. He watched as Mason joined him, taking a seat, but he could not bring himself to speak. Finally, Mason said, “I imagine that this is all very confusing to you. Why don't I begin at the beginning?”
Dylan just continued to stare.
“By now, you know that I am not who I seem to be. What my real name is, or what it has been, is unimportant. The name Donald Mason will suffice for now. You may still call me Don if you wish. Let me begin by telling you a story. Do you know the constellation Draco?”
Dylan could only nod in agreement.
“Good. The brightest star in that constellation is called Thuben, and 5,000 years ago it was the pole star worshiped by the Egyptians. It was also the home star of a race of people called the Draconians. This race was greatly advanced technologically, and they lived a life without hardship, disease, or poverty. They thought that their technology could overcome any obstacle or resolve any problem that might confront them. Unfortunately, they treated their home world as expendable, and it started to die. They had been fools. K'hu Nafu, the greatest among them, realized that if they were to survive then he must act quickly. He united his world in a project that would save them. They constructed a ship to take them away from Dracon, to another world where they could start, again. It took almost fifty years to build this great ship, but it was completed, and a lottery was held among the best and the brightest to select those who would carry on the race. Two million lives were selected to go to a new world. The ship was large enough to have a small city inside of it, and an artificial sun burned in a make-believe sky; grass grew in the dirt covering a metal deck. They left their home world, but it wasn't too long before tragedy struck the great ship. People started dying. Where there had been two million only two hundred thousand were left.
It should never have come to that. The simplistic response was that industrial civilizations inevitably self-destruct. It may be that once the drive to intelligence begins it develops an irresistible dynamic. Consider the time intervals required to produce multi-cell organisms, then insects, followed by reptiles, and mammals. Then higher mammals, and eventually man; social processing, social communication, spoken language, writing and reading and then, finally, computing. At each step in the evolutionary curve the time intervals to the next inflection shrink. But we had still failed. We had raped the planet for too long, and now our mother-home was dying and couldn't recover, not anymore. You see, Dylan, they hadn't really learned from their mistakes, they had just ignored them.”
Dylan looked at the man whom he had called friend. “What are you saying, that these aliens came to earth? That you are an alien?”
“What is an alien? When your ancestors came to this country from Wales they were called aliens. We have people crossing the borders down in Texas every day. We call them illegal aliens. When is someone an alien, or when does someone stop being one, after one generation, or two, a hundred?”
Dylan looked at Mason. “I don't understand the point of this. What are you trying to tell me?”
“Let me continue with my story. After many years of travel, this star-ship came to an inhabitable planet in a far solar system. Their ship's engine was failing. They had determined that the power supply was the cause of the deaths; mutating a common germ into a deadly killer. They were able to move the ship into a high orbit around this planet, and descended to the surface to investigate. The leader of this race found that the humanoids living on the surface were primitive, but they held great promise as breeding stock. The remaining Draconian's started such a program designed to speed up the slow pace of natural evolution, and developed a new race, a new Draconian race. It has taken centuries, but that people exist as the elite of this world.”
“This planet is ruled by a race called Draconians, is that what you are saying?. You are a Draconian?” It was incredible, and he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
“Yes to the later, and no to the former. We have learned that being in a position of open leadership is very dangerous. Too often, those in position of leadership are also the biggest target for those who would want power. We have learned to work in a more secondary role, controlling finances and technology. Those rolls are always needed and much more stable regardless of social or financial climate.”
“I still don't understand all this. Why did you bring us here, what do...?” He stopped, and thought to himself technology. Now, it made sense. His cold fusion project, and Tomiko Samuelson caught in one net.
“I can see by your face that you are beginning to understand. Yes, we want cold fusion, and you are going to give it to us.”
“I won’t help you.” He was resolute.
“I believe you will.” Mason touched a button on his desk, and a portion of the wall slide back to reveal a viewing screen. The picture came on to reveal the room he'd been held in. Setting on the bed was Tomiko. “Lovely, isn't she? Yes, I believe that you will help us.”
Dylan turned from the screen to look at the man he'd called friend. This was all too much, and he had no idea what to do. “What do you want it for?”
“That will come later. Dylan, did Robert Fuller give you anything?”
The question threw him off. “What do you mean?”
“Robert was working on a very important project for me, and that information has disappeared. Did he give you any papers, or a disc?” Mason looked at him closely.
“No. I knew about the manuscript, but other than him telling me that he was close to decrypting it we never really talked about it.”
“He sent you an Email with an attachment. What was the content of that attachment?”
Dylan looked at Mason. “I don't know how you found out about that, but I would say that it is personal and none of your business.”
“On the contrary, it is very much my business. Again, what was the content of the file?”, said Mason, this time, a little more stridently.
“I honestly don't know. The file is password protected, and Robert didn't give me a password. You seem to be able to access it, so why haven't you done something to resolve it?”
Mason ignored the last comment. “He obviously expected you to know the password, so I ask you, again – what was the content of the attachment?”
He looked at Mason. “I haven't really looked at it.” Since receiving the Email from Robert, he had not had time to give it any thought, but it now seemed to have great importance.
Mason seemed to accept that, and appeared to be troubled. He looked at Dylan, “It would be a shame if Roberts' work died with him. That file is important to me. It is obvious that he trusted you, and no longer trusted me.”
A question started to form in Dylan's mind, one with terrible consequences and meaning, “Did you have anything to do with his death?”
“He was becoming a problem. I could no longer control him, and his work was too important to be lost.”
“Did you have him killed?”
“It was regrettable, but necessary.”
Dylan's anger rose. Mason had been Robert's employer, and supposedly his friend. How could he have him killed, and then stand before his parents and lie? “You stood there and let his parents believe that he killed himself.”
“It is for a greater good. It will take some time, but I believe that you will understand all that has been done, and why.”
“What I understand is that you are a monster.”
“Dylan, I don't expect you to see and except things right now. Give it some time, and all will be revealed.”
His mind was trying to comprehend what he had just heard. He finally said, “Why did you force us to come here? Obviously, you knew that we would refuse to come, so
you threw some kind of grenade in our car.”
Mason smiled. “I'm quite proud of that little device. It's called an interference grenade. It's a stun grenade and integrates a high power density electrical source and power conversion circuitry with augmented xenon flash lamps and deafening piezoelectric resonators. It is very effective and is not dependent on device orientation. The prospective device produces disorienting effects on a target in closed quarters, and our version has the added benefit of rendering the person unconscious for a short period of time. Really quite ingenious, it's safe with no lasting effects other than a headache, and it is smokeless.”
Dylan just sat there. It was like he was in a James Bond thriller, but he was the most inept super spy that the world had ever seen. More like a pawn, really, constantly falling into the traps set by the villain. He didn't know what to say, or what to do, so he just sat there.
“I can see that this is a lot to take in,” said Mason, “Why don't you return to your room? It's about 10:30 in the morning, and lunch will be at noon. We can talk more then.”
A button was pushed, and seconds later the door opened, the geisha reappeared, and he was returned to his room. As he entered, Tomiko came to meet him. Placing her arms around his neck, she kissed him, then stepped back to look into his eyes. “Tell me, what is going on.”
He walked to the table, sat down, and looked at her. “I can't believe what I have just heard. Donald Mason is here, and this is all an attempt to get cold fusion. I told him that I wouldn't help, but...”, his voice trailed off, he couldn't bring himself to share the implied threat to her.
“What happens next? She took the other seat, and looked at him.
He gave her a tired smile, and laughed a bleak little laugh, “Lunch at noon, evidently.”
Tomiko took his hand, and sat silent. Finally, she spoke, “Whatever it is, whatever happens, we will face it together.”
Chapter 37
Lunch had been brought to the room by Geisha Girl (that's how Dylan thought of her), with an apology that Mr. Mason would not be able to join them until later. She had also delivered his Lap top computer, and informed him that Wireless internet was available. She politely relayed a message from Mason requesting that he work on the password to the attachment that Robert Fuller had sent him. He didn't want to help Mason, but was afraid of the implied threat made to Tomiko, so he sat in front of the keyboard, food untouched, and opened the file with its attachment. He tried different passwords, but nothing was working. Looking across the room to where Tomiko sat quietly on her bunk, he said, “I don't know what the password is, and I don't know how I am going to figure it out. Any suggestions?”
“No. I suppose that you've tried the obvious – birthday, address, that kind of stuff?”
“Yes. Nothing was worked.”
“Let me see.” She came and stood behind him. Leaning over his shoulder, she read the Email,
Dylan,
If you are reading this, it means that something has happened to me. (Just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they are not out to get you.) I don't completely understand what is going on, but I know that it is much bigger than I thought. The file I have attached is in ZIP64 format, and is encrypted and password protected. I know that you will be able to figure out the password.
The attachment contains a completed copy of the Voynich Manuscript. I can't begin to tell you the importance of this, but the manuscript must be put into the right hands. I believe that only the news services can deal with this without cover-up. You need to blow the lid off of this.
Your Friend, Robert Go Zips
Dylan looked at her, “I don't see anything in the Email that would indicate what the password would be. I know it’s there, but I'm missing it.”
“I don't see anything, either.”
He tried some more things, but without any luck. He was ready to give up when the door to the room opened and Geisha Girl entered. “Dr. Teague, please come with me.”
This time, there was no argument, and he followed her out of the door. She showed him to the same room as before where Mason sat waiting for him. “Dylan, come in, come in.”, he said, getting up from his chair to greet him.
Dylan refused the hand and instead he said, “I can't figure out the password.”
Mason didn't seem to notice the insult and gestured for Dylan to take a seat at the table. “I know, but I am sure that you will, just give it some time. Please have a seat. We have so much to talk about. You must have some questions. Ask.”
A part of him wanted nothing to do with any of this but he could see no way out and he did have questions that he wanted answers to, he shrugged, “OK, one thing has really bothered me. If you are from this Dracon, and I am not saying that I believe you, and you want it keep secret why would you start an organization dedicated to revealing extraterrestrial life on earth? It would seem self-defeating.”
“I am not from Dracon, I am descended from those who came from there. K'hu Nafu, known to history as the Great Pharaoh Khufu, was the last original member of our race. Do you remember our last lunch together in Cleveland?”, asked Mason.
“Yes. I understand now that you wanted to see if I knew anything about Robert's work. Was he already dead by then?”
“Yes, he was, and I had to find out what you knew. Do you remember our conversation about Superman?”
Dylan was insistent, “I don't understand how you can be so cold about it. He was your friend.”
“As you are, Dylan. That doesn't alter what I would do to preserve my race. Now, do you remember the conversation about Superman?”
Dylan tried to focus. “Something about German supermen and the Superman Effect? Yes, what about it?”
“I mentioned how Superman could hide by just putting on a pair of glasses and a suit. He was hiding in plain sight.”
Dylan looked at Mason. “Are you saying that's what you were doing, funding research to find aliens while covering them up?
Mason smiled. “I don't like the term alien, I would prefer ancient ancestors, and aside from certain isolated aboriginal groups every race on this planet is descended from the breeding program of the original Draconians, but that is beside the point and a discussion for another time. Remember the quote from the bible about people looking but not really seeing? What better place to hide something than with those who are looking for it, it's the last place that anyone would think to look. I could deflect any sightings, artifacts, or questions by having them researched, than saying that there was no proof to support the claim of alien contact. It also put me in the position to acquire important data, such as the Voynich Manuscript, and then have someone work on it for me. It wouldn't arouse any suspicions.”
Dylan had to agree that it made sense, hiding in plain sight. He looked at Mason. “Then what is the importance of that manuscript?”
“It contains the location of the entry site to our ship and the directions on how to enter it. Inside that ship is stored the entire knowledge of the Draconian race. It's history and learning, all its science.”
“If you're a Draconian how come you don't know where this stuff is?”
“We knew the location of the ship, but not the entry site or how to open it. The rest of the knowledge was kept in the manuscript which was lost after the purge of our people in the 14th century. At the time Jacques de Molay was the Grand Master of the Knights Templar and the king of France wanted to destroy them. The King had amassed a huge debt to the Templar's because of his war with England, the only way out was to destroy the Templar’s and take their money and holdings, but he had to do it legally. He pressured the pope, Clement IV, into supporting his claims against them, then they were accused of heresy, witchcraft, homosexuality – anything that the king could think of, really. Many were killed, burned at the stake, but before they were destroyed the manuscript was sent out of France by de Molay for safe keeping. Unfortunately, the knight entrusted wi
th it, Francis DeVare of Biscayne, met with an untimely death before he could establish a group dedicated to the manuscript's safekeeping and continuance. It was lost until 1912, when it reappeared and was purchased by a book dealer named Wilfrid Voynich. He did not know what he had. It came to my attention in 1969, when it was given to Yale University. I must say that it came as quite a shock to me when I first saw the symbols contained in that manuscript. I had in my possession copies of two fragments from it that had been handed down to us through the years, so I knew immediately what had been found. Unfortunately, with no one to teach the succeeding generations our language there was no one who could read the manuscript. Over the years there have been many who have tried to decipher it but failed, and I considered its contents lost forever, its secrets a mystery to us.
That is, until Robert came along. He was a once in a lifetime genius when it came to unraveling the most complicated codes and cyphers. He'd made significant progress on the text, sorting and indexing the various characters, but he explained to me the reason why it was still unreadable. The ancients had encrypted it with a form of encryption we now call One Time Pad. He told me there was no key, a Rosetta stone as he called it. It was a fortunate happenstance that a diver on the ruins had found the entry tunnel, taken pictures and posted them on the internet. Robert happened to see and recognize them for what they were and began a translation. I can only assume that he became afraid or even guessed my connection once he'd started.”
