Voice of the Elders

by Greg Ripley

  “You’re in danger! Go back into the memorial!” the old man yelled as he attempted to hustle the president up the steps.

  A deafening boom split the bright, sunny morning like a clap of thunder, sending everything into chaos. Rohini felt like she’d been struck by lightning. One moment she was watching as President Johnson and the Elder began to climb the steps, the next they were gone in a bright, blinding flash as the force of the explosion threw her to the ground.

  She had been at one end of the line of ambassadors, standing next to Martin. As she rolled over, lifting herself onto an elbow, the taste of dust and the feel of grit filled her mouth. She coughed on the clouds of smoke and dust hanging over the steps as she attempted to get her bearings. Her hearing was muffled while at the same time her ears rang, like she was on a plane with a head cold after being at a concert all night.

  As the horrific scene unfolded before her, she saw bodies strewn over the steps, as well as something new—a crater at the center of the landing where the podium had been. Lincoln sat looking down over them through the smoky haze, his likeness still recognizable, but his statue, as well as the columns of the Memorial, now pitted and pockmarked.

  Rohini struggled to make sense of it all until everything clicked into place in her mind. There was an explosion. As reality began to come into focus again, she recalled the tactical breathing technique Jane had taught her, closing her eyes and counting off a few cycles as she got a grip on herself.

  She opened her eyes with a start as a hand on her shoulder brought her back to the moment. Looking up she saw Guangming, the ambassador from China looking down at her, his face streaked with blood and dust. She saw his mouth moving, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. That’s when she noticed his eyes—they’re green.

  The recognition of his eyes sent a new wave of adrenaline coursing through her veins, snapping her out of her fog. She hadn’t noticed them that morning outside the White House, but the contrast with the blood and dust coating his face set the color off.

  “Rohini, can you hear me? We’ve got to get out of here,” she heard him say, as she realized Jane was also by her side.

  “It’s OK, Rohini, you can trust him,” Jane said. “Come on, we’ve got to move now.”

  As Rohini struggled to her feet, Jane had moved away, crouching down over another figure sprawled on the steps. Rohini realized from where the body was that it must be Martin, the other American. Rohini inhaled sharply as Jane stood, shaking her head. “He’s gone,” Jane said, then turned and stepped quickly across the debris-strewn steps, before crouching down again.

  Rohini and Guangming followed. Rohini could tell it was one of the other ambassadors, his white blazer recognizable even though it was anything but white now. She thought back to meeting the others at the motorcade as she tried to place him. It was Jean-Luc, the French member of the group.

  As they crouched down around him, she realized he was trying to speak. It was just a croak at first, but then his words became clearer, more distinguishable. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I had no idea they would do this.”

  “Who, Jean-Luc?” Jane asked. “Who did this?”

  “I don’t know,” he groaned. “I never saw their faces… I had no choice… they gave me drugs… said they’d hurt my family if…” His words were cut short as he gasped, his body seizing, his eyes growing wide. Then, just as suddenly, his body went limp, his eyes staring into the void, beyond this world. Jane closed his eyelids and they stood, looking at the carnage around them.

  “The other ambassadors… the president… they’re all dead,” Jane said.

  19

  Chinatown

  Washington, DC

  “A short time ago, in an undisclosed location, the former Vice-President, Elizabeth Powers, was sworn in to become the forty-sixth President of the United States by the Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, Alicia Fernandez.”

  Rohini, Jane, and Guangming sat on a musty old couch in the living room of a rundown apartment above Dragon Star Asian Foods, a small corner grocery in what was left of DC’s Chinatown, their eyes glued to the screen of a shiny new flat screen TV. It was about the only thing shiny or new in the apartment, which by the looks of it, was used more as storage space for the market downstairs than anything else.

  They’d entered the apartment from the market, passing through a scuffed set of double doors at the back which swung both ways like saloon doors in the Old West, past rows of shelving in the storeroom and up a flight of stairs, the only access to the apartment other than a fire escape from the bedroom which led down to the alley in back. Cases of ramen noodles filled one corner of the room, while boxes of fish sauce and sriracha took up most of the countertop that separated the small kitchen from the living room where they now found themselves.

  As soon as they came upstairs, they checked the cable news channels to see what was happening in the aftermath of the attack. They’d been there themselves, of course, but seeing it on TV gave the morning’s events a surreal quality, like it had all been a dream. But it hadn’t. Elizabeth Powers being sworn in as the new president confirmed that beyond a shadow of a doubt. President Johnson and the rest of the Earth Ambassadors were dead.

  As the news networks had all been covering that morning’s event at the Lincoln Memorial, there was no shortage of footage of the blast. They continued to show the explosion over and over from multiple angles as the talking heads analyzed the action on the screen, speculating about who was responsible, while the news ticker scrolled across the bottom of the screen.

  While everyone had witnessed the sudden appearance of the Elder next to the president, only the ambassadors had been close enough to hear his words. The news analysts were evenly divided as to whether the Elder had been trying to help President Johnson or whether he was somehow responsible for the explosion.

  Rohini expected they would regroup with the Secret Service after the explosion, but Jane had assured her they should follow Guangming’s lead. “Just trust me on this one, Rohini, we can’t go with the Secret Service right now. I’m worried this was an inside job.”

  The three had used the chaos and confusion following the explosion to blend into the terror-stricken tumult of the crowds scattering in every direction. They made their way east past the reflecting pool and across the National Mall, blending in with the fleeing masses.

  They stopped before getting too far and attempted to clean themselves up—at least as well as could be expected under the circumstances—splashing water on themselves from the reflecting pool, then hurrying on with the crowds. As they got farther from the blast site, they didn’t want to stick out any more than necessary. Some of the closest members of the crowd had felt some of the impact of the explosion, many covered in cement dust as Rohini and Guangming had been, but the Elder, the president, and the ambassadors had taken the brunt of the blast.

  “Ditch your blazers,” Jane said as they cleaned up. “They’ll be too easy to pick out of the crowd.” Rohini’s blouse underneath was in better shape and her dark slacks hid the blood, dirt and smoke stains fairly well. They’d been charcoal gray before the explosion and now were only more so, if a bit tattered and torn. If you’re ever dressing for an explosion, Rohini thought dryly, remember charcoal gray.

  Having been up in the memorial during the blast, Jane was relatively unscathed, and Guangming wasn’t too worse for wear other than a gash to his scalp an inch above the hairline, the source of the blood on his face following the blast. It looked worse than it was—as head wounds often do—and had stopped bleeding by the time they’d gotten to the reflecting pool. His short black hair hid the wound fairly well unless you were looking for it.

  Guangming had made a quick call on his cell phone as Jane helped Rohini clean up by the Reflecting Pool. The quick conversation was in Chinese so Jane and Rohini were in the dark, but after hanging up he told them, “I’ve got us a
ride, let’s go.”

  After passing between the red sandstone of the Smithsonian Castle on the south side of the Mall and the pedimented portico of the Museum of Natural History to the north, they turned left on 7th Street, just before the National Gallery. Rohini was still in a bit of a fog, mostly from the physical effects of the blast, but also the emotional shock of what had occurred. Looking up as they passed, she couldn’t help thinking how nice a stroll through the gallery would be right now. You’re definitely a little loopy.

  Twenty minutes after the explosion, they crossed Constitution Avenue and piled into a silver SUV which had pulled up to the curb. The driver, an associate of Guangming, took them on a circuitous route north into Chinatown, eventually passing under the Friendship Arch, traditional entryway to the once-thriving neighborhood. Rohini couldn’t help but marvel at the arch as they drove through, impressed by the length of its single span. It was covered in golden dragons, which wasn’t unusual—dragons being a common motif in Chinese culture. What struck her was a row of nine dragons across the middle of the arch, reminding her again of the scroll painting she’d remembered on that mountain ridge in Virginia.

  Washington, DC’s Chinatown had been home to as many as three thousand residents in the past, but only a few hundred remained. Much of the district had gentrified, filling with upscale clothing stores, restaurants and boutique coffee and tea shops. But some of the old flavor of the neighborhood still lingered in the air, like smoke from an incense stick, in the few temples and Asian Markets that remained. Such as the one where they were now laying low.

  Rohini hadn’t asked many questions during their flight from the scene of the bombing. She’d been dazed enough that she followed Jane’s lead almost mechanically. Their sole focus had been on slipping away and keeping a low profile. All Jane had told her was that she was worried about it being an inside job and that they had better go underground for a while.

  While that made sense, it didn’t explain everything—like how Jane knew Guangming, or why the three of them all had green eyes—it didn’t explain much of anything. Rohini felt like she was on a runaway train with no idea how to stop it, or even where it was headed. But she was pretty sure they did. Now that they were safe, at least for the moment, she needed some answers.

  “OK, guys,” Rohini began uneasily, standing and pacing in the small apartment. “I need to know what’s going on here. You two obviously know each other. Are you a spy too, Guangming? And why do we all have green eyes?”

  “Actually, we’ve never met before today, but Guangming and I did know of each other,” Jane replied. “And you’re right, there is more going on here than you’ve been told. I didn’t think I would need to tell you about all this. I was going to let the Elders handle it once they returned, but obviously things have gone way off the rails.”

  “What are you talking about, Jane? What’s really going on? Was this the same people who tried to kidnap me? Are we caught in the middle of some war or something?” Rohini asked.

  “That’s not too far off,” Guangming said. “I think we may be at war, we’re just not exactly sure who we are fighting.”

  “This isn’t the Elders, is it? That Elder that appeared at the memorial—it seemed like he was trying to warn the president.”

  “No, this is definitely not the Elders, Rohini,” Jane said.

  “But how can you be so sure, Jane? I led a pretty boring life until they showed up. Now someone has tried to abduct me and when that failed they tried to blow me up! What aren’t you two telling me?” she said, looking back and forth between them.

  “Rohini, we know it’s not the Elders… because we are the Elders.”

  20

  The Elders’ World

  The Guide awoke suddenly. Something is very wrong, she thought. She reached out with her mind to the members of the council. We must meet. Early the next morning, in the Council Chambers, she told them what she had sensed.

  “I awoke greatly disturbed last night. I’m afraid the Earth Elder, Qaletaqa is dead,” the Guide said. There was a murmur among the councilors as they reacted to the news.

  “How, Grandmother?” the councilor from the Horse Clan asked.

  “As you know we had asked him to watch over the bloodline. He sensed they were in danger, but he was too late to avert it. He died trying to save one of the Earth’s leaders, and the bloodline,” the Guide replied. “Unfortunately, the leader of the United States was killed, as were many of the Earthlings chosen as ambassadors, including two of the bloodline. Two survived, however, the woman Rohini and one other, as did the Earth Guardian, Sinéad.”

  The councilors exchanged nervous glances. They all knew the implications. If the sentiment of the Earthlings turned against them, their long-range plans could be threatened. While Earth needed the Elders, the Elders also needed Earth.

  “Do you have any insight into who might be responsible for this attack, Grandmother?” asked the councilor from the Snake Clan.

  “I do not, though there was something Speaker Dayan said to me when he first returned which might be important. He said one of the Earth leaders had a very dark mind. Dayan was worried he might not go along with our plans. This must be investigated further. This may be our only lead.”

  “What do you advise, Grandmother?” asked the councilor from the Snake Clan.

  “We must summon Zhongkui,” the Guide said.

  “I didn’t think he was willing to serve the council any longer,” the Snake Elder replied.

  “It’s true he asked to be left in retreat after his beloved returned to the One, but I believe once he hears what has happened, he will be willing to serve again. After all, it was Zhongkui who trained the Earth Guardian, Sinéad. Despite his great loss, I believe his compassion and sense of duty will outweigh his grief. Zhongkui has always been a man of action.” the Guide said. “Are there any opposed?” she asked, scanning the faces of the assembled representatives. Seeing no objections, she closed the assembly, “Good. We are in harmony. Until such time.”

  21

  Rohini was floored. Then Jane elaborated.

  “I’m from Earth, but I am also an Elder—as are you, Rohini,” Jane began. “We carry the Elders’ bloodline. We have their genes. That’s where the green eyes come from. I was found by one of the Elders when I was a teenager and told about the Elders’ world and their bloodline on Earth.

  “I was taught about their ways—our ways—to a limited degree, nothing like the full training we would receive on their world, but enough to have a general understanding of their culture and traditions. I can’t travel like they do—at least not yet—but one day the three of us will most likely develop that skill.”

  Rohini sat back down in stunned silence. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Nothing made sense anymore. She wrapped her arms around herself as she began to cry silent tears.

  “Rohini, I know this is a shock, but just try to hear me out for now,” Jane said, putting a hand on Rohini’s shoulder. “My mentor, the Elder who taught me, also gave me a mission, a duty to fulfill, which was to become your guardian. While the three of us all carry the Elders’ genes, I was told that you carry it from both sides of your family. This has never happened before—at least not as far as the Elders are aware—so they were especially keen on finding and protecting you.

  “My career in the military, law enforcement, and intelligence has ultimately had this as its goal—to position myself to best serve in this role. At the same time, it was also a happy coincidence that the president’s relationship with your father led him to feel especially protective of you, which was a perfect way for me to get close to you. The Elders certainly used that to their advantage when they chose you as an ambassador.”

  “So, this whole Earth Ambassador thing was just an elaborate ruse? They were only trying to get to me the whole time?” Rohini replied in disbelief.

  “No, n
o, everything the Elder said at the UN was true. They—we—are going to help protect Earth. The Elders do possess more advanced renewable energy technologies which will help regenerate Earth—as you’ve already seen—and they did feel that the time had come to make themselves known. It was either that or watch the planet go down the drain. They care about us too much to simply sit back and watch us commit a slow suicide.”

  “How do you know all this, Jane? Did your mentor tell you?” Rohini asked.

  “Yes,” Jane said. “I haven’t seen him in ten years, but the last time we spoke, he told me they would come to Earth’s aid, if things got to this point.”

  “Why wait until now, Jane?” Rohini said. “Couldn’t they have prevented all of this if they had simply helped us years ago? Climate change has caused so much suffering in the last few years. If they care so much, why not help us sooner? Why let us walk right up to the brink?”

  “The Elders tried to help us before, in a more surreptitious way, a way more in keeping with their values. One of their most strongly held values is non-interference. They don’t believe in forcing things. They usually try to influence people in subtler ways, hoping to guide them to discover truths on their own. It is more like a process of trying to create the right conditions for things to emerge on their own, so people assume they thought of something all by themselves. Are you familiar with Nikola Tesla, Rohini?”

  “Wasn’t he an inventor of some sort, like Edison?” she replied.

  “Yes, they were rivals, and there was no love lost between them by all accounts. The Elders attempted to impart some of their knowledge to Earth by assisting Tesla in cultivating his genius. They saw in the Industrial Revolution and its increasing reliance on fossil fuels the seeds of our self-destruction being sown. They knew the path we were heading down and where it would eventually lead from their own history.