Voice of the Elders

by Greg Ripley

  “Are they really that bad?” Rohini said. “Can’t you fight them somehow? Will the Elders actually have to leave their world?”

  “They are worse than you can imagine. Words cannot do them justice. Let me show you,” Zhongkui said. “I am not as gifted as the Speaker, Dayan, the one who shared his thoughts with the leaders of earth. I cannot send my thoughts across the globe to many people at once—at least not ordinarily—but come, if we go into the grottos I think I will be able to show you all.”

  There was just enough room in the Lower Guanyin Grotto for Zhongkui, Rohini, Jane and Guangming. The Guanzi had stayed in her chambers. She would be seeing what the Watchers saw soon enough when Zhongkui took her to the Elders’ world. Rohini couldn’t help but feel a bit of déjà vu as they sat down on the stone seats in the grotto. Yet this time it wasn’t the Guanzi, but an Elder seated across the cave from her.

  “Just clear your minds,” Zhongkui said. “It will only take a moment.”

  When the moment came, Rohini almost cried out. The horror and suffering they’d been shown was heart-wrenching. In her raw emotional state, she couldn’t help but weep. World after world of beings had been conquered by the Others. The death and destruction they left in their wake was hard to fathom. Those whom they didn’t kill were enslaved, forced to serve their new masters, supplying the Others with resources until their worlds were completely bled dry.

  Rohini felt like she’d just been shown Dante’s Inferno. They all exchanged looks of shock. “Now you understand what the Elders are facing,” Zhongkui said. “Now you see why simply fighting them doesn’t seem to be a viable option.”

  They slowly filed out of the grotto and returned to the Guanzi’s chamber, sitting down once again. “I can see from the looks on your faces that the situation is dire, indeed,” the Guanzi said. “We must not give up hope. One way or another we will face this challenge.”

  “So, Mentor,” Jane began. “Are we to keep this knowledge a secret for now or can I share this with the president? I think it would be better for everyone if we all knew what we were dealing with.”

  “If you think it best. The Guide trusts your judgment,” Zhongkui said.

  “Zhongkui, I propose we both accompany them and speak with the president ourselves,” the Guanzi said. “Something tells me she will appreciate the candor, and from everything I have heard about her, I’d like to meet this woman who is now in the most powerful office in the world.”

  They set out the next day when the security team from the society arrived. They’d arranged for a helicopter to get them back to the jet in Lanzhou. They took the old tunnel, coming out into the cave of Tianyinzi on their way to meet the chopper. Rohini half expected the bodies of the soldiers to still be there, but they were gone. Much of the monastery was a smoldering ruin. While no fires still burned, smoke hung in the air. The monks and nuns had begun to scavenge through the wreckage, salvaging what they could. More people and resources would be sent in by the society to rebuild, but it would take time.

  The security team met them there and escorted them out to the chopper. Their security detail would follow in a second chopper, while some stayed behind to secure the monastery. While they didn’t expect the soldiers to return, they weren’t taking any chances. As they passed through the monastery a figure caught Rohini’s eye as they passed. It was the statue from the Hall of Ascension. The building appeared to have collapsed around it, yet the statue itself appeared unharmed, its hand still pointing to the stars. Rohini’s thoughts turned to Jimmie. She took it as a sign that he had moved on to a better place.

  “Look,” Rohini said to her companions, pointing to the statue as they passed.

  “How auspicious,” said the Guanzi. “The Immortal points the way.”

  55

  State Highway 51

  20 miles South of Bruneau, Idaho

  Trooper Erickson had a feeling. Something’s off. Not that this was the first rental truck he’d ever seen broken down on the side of the road. They put on a lot of miles and most rental companies didn’t exactly have a stellar reputation for maintenance. I don’t know where they’re moving. Other than the Bruneau Sand Dunes and the old ghost town at Wickahoney, there wasn’t much out here but sagebrush. Unless they’re headed to the Duck Valley Reservation. The only other thing nearby was the new solar array that had gone online last year. Then he remembered the recent attack in Nebraska. Oh shit. He called it in.

  The bomber hadn’t seen the trooper pull up. He was busy under the hood of the rental truck. He’d seen the temperature gauge creeping up, but had hoped he’d be able to make it the last few miles before the engine overheated. When steam started pouring from under the hood, he’d pulled over. Maybe if I let it cool off for a little while I can still make it, he thought.

  He didn’t have any extra coolant and he only had a small water bottle in the cab of the truck of which he’d already drunk half. That won’t be any help. I’ll just have to pop the hood and wait, I guess. He popped the hood and went around front to open it, but the radiator was still steaming. He’d have to wait. A moment later he heard a thump. Was that a car door? He hadn’t heard anyone pull up over the hissing of the radiator. He drew his gun from his shoulder holster and peaked around the side of the truck. Oh shit.

  Trooper Erickson exited his patrol car and made his way towards the truck, checking the side mirror to see if anyone was in the driver’s seat. Not seeing anyone, he began to make his way forward on the shoulder of the highway, his hand on his sidearm. He’d already clicked the safety off. Let’s hope it’s nothing. He had every intention of making it home to his family tonight. As he got closer to the front of the truck, he could hear the hissing of the radiator. Typical, he thought, but then a figure jumped out from around the front. His sidearm was up before he’d even consciously registered the gun in the figure’s hand.

  The hissing of the radiator was drowned out by a flurry of gunshots. Trooper Erickson felt a searing burn across his left shoulder as he saw his assailant fall. I hit him at least twice, center mass. He moved forward quickly, kicking the gun away from the assailant, who was already coughing up blood. He’s not long for this world. Trooper Erickson rolled him over, holstering his sidearm, and cuffed him. He called it in, eyeing his own shoulder. I’ll need some stitches, but at least I’ll make it home tonight. The bullet had just grazed him. He’d been lucky.

  His backup was already on the way, and so was EMS, but it took them close to a half hour to get there. The perp died long before they arrived. Trooper Erickson had returned to his patrol car and found the med kit and roughly dressed his wound. Holding a pressure dressing to his shoulder, he sat on the rear bumper of his patrol car.

  Eventually his backup, Trooper Strong, arrived, screeching to a halt before throwing his cruiser in park and jumping out. He ran to Erickson. “Bob! Are you alright?”

  “I’m OK, he just grazed me,” Erickson said, though he was starting to feel a little woozy now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and his arm stung like hell. It was starting to stiffen up.

  “Where’s the perp?” Trooper Strong asked.

  “He’s dead. He’s in front of the truck,” Erickson replied. “I haven’t checked it yet.”

  They walked over together, and Trooper Strong opened the back of the truck. One look and they immediately backed off. “Holy shit, Bob! That thing’s rigged like Oklahoma City,” Strong said. He had been an Explosive Ordinance Disposal Specialist in Iraq. What they found in the truck told him they didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

  They returned to wait in Trooper Strong’s patrol car. He made a quick sling for Erickson to immobilize his arm and helped him into the passenger side, then he backed the patrol car up several hundred feet to wait for the EMTs and the bomb squad.

  * * *

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  It had been an auspicious sign. Th
eir trip back to the US had gone off without a hitch. Rohini and her companions had met immediately with President Powers in the Oval Office upon arriving in DC. After learning about the Others from Zhongkui and Jane, the president’s expression turned grave.

  “I agree with you both, “President Powers said. “I think it’s best for the time being we keep that information under wraps. It’s just the kind of thing that would feed into the public’s worst fears about the danger aliens might pose. The public’s psyche is fragile enough right now, we can’t take any chances.”

  As she recalled the meeting, Rohini was struck by the sheer absurdity of it, having regained a bit of her old sense of humor in the intervening weeks. There I sat, she thought, with a Daoist Abbess, and immortal alien, a spy, and the President of the United States. She smiled as she recalled something else from the meeting. The president had been quite taken with Zhongkui. It had seemed so incongruous at the time that Rohini had second-guessed her impression, but Jane had noticed it too. I don’t suppose you can blame her, Rohini thought. He is quite dashing in his own intense, brooding sort of way, and she is a widow after all.

  The truth about the Others hadn’t been the only revelation to come out of the meeting. President Powers also had news—both good and bad. The bad news was that there had been another attack. The good news was that it had failed. She went on to tell them about the failed attack in Idaho.

  When the solar installation was searched they found it rigged with charges which required remote detonation. A photo of the bomber was quickly circulated and they got their first lead. The clerk at Tiny’s Beer and Bait, in nearby Bruneau, had seen him with another man earlier in the day. The bomber had an accomplice.

  After a dragnet was put in place—which was surprisingly effective for such a rural location—another suspect was apprehended.

  A brief standoff with ATF, FBI, and DHS agents at a roadside motel left him wounded. The suspect had tried to shoot himself after it was clear his escape was cut off, but his gun jammed, allowing him to be captured alive. When his prints were run, they came back as another deceased service member, just like in the attack on Rohini, but this time they had a living, breathing body to go with those prints. He’d rolled over quickly, once he’d failed to commit suicide.

  The mercenary worked for a private security outfit operating out of Switzerland, their headquarters just outside Zurich. He and many of his fellow recruits, though by no means all, were former US service members with a penchant for bending the rules, who now got paid handsomely to break them altogether. They’d been recruited and their deaths faked, in Iraq and Afghanistan, years before with the promise of big money working in the private sector. While he wasn’t able to identify his ultimate employer—whoever had hired the firm—he was able to lead them to the remnants of the SOC.

  They’d been hiding out in a dusty backwater town along the Iraqi-Syrian border all these years and from what the operative told the FBI, they were basically as defunct as everyone had believed, until whoever hired the contractors had put them in touch with the terrorist group. There had been some debate about whether to try to send a Special Ops team in to potentially apprehend them, but when that didn’t appear feasible, a quick drone strike had wiped the map clean, ending the SOC for good.

  The attacks had been carried out by the SOC largely in name only, most of the logistics being taken care of by the private contractors. The company itself had destroyed all records in their headquarters—a failsafe system virtually incinerating everything inside their offices. The company’s personnel had gone off the grid as soon as their operative was apprehended, so the trail to whoever hired them and was ultimately pulling the strings had been severed—at least for the time being—but before they left, President Powers vowed that those responsible would be brought to justice, no matter how long it took.

  After the meeting at the White House, Zhongkui and the Guanzi had left immediately, disappearing in a flash of light directly from the Oval Office. Although it wasn’t the first time she had seen it, it still amazed Rohini, and it had certainly left an impression on President Powers. Afterwards, Jane had taken Rohini home to see her father, and Guangming had gone to the Chinese Consulate to speak with the Chinese Ambassador to the US. He would be rejoining Rohini and Jane, as well as the rest of the new Earth Ambassadors soon.

  * * *

  Bartholomew Simms’ resolve remained firm. I might have lost this round, he thought, but he was determined not to lose the fight. His co-conspirators may have abandoned him, but he didn’t need them anyway. Cowards. Once the going got tough they had all backed out. That hadn’t really come as a surprise, but now that he had lost the cover of the SOC to take the blame for his mercenaries’ dirty work, he would have to come up with a new strategy.

  That’s alright, I can wait. He’d acted rashly before, which was uncharacteristic. He usually took more of a long view, crafting his plans carefully, knowing that was what paid off in the end. You can’t worry about the daily ups and downs of the market, you have to look at the long-term trends. When others ran scared, pulling their funds, that’s when he looked for opportunities, and there were always opportunities. It’s the long game that sets the real players apart from the dilettantes, Simms thought, and he knew he would be able to find others who felt the same. While his cabal had fallen apart, one of the members, James VanHouten, felt guilty about abandoning him and had mentioned that he had some business contacts in Russia who felt as strongly about the aliens as he did. He’d promised to make an introduction. Perhaps something will come of that.

  56

  United Nations Building, NYC

  September 22, the Autumnal Equinox

  Several weeks later Rohini, Jane, Guangming, and the other new ambassadors sat chatting along with the rest of the crowd in the General Assembly Hall at the United Nations. President Powers was there, along with the leaders of the other nations participating in the Earth Ambassadors Program. The selection process had been much quicker the second time around, narrowing it to those with the Elders’ bloodline had made the list much shorter.

  Although the terrorist threat had been removed as far as anyone knew, it was thought prudent that the Earth Ambassadors train together in a secure facility. Since it had worked well for Rohini and Jane the first time, and the group of ambassadors was relatively small, they had returned to Quantico.

  As they sat in the assembly hall at the UN, the feeling in the room was upbeat, the excitement palpable. They had been there for a few hours already, not knowing exactly when the Elders would arrive, yet no one’s enthusiasm was flagging. The awaited return of the Elders was being broadcast live all over the globe. Though it was a weekday, many businesses were understaffed, people calling in sick to watch the days’ events—the “E-flu” apparently making the rounds. Sports bars and other establishments with televisions, on the other hand, were packed, even though it was only 10:30am on the East Coast.

  All talk was suddenly cut short as a bright flash filled the room. Everyone’s attention turned to the dais, the same spot where the Elders had appeared out of the blue six months before. The silence in the hall surprised Rohini, considering how many people were packed into the chamber. There were now a group of figures standing on the dais, where none had been only a moment before.

  Many people stood to get a better look, including Rohini and Jane. It was then that she noticed there weren’t just four Elders standing on the dais—this time there were six. There, among the Elders, Rohini recognized two familiar faces smiling back at them. Zhongkui and the Guanzi had returned. But the Guanzi looked different. She still had the same mischievous grin and twinkle in her eye, but she appeared to be a good twenty years younger than she had been the last time they’d seen her.

  Rohini felt a strong sense of déjà vu, recalling the UN Conference on Climate Change which had brought her to this very spot six months before. So much had happened since then. It’s be
en an incredible journey. But the real adventure is about to begin.

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  Just as none of us are self-made—despite the hubris which leads some of us to believe so—no book would be possible without the work of many people. We are all part of a network of connections: connections with the natural world, connections with our social networks—whether real or virtual—and connections to those who have come before, leaving a web of thoughts, ideas, and stories in their wake.

  I discovered a love of storytelling later in life. Maybe it was inevitable, as I’d tried just about everything else along the way. As I think back, I realize it was an inherited trait. When my brothers and I were growing up, my father used to tell us stories about the history of different things; the provenance of words or expressions, or how something came to be the way it is. These stories were usually true, but on occasion he enjoyed telling us ones that bore little resemblance to fact. They were always plausible and there were no search engines at the time to verify or disprove them. As a result, we all developed healthy BS detectors. My parents were also responsible for raising a family of voracious readers. Instilling in us, through example, a love of books.

  Thank you to my early readers, especially Julie Marcus and Julianne Zhou, whose feedback proved invaluable in shaping the final manuscript, as well as my publisher and editor who gave the book a chance and helped polish it. Thank you to all the Daoist teachers, scholars, and translators without whom I’d know nothing of the Dao, especially Miriam Levering, my first professor of Chinese religions, Livia Kohn for her entire body of work, and Lao Zhichang for his continuing teachings.