Through the door, the two find themselves in a wet sewage drain line beneath the street where light slicing in from the above sidewalk drains make it easy to see. After a few minutes walking, they stand beneath a short ladder leading up to a manhole cover in the street above. Mr. Nix starts to climb, but Agent Strong grabs his shoulder.
"Let me do this one."
"I can do it."
"Unless you've got a macho thing where you need to do all the work, let me get this," insists Agent Strong.
Climbing up the ladder, Agent Strong crams herself against the manhole cover. With her arm and shoulder strength, she nudges up the cover just enough to create a small gap on one side, and shift it onto the lip of the opening. With her hands, she yanks and pulls again and again, sliding it onto the street surface until the manhole opening is clear.
Agent Strong surfaces and scans her surroundings: an abandoned street in the middle of central DC. Cars line the street sides, some parked, but many appear plowed off the street by a massive tractor or huge truck with the power to push objects out of its way with little effort. Agent Strong stands and readies her shotgun, scanning for trouble while assessing the environment. Mr. Nix surfaces. He holds his shotgun more casually, as if not expecting an immediate confrontation.
The white stone DC buildings, the signature style of the city, are barricaded and locked, from one end of the street to the other. Crowd control barriers out front, positioned to keep hordes of people at bay, now protect the buildings from the empty street. A faint banging pierces the distant rumbling.
"Secret Service Headquarters is a half mile that way. Committee Headquarters is deep underneath," points Mr. Nix.
"We were almost there through the tunnel."
"Yeah. Which is why I'm concerned. The Committee must realize Greys are patrolling there."
"Which street do we take?"
"Follow me. Let's get off the street onto the sidewalk. A little more cover between the cars and buildings in case we need it."
"Should I keep my shotgun up and fire-ready?"
"You can, but don't shoot. Unlike the other cities we passed, more people are hidden here than meets the eye. Bunkered in and well-armed. Waiting for orders, or an order of law to appear. Hiding in safe houses with food and protection. We don't want to fire off any shots that might bring attention. Anyone still here will be protecting someone important and secure the vicinity of dangers."
"Protecting who?"
"Who knows? Anyone important who wasn't assigned to a doomsday bunker. An ambassador from Iran, for example, holed up with guards in an embassy or in any of these buildings. If they hear shooting, their guards might come out and stop it, just to quell a potential danger to their emissary. Their actions inevitably futile since they will never get home and protecting an ambassador means nothing now that countries are irrelevant. But in times of disaster and panic, people resort to training. And if you were trained to give your life to protect someone, that may be the only thing that makes sense at this moment."
As they walk the street, taking a left onto another, they pass by a building where a man in a dirty and disheveled suit beats on a building's shatterproof glass door with a rope stand taken from a row of them outside the building entrance. As they try to move past unnoticed, the man spots Mr. Nix and Agent Strong. With eyes red and face flushed, the man has a rabid look, not infected but mentally broken. He approaches Mr. Nix and Agent Strong with an angry aggressive gaze on his face and the rope stand in his grip.
Nix readies his shotgun. Agent Strong does the same.
"Stop. Go back!" commands Mr. Nix.
The man continues to approach as if he doesn't hear.
"Stop or I will shoot," repeats Mr. Nix.
The man stops. He looks at the two, then the building, then the two.
"I must get in that building. You must help me. I'm representative Smithfield from Minnesota. I require you to aid me. You must get me in there. I order you! You follow me now."
"We cannot help you."
"You will help me! I am an official representative. I am in charge, not you. You know who I am! Don't lie, I can see it."
"We cannot help you."
"I am an elected representative of the Federal Government, an outstanding member of this government and our democratic society. Enemies surround us, and I am in need of assistance to which I order you to aid me."
"We cannot help you."
"You dare to refuse my..."
The furious man moves closer aggressively. Mr. Nix raises his shotgun to aim at eye level.
"I am a Secret Service Agent on duty for the President of the United States. I cannot help you," affirms Mr. Nix.
The man stops.
"The President? Where is he? I must speak to him! I must..."
"That is classified. I cannot help you. Please back off so I may resume my duty."
Reluctantly, the man backs off and returns to the door he can't open. After taking one last look back at Mr. Nix and Agent Strong, the man resumes bashing at the bulletproof glass on the door, making no more progress than before.
Mr. Nix and Agent Strong continue on their way. When out of earshot of the raging man, Strong asks Nix a question.
"That guy, was he really a member of the House of Representatives?"
"Maybe. Senators and above are who the government protects. A House leader or one that sits on an important committee might be lucky enough to get pulled into a bunker, but the rest of them, they are equivalent to sergeants in the ranks of government."
"I can't believe a government official is crazy like that."
"This is a city filled with government employees who believe they are important, the top of the pyramid representing a mass of people somewhere. When emergencies strike, and in this case, government falls, they realize no one is listening to them, and those they represent don't protect them. With no one to hear them or give orders to, the neurosis and psychosis that drove them to public approval and power has no outlet. People think a big part of Secret Service is protecting politicians from dangers, but most of it is protecting politicians from themselves and each other. Of course, being out here acting crazy won't keep that man alive long."
A heavy diesel vehicle engine is heard nearing. Mr. Nix grabs Strong's shoulder and pulls her behind a car, making the silence sign with his finger over his lips. Crossing perpendicular to their position at the intersection ahead, a band of thirty soldiers in black heavy combat gear walk surrounding a heavy armor assault vehicle with a gunman manning a turret on top. The squad of men cross through the intersection, looking in every direction. A soldier in front makes a stop signal with his fist in the air, and the soldiers and vehicle stop. A soldier on the vehicle turret raises binoculars and sees the crazy man bashing on the door.
The soldier atop the vehicle talks into a mic, his voice echoing over a loud speaker, "You, at the door, will cease and desist that action and disperse. Martial law has been enacted. Withdraw immediately."
The crazy man stops and looks, then screams at the top of his lungs, "Who do you think you are talking to? I am an official member of the House of Representatives and you will respect and assist me right now! Come here and help me! I order you!"
"You will cease and desist that action and disperse," repeats the voice over the speaker.
"I will do no such thing! This is a free county which I represent..."
A shot rings out from where the soldier's stand. The crazy man falls silent, dropping to the ground, his blood spatter splashed on the door he was banging against. The soldiers in the front calls 'move out', and the unit and their vehicle continue through the intersection and disappear.
"Who was that? They just killed that man."
"Black Ops. They are securing the city."
"Why are they doing it?"
"Establishing order. And they will engage any human or non-human who oppose them. I said in the tunnel, we cannot know who will help us or harm us, so best we keep alert and to ourselves
. We will not find an ally we can trust until we get to the Committee Headquarters."
"You are you familiar with these Black Ops?"
"They are the most deadly and secret military division. The Pentagon has worked with Black Ops. The Committee has allied with Black Ops, and at the same time fought against them. There are a few self-guided remote divisions of Black Ops who have even helped the Greys. They are the most dependable, most dangerous, and the most rogue of the military factions. For good and bad, they are also the most important."
"What are they? Mercenaries for hire?"
"No. They are elite idealists. The problem is you never know where their ideals lie, and that varies with Black Op squads and commanders. Some fight the Greys if they believe that will best protect humanity in the long run; others will side with the Greys if they believe that will ensure humanity's future. Black Ops will die for one president, while trying to kill another president. They will do whatever they believe is best for humanity and America regardless of nation, government or religion. It's what makes them great, necessary, and dangerous."
Out of hiding, Mr. Nix and Agent Strong continue on their way along the street toward the Secret Service headquarters.
"God, DC is a crazy place. I use to think of it as an old museum town where a bunch of stodgy white-haired conservatives and radical young liberals argue with each other. But it's a philosophical free-for-all with assault weapons. How did Washington even function?"
"Under the eyes of the world, that's how. When the world is watching this place, it keeps everything in check, in order. They behave how they think they are supposed to, knowing that every action is under scrutiny. But when the eyes of the world can't see, or when things that go on here are hidden from view, this place operates on its own accord. People here then do what they think and feel, regardless of what is right or wrong. Americans believed that if a national disaster like this occurs, no matter what is happening around the US, DC will maintain its civility, its leadership, its sense of justice and order. In fact, this is the first place that loses it. DC is a delicate ecosystem where any imbalance causes feeding frenzies for dominance and domain."
As they continue, distant gunshots and explosions ring out, ending in silence. Turning onto a different street, Mr. Nix points, "There. That old building way over there. That is our destination."
Block of History
Chapter 46
Turbine Room, The Barge.
Dr. Black and Captain Nemolopolus stand outside the Turbine room, away from the door opening. They look around, but not at anything in particular, waiting, while engineering crew move around in their gray uniforms monitoring gauges and inspecting valve connections.
"(click) Zyros obe'ison gammahit ha baru shi'un," telepathizes into their heads.
Captain Nemolopolus interrupts the stale moment, "Walter is very busy trying to finish the modifications to the dimensional clamp."
"Are you saying he will not show?" inquires Dr. Black.
"He'll show. But if he is taking care of a problem, he won't be here until he gets a free moment. We both realize how important his project is."
"Ma haga te affa polu'iosos Ma'ehhehi (click-click)," telepathizes into their heads.
"Then we'll wait. Unless you need to be somewhere else."
"I always could do something else, but Ying has been of great concern to me ever since he became sick. Why don't we enter to be with Ying?" insists Captain Nemolopolus.
"Soh metrah soh (click-click) ehna'oth si retho'eh," telepathizes into their heads.
"I want us to check up on Ying together. Find out what Ying has on his mind together...I thought the dampener Ying made also blocked his telepathy?" asks Dr. Black.
"It does, but if we stand outside the open door of the room with the dampener, you can pick it up. We can move if it bothers you."
"No, that's ok. Who's he talking to?"
"He's just one of those people that sometimes reads out loud when deep in thought, or in his case, telepathizes out loud. I'm surprised you let him return to work so soon after the procedure. It only took place hours ago."
"He didn't ask, didn't tell, just came here as if there was unfinished business. It's my position to care for him, not stop him. And the best way to see the positive and negative outcomes of the procedure is watch him do his thing. I am concerned he went straight for this room and hasn't left since he entered. Either Ying believes information on the Zeus Box is crucial to your plans, or that strange cube is affecting him, changing him, in a way dangerous to us, with information he won't share."
"Are you saying we saved Ying's life so he can work against us? I can't believe that. He is family. He won't betray us," affirms the captain.
"I hope not. But whatever he is now isn't the same Ying as when he was human. He is something else in both mind and body. His brain has genetically evolved where he can interact and understand Grey technology. If he becomes more Grey than human, he may move against us. I don't believe he will, or hope he doesn't, but we can't be ignorant and ignore the possibility."
"I will not consider that, so let us not discuss it. In your medical opinion, is he cured?"
"He's healed, not cured. His body still reacts to..."
Walter arrives and interrupts, "My apologies for my delay. We were having trouble with the external power hookup to the ship's systems. When we turned on the large exterior clamp rift, it created a power drain that caused the rift to not form and sucked power from bridge control. Instead we had to reroute the circuitry, so it drew its energy from the nuclear reactor that Evascott moved to backup power when you hooked up the Zeus Box. The nuclear reactor on reserve has more than enough power to open the rift without affecting the engines."
"Evascott and you inferred the Zeus Box could supply enough power to run everything," states Captain Nemolopolus curiously.
"It can. But the ship's wiring network can't. The Barge has current and amp limits in the lines. We had to run new lines from the backup directly to the rift. Are we here to check up on Ying?"
"Rah re'ah ma'oveh tihtoh sere'etafano," telepathizes into their heads.
"It that Ying?" asks Walter.
"Yes, he's telepathizing while he...it doesn't matter," says Dr. Black too impatient to explain. "We are here to see how the procedure has affected Ying, and how he is feeling."
"Let's get to it," says Walter enthusiastically.
The three of them enter the smaller turbine room. First thing they see is the Zeus Box, connected to the turbine network, and wired to a string of computers and monitors on whose screens spool Grey language. Ying sits next to the computers on the floor, with one hand on a keyboard that rests on his lap, and the other hand connected to a large virtual reality glove. Hovering in front of him is a three-dimensional hologram of a cuboid framework with thousands of lines creating a grid within the cube. As Ying moves his hand with the glove, lines and intersection points on the grid flash and change colors.
Dr. Black calls to Ying, "Ying? Ying, may we interrupt?"
"Aparath am metrah soh om'meh na'oth si rethnos (click-click) pu'ateh..."
Captain Nemolopolus grabs Ying's shoulder, "Ying!"
The voice telepathized into their head stops as Ying looks at them. They hear the voice in their heads again. "Yes, Captain."
"Ying, I'm glad you are better. But you need to control your telepathic communication. It freaks out the crew, and me, to hear you in our heads and not from your mouth. I need them, and you, to remember you are still human at heart and one of my men. So please talk to us using your voice, your mouth, ok?"
Ying speaks. His voice sounds very different from what they heard in his head. Raspy and crackling with mucus, though the base of the sound resembles a human voice, but contains a sharp double harmonic that creates an acoustic illusion of a voice behind his voice.
"Yes, Captain. I will remember."
"Thank you, Ying," appreciates Captain Nemolopolus.
"Ying, why was I hearing a strange l
anguage when you were telepathizing? I thought telepathy was visual and information-based, and not language-based," puzzles Dr. Black.
"It is. You are not hearing Grey language; you are seeing my phonetic interpretation of it. Their language is so vast, I'm still learning it. It helps me remember and understand it if I visualize the sounds, their phrasing and inflection. You were seeing what I was thinking, which was the phonetic and not the words or meanings," explains Ying.
"Fascinating. Your brain is working fine. How are you feeling? You didn't need to return to work. You are allowed to recover," says Dr. Black in a motherly tone.
"Yes, I know. I'm still feeling an anaphylactic reaction, the inside and outside of my skin is slightly itchy, but nothing like when my skin and insides were swelling and tearing apart. Dr. Black, I appreciate you wanting me to rest, but I cannot lie still another minute while my mind races over everything I am learning."
Dr. Black speaks gently, "Ying, first I want to perform a test. It will hurt. But I need to see your ability to react and recover from a local application of extreme exposure to the allergen and observe your anaphylactic reaction. We need to be sure if we reincorporate you into the crew and allow you to move around the ship or off the ship, your body will handle exposure to petroleum, and to a lesser degree, the ginkgo you were dosing yourself."
"It doesn't sound pleasurable, but if you deem it necessary, Doctor," agrees Ying.
Nexus of Time Page 39
