Prophecy

by Paula Bradley

  “Sadly, the Min’yel’os can no longer touch their own animation and have become isolated from those They rule. Gone is Their joy of awareness and the creativity born to those who need to fulfill a destiny before they are one with the cosmos. They rule as master to slave—we are no more than tools in Their crazed empirical expansion.

  “They need have domination over Anorasians, we being the only potential species to threaten Their rule and usurp power. And so our existence is controlled through the biologically-engineered production of Eocene dicit’ledoni. The lives of those that best serve are extended; those judged nonproductive or no longer useful are eliminated.”

  In a voice strained and harsh, the Shel’Zib continued. “Dicit is introduced into the extracted DNA of each Anorasian at birth. This recorded amalgam is then stored. Four hundred years latterly—approximately one hundred years prior to natural extinction —we first receive the introduction of this adulterant ... our own DNA structurally altered by dicit.

  “This mutant dicit does not reproduce; therefore it does not require a host. When the like components of thedicit’s DNA matches to the Anorasian DNA, those specific cells will regenerate.”

  He was silent for several moments. Then gaining control over his overwhelming sadness, he said, “The introduction first increases the life span some fifteen years hundred; the next, approximately thirteen hundred. Each progressive introduction is of a lesser span, until the cells can no longer be regenerated. If the Min’yel’os have need this particular being, its intellect and character is transferred to a replica.

  “Understand: if the amalgam is withheld, a slow and painful death ensues.

  “Essentially logical They say, to keep population growth at pace with such increased life span. But the method impedes racial development!”

  Hesad gazed off into the distance, his eyes weary, his fists locked together, his voice soft and sad.

  “We do not delude ourselves as to the real objective: the evolution of the Anorasian race has been brought nearly to cessation in order to hinder our psychic evolution.”

  He stopped. Weariness and despair etched deep crevices in his face and brow. The two scientists behind Mariah were in emotional pain as well, but there was nothing she could do to alleviate it. Mariah could feel Gabriel Winters’ mind racing as he tried to digest this nearly incomprehensible information.

  Shaking his head as if waking from a trance, Hesad continued in a voice filled with tears. “They ordered geneticists to devise a hormone seminal disrupter which is administered to males each time they receive their Eocene dicit’ledoni. They deduced that since the compound would automatically regenerate seminal hormone cells up to twelve hours after the introduction, the disrupter need be designed to lie dormant in the blood for thirteen hours, whereupon it is triggered to engage. However, when a member of our race is eliminated, one male chosen by the Synadracus is not given the disrupter ... and is bred with a female also of Their choosing.

  Chapter 66

  “All worlds of the Empire were scanned to ascertain if dicit did germinate elsewhere other than Izorach. No other evidence has been found. The Min’yel’os rational that the entire planet —nay, theentire Zubeln star system —needs ... be destroyed... in order to eliminate this naturally growing compound.” Hesad hung his head, his grief palpable even though he was only a holographic image. His shoulders sagged with the problems of this world.

  Then his head shot up and his words became hurried as if he knew he had only a short time to impart all that was necessary.

  “To disguise this genocide, the Min’yel’os quicken rumors of insurgence on several star systems throughout the Empire. To legitimize the fabrication and quell uprisings, annihilation of bogus ‘seditious strongholds' will commence. The eradication will have a two-fold advantage; first, destroy the only natural source of Eocene dicit’ledoni; and second, communicate to all the fate of those who would foment rebellion.”

  His face became wreathed in a triumphant smile. It was like a ray of light had pierced the dark. “They are clever, but They know not that Izorachian geneticists sent dicit and quercus trees to Touranim over one hundred years ago to determine if the tree would root and if the moss would flourish in our Efrikis. No mention of this experiment was sent to the Synadracus; by the Law of Discovery, it was not necessary until there be a discovery.

  “How we do know of this genocide? The Bielin, the council of high Priests, accidentally intercepted and decrypted a code that affirmed Touranim will join Izorach in this, the Min’yel’os’ greatest perfidy.”

  The knowledge of his world’s extinction caused his face to twist in anguish. Without her realizing it, tears slid silently down Mariah’s face.

  Hesad’s voice became strong and forceful. “The dicit must persevere. Through research, we determine it is not native to Izorach. Whence came it? Instinct tells me the answer lies in our genetic forefathers, whoever they be.”

  Straightening to his full height, Hesad was a compelling figure. With his eyes uncannily locked onto Mariah’s once again, he concluded, “You are the Man’asorai, the Rectifier, the foretold Chosen One by the Great and Glorious Shen’dalah. You must stop the destruction of our species if we have not already been eradicated. You must destroy the Min’yel’os.

  “It is in your hands alone. May the Eternal One guide and protect you in this your greatest quest.”

  #

  In a heartbeat, the four were back in the basement of the CIA headquarters. Winters found himself staring into Al-Ibrahim’s anxious eyes. He blinked several times and the Saudi heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Where in the name of Allah has your mind been for the last five minutes, my friend?” he said, his tone gruff with worry. Winters watched Mariah who was standing in front of the darkened PDSU, her arms folded tightly across her chest as if to hold herself together and contain her emotions. Softly he said, “Until I make sense out of what just happened and get some answers, I can’t even begin to talk about it coherently.”

  Mariah turned toward him, an unreadable look on her face. Then she smiled, a thin version of her usual grin and said, “You’re going to have quite a story to tell the world, Agent Winters.”

  “Me? I don’t think so.” He scowled and her grin widened. “You’re the media darling, not me. Besides I think the agency would frown on an agent getting this kind of publicity.

  “And who the hell is going to believe me? I hardly believe it myself and I was there. They’ll think I’ve gone insane.”

  Her eyes now gleamed mischievously. “The picture of you in a padded cell hugging yourself in a straitjacket delights me, but you’re right: no one will believe you. I’m going to need Thomas here immediately to tape what I have to say before I leave. You heard the ... man.” Winters caught the slight hesitation. Even though Hesad referred to himself as Anorasian, he looked more human than the two scientists who were watching the interchange between him and Mariah with great interest.

  His eyes widened as a thought bloomed in his brain. “Wait just a minute. You’re not seriously thinking of taking on the Min’yel’os single-handedly, are you? For crying out loud, Mariah, are you crazy? And for what? They’re not planning to destroy any more planets; they got what they wanted sixty-five million years ago. I’m sorry if the Anorasian race has an evolutionary problem, but it’s not your business.

  “Besides, if you get in their face, they just might decide to take out Earth once and for all. Do you want to call attention to us and let them finish what they started?”

  “Do you think for one minute that I want to do this?” Mariah’s words were ground between clenched teeth. “Believe me, I’m no hero. And I would never sacrifice Earth to rectify an alien problem.” Both were oblivious to the bewildered and frightened CIA agents who had subconsciously formed a circle around them.

  She calmed down instantly. “Gabriel, you’re unaware of two things that happened during our visit with
Hesad. I received psychic flashes, an SOS on steroids. My mind filled with waves of terror and pain, mixed with pleas for help, all jumbled together with numbers and symbols that don’t mean anything to me. And woven under and over the message was a thread of such monstrous atrocity that I might have gone mad with fear except it lasted no more than a couple of seconds.

  “And this message came to me twice. Exactly the same way.”

  She turned to look at Aleris and Sateron. “I gather by your expression that neither of you felt it. Doesn’t surprise me.”

  Mariah looked into Aleris’ eyes. It seemed like a psychic flare passed between them. “I don’t understand why, but I just sense this SOS ties Hakilam together with Izorach and Earth: three planets in three different star system, millions of light years from each other.” She paused and her expression brightened considerably.

  “The second thing that happened was an incoming message, faint but understandable.” Mariah continued to stare at the two aliens. “Do either of you know someone by the name of ‘Galaxaril’?”

  Sateron’s eyes widened and his head jerked back like he’d been punched. The dismay staining Aleris’ face was a mirror image of her colleague’s.

  “He is the Minister of Finance, the highest ranking member of the Synadracus,” she said, nearly whispering in fear. Filling her lungs, her voice became stronger, more her own. “Because of his exalted position, he is in constant attendance to the Min’yel’os and is the one who executes Their instructions.” Her composure completely regained, she said evenly, “Next to Them, he is the most vilified being in the Empire.”

  A smile of genuine delight lit Mariah’s face, the first time since finding the PDSU. “Then you’ll be pleased to learn that he’s not the beast you think he is. Even though he was unable to give me any details, he’s going to help us destroy the Min’yel’os.”

  Chapter 67

  Sweat beaded his forehead and rolled down his cheeks, sliding into the red neck braid of his tunic and staining it the color of blood. His heart fluttered erratically at this unprecedented assault on his mental faculties.

  Ton So’Galaxaril had been sure he could not link with the Man’asorai currently inside a Permanent Data Storage Unit of some vast antiquity. He was barely able to ascertain that she maintained a lock on the device while holding open the portal for the two Anorasian geneticists and the human male.

  His need to communicate was immediate and necessary. I am not strong enough to capture her attention over such a vast distance. Is it possible she is powerful enough to concentrate psychic energy on the holograph plus attend me? His mental and physical energies began to waver, flickering like a fluorescent light bulb about to extinguish. He finally concluded that not only could he not communicate at such a vast distance, but that no being, even at her level, could concentrate their psychic energy on multiple levels to such a degree.

  Just when he feared he must desist or lose brain function, he felt his consciousness seized. If it had been a physical act, he would have found himself no more than an inch from her face, a fistful of his tunic knotted in her hand. An exasperated voice filled his head, the sweeter for being so clear and strong.

  WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?

  Galaxaril nearly wept with relief and almost lost the connection in his excitement. Severely weakened, all he had was the ability to send a few words.

  With that, his psychic energy was completely spent. Had she not let their connection terminate, parts of his exhausted brain would have been irreparably damaged. Praise be to the Great and Glorious that she had heard him. If not, all would have been lost.

  He lurched to his feet, his knees nearly buckling from exhaustion. With trembling fingers, he ripped off his soiled garments. He should have worn a self-regulating garment to maintain his body temperature, but he had not the time to change after leaving the Min’yel’os’ presence. Quickly dragging on clean attire, Galaxaril then galloned water to replace what he had lost.

  Precious time had elapsed. He must immediately inform the Shekron Military Prime of their mission.

  The velvet drapes were open, admitting unaccustomed light to this usually somber conference room. The entire CIA staff in charge of “Operation: Maximum Magician” was present; however, this time they had visitors.

  The Director of the CIA had been speechless when introduced to Sateron and Aleris. For a brief moment, he even entertained the idea that this was some elaborate hoax and he was in the presence of extremely tall actors in full alien makeup.

  His initial shock changed, however, to thinly veiled excitement. Secretly, he wondered if anyone beside himself felt like they were making a movie and any second the director would yell: “Cut!”

  The President was immediately notified. To his annoyance, he was not allowed to physically attend this history-making gathering (presumably in case one of the Anorasians turned rogue) but was instead patched into the meeting via an encrypted satellite feed. Sateron was particularly saddened by this, as he was most anxious to meet the human who ran this vast empire.

  When told there would be no face-to-face encounter with the President, he turned to stare at Gabriel Winters. With an ill-concealed gleam of mischief in his eyes, he said quietly, “I see I will not be taken to your leader.” Mariah was the only one besides Winters who heard this quip; he glared at her as she nearly choked on her food.

  The Pentagon and the National Security Agency had, of course, also been notified. Naturally, the Joint Chiefs had their forces scanning the heavens in search of the soon-to-be invading alien forces. Ever suspicious, they surrounded the CIA building and anything else they assumed an alien would want to destroy.

  Everyone’s attention was intermittently focused on Mariah as she steadily consumed enough food to make several grown men sick. She completely ignored the conversation around her as she filled what appeared to be a canyon in her body.

  Chapter 68

  Once again, the Chief was in Mariah’s presence. However, this encounter was nothing like the first time when they viewed the Sophie Duval Finding.

  Her physical appearance was drastic enough for him to think of her as another species. Trying not to feel like a fan meeting a movie star, he said crisply, “Can we get you anything else, Ms. Carpenter? And for your ... associates?” He had quickly bit back the word relatives before making an ass of himself.

  Mariah glanced up at him and blinked as though finally remembering there were others in the room. With a contented sigh, she put her utensils down, treating him to one of her brilliant smiles. Although it was meant to reassure and forgive him for his near blunder, it made him slide his hands to the edge of the table, prepared to push away from her if need be. Her slightly pointed teeth and gleaming amber-colored eyes were even more disconcerting when she smiled. Instead of being reassured, it made him ill at ease.

  She pushed her dish aside and glanced at Winters who just shrugged as if to say, “It’s your show.”

  “Thanks for the food, sir. I’m always famished after expending a lot of psychic energy. But you already know that.” She winked at him, slowly and deliberately. It had the desired effect; the Chief visibly relaxed and returned her smile.

  “Agent Winters was concerned that I’d bring the wrath of the Min’yel’os down on Earth by calling attention to myself. Unfortunately, they already know about me.” She remembered the faint words sent by the Minister of Finance: “Galaxaril ... assist ... Min’yel’os ... destroy...”

  Ton Re’Sateron abruptly stood and strode to the windows. His balled fists pressed firmly against each other caused the muscles across his back to ripple under his form-fitting garment. Winters was thankful the Anorasian had not assumed that particular pose when he first appeared.

  In the silence, everyone heard Sateron growling softly. Abruptly he pivoted as gracefully as a ballet dancer, staring at Mariah with narrowed eyes. “What causes you to assume that the Minister of Finance is prepared to
assist us? Those words you heard could be interpreted in quite a different manner.”

  “Fair enough,” Mariah said. “You have a history with this guy and I don’t.” Mariah joined him at the window. The late afternoon sun shining through the plate glass window accentuated Sateron’s alien-ness. It also highlighted the genetic similarities between Mariah and him.

  She looked up into his eyes and smiled gently. “Remember the coded thread Deutriion found in Maka’rius’ tunic? Remember how you agreed it must’ve been put there by a high level government person? Remember it said he’d be willing to help when the need arose? Even with your exceptional spies, you haven’t been able to figure out who this person is. Why not the Minister of Finance? And why would he try to communicate with me if he wanted to kill me? For the reception the Min’yel’os has planned for me, I wouldn’t need to know Ton So’Galaxaril even exists.

  “And don’t forget, you didn’t feel his panic as he tried to get my attention.”

  Neither Sateron nor Aleris questioned how Mariah knew about the death of Maka’rius or the coded thread in his tunic. Since she had achieved a psychic level far beyond that which any single Anorasian had ever attained except the Min’yel’os, they automatically assumed she assimilated their memories during the Joining.

  “What a perfect place for an infiltrator.” Mariah rubbed her hands together. “Right under their nose. I don’t know why they haven’t discovered his subversive activities when they’ve probed his mind, but they haven’t. And he’s eager to help us. Trust me on this, Sateron.”

  He considered her words with a thoughtful look on his face ... and then he nodded. Reluctantly, he would believe in her. She alone had received Galaxaril’s message and Sateron had no qualms about acceding to her greater power.