“I am the only one seeing clearly,” Victoria retorted.
“Father!” Svetlana near crashed through the sliding doors to the private abode, Ribka following close behind.
The Doyen’s heart slowed, his confident resolve returning. Svetlana had come, as he knew she would. His faith in her was well placed. She and the Phalanx would protect him. He waited another beat for the doors to once again slide open and for his children to pour through the gap to his aid. But the doors remained closed. No cavalry stormed them.
“Svetlana, you came... alone?” he said.
The young woman stepped in front of Victoria, her back very slightly turned to him, to form a human shield. Svetlana spoke without turning, her gaze presumably fixed on her Mother and Nyalku. “She means to overthrow you, to take over. She has something planned. I know it.”
Ribka warbled, angrily.
Victoria just gave a horrible, sarcastic laugh. “Child, as always you are ten steps behind and only half right.”
“Your Mother wants to kill us all,” the Doyen said dryly. “A nuclear winter amplified beyond all measure by the coming of Apophis. She wishes to bastardize God’s great plan. But she forgets her place, and my understanding of the universe.”
Svetlana wheeled, her shapely eyes afire. “You can’t let her do this. You must stop Apophis and the power stations. Without it, she can’t do anything. There must be another way to reset the world, a peaceful way.”
Another way? There was no other way. He had spent decades forging this great plan. Timing it perfectly. He shook his head. “The Great Syzygy is at hand. We have helped tip the hand of God. The worthy will inherit the Earth... as long as we prevent her from making it uninhabitable for millennia.”
“Me?” Victoria snarled. “God’s hand? You are not worthy to even think of Him. It all ends, now.”
His daughter’s gaze snapped from him to Victoria and back again. “You’re both going to ruin everything.”
“The Phalanx will remain,” the Doyen said.
Victoria laughed again; a smug, knowing snicker. “We are not bickering parents, girl. This is not a divorce. There is no happy ending. Even for the Phalanx.”
The Doyen glanced at Nyalku, the boy’s eyes glassy with fear. “You will kill your own children?”
That barb seemed to dig deep, Victoria’s contemptuous expression breaking for just a moment. “I have no children,” she hissed. “The government made sure of that. This... form... is incapable of bearing children. And these... ingrates?” she motioned to Svetlana and Nyalku. “They’ll serve me to fulfill the destruction of the world. And when they’re done, I’ll destroy them, too.”
Svetlana rubbed at the tattoo just behind her ear.
The Doyen’s stomach knotted. She’d planned it, down to the minutest of details. He pressed his fists, knuckles down, on the table and cocked his head defiantly. “You may have branded my children, but I have no such tattoo.”
“True,” Victoria replied, then pulled a Glock from a holster on the back of her belt.
The hammer slammed down, and a resounding crack echoed around the room. Neith yelped and crashed into the floor, blood oozing from an open wound in her chest. The Huahuqui laid there, bleeding out, her breathing shallow.
Anguish surged into the Doyen’s own chest, his link with Neith transferring the white-hot pain into his flesh as if he too had been gunned down. He collapsed to the floor, clutching at the phantom wound and clawed his way toward his fallen companion. “Neith ...” the Doyen called.
Svetlana screamed and launched at Victoria. Following his symbiote’s lead, Ribka slammed into Nyalku sending the young man sprawling.
The Doyen held on to Neith, hands clamped down on the gushing wound, and watched through tear-filled eyes as Svetlana pummeled Victoria. Punch after punch landed squarely across Victoria’s face. A roundhouse kick to her ribs doubled the woman over and was followed by a spinning back elbow that connected with her temple. The Glock clattered to the floor and Victoria crashed into the wall, her arms raised to her face. Svetlana gave no quarter, grabbing Victoria behind the neck to gain purchase for a series of brutal knee strikes. The crunch of ribs breaking was horribly audible. Victoria was a mentally powerful woman, but physically was no match for Svetlana’s youth, speed, or training. Deep in his heart, though he knew to be wrong and against his supposed enlightenment through the Nine Veils, the Doyen enjoyed Victoria’s pounding. And, if he were really honest with himself, he hoped for everyone’s sake that she died.
Another gunshot rang out.
The Doyen’s attention snapped to Nyalku, the smoking Glock raised high in his hand. He slowly leveled it at Ribka who was now lying on the floor, breathing labored, blood trickling from his nose. Svetlana ceased her onslaught and was now fixated on her Phalanx brother. Nyalku shook. Whether it was fear or anger or frustration, the Doyen could not tell. But, there was surely madness behind those eyes. Whoever Nyalku had once been, he was no longer that person.
“Don’t,” was all that Svetlana could manage.
Victoria grunted defiantly and forced herself up, using the wall as a brace. “Kill it,” she hissed through bloodied lips.
“Don’t,” Svetlana said again. “You don’t want to do this, Nyalku.”
“She’s right child,” the Doyen agreed, though his words were lost to wheezing. “She has gone mad. Only the coming of Apophis, as it was mea—”
“Oh, fuck your Apophis!” Svetlana screamed. “Nyalku, we are Phalanx. We are family. Maybe it’s time we stopped listening to them and what they want for us. Maybe we need to call the shots. If we are the future, then don’t we get a say in it?”
Nyalku didn’t move, his gun arm quivering, sweat beading on his brow. “A say? I don’t have anything to say. I just want my Phalanx. My family. That’s all that matters.”
“Right,” Svetlana said, nodding gently and easing her way toward Nyalku. “Family. You don’t want to kill Ribka or me.”
“Damn it,” Victoria snapped, “just do it, boy.”
Nyalku turned his worried gaze to his Mother, who had now righted herself. The visible bruising already beginning to yellow and heal. “Can... can there be another way?”
“No,” she replied without hesitation. “The time is now. Everyone dies.”
“But,” Nyalku stammered. “If we kill Svetlana now, control over the Phalanx will be lost. She’s too important to them. With the other prisoners escaped, we’ll need help. They’ll try and stop you. You must complete the plan, personally. You know this.”
“Maybe no-one has to die,” Svetlana offered, gaining another few inches toward her Phalanx brother. “Maybe the coming of the Sixth Sun isn’t a physical event. Maybe its’s just another way of thinking. Maybe it’s us... and the Stratum.”
A small smile broke across the Doyen’s lips. The coming of Apophis was necessary, but Svetlana’s wisdom had come to fruition just as he had planned. The joining of the Phalanx and the Stratum to rule a new world. The moment of pride was brief, and his smile slipped away as Victoria’s hand, holding a syringe, slipped around Svetlana’s throat. He opened his mouth to warn her, but the needle had already pierced her skin and the liquid inside emptied into his daughter’s jugular. He reached for her with feeble, blood-covered fingers.
Svetlana crumpled to the floor, clasping at the puncture wound. A short series of spasms, legs and arms awkwardly flailing, and then she became stiff and unmoving.
Victoria stepped over Svetlana’s body and snatched the Glock from Nyalku. “Perhaps you are right. We may need her, for now. But we don’t need him.”
The Doyen stared up, focusing on the black hole bored into the Glock’s barrel. Behind it, the unearthly light of the orb on his desk cast ghastly shadows across his former protégé’s unfocused features. This was not how it was supposed to be. Surely, not what the universe had planned all along? His demise and the fall of the Nine Veils? A flash from the muzzle ended his train of thought, and his life.
/> Location: TAO Command Center, Texas, USA
Lucy sat, fidgeting, in TAO command center, waiting for Jim Waltham to return. While she had been advised to go to a safe location, Lucy had used her Presidential power to unilaterally overrule such suggestions. She was originally on the list to be saved by Project Swiss Mountain, but Lucy had overruled that too. In fact, she’d mandated that as few politicians as possible—who would only continue to fight age-old partisan lines—would be included in the primary list. Scientists, artists, creators, farmers, plumbers, technicians... those who could literally rebuild the world were the priority.
The door hissed open and Jim bowled in, a tablet in hand and a gaggle of his agents at his side.
For the first time, Jim looked his sixty years of age. Normally he was an organized and calm man, who had lived through more wars and crises than Lucy dared try to fathom and considered by his colleagues to be the smartest and most shrewd officer in the military. However, today Jim was a mess; his inability to control the situation had stripped away his confidence and the people’s confidence in the government. From the assassinations to the power stations being taken over, to the biomes locking down and project Rubicon falling under the control of the Nine Veils, the NSA’s credibility had crumbled. They had failed to detect what was clearly two decades of planning and subterfuge that had now culminated in the very real possibility that an asteroid would, at some unknown time in the near future, smash into Earth and wipe out the majority of life.
“How are we doing, Jim?” she asked.
Waltham sat down at the desk. His team also took chairs next to him, setting up their laptops. “The info you got from your contact at Alpha Base, on the Jiahu symbols, paid off. At least partially. They are being used as a cypher. But not the same one each time. Since they are not a true writing system, the symbols themselves can be attributed to almost anything to use as a key. From what we can figure out, they used different cyphers for the power stations, Project Swiss Mountain and project Rubicon... and ...”
“And what?”
The Admiral looked up, his eyes wide. “We might be able to get the power stations back. Maybe. But ...”
“But?”
“If the stations are to blow if and when the asteroid hits, then... then it’s being done manually. From what we can see, there is no timer in the code. No count down.”
“Manually? How would that even work?”
Waltham took a breath. “We lost something else.”
Lucy’s skin crawled, and a horrible electrical pulse worked its way up her spine. “What are you talking about, Jim?”
There was another plan in place, to defend against the Nine Veils should we ever need it. It was classified Ultra Top Secret. That branch of the military... only just owned up to losing it. They thought they could get it back.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Jim, get what back?” Lucy near screamed, causing the whole room to fall still save the hum of cooling fans.
“Zeus,” he said almost meekly.
Lucy rubbed at her temples in frustration, the migraine in her head growing with every passing minute. “Zeus. What the hell is Zeus?”
The admiral cleared his throat. “NATO agreed to side step the Outer Space Treaty that prevented us from creating space to earth weapons. Zeus is a kinetic bombardment system—it launches inert projectiles that cause vast damage to targets purely through the speed and mass of the object. The fallout and collateral damage is normally minimal, since there is no warhead.”
“Usually,” Lucy repeated, her gaze fixed on his.
“If Zeus was used to target nuclear power stations ...”
“Fuck me,” Lucy said, forgetting all presidential decorum.
“Zeus wouldn’t be on a timer. It would be manually controlled. Someone has the trigger.”
“But you have the hack code, right? You can get Zeus back?”
The admiral’s already pale complexion drained into a sickly green. “It’s not the same. At all.”
Lucy slumped into her chair, stomach roiling and her mind awash. The Nine Veils had thought of everything. Planned it down to the last detail. They had to be found. The orb and temple in Antarctica may be the only way. Freya was perhaps their very last hope. At least for the threat of nuclear winter. But the asteroid... “Apophis,” Lucy said, without breaking her stare into space, then snapped her attention to Waltham. “Have you found Apophis? And with the code you do have, can you deflect it?”
Jim rubbed his face. “We have the European and Indian Space agencies helping on it. We’re searching the skies, but we’re using data well over seven years old on last known co-ordinates and we have to point the telescopes on the ground and in orbit at a given sector. It takes time, and patience.”
“I have neither right now, Jim.”
The old man sighed. “I know.”
“Find it, Jim. Get Rubicon and Zeus back. I’ll make calls to Freya and Jonathan. They need to hear this from me. And I’m telling you, when this is all over I’m shutting down every goddamn military operation I find.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the admiral said.
Lucy rose from her seat and left the room—her heels clip clopping on the floor as she marched toward the elevator—her security in tow. Wordlessly she descended, exited the lift and passed through the various security checks until reaching her car. She slipped inside, her mind a fog, and barely noticed the clunk of the door closing behind her. A clumsy fumble in her handbag and Lucy pulled out her cell phone, brought up her contacts and pressed the image of the recipient. The dialing tone hummed a few times before the call connected.
“Hello?” came a man’s voice. “Lucy, you there? It’s been a while. Lucy?”
“Christian,” Lucy began, wiping her nose and swallowing away the stone in her throat. “Sorry I haven’t called, been a little busy.”
“Sis, you’ve been busy for the last two years. But, you’re the president. Though a dinner here or there wouldn’t—”
“Christian, listen to me,” Lucy interrupted. “I have to tell you something.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Location: Eldorado, Antarctica
Freya sat in her chair watching Koa Brown precariously perched at the top of a ladder, which rested against the pillar, totally mesmerized by the glowing gelatinous orb cradled in the pinnacle’s bowl. He had been giddy as hell since the Huahuqui had arrived and seemed downright obsessed with their connection. The last few hours he hadn’t left their side, strolling in between them and touching as many as he could.
By contrast, Freya had kept her distance. While she knew them to be peaceful and benevolent by nature, she’d also seen the darker side of the bonding with humans. Kelly became sick when separated from K’in, and Victoria—well she’d gone bat shit crazy when connected to Wak. That creature just operated on instinct and caused the death of too many people... including Kelly.
Dacey seemed to understand Freya’s hesitance, and despite the creature’s brethren forming a hive unit in concentric circles around the column, apparently enjoying the intensified bond that the orb brought, she remained at Freya’s side. Ever attentive, ever vigilant. Freya wasn’t sure she could name a human friend who would be so devoted. Freya placed a shaky hand on Dacey’s head, feeling the warmth run through her fingertips up her arm and into her chest. A knot of guilt cramped Freya’s heart for enjoying this moment while her husband and sons were somewhere in Laos, probably in grave danger. This must have been how Kelly felt when he bonded to K’in; happy and guilty at the same time. All humans believed they had the right to pursuit of happiness, but in the end did they all feel guilty for actually finding it? Freya shook off the melancholic thought and focused on Melissa scurrying between monitors, keyboards and little arrays that were apparently sensory equipment—at least that’s what the good doctor had said. She was observing their link and the relative output of the hive mind. To understand if the site was indeed a broadcasting station, they needed to know the potential range—hope
fully it was truly global.
“How goes it?” Freya asked, wheeling over to the scientist.
Melissa looked up from her clipboard, breath fogging the air. “Good, I think. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. I’ve studied the Huahuqui for years, and their bond. When they’re a hive, individuals create a neuro-electrical field that allows communication of feelings and emotion, and other subconscious activity to those in immediate proximity. The fields harmonise allowing many individuals to literally be on the same wavelength.”
“So, we think this thing is amplifying that field?” Freya asked.
Melissa bobbed her head. “In humans neural signals are sent via mechanisms such as synaptic transmission, gap junctions, and diffusion processes, but a very small percentage of brain waves are transmitted by a weak electrical field—somewhere in the region of 2–6 mV per millimeter. In the Huahuqui, the percentage of activity driven this way is much higher and much greater in power.” She motioned to the orb up high on the column, then took more notes. “This place is pumping it out like a rock concert. And the power only gets stronger the longer they are bonded to it and each other. Like it’s warming up.”
Freya’s arms twitched and jerked with her growing feeling of hope, so she clamped her hands together. This was great news. They could reach out to the other Huahuqui, maybe even KJ and Nikolaj. “Can we ask them to send specific information?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. Generally, the Huahuqui’s communication is more of an overall influence on the brain patterns such that they collectively arrive at the same conclusion. Expression of emotion and modulation in brain activity seems to unlock intellectual potential like logic gates in a computer—a yes or no type of decision making happening at an incredible speed.” She chewed the end of her pen, her gaze drifting off into space as she thought. “They are able to converse telepathically, but short distances only as I understand it. But I guess that’s what this building is for.”
“Mrs. Teller?” came a man’s voice.
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