After combing the beach for hours, he found nothing.
Perhaps the winds and tide carried them many miles away or even back out to sea.
His acute Vambir hearing detected movement in the jungle.
Bipeds!
Turning to the sound, his night vision revealed the outline of two scantily clad figures. In a burst of speed he sprinted toward them. As he came into range, he felt several pin-pricks in his torso — the figures were blowing darts at him through long bamboo poles. Dujot laughed as he saw the look of terror on their faces when they realized that the poison had no effect on him.
Despite his injured arm, within seconds he had subdued both of them and began to ravenously feed. The weeks in semi-stasis had tested the limits of his willpower to resist his fellow priests.
Not only had he reached the New World, but he had also stumbled upon a Garden of Eden. The natives would be easy pickings, and he would no longer have to take part in the machinations of politics and religion in order to satisfy his hunger.
TRANSIT 2004
Honduras, June 8th
Catching a glimpse of the sun through the tree line, Mazatli Pocatello smiled when the sacred black dot came into view.
Those at the front of the group methodically used their machetes to clear a path through the steamy jungle. Although their progress was painfully slow, they were unconcerned. The GPS confirmed their destination was near, and the Venus transit would be visible for several more hours.
The canopy of trees abruptly ended and they found themselves in a clearing. An uninformed observer would have only seen thick vegetation, but the Travelers knew they now stood at the edge of an ancient city.
They walked to the great doors of the temple and silently cut away over a century of growth of twisted vines. Attaching ropes to each door, they tugged in unison until there was an opening wide enough for them to enter. Once inside, they lit torches and placed them in the wall receptors that had been hollowed out by their ancestors. Gathering around the sacrificial stone slab, each of them used an obsidian knife to slash an opening in their palm and watched stoically as the blood trickled into a single wooden bowl that had been placed in the center.
The Travelers regretted that they could not observe the traditional Aztec ritual of heart extraction, but this sacrifice was to be profoundly different, since Quetzalcoatl himself would select the most worthy among them.
Just after sunset, they made their way to the entrance of the sleeping chamber. All that now separated them from Quetzalcoatl was the passcode that had been handed down through the generations. The code was not numeric. Each of the Travelers placed their bloody hands against the entrance and once their common DNA marker was confirmed, the façade of the stone wall disappeared, and static could be heard as a forcefield was disengaged, revealing an alabaster sarcophagus covered in ornate engravings.
The air inside was frigid, and the carved head of the sarcophagus was unmistakably that of a female with an expression forever frozen in a mournful cry.
Maz walked to the carved head with the bowl and poured a tiny amount of blood into the opening between the stone lips. Within seconds, labored breathing could be heard coming from inside. The Travelers stood impassively as the breathing transitioned into crying.
A low hum reverberated throughout the chamber as the sarcophagus slid aside, exposing the stasis pod underneath. The hatch opened and revealed a male creature with pale white skin, an elongated, bald head, pointed ears, and a pair of fangs protruding from the center of the mouth. Black putrefaction seeped from the eyes and ears, and suppurating welts could be seen on the neck and armpits.
Approaching the creature with the bowl, Maz offered it to him. “Drink, Quetzalcoatl!” she cried. “Our antibodies will cure you.”
The panel lights inside the pod began to flash as the creature regained consciousness. Immediately detecting the scent of blood, he snatched the bowl and gulped down the contents.
“It’s working!” she exclaimed.
Each Traveler extended their slashed palms toward the creature in the hope that their blood would be chosen. In a blurred motion, Quetzalcoatl sank his fangs into the neck of the nearest Traveler and began to feed. Within minutes, the Aztec god was sated and flung the lifeless body aside.
To the great dismay of the Travelers, Quetzalcoatl retreated into the pod. The hatch closed, and the alabaster sarcophagus quickly slid back into place on top of it. The cries within the sarcophagus were drowned out as the forcefield reestablished itself around the two objects.
Maz bent down next to the body of the dead Traveler. Embedded in the puncture wounds on the neck were traces of saliva left by Quetzalcoatl. Removing a swab from her pack, Maz collected a sample.
*******
When the sun rose, the travelers built a great pyre and burned the body of their dead comrade. As they left the ancient city, Maz wondered what had gone wrong and struggled to suppress her bitter disappointment. There would be another chance with the 2012 Venus transit, and the precious sample she carried could hold the key to curing Quetzalcoatl. If she and the travelers failed again, Venus would not return to dance across the sun until 2117, and it would fall to their descendants to complete the sacred mission.
In unison, the Travelers chanted Montezuma’s last words as they made their way back to civilization:
After the long cycles have faded away, our tribes will rise again and in their midst will be the Priesthood with the Cross. Another battle shall take place, and only the Cross will remain. The children of the Aztecs will take their place with the deathless nations of the Earth.
INCARCERATION
Echinades Islands, 1509
Jasper felt at ease at the helm of the small cutter and relished the rhythmic motion of the Ionian Sea. The islands off the coast of Greece provided the perfect hiding place for the underground Vambir sanctuary city — they were uninhabited yet close enough to the mainland to be reached within one night by boat. When they arrived just off the coast of the largest island, the cutter dropped anchor and the rowboat was lowered into the water. Jasper watched as Tariq and J’Vor climbed down the rope ladder into the tiny craft.
“You’re next,” said Jasper to Johep, motioning with his lasgun. “Remember—”
“You’ll transmit the kill order to my implant if Tariq and J’Vor do not return within the hour,” said Johep. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
He sat passively as Tariq and J’Vor rowed toward the shore. “Will there be a welcoming party?”
“You’ll be getting reacquainted with your old comrades soon enough,” said Tariq.
“There’s no other solution, Johep,” said J’Vor. “The months of hemo-treatment have returned you to your Vambir form, making it impossible for you to blend in with humans.”
When they were within a few feet of the shore, Tariq signaled for Johep to get out. Standing in water up to his knees, Johep waded to the shore and did not look back as the others returned to the cutter.
He scaled the cliffs until he reached the highest point of the island. The hills facing the sea were scattered with familiar red flowers that reflected the moonlight.
Hemoplants!
Hearing the grinding of rocks, he turned to see a twisting boulder that revealed an opening leading underground. As he peered inside, he could see an elevator. After he entered, the doors slid shut and he descended for several minutes before reaching the bottom. When the doors opened, he saw a familiar maze of passages lit by torches.
“Lun,” he said aloud to himself.
“New Lun,” a voice above him said. “Or rather, Newlun.”
Looking up, Johep recognized the old Vambir communication system.
Speaker vents! Just like Lun!
“Where are you?” he called out.
“In the Great Hall,” answered the voice. “The way is the same as it was then.”
Johep felt his spirits lift as he walked down pathways identical to those he had traveled thousands of
years ago on the other side of the galaxy. As he entered the hall, he saw the familiar faces of the survivors from the Isla. Seated at the head table were the leaders of this New Lun. A female in a red robe stood to great him.
“Welcome, Johep,” she said. “It is good to see you again.”
“D’Hal?” asked Johep. “It seems you managed to escape the flames when Mehmed’s army had us cornered in that cave.”
“As did you,” she said.
“Just barely,” said Johep. “We followed the Commander’s example of breaking through damp spots in the ceiling but nearly roasted to death in the air pockets waiting for the sun to set. You took a passage that collapsed. I remember the hearing the screams of those who were incinerated when the sun rays came through.”
“Inches of dirt was all that spared me,” said D’Hal. “I willed myself into semi-stasis to prevent my airways from becoming clogged. When I regained consciousness, it was dark and I was alone.”
“I didn’t know you were there,” said Johep. “The Commander’s group had already gone when I broke through to the surface. I could either head for the mountains or go deeper into the forest. I chose the latter and never saw any of the Vambir again. Is Commander Mazja here among you, tamed with one of the Navigator’s implants?”
“The dead have no need for implants,” answered D’Hal.
Johep lowered his eyes and slowly shook his head. “Killed by Kevak, I assume.”
“Not Kevak, but the sunlight,” said D’Hal. “What’s done is done. The blood addiction drove all of us, in varying degrees, to the edges of sanity and fed our resentment of Kevak. Once we were free from the hunger, we made peace with our fate.”
“You are the Primus of this prison?” asked Johep, recognizing what D’Hal’s red robe signified.
“I am Primus of Newlun,” she said. “We live as we did on Vambiri.”
“Do you live free?” asked Johep. “If so, then I must be the only one with a cerebral implant.”
“The implants are a necessity,” said D’Hal. “Blood ingestion must be prevented at all costs. A slip-up by just one of us would be enough to bring down the entire sanctuary we have built.”
“This is a jail, not a sanctuary,” protested Johep, “and Kevak is our warden!”
“A position we forced upon him,” said D’Hal. “We all readily believed the Commander’s claim that human blood would be a quick and safe alternative to the months on starvation rations required to grow hemo-crops. We must face the consequences.”
A male in a blue robe stood up.
“Senfo,” said Johep to him. “I remember you. It’s seems you have risen to the rank of First Consul.”
“All of us felt as you when we first arrived,” said Senfo, “but we no longer consider ourselves prisoners. Newlun is hundreds of feet below the ocean floor, and the passages extend for miles, just as they did in the original Lun. This is how we once lived. This is how we would have lived if that first crop of hemoplants had survived. We are safe here — protected from sunlight and human discovery.”
Johep paused to consider the expanse of his new home. “How was this Newlun constructed?”
“With lasdrills,” said Senfo, “under Kevak’s supervision.”
“Why do you allow the hemoplants on the hillsides to grow wild?” he asked, changing the subject. “It is most inefficient.”
“If we planted seeds in ploughed rows,” explained D’Hal, “humans would suspect the island was inhabited and investigate.”
“Only a few ships pass by each year,” said Senfo, “yet we still go to great lengths to avoid anything that would draw attention to us.”
Johep sighed. “So this is where we pass the centuries together without purpose until the end?”
“We have a purpose,” said D’Hal, “and hope for a future.”
“We’re building a new Isla: the Newisla,” said Senfo.
Johep smirked. “Newlun. Newisla. The names are so contrived,” he sneered. “It doesn’t take any imagination to tack on ‘new’ in front of something from Vambiri that you have rebuilt on Earth.”
“We sacrificed imagination for accuracy,” answered D’Hal.
Johep opened his mouth to speak, but D’Hal cut him off.
“We have an extensive database,” she said. “All of the great literary works of Earth are available for you to peruse.”
“I want nothing to do with Primitive musings,” he scoffed. “Tell me more about the ship you have constructed.”
“When completed, the Newisla will carry us back to Vambiri,” said D’Hal.
“And we will die from radiation poisoning upon arrival!” shouted Johep.
D’Hal smiled. “The Isla continued to take atmospheric readings of our home world during the thousands of years we were in stasis. Kevak was able to reconstruct bits of information from the lifeboat computers. Vambiri was in the process of healing. In a few hundred years, we may be able to use Earth technology that has yet to be developed to provide us with more answers.”
“You are conveniently forgetting the fact that nearly half of the stasis pods malfunctioned on the Isla’s journey to Earth,” said Johep. “Which of you would be willing to submit to stasis again with those odds?”
“Laser fire during the Lowcaste revolt grazed a valve of one of the liquid nitrogen tanks,” explained Senfo. “The supply to some of the pods was altered infinitesimally. All systems registered as functioning normally when we made the final checks before entering stasis. At some point during the thousands of years it took to reach Earth, the back-up system compensating for the decrease in pressure also failed. It had probably sustained laser damage as well.”
“We don’t plan to be under laser fire when the Newisla makes her maiden voyage,” said D’Hal. “We will take every precaution to keep our children safe.”
“There are Vambir children here?” asked Johep. “You were able to reverse the sterility caused by the transformation?”
“Not yet,” said Senfo, “but the human markers in our systems continue to fade, and it’s only a matter of time until their presence no longer prevents conception.”
“We will behold our home world again someday with a new generation of embryos in stasis tubes, Iam willing,” said D’Hal.
“Iam willing,” repeated Johep. “You’ve even taken on Kevak’s Primitive cult.”
“The book of Iam is also available on the database,” said D’Hal. “Many have found comfort in reading it.”
“Iam only made promises to humans, not the Vambir,” snapped Johep.
“Iam made Adam in His image,” said D’Hal. “The Vambir and humans share the same physical characteristics and are linked via an obscure genetic marker. I have faith that we are included among Iam’s children.”
“What if you’re wrong?” asked Johep.
“Then when my life is over, I will be no worse off than any other mortal creature,” answered D’Hal. “Tell me, Johep, what happens if you are wrong?”
Ignoring her, Johep left the hall to explore his new home.
INVASION
Tenochtitlan, April 22, 1519
In Low Earth Orbit, the last stasis pod was captured by the collective, and the merged navigation systems initiated atmospheric entry. As the heat shielding came into contact with the thermosphere, the pods at the rear were sacrificed when computer calculations predicted there would only be enough protection for those at the front. A trail of sparks lit up night sky as the cast-off pods were incinerated.
After clearing the thermosphere, only three pods remained, and they were on a collision course for Tenochtitlan.
*******
“Quetzalcoatl is returning on the very day that was predicted!” cried the high priest as he pointed into the night sky.
A year before, the Aztecs had watched in awe as Venus returned to dance across the sun, but that paled in comparison to the celestial fireworks now above them. Nothing like it had ever been seen before — a triple-headed comet streaking acro
ss the sky.
*******
The computers of the three pods stopped working in sync and returned to independent control in preparation for their individual landings.
The first pod’s angle of descent was fatally steep, and the revival sequence was activated. As the female occupant regained consciousness, she could hear an artificial voice booming over the warning sirens.
DANGER! CRASH IMMINENT!
REMOVE EMERGENCY CHUTE FROM PANEL.
EJECTION IN T-MINUS 30 SECONDS.
29, 28, 27…
After thousands of years in stasis, the female felt a shockwave of pain pass through her as she began to convulse. Once she recovered, she turned her attention to the flashing panel in front of her containing the emergency chute. Removing it, she frantically struggled with the straps as she heard the cries of her infant enduring the pain of revival.
“Override!” she shouted, but the computer was programmed to ignore an override command if destruction of the pod was a statistical certainty.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1…EJECTION.
*******
Montezuma ducked for cover as a huge thunderbolt destroyed the temple of Huitzilopochtli. With the burning temple before them and the bright trajectories of the remaining two “comets” flashing overhead, no one noticed the lone figure secured to a chute descending slowly from the night sky.
Deep in the rainforest, Dujot was filled with excitement.
Two stasis pods have landed intact!
Running with a speed unmatched by any human, he raced to the closest pod, hoping he would reach it before the occupant regained consciousness.
*******
The female secured to the chute fell heavily to the ground. In the distance, she could see the flickering torchlights of a city. After the pod had ejected her, it had crashed into one of the main buildings, which was now engulfed in flames, but she cared nothing about that — she had not had enough time to properly secure her baby.
Calling out her baby’s name in a high-pitched Vambir wail, she sprinted in one direction for several minutes, then, suddenly overcome with the feeling that the baby could not have been thrown that far, erratically changed course.
The Nosferatu Chronicles: The Aztec God Page 4
