“It’s fitting that he rests next to Ephraim,” said Jasper, who had arrived with Nadia from Guyana that evening.
“Look after him,” said Tariq to Ephraim as he touched his headstone.
Emanui clasped J’Vor’s hand tightly as the gruesome image of finding Boris’s body replayed in her mind. “We’ve lost too many friends,” she said.
Kevak turned and silently headed back to the lifeboat to monitor Vrin.
*******
Jasper winced as he watched the security footage of Maz killing Boris using the blood from her self-inflicted wound.
“How did she know?” he asked.
“According to the palmcom translation, Kwetz told her,” said Emanui, bringing up the footage from his exchange with Maz in the Nhuatl language. “He also gave her the master passcode.”
“Where did he get that?” asked Jasper.
J’Vor sighed. “He pretended to be much worse off physically than he truly was. On several occasions when our backs were turned, he watched as we entered the code. We believed he was comatose at the time. It was recorded on the monitors, and we never thought to check them until afterward.”
The images of Kwetz dumping Vrin’s body on the floor in order to steal her pod played on the screen.
“His own mother!” exclaimed Nadia. “How could he?”
“He never knew her,” said J’Vor. “The Vambir called Mix made sure she was incapacitated indefinitely and assumed the role of Kwetz’s father.”
“How’s Kevak coping?” Jasper asked J’Vor.
“He keeps a vigil next to Vrin’s pod,” said Tariq. “Boris’s funeral was the first time he has left her side.”
“What’s her prognosis?” asked Nadia.
“Unknown,” said J’Vor. “Kevak continuously runs diagnostics on the pod readings. She’s stable, and there is some tissue regeneration, but it’s happening at a snail’s pace. She’s not strong enough to be revived before the Newisla’s departure.”
“Has he resigned himself to Kwetz being his biological son?” asked Jasper.
“That subject is taboo,” answered Tariq. “He has enough on his mind with Vrin.”
The central terminal buzzed with an incoming call.
“It’s Newlun,” said Tariq.
The image of the Primus appeared on the screen.
“Hello, Primus D’Hal,” said Emanui.
“Emanui,” said D’Hal. “I was sorry to get the communiqu regarding Boris. How is Kevak?”
“He is with Vrin,” answered Emanui. “Her condition is stable, but the regenerative process will take some time.”
“Have you been able to locate Kwetz and his human accomplice?” asked D’Hal.
“No,” answered Emanui. “They left during daylight. Kwetz was inside one of the pods and turned over voice control to Pocatello. He also managed to create a cloak around the pods that we have been unable to detect.”
“We gravely underestimated his abilities,” said Tariq.
“Is there a chance the escapees know about Newlun?” asked D’Hal.
“We should assume so,” said J’Vor. “The Newisla could be under threat.”
“I’ll inform the Council,” said D’Hal.
“Primus, what is the status of the Newisla?” asked Jasper.
“All hardware is in place,” said D’Hal. “We’ll be running numerous simulations in the next few weeks. All life support systems will have multiple backups. We’re good to go once the simulations are completed.”
“The launch is to be postponed indefinitely.”
Everyone was startled to hear Kevak’s voice. They had not seen him enter the room.
“If that is your judgment, Kevak, we will abide by it,” said D’Hal.
“The two Vambir, Kwetz and Mix, must be apprehended before departure,” said Kevak. “Once that is accomplished, only the Ferals will be at large. From Emanui’s observations of the pop star Venomy, we know that the Feral bloodline is fading and the risk to humanity will be eliminated within two generations.”
“Understood,” said D’Hal. “I assume Kwetz and Mix will travel with us once they are apprehended?”
“Yes,” said Kevak. “They are to be offered the same chance at rehabilitation as all other Newlunders.”
*******
Kevak kept one hand on Vrin’s pod as he tried to imagine what she had endured in the months after crash landing on Earth.
What must it have been like to be alone with an infant and waiting day after day for a rescue that never came? The desperation she must have felt reducing herself to starvation rations while constantly being offered blood tributes…
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door slide open.
“Father,” said J’Vor, “may I keep watch with you?”
Kevak smiled and patted the chair next to him.
Once seated, J’Vor studied the pod monitors. “She will survive, Father.”
“I know,” said Kevak. “That is not what troubles me. I don’t know how I’m going to find the words to tell her what has happened.”
“None of this was your fault, Father,” said J’Vor. “It was impossible for her pod beacon to be detected in Transylvania without the Isla in orbit to relay the signal.”
“I do not blame anyone,” said Kevak. “Most importantly, I do not blame Iam. Long ago I raced to save a man and woman who were being chased by wolves and failed to reach them in time. If I had arrived seconds earlier I could have prevented their deaths. In my bitter anguish, not only did I lash out at Iam, but I also gave up all hope for a future on this planet. As I prepared to end it all, I heard the cries of a newborn hidden in the bushes by his mother. Iam restored my faith by bringing you into my life, J’Vor. No matter what comes, I will never question Him again.”
J’Vor placed his hand on Kevak’s and squeezed it.
Kevak took a deep breath and steeled himself for what he was about to say.
“J’Vor, my dear son, I will be returning to Vambiri,” he said.
“I know,” said J’Vor. “I knew as soon as we found out that the Vambir female was Vrin and Kwetz is your—”
“You are the only son I know,” insisted Kevak. “What happened to Kwetz was not of his making, but this will make no difference to the Newlunders. In his current state of mind, he is a threat to our very existence, and if I am not there to rehabilitate him with the help of Iam, I fear the Newlunders will execute him.”
“I understand, Father,” said J’Vor.
“Every parent must face the day of parting with their beloved child,” said Kevak. “You and I were blessed with an overabundance of years together. I give thanks to Iam for each day that remains.”
SETBACK
Newlun, 1997
Dujot set off from the coast of Greece in his motorized craft. He detested having to make these trips and always made sure to thoroughly check the weather conditions before embarking. If an unexpected storm materialized, it would carry him several miles off-course and he would be caught out in the open at daylight. Although he always carried a makeshift chest in which to shelter should that occur, there would be nothing he could do about the boat, which would drift without power until darkness returned. In that time, the vessel could be boarded, and the chest would surely be opened. He put such disturbing thoughts out of his mind as he saw the outline of the island that camouflaged Newlun.
His human form ensured that any surveillance cameras that spotted him would raise no alarms in Newlun. Humans had lived on the surface for many years, never knowing that cloaked technology concealed an alien city beneath them.
As the bottom of his dinghy scraped the surface when he reached the shore, he got out and dragged it onto the beach, where it would be beyond the reach of the encroaching tide. He removed the canisters and carried them to the secret entrance that Senfo, Johep, and Gyran had carved out with makeshift lasdrills decades ago.
After walking for several minutes, he reached the safe room. Inside were three
adolescent Vambir at various stages of the hybrid transformation. Conceived in a test tube, each had gestated inside Dujot’s pod.
There had been many failures before these precious three. Most had died in gestation. The human markers in the Vambir system were still at levels that produced mutations, and it had proven extremely difficult to remove all of them in the fertilized eggs with their limited equipment. The first surviving offspring, a male, only lived for five years. Upon his first ingestion of blood, he had succumbed to the hemostim mind sickness that had infected Vambiri when scientists had attempted to produce a concentrated form of hemo-nectar.
“You’re two days overdue,” said Gyran.
He set the canisters down on the table in front of him.
“It’s been over three hundred years since any of you have blended in with the Primitives,” he said. “They are no longer superstitious and helpless. They have mastered flight, walked on the moon, and have successfully sent mechanized probes to the surface of other planets of this system. It is extremely difficult for me to obtain what is necessary. I am unable to return to the same hunting grounds for an extended period of time, and with each trip I must venture farther into the mainland.”
“That is not our concern,” said Senfo.
“It should be,” Dujot said curtly. “These three must be trained to hunt and blend in among Primitives without giving in to their cravings.”
“You seek to rush the mission in order to return to your Vambir form,” said Johep.
“Yes, I am anxious to shed this Primitive husk and become free of the blood hunger,” admitted Dujot, “but I would never do anything to jeopardize the mission. What would be the point of that?”
When his question was met with silence, Dujot slowly opened one of the canisters. The three adolescents immediately lifted their heads and sniffed.
“Tolum, step forward,” he ordered.
The oldest and only male of the three slowly advanced. Pouring a small portion of the canister into a glass, Dujot handed it to him.
“Take it slow,” said Dujot.
All watched as Tolum took two large gulps then controlled his inner cravings and slowly drank the rest.
“Adequate,” said Dujot. “Thuri, you’re next.”
As soon as Thuri placed the glass to her lips, the smell triggered the release of dopamine in her brain. After quickly slurping down the entire contents, she ran her fingers along the inside to collect what still remained.
“No, Thuri!” exclaimed Johep.
As Thuri sucked the remnants from her fingers, she glared at Johep and hissed.
While Thuri’s attention was on Johep, Gyran came up from behind and held her firmly in a headlock.
“We will put you down if you can’t learn to control yourself,” she whispered into her ear, as Senfo helped her restrain Thuri to a chair.
“That one will compromise the mission,” said Dujot, not caring that Thuri could hear him. “She’s too much of a risk.”
“She’ll receive more intense conditioning,” said Johep.
“Jirza, you’re next,” said Dujot as he prepared a new glass.
The diminutive female, the youngest of the three, calmly took it from him and looked pensively at it.
“Go ahead, Jirza,” said Senfo.
After dipping her index finger into the red liquid, she removed it and watched as the drops fell back into the glass. Opening her mouth, she placed her finger on her tongue and felt the instant warmth rushing through her cheeks.
“Drink from the glass,” ordered Dujot.
She brought it to her lips and sucked through a tiny amount, savoring the taste. She continued in that manner for several minutes until no more remained. Handing it back to Dujot, she was unconcerned with the remaining liquid that clung to the inside.
“Excellent, Jirza,” said Dujot.
*******
“It’s been three days,” said Dujot. “She has the hemostim sickness and won’t recover.”
“She needs more time,” insisted Johep.
Gyran looked at Senfo and shook her head. The room was silent except for the grunting noises made by Thuri. Still restrained in the chair, she lunged her head forward in a futile attempt to reach a cloth dipped in blood that was hanging inches away from her face.
“Thuri!” shouted Johep.
“She has not been able to control her cravings at the mere scent of blood,” said Dujot. “If you turn her loose on the Primitives, we will be exposed within days.”
Thuri’s head jerked in Johep’s direction, and he was taken aback by her wide-eyed, crazed stare.
“Another setback!” exclaimed Johep, pounding his fist on the table.
“We’ll have to grow another one,” said Gyran quietly.
“No!” yelled Dujot. “I’ve languished nearly half a century in this disgusting Primitive form while you have played your genetic games! No more! The mission will go ahead with Tolum and Jirza. It will take years just to train those two properly.”
Johep sighed and walked over to Thuri. Placing his hands on each side of her head, he quickly snapped her neck.
“Very well, Dujot,” said Johep. “We will proceed with Tolum and Jirza. Teach them well.”
MISSION
Rome, 2012
“Unrousable surety?” asked Tolum.
“Quite sure,” answered Jirza. “There’s no need to speak in code. Dujot will be unconscious for some time. It was simply a matter of applying enough pressure in the precise spot.”
The two artificially produced Vambir offspring had grown to adulthood with superior mental abilities. From a tender age, Tolum’s memory was such that he could recall any past conversation verbatim. As he matured, he was able to compartmentalize large strings of data in his mind and retrieve them by entering a trance. The lifeboat command codes that would disable the cerebral implants were safely stored as matrix entries within the confines of his mind. Jirza’s acute senses could detect the slightest change in an individual’s heartbeat, respiration, body temperature, and pheromone levels, and she used this information to predict behavior so accurately that in an earlier time she would have been regarded as a witch. She hid her emotions with a pointedly dull personality, and only Tolum knew of the rage that smoldered within her. Both adolescents had developed a love of gadgets, but the adult Vambir who constantly monitored them thought nothing of it. They had been created to be intellectually superior, and they carefully maintained the appearance that they were merely adequate to the task. No one had the slightest idea of how remarkable they truly were, and their loyalty to each other went far beyond sibling ties.
Recently, the resourceful pair had hacked into Senfo’s palmcom and had come across Newlun’s mainframe. They now knew everything — the construction of the Newisla, the planned return to Vambiri, Kevak’s report concerning the discovery of Kwetz and Vrin, and most importantly, the search for Mix, who they correctly deduced was Dujot.
Hacked information from Kwetz’s pod proved that Dujot had been lying about being alone during his time among the Aztecs, and the siblings suspected that there was a great deal more he was hiding — the data from his own pod showed him to be in London precisely during the time of the unsolved Ripper murders.
The original plan was for the siblings and Dujot to make their way to the Kozheozersky Monastery in Russia. Once they had taken over the lifeboat, they would disable the cerebral implants of Senfo, Johep, and Gyran and then fly the lifeboat back to Newlun to rendezvous with them.
To prevent betrayal, Senfo had grafted a “dead man switch” into his own palm. If Dujot and the siblings had any ideas about seizing the lifeboat for themselves and transmitting the kill order to his implant, his death spams would ensure that they too would perish.
Dujot kept his own council, even though the siblings were being used by Senfo in the same way he was.
Tolum looked again at Dujot’s body slumped inside the small watercraft that had carried them across the Ionian Sea to the shores of
Italy.
“He won’t remember anything?” asked Tolum.
Jirza shook her head. “We are free to talk.”
“He has been most useful in educating us about the nuances of Primitive behavior,” said Tolum. “We would have given ourselves away several times in the beginning. It’s a shame he can’t be trusted.”
“He is devious beyond measure,” said Jirza. “We must constantly watch him. He won’t hesitate to eliminate us once we are no longer useful.”
“That’s why Senfo has a dead man switch,” said Tolum.
“Dujot may know how to disable it,” said Jirza. “After all, he was able to use his pod’s technology to create a false stomach, a protective prosthetic forehead, and to change the facial features of a corpse to match his own. And remember, Brother, he only admitted to that much because he was cornered.”
Tolum stood still with his head stooped forward. Jirza recognized that stance; he was weighing the pros and cons of Dujot’s skills against the threat he posed to them.
“Projection of mission success without Dujot is within acceptable limits,” said Tolum in a dull monotone.
“You don’t have all the information,” said Jirza.
“Explain,” said Tolum.
“Our mission requires Dujot,” she said. “The beauty is that we don’t have to lie. We merely reveal the truth about him to Kevak, and the roles of villain and victim will be clearly defined. Without him, we will not be able to garner sympathy for ourselves.”
Tolum incorporated the new information and visualized dozens of scenarios both with and without Dujot. When he was finished, he smiled, and then quite unexpectedly, he leaned back his head and laughed heartily — the first time in his life he had ever done so. Jirza did the same.
The sensation was liberating.
*******
“What happened?” asked Dujot as he struggled to get to his feet.
“You fell asleep,” said Tolum. “We thought it best not to disturb you.”
“We’ve lost half the night!” exclaimed Dujot.
Tolum merely shrugged.
“No matter,” said Jirza. “We will reach our target soon enough.”
The Nosferatu Chronicles: The Aztec God Page 19
