by Gary Starta
I nodded “yes.”
“Then continue to humor me. I posit the two timelines are precariously sharing what might be described as a cosmic bandwidth.”
“I know a new discovery excites you, Dr. Brahms. But what dangers might still result from this union?”
He removed his hand from my shoulder and stared at the exorbitant bounty of my flower garden. “I don’t think it can continue without dire consequences, if truth were to be told. But, because we are the doorstep to understanding what has transpired, we are closer to the point of learning what we might be able to do about it.”
“So are you saying we have a ray of hope, doctor?”
“I would believe so. Just don’t ask me to scientifically prove it.”
Chapter 18
Weather Warriors
The Virmana and the remaining fleet of Ennead ships had set course for the moon, befuddling me further. Were they purposely distancing themselves from humans because of contagion? Despite my observations that our visitors were basically allergic to us, the exodus to the moon still seemed extreme. The more blogs I read about their mission, the simple matter of setting distance between them and humans didn’t seem to factor; but of course, why would gods admit to any susceptibilities? So the main reason—or should I say excuse—for the lunar journey was because the Ennead promised humanity explanations. They could have begun with the Labyrinth or why the demons had truly disappeared. Instead, they chose to give humans answers about their closest neighbor. And because the majority of the planet was still enthralled their reason really didn’t matter anyway.
The divine nine remained on planet, that nineth being me of course. I thanked the stars I’d taken Brahms off that ship, but that left Bastet—both the cat goddess as well as my dormant pet Tonk—vulnerable in the cold clutches of space. Yes, the goddess Bastet had escaped the ship before, so if she perceived a real threat to her life I assumed she could handle herself. But I couldn’t really afford to lose my eyes and ears to the flagship of the gods at this point. Especially when I came to the conclusion that the Entourage wasn’t simply interested in determining if microbes existed on a lunar world or if water flowed underneath its rocky surface. According to Brahms, who now made his residence in my guest room, the exploration was all about manipulation rather than education.
He made pecking sips at his tea while I observed his eyes dart to and fro in their sockets. He was either hard at work on another theory or expending energy trying to find a layman’s means to explain hard science to my soft brain. Probably both guesses were correct.
His fingers eventually left his teacup and found purchase on a laptop I had stationed on my kitchen table. “Aha,” he exclaimed on finding appropriate sites to explain his trepidations. I still felt not an inkling of revelation in his exclamations but further dread as to what the Ennead might be up to next. The laundry list had grown from murder and disappearance to substantiated abduction. What other unexplained circumstance might bring an unwitting human populace further misery?
He swung the laptop around to me so I could read its screen. I just saw a bunch of swirling water in a place that looked quite pristine but too frigid to visit.
He crooked a finger at the distant wonder. “You’re going to need to go here. And, you’re going to need Briana’s help not to mention a good climatologist…probably a fleet of choppers…thermal imaging equipment…”
I gave him a curt “WTF” glance to stop his list mania.
“I will explain, or at the very least give you a credible reason for taking such a journey. But this place, if you can imagine, Agent Diggs, relates to up there.”
He pointed at the ceiling with a finger. I assumed “up there” meant the moon.
“There is a great ocean conveyor,” Brahms explained, “and I now believe it is being compromised to serve a most unsavory purpose for humankind.”
“And just what purpose would that be?”
“To be succinct, one that would end the very existence of humanity.”
I mouthed an “oh.” I squeezed my tea cup and leaned towards the screen. “So what am I supposed to do about this?” I asked, gazing at the swirling cold currents of ocean.
“You’ve got to keep it cold.” He jumped off his seat and headed for my fridge where he proceeded to dump ice from a door dispenser into a glass. “See this, Agent Diggs. If this frosty beverage is allowed to warm it’s going to change its disposition.” He swirled the cubes, clanking them against glass. “Consequences will result.”
“So the water won’t be frosty cold. That’s a bad thing?”
“Very. Because it’s going to allow our visitors to manipulate the ocean’s waters; and if that happens I believe we’ll all discover their moon visit is not about visiting. It’s going to begin a process called terraforming.”
I interrupted with a hint of pride in my voice. “I know what that was. That’s when an uninhabitable planet is changed to make it livable, for humans…” My voice trailed off to an inaudible mumble as the weight of Brahm’s words fell onto my head, bricklike.
“Only,” Brahms said, “they’re probably not concerned about making the moon habitable for humans, but for themselves; because think of it, they already have our Earth at their disposal. But it’s not good enough for them—”
I interrupted. “Because our world, in its present state, isn’t suitable for their sustainability any longer—is it?”
Brahms squinted. “It would seem so. And I posit that the Ennead are at work manipulating the great conveyor to achieve a means to an end.” He explained that something known as thermohaline circulation can be altered to change the very disposition of ocean waters from cold and salty to warm and less salty. “If that happens, if they make the ocean’s waters warmer and salt free, the density will change and a host of horrific consequences will impact us, not the least will be the very expulsion of water from our planet to the moon.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t buy into your disbelief,” Agent Diggs. “Remember, you saw them manipulating very heavy stones to fashion Tut’s tomb. Don’t believe for one minute that siphoning our water for the purpose of making the moon their new Egypt will be any less possible. And what’s more terrifying, Agent Diggs, to me is that I can scientifically validate these theories. I wish I could dismiss it all as magic or fantasy, but I…I…can’t.”
I felt his heart break as he stammered the last few words. If all humanity went the way of the dinosaur, his dear Charlize would be among them. He seemed to read my mind.
“I know it’s selfish to think only of my child—”
I raised a hand to disrupt his pity party. “Because Charlize is genetically engineered would that make give her—give us—any advantage?”
“I couldn’t say at the moment. I mean if the earth’s water were shifted off planet, it would cause all kinds of tectonic disruption and even if we could survive that destruction we would need the sustenance of water. No. I don’t see any chance of surviving something like this.”
“Okay. So what do I do? How can I keep the water cold?”
Brahms proceeded to give me coordinates to the junction of where the majority of the planet’s thermohaline circulation is produced. Now I needed a plan, and most of all a reason, to request FBI resources so Briana and her water witch friends might join me for a sojourn to Antarctica.
* * * *
Like any good video game, I would have to bypass a gatekeeper to earn enough points to not only survive for the moment but procure the resources necessary for allowing all of humanity to keep ticking. Okay, so this isn’t the greatest analogy. But my sanity required me to think of this as one big game. I was less of an FBI agent and more of an unwitting superhero at the moment anyway, and my task would be most unconventional—even by my standards. I bet you already guessed who that evil gatekeeper would be. Haven’t you?
Seals arched his back after I gave a long and very awkward explanation of how changing the ocean’s density might be a
very bad thing for the planet’s ecosystem. I recalled when global warming was first introduced to my former world, most of us reacted like Seals was doing right now—working up a stretch to accompany the subsequent yawn.
He tapped a pen against his desk and furrowed his brows. Probably a means to keep awake; and oddly, at this moment, I didn’t really blame him. If this was an evil plot, it was coming in through a backdoor. A backdoor in a section of a town no one had ever visited before. It was easy to perceive this “back door” didn’t even exist. “So assuming this danger is all true; why would the FBI allocate resources? Bottom line it for me Agent Diggs. How does any of this fit your job description?”
I surmised I needed backup. I was alone in the room with Seals. After my uncomfortable breakup with Chuck, his absence didn’t surprise me. I excused myself and dialed Briana in Seals’ waiting area.
“You can come in now, girls.”
Briana led the charge with a pack of bohemian-looking women in tow.
“Sir,” I announced, “you’re looking at the finest bunch of water witches our planet has to offer. And they’re all offering their services gratis,” I emphasized.
Seals huffed. “Yes, nice to meet you.” He rose from his chair as if he was going to shake hands but changed his mind and offered an awkward salute instead.
He leaned in to where I was seated and whispered. “So, I’m glad these women are donating their time. But you need equipment to gauge temperature fluxes, a fleet of copters, scientists… This is all going to have to be requisitioned, and again, how do you propose I explain this as FBI business?”
I feigned a smile. “That’s your expertise, sir.” I really meant to say “your problem” and Seals sensed it. “If we don’t do this undercover it’s going to incur world attention. And, I don’t think anybody wants that to happen.”
I gave some time for my insinuation to sink in. Seals, not to mention the rulers of the free world, didn’t want to raise any flags when it came to the Ennead. Specifically, they didn’t want anyone to conclude this was the Ennead’s doing. I guess it was all part of the spell. It was how I reasoned that we should remain autonomous when possible, not falling prey to sole dependence upon the Ennead to cure our problems—because we don’t want to piss off the gods, do we? You might have imagined I didn’t use those exact words. I also made it clear to Seals that if we announced this problem, it was very possible the Ennead might conclude another odd circumstance might be explained by their arrival. Hence, they might be offended and displeased. Besides, I noted, Ennead ships were off-world at the moment and we needed to act immediately to prevent a catastrophe. I had to fudge just how confident I was that we would be successful. That was hard, not because I felt such a strong allegiance to Seals, but because I knew what I was asking Briana to do could only disturb her peace of mind. She’d been adamant about abstaining from any water-related magic. And now I behaved as if I ignored her every concern. I had to take this gamble, regardless. Brahms had been the only person I knew who could even fathom how the gods and goddesses were able to stage a homecoming from afar. If terraforming was their greater purpose for returning, it made sense. With the ships out of range of the planet, the Ennead might hope humans couldn’t correlate a connection. Yet from where I stood, they appeared to manipulate the president’s murder while traveling via comet. So I, along with Brahms, knew better. But it wouldn’t matter what anyone knew if they accomplished their task because every non-god and goddess would die horribly.
This gave me more ammunition as I continued to deflect all blame for the ocean Ennead’s disturbance from the Ennead. I realized Seals was quite amenable to believing the return was for the benefit of humankind, especially his kind; that being the bureaucrats. He would be happy to shuffle papers to appease them. He proved it by granting them a floating embassy. That meant he would listen to them.
“I know I said it would be wise to exclude the Ennead from this mission; but I must admit that isn’t entirely the case. In fact, the reason I’m so adamant about going is a message I received.”
Seals’ ears pricked up, dog-like. “And who gave you this message? Was it some concerned climatologist, because frankly I don’t know too many FBI agents who have friends in the scientific community; or, was it one of these nice witch ladies?”
“It was neither,” I said as I exchanged a meaningful glance with Briana. We both marveled at Seals’ ignorance. “What would you say if I was in contact with Isis? Would the FBI be amenable to me having such a connection?” I paused to maximize the full potential of my query; because if the FBI, that being Seals, approved agents possessing paranormal abilities I might be able to come clean with my abilities, not to mention my real past. I folded my hands and asked, “Would the FBI be amenable to otherworldly intel?”
Seals leapt out of his chair to pace. He bobbed his head side to side as in preparation to speak. Weighing the consequences of his answer, no doubt; probably believing a “yes” would give me power he wasn’t prepared to give to me.
He sat down and folded his hands before him. “If you are in connection with Isis, the FBI does need to know about all your communications.”
I stifled a sarcastic laugh, at least the best I could. “So, is that a yes? I perceived the Ennead to be above suspicion.”
“It’s called precaution, Agent Diggs and Agent McFadden. Of course we all trust the Ennead to have our best interests in heart. That said, if you received a message, a warning, from the goddess herself, I conclude we have no choice but to act on it. And I’m sorry, Agent Diggs; if you told me this sooner, I wouldn’t have questioned this mission.”
I let his words and tone roll around in my mind awhile before responding. From what I just observed, I couldn’t be sure Seals and the FBI would accept my psychic and telekinetic powers readily, especially if they weren’t connected directly to the Ennead. And maybe because Seals perceived me as part of the Ennead he was offering phony respect just in case other godly ears were listening. I reiterated again, that yes, Isis was in contact with me. This was not a fabrication because there were a few instances where she did communicate with me; the key word being “few.” The lie was Isis was not directing me to go to Antarctica. But if I could connect my dream vision—the one where ships battled each other in ancient Egypt—as a communication with her, I believe the great goddess would advise me to take any steps necessary to protect this world. I understood Bastet, the cat goddess, was rogue. I was rogue. It wouldn’t be too far a stretch to include Isis among the dissidents.
Finally, Seals nodded and gave us the green light. I would now have to set aside all my mind chatter, all my FBI training in fact, and branch out in a new direction. One my friend and partner Briana kiddingly labeled as, Weather Warrior. Although I knew her joke was a thin veil to hide her trepidation. I had no doubt she and other water witches would now lay their lives on the line for the sake of their planet. And as I manufactured a laundry list of accessories, I too concluded that we all weren’t too far off our FBI directives. We were sworn to protect lives, and I, Caitlin Diggs, with or without my Isis connection, was prepared to do just that.
* * * *
Briana explained the objective to her Wiccan friends as I shuffled awkwardly in my heavy duty parka. With insulated gloves, a thick black scarf and mirrored sunglasses I felt as if we were heading towards the moon instead of pre-destined latitude of water encircling Antarctica.
For the umpteenth time I attempted to wrap my mind around the notion that this massive body of water could not only be transported but taken to the moon. I hadn’t had enough time with Brahms for him to postulate the physics required but I imagined the water might change into gas during the exchange. Making the water warmer to prepare for it for transportation did make logical sense to even my science-challenged brain. If it was made less dense, it might be transported easier. Right now, less dense water had already become a reality, and this ocean basically set precedent for the rest of the world’s seas.
For just about that umpteenth time, I imagined what its transportation might look like, my mind’s eye played an image of what Bastet must have done to change from falcon to flower. I assumed these manipulations were all part of the fifth force Brahms had preached about. I wish I knew about this especially when my mind’s eye fashioned an image I was so not prepared to fathom. A vortex, a spinning circle of water engrossed me. For a moment, I couldn’t be sure it was in my mind. I grabbed Briana’s arm for assurance that I was tethered to my waking world without explanation. Briana, forever maternal, was nonplussed. She just interlaced her arm around mine, no small feat since our parkas had little give to them.
I smiled. I could see it reflected in Briana’s shades. Okay, thank whatever deity applicable to that the image I just saw…
Wait a minute. I just saw it again.
I blinked. And again, I was back to my waking world. No vortex spinning hungrily below us.
It was then I heard some mewling. Not from within the noisy chopper, but somewhere in the recess of my mind. It was akin to what Isis’ voice had sounded like. Okay. This had to be a communication…
The sting of my tattoo confirmed this seconds later.
Bastet is that you?
You felt the burn, didn’t you?
But you’re far away. I mean…real far away. I didn’t think you could make contact from there…
I don’t have time to answer the obvious. In fact, I don’t think you’ll have much more strength to respond to me. Remember, telepathic communication really uses up your energy reserves and you’re going to need them for what’s—
My thought interrupted him. That vortex, is that what you’re referring to?
Can’t say for sure; but it’s not a good thing. The vortex represents something known as Coriolus Force, an artifact of the Earth’s rotation.
