by Gary Starta
The dome was indeed buried in sand. It laid in a southeasterly direction from the Giza pyramids. It was southwest of the battle, or exactly in the middle of Egypt’s past and shaky future. I didn’t need a vision now to realize it was the war I had glimpsed in dream. The silver ships of the Entourage were engaged in fight with the black ships of Sirius.
Isis tapped her index finger over her chin. “For all we know, the war is continuing as if it never ceased; as if there were no truce, no intervention.”
I hungered to know what Isis meant by intervention. Her previous explanation was vague by intention. Either she didn’t believe I could comprehend it or it was more bad news she hoped to shield from me—for as long as possible. I resisted questioning her. What mattered now was putting our plan in action.
We rushed from the navigational room to a more spacious accommodation. White lights with white walls made it resemble a meeting hall where citizens or the ship’s occupants might have once debated.
I discovered some serious debate going on in our past’s present. Brahms pounded a balled fist from one hand into the palm of the other. As if he were some galactic coach, he drilled the same sentences over and over into Fenton’s head.
“Zero point energy needs to be disrupted. Work with the lowest megahertz possible. Increase gradually in increments. Use Charlize’s vocal tones to alter the oscillation. Start with an ‘F’ key as a gauge. It’s simple. Got it?”
Fenton nodded but Brahms repeated his techno mantra. I couldn’t blame him. He would allow his precious child to accompany a man who probably not only murdered demons as a vigilante, but dreamed of planning Charlize’s death, at least once upon a time. Fenton’s aggression was all but alleviated from the God Maker. But what other capabilities might reside in the dark recesses of a man who aided in genocide? I could only hope ending the timeline might bring the demons back into existence. But it was only hope. And as Brahms had told me, hope is so unscientific.
The more immediate plan was bring about a truce between the Entourage and the Siriusites. As we witnessed the horror in high definition, Isis recounted how Brahms’ courage must have rubbed off on his child. If so, genetic manipulation didn’t equal cold calculation. I wondered how traits such as courage could be mapped and implanted into another being. It seemed seamless, as if it had occurred naturally with Charlize. Maybe it’s why the Ennead were drawn to the flame. They weren’t on Earth to solely enjoy godhood, but to spread their wealth. I could also see why the Siriusites were so against the creation of such a commune. It was unpredictable at best. Was paradise a place where gods made lesser beings gods as well? And would that place give rise to never-ending squabbles or would all finally learn to coexist in peace? We weren’t going to get that answer at the moment.
The Siriusites when first engaging their defectors, vowed to minimize aggression against citizens, or most succinctly, the Egyptian people. Isis warned the Siriusites wouldn’t be so forgiving if provoked again. Only, we couldn’t tell if this was a continuation of the first battle or a new one. The Siriusites were chaperoned off-planet via an intervention. They left begrudgingly and without their precious Labyrinth because Bastet had concealed it in sand. Now it loomed before them, the Labyrinth had returned in a wink before their very eyes. They had to have similar monitoring equipment. If so, we floated before them like a candy-coated prize at a carnival. Whether this was a continuation of the first battle or a second one, the Labyrinth must have appeared attainable. How might we stop them without outright annihilation?
Brahms waited until Charlize and Fenton boarded a shuttle before making an admission. “The work Fenton and Charlize have before them is daunting. It won’t be as easy as I explained. I only hoped to calm the man’s nerves.”
“But will they even make it to the dome without being detected?” I asked.
“Isis assured me the shuttles operate with stealth capability. They should be invisible. But there’s a question if they will be able to access the dome, remember a large portion is buried in sand. And as I said, the adjustments they will be making will take time. It’s only one man and—”
I interrupted Brahms. “Yes, only one man.” I gripped Brahms hand which was vibrating yet again.
“You had told me that everything vibrates. It’s why matter can be converted. It’s why the Ennead can manipulate earth elements and the Fifth Force to bend reality to their will. So how might the scientific brain of one man aid their cause?”
Brahms staggered. I feared he would faint. I latched onto his arm.
“Oh. I always said you asked the right questions, Agent Diggs.”
I hoped he was having an epiphany. I could ask the right questions but I didn’t have the kinds of answers Brahms was capable of.
He continued. “I can merely think, with the aid of the Labyrinth, to change things. At least to buy Fenton and Charlize some time. I need to access the skulls, Isis.”
“If you feel comfortable…”
He cut her off. “This isn’t about comfort. I need the Ibis-headed amulets. Let me ask the skulls. They’re interactive, it should at least be conceivable…”
The man was talking fast and in circles. But I somehow understood his plan. I added, “No Dr. Brahms, this is about comfort. I’ll be at your side. You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”
He agreed only in the interest of time.
* * * *
We were both seated on couches with amulets in our hands. I would merely be an observer, a gentle voice in the back of Brahms’ mind.
The scientist had a concrete plan. It was bizarre. But it was a thought and thoughts were transmutable, especially in Zep Tepi.
Before we commenced, I commented to Brahms. “So Zep Tepi can be used to an advantage, at least until Fenton takes it offline.”
He smiled back weakly.
Just as I gripped the amulet, Isis intervened. “Agent Diggs, no one knows were Briana is. Do you know where she might have gone?”
I excused myself. “Doctor, please proceed without me. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
I already knew the answer. I headed for the docking bay. Either riddled with guilt or dementia from her consistent use of elemental magic, Briana McFadden had departed the Labyrinth. I should have observed her more closely. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her as she stood in a docking bay, bidding Fenton and Charlize good luck. She had mimicked them, taken a shuttle probably moments after they departed. If she was indeed out there, hovering over the sands of Egypt in the middle of a fire fight, she would be undetected with stealth technology. After inventorying the shuttles I deduced the obvious. She was piloting a shuttle which basically operated itself. I wasn’t worried Briana would crash it. But what if an errant missile found her? And just what did she hope to accomplish? I could only guess she’d left to rescue Bastet. It was something I should be doing. Now guilt was in transference, from her to me. Damn it! I couldn’t pursue. As an FBI agent I was duty bound to continue our mission, to take the warring ships off line. I had to operate as an investigator and not some sentimental, emotionally-charged human. But doubt niggled at me as I raced down hallways back to Brahms. Maybe Briana didn’t have a plan. Maybe elemental magic had taken her too far, to a place where suicide made sense.
Brahms was writhing on his couch, gripping my amulet as tight as possible. I willed the skull to allow me access and it finally did.
I was delivered to some kind of nexus where another Brahms existed. This version of the scientist was corporeal and tiny, a miniaturized Brahms lofting along a blue haze of ideas, an information highway of sorts, maybe the first Internet?
I saw myself join him. Tiny and dot-like as well.
“Agent Diggs let me ask the questions only.”
“I will.” He wouldn’t get an argument from me. I felt small and scared. Maybe more scared than him. What comfort was I offering him? What help was I providing Briana? Charlize and Bastet were out of the safety shields of the Labyrinth. Shit. I felt so inadequa
te. So not like the FBI investigator of my past.
“Agent Diggs, I can hear some of your thoughts, tone it down, please.”
“What are you attempting?”
“Just listen, Agent Diggs.”
He called out to the blue aether, the sea of ideas; his own personal wave of numeric and alphabet sequences.
“How might the defense mechanism of the Labyrinth coordinate with those of the God Maker?”
Whatever Brahms was asking, it was intriguing. Although I had no clue what he was trying to accomplish. I bounced along the waves as if I were a child on a mechanical sea.
Tiny lights in a spectrum of rainbow colors winked back at him. Were they answers?
I could hear his thoughts. “I feel vulnerable. It’s so ironic I once used lights to communicate with my own daughter. Now I’m small and afraid. But I must trust the lights, just like I asked Charlize to trust me…”
The inquisition had become so personal. Maybe it had to be. Possibly the skulls, the interactive computer of the Labyrinth or whatever made things work on this colossal maze of wonder needed biological interaction. I thought of the crystal which ended up linking me to Isis. I also recalled how that same crystal had become needy, twisted, and sought to devour those it linked with. I wanted to warn Brahms to quit. I loosened my grip on the amulet, but just for a second. No. This couldn’t be the same. It had a previous chance to kill Brahms and didn’t. I would stand my ground on the blue aether with Brahms, bobbling along the strangest sea.
* * * *
We exited the blue world shaking and sweating. But we had assurance. We even had hope, unscientific as hope is.
Brahms wore a grin. Perhaps he was delirious from his encounter? After all, I was a mere observer and felt shaken and stirred.
Isis greeted us as we departed our couches. She wore a wry smile and whispered in Brahms’ ear, “Still think this is science and not magic?”
Brahms didn’t respond, eager to make his way to lower levels, the place which housed the God Maker.
Minutes later, a swirling beast, a gargantuan king cobra to be exact, pushed against the glass encasements of its trappings.
“It won’t get out, will it?” I inquired.
“That’s the point. But not here, in this room.”
I began to understand Brahms’ plan. If I was correct, he was going to shoot snakes out of the Labyrinth.
* * * *
We stood in the weapons room, one not much larger than navigation. For such important operations, you think the creators would have allowed larger accommodations. It didn’t daunt Brahms. He clapped his hands together.
“Time to constrict!” he shouted. A laugh, tinged with euphoria followed.
We would shoot the genetic makeup of King Cobras out of the weapons bay. Instead of missiles they would be biological. You might ask how they might survive the impact. I did.
Brahms said, “In essence, only the genetic coding of the snakes or fractal globules of DNA will be fired from the ships. They will come alive when the desired electromagnetic pulse is reached. The Labyrinth assisted me with the specifications. It’s a matter of force. The correct pulse which will give birth to the snakes is dependent upon their velocity and subsequent impact with the intended targets.”
Okay. I kind of understood this. The snakes, once alive, would naturally wrap their bodies around the ships, constricting their movement, draining their energies. Hopefully, both warring parties would be kept at bay to buy Fenton time.
Brahms had warned Fenton not to risk communication. But that didn’t stop him.
He wailed over our speakers. “I’ve tried ‘F.’ I’ve tried ‘F.’ It’s not working.”
“Fenton, listen to me. There are sharps and flats. Even double sharps and flats. Charlize will understand this. Let her sing!”
Brahms ended the communication. I felt his fear on an empathic level. I experienced an overtaxed thumping breaking heart in his chest—and mine. Yet he did possess confidence in the duo. But he dared not risk a breach of security from emotion.
He resumed his work. “Time to fire the first volley…”
The first shot wasn’t so successful. A horrible clanging sound told us the snake had materialized in the weapons bay. It probably would be some time before it could crawl its way through steel doors but we weren’t taking changes. Brahms powered up the array and sent the snake hurtling into the atmosphere which ate the creature alive via fire.
We both stared at one another. What if they same thing happens when they materialized on the ship’s hulls?
We clung in desperation to denial. Brahms delivered the next volley with success. The creature materialized as imagined on the hull of the Virmana. I had to wonder where Briana was. What was she doing? Was she still alive?
We readied to fire again. There were at least a dozen Entourage ships and possibly twenty of Sirius design. Did we have time to corral them all?
Briana’s voice made us both jump.
“I’m here and ready to assist.” She was alive and in a shuttle.
“Sorry Brahms but there’s a way I can speed up your science.” She proceeded to produce energy signatures of each specific ship she’d cataloged in her absence. In turn, she embedded the biological coding of the King Cobra onto it. By emitting an EMP, Briana was sure she could have duplicates of the snakes writhing and coiling themselves along every ship’s hull in mere seconds.
“Just like copying and pasting,” she said with a hint of humor in her voice.
I rejoiced in silence. My friend, my partner wasn’t so mentally scarred after all.
As promised, the pulse from the shuttle encased each ship with its own cobra.
We all heaved a sigh of relief at the time we believed to have bought Fenton and Charlize. Then, we all grimaced in horror as a monitoring screen showed us the unthinkable. The Capitol Building was no longer ensconced in sand. It was a flaming ball of red fire and pluming black smoke. A second later, it disappeared from sight along with our hope.
Chapter 22
Hard Core
For some time we stared. There was still an outline on the sands from where the domed structure once rested, however briefly in this timeline. That outline intensified into something moonlike as we made a pass, a last chance gasp to find survivors. But the crater, the big divot in the desert, was empty and warned us in silence to move on.
No evidence of Fenton or Charlize had been confirmed using Labyrinth scanners on our immediate pass. The equipment should have been most sophisticated. There really couldn’t be much margin for error, or could there? I had to wrap my brain around the fact Charlize was indeed gone.
The best thing I could do in our situation was spend a minimal time comforting my friend Brahms. The crater left in the desert sands paled in comparison to the horrific gaping hole in his heart. I knew this because I felt this. Yet I carried on. We had to squelch the raging war below us. It was still our mission. No matter what we felt. Although, thanks to Brahms’ snakes, the battle had transferred from raging hot to lukewarm. Two Sirius ships and an Entourage ship had fallen to the ground in flames, confirming the casualty toll would rise. The remainder of the ships descended to land. Beings scattered from the first ships to land on sand. They scurried down ramps appearing no more threatening than cockroaches to our eyes above.
But I knew better. They weren’t toothless in every regard. Even if we had tugged divine powers away from the gods and their ships, they could still engage in hand-to-hand combat as any other mortal could.
I had to get Brahms back online to know if our plan indeed succeeded in lieu of the horrific consequence. If the optimum state of zero point energy or Zep Tepi had subsided, we might stand a better chance of bringing the warring factions to an agreement. Without their supernatural cache of weaponry, they would be angry but could be tamed.
I leaned down to place my arm on Brahms’ shoulder. He was huddled and resting his arms on his knees for the last minutes. I assumed he was crumpled
from the news. But could this man of science also be in prayer? In any event, he appeared broken, until he spoke. “I believe she did it. She took Zep Tepi offline. I should have realized.”
My hands kneaded into Brahms’s shoulders to encourage elaboration.
“I should have known this was a suicide mission. How ignorant could I have been? If the mission was to succeed, to take Zep Tepi offline, the Capitol Building would have no choice but to be terminated in this timeline. I sent both of them to their deaths, Agent Diggs.”
“Yet what if the building has repositioned itself in the correct timeline, doctor? Could Fenton and Charlize be there, right now?”
Brahms craned his head the way a confused dog might do. “I couldn’t even theorize. The blast, the expulsion of the dome from this place was just too violent. I could not dare to—”
I knew he was going to say hope. I pulled him to his feet before he could.
Footsteps on the tiled floor pulled my attention away from our most recent past to our present past.
Briana stood behind me. Tears streaked down her cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to Brahms. They met for a brief embrace.
I had a question, however inappropriate for the situation.
“Briana, how did you know Brahms was going to fire snakes? You weren’t even on board when he formulated them.”
She produced the Thoth Ibis-headed amulet from her pocket.
“Are you looking for a transfer? “ I said to her. “Maybe the CIA would appreciate your espionage.”
“I spied, but I spied for a good reason, Caitlin. Besides, I just had to see what that skull world held. I still am not sure. But it was very blue.”
Brahms clasped Briana’s hand into his. Then he turned to me.
“It was for a good reason, Agent Diggs. Maybe it was not scientific, nor magical, but it was a good reason. The blue water is very intelligent. It doesn’t worry about categorizing. It just finds answers.”
I sensed Brahms had forged some kind of emotional, intellectual bond with the blue essence. Whatever it was I could only wish it could give us Charlize back. In desperation, I bounced some weak ideas before Isis, Briana and Brahms.
