God of God

by Mark Kraver

  “Upon this very planet?” Reeze asked, as both she and Zenith tipped down their glasses on their face and peered out the monitors at the strange world.

  “Of course not,” Numen immediately corrected. “This universe recycles its nodes like other universe every six hundred and sixty-six billion years. The Elohim translocated into this region of the blue universe after a ‘little bang’ recycled the matter and energy of their home galaxies far, far away. They are halfway through this region’s recycling node.”

  “Where have all the Elohim gone?” Yahweh asked Dakar, but Hoori turned to answer, gaining proper language and syntax.

  “They were replaced by a new dominant species called Helifonus zombnapod. A terrestrial mollusk-like lifeform that has fed on every animal throughout the known universe, starving itself into near extinction. At least the known universe until you arrived. Are you escaping to this region of the universe from a little bang in another previously unknown Elohim-controlled node of this universe?” Hoori asked. Each of the green universe Elohim bounced a look around to each other, not daring to answer the inter-universe question.

  “I don’t like the words ‘near extinction,’” Reeze said, evading Hoori’s question while looking at the monitors again for any sign of movement.

  “Our planet and transplant station are the sole survivors from our ‘node’ of the universe,” Yahweh said, lowering Hoori’s expectations.

  “Why are our sensors not working correctly?” Zenith asked, perplexed.

  Numen hesitated, looked at his newly acquainted blue universe multitasking seraph counterpart, and bowed with his hands together. Hoori bowed, then began to adjust the ship’s instrument panel.

  “Numen?” Yahweh asked, alarmed. Before he could get an answer, the muon deep penetrating sensors were re-calibrated to the energy flux of physical properties of the blue universe.

  “Father, I am picking up lifeforms inside the spheres. Something resembling sapients inside the complex, functioning hibernation pods—and an abundance of water?” Zenith reported.

  “Water, where?” Reeze exclaimed, rolling her hand over floating spherical controls to scan both the sensors and the exterior monitors.

  “One would be my master’s pod. The last organic vestige of Elohim in this universe,” Hoori said. “He is being preserved until such time he can be transferred to one of the new sapient body.”

  A flash of revulsion crossed Reeze’s face. “A new body? Creepy.”

  “Master,” Numen said, looking somberly at Yahweh. “I believe what is being implied is that all the Elohim have retreated into their seraphim as a last resort against the Helifonus zombnapod invasion.”

  Yahweh let out a deep breath and looked from his seraph to the exterior monitor to Hoori. “Is this true?” he asked. “Elohim inhabiting their seraphim for survival against this invasive species?”

  Hoori’s face was unreadable, but Yahweh already knew from Numen’s tone that the assessment was true. He crossed his golden arms over his chest, conscious as he did so of his own physical form. “Ghostly singularity,” he whispered under his breath. The idea was chilling.

  Reeze noticed on her sensors a small life form moving around the ship. “Oh no, what is that?”

  Hoori examined her findings and said, “Truscan borer. Creatures that inhabit the planet, quite harmless. They feed on platelets of bryophytes, and an undesirable little insect called a blattina. A few of the only survivors on this planet.”

  Reeze zoomed in on the borer’s little face nibbling on a bluish weed growing out of a crack in the rocks. “Aw, so cute, maybe I can have one as a pet?”

  Each of the others inside the cabin bounced a single thought amongst themselves before saying in unison, “No way.”

  Reeze sat down abruptly, folded her hands in front of her breast controls and pouted. The others ignored her.

  Yahweh gazed around the room, taking in the way his own shipmates were hanging on to Hoori’s every word. This was no ordinary seraph standing before him, he thought. Hoori was the functioning neuro-engrammed soul of a departed Elohim, just like that of Gog inside Armilus. His mind began replaying Hoori’s description of desperate Elohim taking over their seraph’s bodies to escape death—Gog was from the blue universe—and then it hit him. Gog must have done this same merger with Armilus. But was it because he had to escape the mollusk invasion, or did he do it to escape death at the end of his anton of life?

  He glanced at his own personal seraph and wondered what it would be like to live inside a seraph. His guilty thought was received by Numen telepathically.

  Numen, after a near infinite loop of calculations, blinked his ocular receptors, nodded his artificial head and telepathically answered, “I cannot injure you in any way through action or inaction. I will obey your orders, except where such orders conflict with your life. I will protect you as long as such protection does not conflict with your life. Would this soul merging process be applicable to my prime directive of saving your life?” he asked. He paused, reviewing stored memories of past conversations he had filed away for further analysis. “My answer must be— ‘yes’ master. To save your soul in the event your physical body was lost, you may inhabit my body.”

  “I see,” Yahweh said clearing his throat. He realized his eyes had grown tearful and wiped them discreetly. “By retreating into the bio-mechanical circuitry of their companion seraph, each Elohim can exist without being fed upon by the…”

  “Z-pods,” Hoori nodded.

  “Z-pods. But this retreat has left them without a primary pathway for reproduction. No living sapients or other such surrogates to continue the species. Interesting.”

  “The last of the Elohim-seraphim have spent their final energy on creating this sequestered cradle of life for my hibernating master,” Hoori continued to report. “I and my master are the last functioning Elohim in this universe. Your arrival has attracted the Z-pod’s attention. This last virulent group of Z-pod are set to arrive soon—they have sensed the system’s defensive satellite system is down—to feed upon those lying inside the hibernation pods here on this planet. They will consume what has become the last chance for rebirth in this universe.”

  “But once they finish off the available animal-life in the universe, won’t they go extinct?” Reeze asked.

  “Yes, but not until after they consume all life—including the population on New Jerusalem and Earth,” Numen added.

  Reeze’s face turned bright red and then pale white as if she had just seen her own death. She recoiled from the conversation, mortified, and leaned closer to Zenith who also looked worried.

  “Don’t you have any defenses in place to guard this system from invasion?” Zenith asked, searching for a quick answer.

  “Yes, but it appears to be deactivated by your arrival,” Hoori said, looking at a display projected from the palm of his right front hand.

  “So as long as our planet is orbiting through this system, the sentinel defense system will stay offline and the people on both the station and Earth will become a target for Z-pod invasion,” Yahweh surmised. “Then a target we must become,” he concluded, winging it. He fixed his eyes on Reeze first, and then told Zenith and Numen his plan telepathically.

  “How did the Elohim allow these awful things to evolve in the first place?” asked Reeze, disgusted with the whole subject.

  “I am afraid it is entirely our fault. We developed this species many millions of antons ago to assist communities of humans with egypt.”

  “Egypt means sewage disposal in old Elohim,” Numen interpreted, sensing his master wanted to somehow interject the phrase ‘no shit’ into the conversation, again.

  Yahweh frowned at the missed opportunity.

  “Communities of sapient beings are very wasteful,” Hoori explained. “Inefficient consumers of food resources. Helifonus zombnapod were developed to help keep the communities clean and disease free. They slither through plumbing and digest every type of organic matter they came in co
ntact with. Remarkably efficient for millennium until, according to our assessments, either spontaneously mutated or were assisted in mutating into their current state by an unknown entity. Once the mollusks were inoculated with the ubiquitous parasitic microbe Aeromonas into their gut, Z-pods developed the insatiable ability to digest living blood and neural tissues.”

  “Disgusting,” Zenith muttered.

  “Not only can they kill their victims by sucking out their neuro-tissues and blood,” Hoori continued, “but they also learned to extract certain cells from the brains of living Elohim and inoculate them with fungus to render them heedless slaves.”

  “Zombies,” Reeze said with a horrid look wrinkled on her face.

  “It is with these Z-pod-controlled Elohim that they are able to explore the universe, seeking lifeforms to feed upon,” Hoori explained.

  “Zombies indeed,” said Yahweh, noticing Zenith frowning. “What? I read about them in old Earth literature,” he said, noticing skeptical looks from both Zenith and Reeze.

  “Yes, but they were fiction,” Zenith said.

  “Not anymore,” Numen added.

  “Is there any way to reset the defensive system of this solar system?” Yahweh asked.

  “I believe I can reactivate the sentinel satellite defense system with the assistance of your Deed Crystal.” Hoori said, gazing at the crystal still in Numen’s hand.

  Numen slid the crystal into his arm pocket to block the hypnotized two-faced seraph’s stare. “I believe your plan is a good option,” he said telepathically to his master after running through his mitochondrial-core processor a near infinite number of alternative plans of attack.

  “Reeze, navigate this ship to Earth as fast as possible,” Yahweh ordered.

  “Hang onto your seats,” she shouted, jumping into the pilot’s chair. She fixed her gaze on the darkened sky above and blasted the ship off into outer space.

  Off in the distance, at the edge of the solar system, a dark swirling maelstrom of dark matter spun as lightning bolts crackled from one part of the solar system to another.

  “We must be onboard New Jerusalem before they arrive or—” Numen stopped in mid-sentence seeing on the monitor three massive ships burst forth from the Halo at nearly the speed of light, heading straight for Earth.

  “We will not arrive at the station before they intercept the planet,” Numen calculated.

  “Notify Zaar of the danger,” Yahweh commanded, “and for him to fire the pulsar cannon when they are in range.”

  “Pulsar cannon?” Hoori asked Numen, who uploaded all the specs related to the inquired weapon into his data bank. Hoori assimilated the information and shook his head. “This will not be effective against these ships. They will repel any energy pulse by sending out a massive gravity shield to split and deflect the pulsar beam. However, it may serve to slow their progress. Once they sense the need to deflect the energy pulse, they will have to bring their engines offline and direct all systems to the gravity wave. If enough of these pulses can be spaced far enough apart at sufficient intervals, maybe…”

  “The cannon has a refractory period between pulses that will make a sustained barrage impossible,” Zenith said.

  “But maybe long enough to slow them down,” Yahweh added, racing to save the Earth.

  Zaar sat at his post on the New Jerusalem command deck, monitoring the progress of the Z-pod ships approaching the planet. “Here they come. Target the lead ship with the pulsar cannon and fire at will,” he ordered.

  Within a few seconds the intense light of the pulsar cannon erupted with the brilliance of a hundred focused stars. The blast turned on, then off and, as suspected, the Z-pod ships were undamaged.

  “Recharge the cannon. Divert all power to the pulsar,” Zaar ordered.

  “They will not get off another shot before the station is boarded and the planet is infested with hungry Z-pod,” Numen reported.

  “We could use our cannon,” Reeze pleaded.

  Numen shook his artificial head. “Negative. It will not be enough. We are already diverting all power to the engines,” he said as their spacecraft pushed against the impenetrable barrier of light speed.

  They felt helpless witnessing the imminent invasion of their vulnerable homeland. Two of the massive ships zoomed into orbit around the Earth and the third intercepted New Jerusalem, grappling onto it with a transport tube. On their spaceship’s sensors they could see pods exploded out of the orbiting vessels in a non-stop assault on the planet’s graviton base station population centers sending countless numbers of Z-pod to the Earth’s surface to feed.

  Fearing the worst, Yahweh directed Reeze to decelerate into the landing bay of transplant station. They landed unabated and reassessed their situation. The two ships orbiting the planet and the one attached to the station via tethered transporter tubing seemed to pay them little to no attention, as they attack their victims in a frantic feeding frenzy.

  “Okay, Hoori. Work your magic,” Yahweh nodded to Numen to present him with the blue Deed Crystal.

  Hoori grasped the crystal in one of his forward hands and held it close to his face, looking hypnotized by its presence. This action began to worry everyone including Yahweh until he jerked the crystal away, repelled by the crystal’s DNA lock.

  “I am not the Creator of this universe,” Hoori said, handing the crystal to Yahweh. “You must be the one who initiates the protection code.”

  “But how?”

  “Unknown,” Hoori said.

  “I see what you mean,” Numen said, dissatisfied by the answer.

  Yahweh held the blue crystal in his hand, looked into the soft inner glow of blue light, and said, “Protect,” as he projected his thoughts through the crystal to activate the sentinel satellite system and to send killer shards in their direction.

  The inner light began to glow brighter until it exploded out in every direction.

  “Let’s hope it is not too late,” said Zenith, calculating in her head the trajectories of the sentinel satellite shards and the ships orbiting the planet. Numen dematerialized the ship’s hull and led the way to the station’s bridge.

  Reaching the command bridge, they saw that Zaar and his team had vanished. The smell was indescribable. Dead Z-pod and a few broken cherubim lay smashed across the invisible flooring and walls, as more angry cherubim buzzed around like killer bees looking for something to attack. Through the floor of the transparent bridge, Yahweh could already see the local sentinel satellite discharging its weapons, sending blue shards hurtling through space directly at them.

  “Master, if a satellite projectile penetrates the atmosphere and strikes the Earth it will tear open a hole in the crust the size of Africa. Magma will spill out of the wound over the surface rendering the planet uninhabitable for centuries.”

  Yahweh waited until the last possible moment to send the signal to protect the station and planet from the destruction. A brilliant blue blast of cosmic light sparked out of the crystal, encircling the Earth and New Jerusalem in a protective glow. In an instant, the projectile chards diverted their course, blasting past the station, skipping off the planet’s atmosphere and into the two orbiting Z-pod ships. The exploding ship’s debris rained down as a massive meteor shower over half the planet. The Z-pod ship docked to the station was unharmed; the vessel detached its gravilator tubing, fired up its enormous main engines and turned away.

  “Numen, damage report,” Yahweh shouted.

  “No damage found to the station’s infrastructure. The rest of the crew are still on lockdown in battle stations. Shards ripped through the outer atmosphere of the planet destroying two of the three Z-pod ships. I am receiving a message from the third surviving vessel.”

  “On screen,” Yahweh ordered.

  On the large, curved, ink-splashed screen a gaunt Zaar’s face appeared. He was piloting the undamaged Z-pod ship as it disembarked in the direction of the Halo. In the background, octopus-shaped Z-pods could be seen clinging to every available surfac
e inside the ship.

  “Zaar? What are you doing?” Yahweh asked.

  Zaar’s pain exploded into uncontrollable screams as a tentacle twitched on the side of his face. He fought the mind-controlling mollusk semi-consciously with all his remaining might, forcing out one sluggish, creeping message. “I—am f—following your orders ma—master.” His voice was haunted, his words slurred. The monitor shifted to reveal the rest of the command staff standing behind him like soulless corpses.

  “My orders?” Yahweh shouted back as the ship-to-ship monitor cut off and the Earth became visible again below their feet.

  “They look like…” Reeze said, standing inside the command corridor cringing with Oscar at her side.

  “Zombies,” said Zenith, finishing Reeze’s revulsion with a look of horror.

  “I am not detecting any live Z-pods on board New Jerusalem, but massive numbers on the planet below,” reported Hoori, who had, to Numen’s surprise, taken up one of the instrument consoles.

  “According to the logs, Zaar warned Joop and the other base stations to hunker down in a defensive posture before the invasion began,” Numen reported, rolling his golden hand over several floating spheres. “The moonys had plenty of time to make themselves at home during the journey. They were adept at digging tunnels through the solid lunar surface making the Earth’s crust seem like Swiss cheese.”

  Yahweh frowned. “Swiss cheese?”

  “We must get to the surface and help,” Reeze pleaded, watching the massive numbers of Z-pod attacking the human and remaining animal populations on Earth as she scrolled her hand over floating spheres of her aunt’s station sensors.

  “Your father is a very resourceful man. He has retreated into deep mine shafts. They have sealed themselves off by collapsing the tunnel openings,” Numen said finishing his report and moving to a new console across the invisible walkway next to Hoori.

  “But they cannot last forever inside the caves,” she cried.

  “Neither can the Z-pods without food and warmth,” said Hoori. He looked at Numen meaningfully as he spoke, and Numen nodded.