Rogue Command (The Kalahari Series)

by A J Marshall

  “But that’s impossible,” he said. “The Sirius pairing is eight point six light years away; that’s a round trip of more than seventeen light years!”

  “It appears that the Enigma has been travelling in time – by slipping into another dimension. Scientists here are very excited by that. I’m not a scientist myself, as you know, but the thought of time travel is somewhat enlivening.”

  Richard nodded knowingly; he knew well enough of Hayden’s Second Law. But he felt awkward about the news. His natural distrust of robots made him highly sceptical, and EMILY was certainly no exception. “The Federation should put their heads before their hearts on this, Peter . . . or their coffers, for that matter – that’s my advice.”

  “Always one to put a damper on things, Richard. I’ll have you know that there is a lot of optimism here regarding EMILY and where she has been.”

  Richard reflected on Rothschild’s news for a few moments. “All the evidence that I have accrued – and it is substantial – points to the ‘old people’ arriving here from a planet in the Sirius system. Don’t you think that’s a bit of a coincidence?”

  “Let’s not go there again, Richard. We both know the Federation’s scepticism on that matter.”

  “The colonialist theory is well documented and the Sirius system is the axis. I’ve never understood why the Federation has taken the line it has.”

  “Because of the implications, Richard! You know that as well as I do. The Vatican has never budged and never will – it’s the fundamental belief. We are going over old ground again.”

  “History repeating itself again more like . . . It’s like going back to the time of Copernicus and Galileo, when the Church refused to believe that our Solar System was sun-centred and not Earth-centred. The colonist theory was brushed under the carpet, so to speak, by the religious communities, more particularly by the creationalist movements. No . . . it’s too much of a coincidence that EMILY should choose to revisit the Sirius B system. What if it is our ancestral home? Have you thought about that?”

  “Personally, I always thought the colonialist theory was a bit far-fetched. All the same, I thought that you would appreciate the information.”

  “I do, Peter – thanks very much.” Richard paused; he knew there was no point in pressing his concerns – nobody seemed to share them. “Anyway,” he said, in a resigned tone, “while I’ve got you on the phone, did Madame Vallogia and Asharf Makkoum make it back to Cairo without undue inconvenience?”

  “They are on their way. I believe their flight lands a little later this evening. I informed Professor Mubarakar as a matter of course and he insisted on providing a suitable vehicle to meet them at the airport.”

  “Very good . . . thanks. Well, keep in touch, Peter, and I’ll do the same.” With that Richard replaced the receiver.

  Richard drew a deep breath and leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. He was suspicious of the coincidence. The Sirius system . . . more particularly Sirius B. If EMILY wanted to travel to a star, why not Alpha Centauri – that one was half the distance, he thought. He considered the ‘Sirius shaft’, engineered within the Great Pyramid, and he recalled the wooden trap, some way along that shaft that was installed by the builders of that monument for a specific purpose. It had remained closed for thousands of years, but he had deciphered an inscription during his search for the Ark of the Light that had allowed Naomi, Asharf and him to open the door – albeit temporarily. Indeed, they had escaped through it after being attacked by Humatrons inside the pyramid.

  After a few moments of deliberation, Richard checked the time, re-read the last paragraph of his report, and then dismissed all thoughts of history and the colonies, and the old people.

  CHAPTER 30

  Previous Pandemic

  Richard was in the squadron’s maintenance facility inspecting an extensive skin repair on the Lunar Space Ship Ares when a woman’s voice echoed around the domed, hanger building; she called for his immediate attention.

  “Commander Reece is requested to take an urgent video call in his office. Urgent call for Commander Reece, please.”

  “Dammed PA,” said Richard to his Chief Engineer. “Never any time . . . Listen Chief, it looks good to me. Ask the Duty Officer to nominate two pilots for the test flight – I want experienced pilots, none of the new guys. Initially, limit their altitude to ninety thousand feet until you can analyse the stress data. After that, and if all’s well, they can complete the test schedule – let me know the results. We are due to resume the medical evacuation programme at 21:00 hours.”

  “Yes, Commander – I’m onto it,” responded the engineer.

  Richard quickened his step towards a communications point in the hangar. He picked up the receiver and pushed a key on the pad. “Commander Reece here,” he said. “Apparently I’ve got a call coming in. Who is it?”

  “It’s a conference call, sir. Set up by London. I understand the Space Federation is also participating. I’ve patched it through to your office at the request of Mr Peter Rothschild in Whitehall. The signal is scrambled, sir – highest security directive. I’ve taken the liberty of posting two security officers outside your door.”

  Richard shook his head and then growled: “What the hell is it this time! Okay . . . I’m on my way, tell them.”

  Richard arrived promptly at his office and returned a salute from the two uniformed and armed security guards; they stood ominously on either side of his door. Seems a bit of overkill, he thought, as one of the men closed the door behind him. He strode over to his desk and collapsed into his high-backed swivel chair and simultaneously pressed a button on his desktop that resulted in a large screen rising up. The screen burst into life and an image of Peter Rothschild quickly sharpened. The words ‘Audiovisual Confirmed’ and ‘Security – President Level Class 1’ appeared along the bottom of the screen, along with a number of small, square, live portraits of the people linked to the conference call – one was General Roper in Florida and another was Professor Nieve, with the word ‘London’ appearing below his head.

  “Sorry, everyone . . . been busy in the maintenance department. There’s a lot of clearing up to do, as you can imagine.” Richard said, realising that he may have appeared a little less respectful than he ought, considering who he was looking at in the other portrait blocks. He settled into his chair as Rothschild spoke.

  Peter Rothschild – whose earlier expression of satisfaction and optimism appeared to have completely disappeared – commenced the proceedings. “Richard – bit of a scare on . . . we need information.”

  “If I can! What is it?”

  “You will recall several days ago that you gave me a polythene forensic pouch containing a small amount of dust and sediment that you said came from inside the Ark of the Light. Please can you enlighten us a little on this matter?”

  Richard was surprised; he had forgotten about the pouch and what it contained. His eyes narrowed as he recalled the events. “Er, yes, I suppose so. Madame Vallogia . . . she is a Master of the Antiquities, as you know. When it comes to the processes involved with restoring ancient artefacts she dots every i and crosses every t. As it was described to me, the sediment is what was brushed from the inside of the Ark and scraped from the corners. She did this immediately prior to the renovation programme commencing.”

  “Could the material sample in the pouch have been contaminated?”

  “Unlikely, I’d say. Those pouches are triple sealed – completely airtight by nature. I would imagine that there would be some oxidation of the deposit; after all, it’s probably thousands of years old.”

  “That’s what we are concerned about,” said Rothschild with a frown. “Please, carry on.”

  “Well, that’s it really . . . nothing was ever placed in the Ark . . . not that I know. Why don’t you call Madame Vallogia herself?”

  “She’s in Cairo somewhere and we can’t get in touch with her. Anything else, Richard . . . your thoughts, perhaps?”

  “My th
oughts . . . ?” Richard shrugged. “The deposit will most probably contain atmospheric elements present at the time that the Ark was constructed; there will be oxidation, particularly with material from the corners, where you tend to get a timely build-up and perhaps a skin forming. There might even be microscopic samples of bacteria or similar. If a gas chromatograph is used it may be possible to isolate some of the elements that made up the atmosphere at the time – learn something of the conditions present when the Ark was made – give a clue to where it actually came from.”

  “The chromatographic process has already been completed, and so too a microbiological analysis,” Professor Nieve interjected. “And that’s our problem!”

  Richard pressed a button on his control panel that switched Rothschild’s image to half screen size and moved it to his left. The current speaker then automatically came into frame on his right. Professor Nieve’s concerned expression unnerved Richard.

  “What is it, Professor – what’s the problem?”

  Professor Nieve ignored Richard’s question and instead asked one of his own. “Commander, we all know your belief – from your experiences – that the ‘old people’, the colonists, came from a planet in the Sirius system. I myself am in two minds, but most here remain highly sceptical of the entire hypothesis, as you can understand. However, despite a wash of cynicism from the scientific community, we now have unequivocal evidence that the Enigma has visited the Sirius sector, more particularly a lifeless planet that orbits Sirius B.”

  Richard nodded. “Yes, I have heard about that.” He looked at Rothschild.

  “Recent research carried out by the Osiris Science Officer on Mars has revealed that the planet in question was at one point in its history very similar to the Earth – by that I mean the conditions on its surface. It is highly probable that it could have supported life similar to our own. That is before the star Sirius B itself became unstable and expanded to become a red giant. We have analysed the samples from the Ark and discovered remnants of nitrogen, oxygen, argon and carbon dioxide in almost the exact proportions that we find here on Earth . . .”

  “This is ‘Goldilocks’ stuff! With all due respect, Professor, you’d better get on with it,” barked General Roper. “We are running out of time. Our ship is due to dock in a few hours!”

  Professor Nieve looked to his right and then back at Richard. “Based on our gas analysis, the Ark could have been made here on Earth, Commander, but equally, it could have been made elsewhere.”

  Richard looked confused. “If you are asking my opinion as to whether the Ark of the Light was constructed here on Earth, or alternatively, before the colonists left their home planet, then I would say the latter. Why would they bring the materials and do the job on a new planet? Why? It makes no sense. They used the Ark to carry their last remaining crystals, the Kalahari crystals – that are essentially unstable. Eridu, Babylon . . . even Atlantis, they were all powered by the crystals.”

  “Atlantis!” exclaimed an official off-screen. “Let us be serious here, please!”

  Richard knew it was a mistake to mention Atlantis; it only served to undermine his credibility. He paused and looked at the row of faces in portrait. “The Ark was constructed elsewhere, on the home planet – that’s always been my belief!” he said forcibly.

  Professor Nieve addressed a colleague. “Professor Varela, if you would?”

  The image of a younger scientist wearing a white laboratory coat appeared on the right-hand split screen. He looked to be in his late thirties and wore a pair of frameless spectacles that clipped into a tiny peg set in the bridge of his nose. His hair was dark and balding. Richard noticed that another three people had joined the conference, making a total of fourteen. The names included prominent members of the ISSF Council, the UK’s Health Minister and the World Health Organisation’s current president.

  “Get on with it . . . goddamn scientists!” General Roper was heard to say. He was off-screen and clearly his words were not meant to be heard.

  Professor Varela was in a brightly lit laboratory. The word ‘Geneva’ appeared beneath his name on the screen. Richard magnified his image to near life size. He looked pale and stressed. He stood behind a white-topped table on which there were numerous instruments and, to his right, Richard recognised a compact Shultzer electron microscope. He looked like a science teacher explaining a classroom experiment with his arms folded in front of him. Occasionally he peered over his spectacles at someone off-screen. He was waiting for a sign.

  “Everyone is now seated Matthew, please,” said Professor Nieve.

  Matthew Varela nodded and looked into his camera. “What we have found in the material sample from the ancient artefact has grave consequences for us all,” he said in good English and with a slight Germanic accent. His manner was open but restrained. “Initially, we ran a routine sweep for prokaryote micro-organisms . . . bacteria to the layman. We did not expect to find anything unusual, indeed the sample material was analysed in one of our general, outlying laboratories.” Varela paused momentarily. “What we discovered, however, was isolated cells of Yersinia pestis.” Varela paused again to add weight to his words. His brow furrowed as he stared above his spectacles. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he continued, “this is the bacterium that causes bubonic plague.”

  There was a gasp from the audience.

  Varela shifted his weight between legs and for a moment appeared nervous. Then he raised a hand. “We quickly brought the material here to our central facility and ran a much broader check whilst instigating an isolation initiative,” he explained. “This sweep revealed viral samples – but not just common examples as one finds in . . . soil, or food, for instance, but samples that specifically cause infectious disease in humans – namely influenza.”

  There was a flurry of conversation among the audience.

  “It could be argued that diseases such as plague and flu have been infecting man for as long as he has been on this planet,” continued Varela. “Epidemics and pandemics have raged and waned throughout recorded history – and so we were concerned, but not overly so. After all, current treatments have a broad range and are effective. Nevertheless, we decided to isolate the viral strain and categorise it, and we found that it is related to the H1N1 strain – a subtype of the influenza A virus. Now, this ‘Ark of the Light’ artefact that has been referred to, it could have been constructed during a local flu outbreak, or even perhaps during an epidemic. However – and this is our problem – we further compared this virus to all current types of influenza virus . . . H1N2, H3N1, H3N2, H2N3, swine influenza virus . . . SIV, but there was no exact match, although we found a common protein, a protein that was also present in the avian flu pandemic of two thousand and twenty-six. So we also referenced the so called Spanish flu pandemic of nineteen eighteen, an unusually severe and deadly strain of avian influenza that killed fifty to one hundred million people worldwide over about twelve months during nineteen eighteen and nineteen nineteen – incidentally, thought to be one of the most deadly pandemics in human history – and again there was a link . . . the same protein!”

  “With all due respect, Professor,” said General Roper impatiently, “what are you saying here, that the people who built the Ark had colds?”

  Professor Varela shrugged. “Quite possibly, General, or at least that examples of the virus and bacteria in question were present in the air – there would be a level of immunity to these infections, though. But when they built the Ark, that’s the astonishing thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Because we could not find an exact match, we ran a computer-based mutation model – a kind of evolutionary process in reverse. That’s when we raised the alarm.”

  “Tell us, man, for God’s sake,” said Roper, unable to restrain himself.

  Varela sighed and glanced at General Roper, as if to say ‘such exacting science cannot be rushed’. “By running the mutation model,” he said, “and going back in time, so to speak, we did fi
nd a match – an exact match.” Varela picked up an electronic tablet reader from the table top and referred to it. “As far as the strains of influenza virus that infects humans are concerned, we think we have found in the sample material the original form – the forerunner to the mutation process – the very first influenza A virus!”

  “How many years ago?” interjected Richard, sitting up straight in his chair. “As far as the computer programme goes, I mean. How many years ago does this ‘exact’ match occur . . . ? What I’m asking is how long did the mutation cycle take . . . ?”

  “At least ten thousand years!”

  “So what you are saying is that the virus and bacteria found in the Ark is a snapshot of their form in what . . . eight thousand BC? And from that form, the influenza A virus and the strains present today have gradually evolved?”

  “Yes . . . correct.”

  Richard looked at Rothschild. This revelation was adding considerable weight to his colonist hypothesis.

  “I don’t understand what the problem is!” interjected General Roper, who looked away from the screen and then back at Professor Varela.

  “It has taken thousands of years and two billion deaths for the human race to acquire the immunity it has against the current strains of virus and bacteria that populate our planet, General,” explained Varela. “These basic life forms are continuously changing, mutating, probing our natural defences – we are constantly exposed to them. Those who aren’t, those who live in isolation, lose their resistance – not to mention the allergy question. We know that periodically such pathogens get the upper hand. That’s when epidemics and pandemics occur. It’s been the case throughout our history – the bubonic plague, the flu pandemics of the last four decades, including avian and bovine flu. Drugs are only successful to a point; it’s our own immune systems that must evolve. But the pathogens that we have discovered in the sample provided by Commander Reece, and taken from the ancient artefact, are primitive pathogens – in their original form. Such a form would be alien to us here on Earth. We would have no natural protection against it and producing a vaccine would require living specimens and would take at least six weeks.”