“Is he dangerous?”
“I don’t think he’s harmed anyone, physically. But some of his jabs are pretty pointed. He’d be really good doing one of those celebrity roasts.”
Andy changed the subject. “Other than General Kane being bitten by the wolf, have there been any other problems at the facility?”
“No. Hasn’t been a serious security breach on my watch for almost five years.”
“How long have you been here?” Andy asked.
“Almost five years.”
“So what did you do before that?”
“I was a Sergeant in the Army Rangers. On the ground during the invasion of Iraq.”
“How did you end up here?”
“Stumbled upon something I shouldn’t have.”
Andy leaned forwards. “Really? Care to share?” He was less interested in the story and more interesting in getting the image of Frank Belgium out of his head.
Rimmer put down his pen and looked up at them. “I suppose I can tell you. Not that I particularly enjoy telling it.”
Sun and Andy said nothing.
So Rimmer continued. “My unit was in the south-western Iraqi desert near Rutba. We were looking for a chemical weapons processing plant that Intel told us was in the area. We had managed to flip a guy in the Republican Guard. He’d explained that Saddam had several WMDs ready to launch the very moment he was declared dead or captured—kind of like a dead man’s switch. One of the Army’s primary objectives was ensuring that this was not true, or neutralising the devices in the case that it was. The plant south of Rutba was our first and only lead. We didn’t want Saddam to know that we were on to his plan, so command sent in three Ranger units. My unit was in the area directly south of Rutba. So far we’d found nothing but desert, but we had an itinerary and we weren’t going to bug-out until we hit every point on our map. But when a sandstorm came in, it ruined our radio equipment and left us all turned around on ourselves. I could have gone north towards the road and called the mission in as a bust, but I made the decision to keep heading south instead. We were in the middle of the desert, a perfect place to hide a facility. Turns out I was right.”
“You found the chemical plant?” Sun asked.
“I thought so at the time. My unit came upon a group of single-story buildings surrounded by a half dozen 3-tonners—big trucks. There was no natural cover so we dropped down low and approached from two sides. We were sure we were about to strike a mighty blow for America.” Rimmer blinked slowly as the story seemed to play out in his mind. “They opened fire on us before we even got halfway. I didn’t realise at the time, but the area was covered by thermal imaging and radar. They saw us coming a mile away. By the time I even knew what was happening, my entire unit had been slaughtered and I’d taken a bullet in the neck. I thought I was done for, even started to pray. Bleeding out into the sand, I thought about all the wives and families of the men I’d just led to their deaths. I was angry, ashamed, and a whole bunch of other screwed-up emotions beginning with A. Even though I was dying, I wanted to get up and scream, to fight for my men. But every time I tried, my body would not move. Last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was two men running towards me. Neither of them were Iraqi soldiers.”
“So what happened?” Andy asked. “Who were they?”
“Deus Manus. I’d stumbled upon the Iraqi chapter of the Order. They called their facility Jahannam.”
Andy translated the word in his head. “Jahannam? The Islamic concept of Hell?”
Rimmer nodded. “They brought me underground and locked me in a cell, vetted me for almost six months. Ran psych tests on me, background checks, the works. Checked up on every person I knew. After enough time had passed, the US government listed me as KIA—as well as all of the men in my unit, whose bodies they had relocated a hundred-miles north of where they actually died. That’s when Deus Manus inducted me. I trained for a few years at the Iraqi facility and eventually transferred here, back home. This was my first major gig and I’ve been here ever since.”
“You ever regret being here?”
Rimmer sniffed. “I regret how I got here, on the backs of my dead squad mates, but I don’t regret being here now. It’s important work. The things we keep down here are dangerous. After what happened in Samhain you both obviously understand that.”
Andy and Sun said nothing. Rimmer’s pager on his belt beeped, and he checked it.
“A pager?” Andy said, trying to alleviate some of the tension. “With all of this tech, isn’t that old school?”
“Radio waves don’t travel far in the Spiral. We’re not sure why. Being underground is part of it, and there’s a lot of interference from all the equipment, but the prevailing idea is that some of these creatures produce radio waves themselves, and block our transmissions. Standard AM and FM bands don’t work. Cell phones don’t work. The pagers work via an ad-hoc WLAN. We can text each other, small amounts of data at a time, and even then the texts can get delayed.”
“Sounds… inconvenient.”
“Do you really mean inconvenient? Or dangerous?”
“Dangerous,” Andy admitted.
“Each floor has an intercom phone, so I can stay in touch with my men that way in case of an emergency. So far that’s been all we’ve needed.”
So far, Andy thought.
General Kane appeared from one of the side offices. He quickly took a seat at the table with them. “Any issues, Sergeant?”
“None at all, sir. All systems optimal. Outside perimeters clear. We’re all alone out here as usual, sir.”
“Very good.”
Rimmer took his bundle of papers and left.
“Now then.” Kane turned to face the Dennison-Joneses. “Did you find anything out about our guests?”
“No specifics.” Sun crossed her arms. “But it’s obvious that the batling is part of some kind of larger plan. If we’re to believe the things it was saying to us, mankind should be preparing for some kind of war.”
Kane huffed. “Against a handful of flying goat men? I’ve faced off against far worse.”
“How many batlings are being held in Deus Manus facilities, General?” Sun asked. “Assuming you talked to the President.”
“I did, and he gave you clearance. By last count, we have eighteen batlings. The one here is the largest.”
“And were they all caught in close proximity to the facilities?”
“Yes.”
“So they were trying to get caught.”
“That is certainly one interpretation. But they’re all locked up. This isn’t Samhain. Samhain’s main purpose was research. Here our main goal is containment. Nothing has ever escaped a Deus Manus facility.”
“You know Bub can alter his own DNA and shapeshift?”
“I read the Samhain file, Ms. Dennison-Jones. What happened to you both at Samhain has frightened you. General Race’s incompetence has rattled your faith in the ability of the human race to defend itself. We are top of the food chain for a reason, and nothing will knock us off that pedestal.”
Andy rolled his chin against his chest and sighed as his neck cracked. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his arguments rational rather than idealist like Kane’s.
“First off,” Andy said. “There was nothing incompetent about General Race. Second, Bub, and that batling in particular, are like nothing else in this facility. He might just hold the secret to life itself. We had a theory that…” Andy sighed. He didn’t want to waste his breath getting into theories which held no proof. He suddenly wished he hadn’t spoken.
Kane folded his arms. “A theory that what?”
“That Bub created life on this earth.”
Kane stared at them. He didn’t blink, he didn’t react. After several uncomfortable seconds had passed, he simply got up and walked away, shaking his head the whole time.
Sun and Andy looked at each other.
“Guess he must be a creationist,” said Sun.
“I get the im
pression that having faith in God is a pre-requisite to be inducted into Deus Manus. Even Rimmer mentioned something about praying.”
“What about Dr. Chandelling, Dr. Gornman? Surely as people of science, what they have seen here must have made them question the existence of God.”
Andy shrugged. “Maybe. Or perhaps it made them believe in Him even more.”
Sun huffed and reached across the table to hold Andy’s hand. “So what’s the plan, hubby?”
“I don’t know. But I have an idea.”
Sun raised an eyebrow. “Torture Bub with radiation until he talks?”
“Even if we got permission, I don’t think I could stomach that. And we both know the only reliable information extracted via torture exists in the realms of TV show like 24; and I’m no Jack Bauer. But Bub isn’t the only one here who knows something.”
“The Manx man.”
“I say it’s time that Lucas and Bub Jr. meet face to face.”
Chapter Fifteen
Fatal Autonomy had been a rerun, the one where they chased a serial killer known as the Gingerbread Man and the annoying fat female cop kept bursting into tears. Instead of watching it, Jerry and Nessie hit the library for research.
“So what are we looking for?” Jerry asked.
“Anything to do with the batling. Especially anything to do with the origin of its creator.”
“Bub?”
“Yes, although that’s just the name they gave him at the Samhain project. No one knows his real name.”
The library on subbasement 5 was huge, not as big as a public library but vastly larger than a private library had any right to be. The ceilings were high, stacked with books of all sizes. Jerry picked up a dusty tome the size of a monopoly board and wiped his hand across the surface revealing the title: Infernas Animas.
“So this ‘Bub’? He was like, what, a demon or something?”
Nessie leafed through the pages of the book she’d set down in front of her. “To tell you the truth, no one knows exactly what he is. They dug him up in Panama over a hundred years ago and he slept pretty much the whole time they had him at Samhain. Then, five, six years ago or so, he wakes up and wreaks havoc. The Dennison-Joneses and one other member of the Samhain team were the only survivors. Up until Bub awoke, the scientists at the facility thought he was the devil himself—Satan.”
Jerry’s eyes went wide. “No shit? You mean the devil and angels exist for real? Man, I would love to see an angel. Bet they’re all badass with flaming swords and stuff.”
“I don’t think he actually is Satan, Jerry. The reports made it seem more like Bub is some kind of evolutionary origin for all things on earth. I don’t know if I believe it myself, but they suggest Bub shared DNA on a basic level with all other species on earth. So either all life in the entire universe is carbon based, uses the same five nucleobases, and requires liquid water to survive, or Bub is terrestrial.”
“Meaning Bub came from earth?”
“Or life on earth came from Bub. Some samples taken from Bub predate life on earth.”
Jerry opened the book in front of him and turned to a random page. On it was an image of a woman being burned in front of a crowd of people. The text was all in a foreign language, but Jerry could figure out that it was a witch. “But Bub is gone now, he turned into lots of the smaller batlings, right?”
“As far as I know. That batling is pretty much a miniature replica of Bub himself. It would be interesting to know if Bub could reform again if all of the batlings came back together.”
Jerry laughed. “Like some sort of Lego demon or one of those robots in the Power Rangers?”
Nessie giggled. “You’re such a nerd.”
Jerry frowned and looked down at his book, turning the pages one after the other without reading any of them. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“No,” said Nessie. “I like it. I think you’re funny.”
Jerry looked up at her. “What, funny in a good way?”
“Is there any other kind?”
“There’s funny in an odd way.”
“But odd is good, isn’t it? Who wants to be normal?”
“I guess.”
Nessie motioned for him to take the seat beside her. Jerry did so, his hands starting to sweat as he pulled back the chair.
“This book is all about the Nordic bronze-age. It has a chapter that indexes all the different cave paintings and rock carvings from that time.”
“What time?”
“1700BC to about 500BC. That’s really old, but not as old as you’d think. The earliest forms of civilizations may have started as early as 12,000BC.”
Jerry whistled. “Crikey! So why are you not starting back there, at the beginning?”
“Well, with so much time to cover, I feel it’s best to start with this period and work backwards and forwards based on what I find. If I find mention of Bub, then I’ll go backwards a few centuries and search for something else. If I find nothing then I’ll try something a little more recent. I’m trying to pinpoint Bub’s place in time.”
Jerry nodded. It seemed like finding a needle in a haystack to him, but if it took an age to come up with something useful, then he would be quite happy to sit next to Nessie the whole time. Her reddish hair seemed to sparkle beneath the soft lights of the library and her rosy cheeks radiated warmth. She had a way of making Jerry feel comfortable; probably the first woman that had ever managed to do that, since he wasn’t exactly the smoothest around members of the opposite sex.
“So, what makes you think there’s anything about Bub in the history books? Wouldn’t we all know about him if there was?”
Nessie smiled. “One of the first things you learn when inducted into Deus Manus is that there are certain history books written only to be read by a few people. Most of the books in this library were written by hand and reproduced perhaps only a dozen times. Deus Manus probably owns all of the reproductions as well as the originals. What we have in this library is the complete and concise history of the world. What everyone else has is just the Cliff Notes.”
Jerry looked around at all the dusty tomes that lined the many shelves. “I think you just blew my mind.”
Nessie chuckled. “Well, it’s been a long time since I blew a man’s anything.” As soon as the words left Nessie’s mouth there was a look of horror in her eyes. She placed a hand over her lips and shook her head. “I can’t believe I just said that. My god, I’ve been in this hole too long.”
Jerry felt himself turn red. “Hey, erm, don’t worry about it. It was just a joke; a pretty funny one actually.”
Nessie moved her hand away from her mouth and sighed. “Wow, I’m sorry. Still can’t believe I just said that. Anyway, look at this.”
Jerry stared at the pages in front of Nessie. On the page was a photograph of a cliff wall. Splashed on it in faded red paint was the image of a winged man with horns and the lower body of a goat. It looked just like the batling, only bigger. All around the winged figure were people on their knees, bowing before it.
“What is this?” Jerry asked.
“This,” said Nessie, “is proof that people once worshipped Bub as a god.”
“What people?”
“The Nordic tribes. We don’t know a lot about them, as written sources are lacking, but we do know that they worshipped two gods—one good and one bad. It could be said that these two gods were actually a duality of one being—a good and bad side of one god. But it could also be that they worshipped the same god we do, a caring god in the heavens, and a second god, an evil god down here on earth.”
“Bub?”
Nessie looked at Jerry and nodded. “Could be. If they really did worship Bub, then we know that he is at least three-thousand years old. Let’s go back further.”
Jerry stood up and went over to one of the bookcases. “What can I get you? Remember that I am here to serve.”
“Ooh, I always wanted my own assistant. Can you get me that big blue book just over ther
e?” She pointed. “It should say Hadzabe on the spine. It’s a book on a Stone Age tribe from Tanzania. I want to see if I can find Bub in a different time and location.”
Jerry located the book and brought it over. “You want to find out if Bub got about a bit?”
Nessie laughed. “Yes. It would be good to see just how far his influence stretched, just how many civilizations were touched by him.”
Jerry sat back down at the table and opened the book. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s Google this bitch, old school.”
Jerry saw out the corner of his eye that Nessie was smiling at him, and that made him smile too.
Chapter Sixteen
“So how are we going to do this?”
Andy looked at his wife and wished he had a clear-cut answer to give to her. They were still sitting at the conference table and had been discussing the plan of getting Lucas and the batling together for the past hour. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I think the best man to ask would be Rimmer.”
Sun nodded. “Let’s get him in here, then.”
Andy leant forward and examined the intercom in the center of the table. There was a small LCD display and some buttons. After a couple of seconds, Andy worked out how to use the device and put a call through to the security office.
“Rimmer. Who’s this?”
“Andy and Sun. We’re still in the conference room. Would you be able to come meet with us?”
A sigh came from the speakers, but Rimmer said, “I’ll be there in five.”
Andy leant back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap. He spent a couple minute’s thought on the logistics of what he wanted to achieve.
“Maybe if we can divide one of the cells in two, it would work.”
“How will we move one of them to the other’s cell? We know the batling is dangerous, but Lucas could be too.”
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