Beyond the Shroud of the Universe

by Chris Kennedy

  “How do we know what you say is true?” President Nehru asked.

  The man smiled again, but there was no warmth; it was the most evil expression Night had ever seen.

  “I hoped someone would ask that,” the man said. He nodded to the Efreeti, who vanished. He looked at his watch as if counting time. “If you would all monitor your news feeds, I believe something bad is about to happen to Tashkent.”

  “Who’s Tashkent?” a voice called.

  Within moments, Night’s newsfeed was swamped with pictures of a mushroom cloud rising over a city. The text beneath it read “Nuclear Bomb Destroys Tashkent.” Gasps could be heard throughout the room.

  “Tashkent used to be the capital of Uzbekistan,” the man said. “Pity. It was quite a nice town before the Soviet invasion. Don’t worry, though. Our people recovered the Samarkand Kufic Quran before the…demonstration.” He surveyed the audience and saw several hands shoot up.

  “There will not be any questions taken today,” he continued, “but you may be sure more information will be forthcoming. For now, return to your countries and await further instructions. This meeting, just like this government, is at an end. Go!” He pointed to the exit.

  When no one moved, he set down the package and pulled a pistol from a holster at his side. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. It is time for you to leave. If you don’t leave immediately, I will begin shooting people until you do. You have five seconds.” He began counting backward from five.

  At “three,” several people sprinted for the exits; at “two” the stampede was on. Night headed for the exit at “one,” but only after memorizing the man’s face. Someone who could so casually destroy a city of two million people needed to die. They would meet again; Night was sure.

  As he passed through the door, he felt a nudge at his side and looked down to find a short, nondescript man walking alongside him. Night hadn’t noticed the man before, nor had he seen him approach.

  “Can we talk somewhere privately?” the man asked without looking up.

  Night ran an online facial recognition scan on what he could see of the man’s face, but it came back with no matches. That hadn’t happened since he got his implant. Some of his confusion must have shown on his face, for the man added, “An online search won’t find me. I don’t exist.”

  “Yeah,” Night said. “Come with me. My shuttle is parked on the landing pad. We can talk there.”

  Chapter Eight

  Cargo Bay, Shuttle 02, Terran Government HQ, Lake Pedam, Nigeria, October 4, 2021

  “So,” Night said. “We’re here. What is it you wanted to talk about?”

  “When the Psiclopes made their presence known, the world became focused on the stars,” the man said, “with very few people looking after things on this planet. While this was sufficient for most nations, my country has many enemies, including those who didn’t join the Republic of Terra. Everyone thought North Korea and Iran had been marginalized enough that they couldn’t make trouble.” He shook his head. “Those people were wrong.”

  After a sigh, he continued, “My organization, however, has continued to monitor them. And it is a good thing we never lost our focus. Our world…no, our very race, has traitors, as you just saw.”

  “It might help me trust you,” Night said, “if perhaps I knew who you were.”

  “You can call me Moshe Arens,” the man said. “That is not my name, of course, but it will do well enough for now.”

  “If that’s how you inspire trust, you’re not very good at it. You’ll have to try a little harder.”

  The man shrugged, waving off Night’s concern with a flip of his hand. “My real name is unimportant; it was erased many years ago to protect the remaining members of my family. I exist for one purpose and one purpose only, to ensure the safety of my country.”

  “I guess you didn’t get the memo,” Night said. “We don’t have countries anymore; we’re all part of the Fourth Persian Empire now.”

  “I do not consider myself part of the Persian Empire any more than you do, Captain Train. If it will help you move on, I am authorized to tell you I am part of the Mossad, although my organization is not one you would ever have heard of. You may be familiar with my organization’s motto. If not, it is very relevant now. ‘Where there is no guidance, a nation falls, but in an abundance of counselors, there is safety.’”

  Night recognized the biblical quote, and he knew it to be the Mossad’s motto. “So you are an Israeli?” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “I am,” the man said with a nod. “Despite the world’s recent focus on the stars, we still have many enemies here; it is only prudent we keep our eyes on them. I have been watching Iran nearly all my adult life.”

  “With a secret organization?”

  The man shrugged. “We all have our secrets. By the way, how is Father Z doing?”

  Night raised an eyebrow. The priest’s reappearance was a closely-guarded secret; only a very select few were aware of it. Whoever the man was, his sources were good. Very good. “Touché,” Night said. “If you really care, he is expected to recover.”

  “I do care,” the man replied; “he may be able to provide additional information about what the traitors are doing.” He paused, seemingly lost in thought.

  “So,” Night said, growing impatient after a few seconds, “this would be a good time to tell me what you know. That is the reason you made yourself known to me, correct? So I could do something about it?”

  “Partially,” the man said. “While we do want your involvement, we also want you to take all the credit for it; we would prefer our involvement…even our very existence…never comes to light. We are ghosts, and we would like to stay that way.”

  “If you can help us stop these assholes, I’ll be happy to forget I ever saw you,” Night replied. “My focus is on killing bad guys, not revealing the identities of quasi-allies.”

  The man smiled. “We are allies,” he said. “We want what you want, a peaceful Earth where everyone can prosper. We just have different methods of achieving it.”

  “I understand,” Night said. “The Kidon has been responsible for a number of successful assassinations; however, that’s something we Americans generally don’t go for.”

  “There are two things wrong with that statement. First, Americans do go for assassinations; they just aren’t honest enough to admit it when they’re caught. Assassinations can be very effective in stunting an organization’s growth. The other thing wrong is that, while the Kidon is the department responsible for executing our nation’s enemies, I am not part of it as you are suggesting. Now, can we dispense with the verbal sparring? We do not have much time before irreversible changes will be made.”

  Night stared at the man, trying to take his measure; the man endured it without shrinking until Night made up his mind.

  With a small nod, Night indicated his approval. “Okay,” he growled. “What do you know that can help us kill these bastards?”

  Cargo Bay, Shuttle 02, Lake Pedam, Nigeria, October 5, 2021

  “I don’t have a lot of time,” Admiral Wright said, walking into the cargo bay with Night to find Lieutenant Bradford waiting for them. “As you can imagine, the world leadership wants to know what the hell I’m doing about the terrorists. What is so damn important you dragged me out here to see?”

  “There isn’t anything to see, sir,” Night said, “but I think I have a line on your terrorists.”

  “Well that would be the first good news I’ve had today,” the admiral said. “What have you got?”

  “After the General Assembly meeting yesterday, I was approached by a man with some information. I think he’s from the Mossad, but can’t prove it. He claims to know where the terrorists are hiding and how to get them.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “I think so. He certainly is well-connected, if nothing else. He knew we had found Father Z and brought him back.”

  “Why did he contact y
ou and not someone in the government, then?”

  “He said our communications are compromised, and all our phones are monitored. He’s also pretty sure our satellite and network communications are being monitored. I can’t tell if he’s just paranoid, but he’s worried about our implant comms too. I don’t know how the terrorists could breach the implant network, but he swears they have. If you’re transmitting anything, he says the Persians can probably pick it up. The bottom line is if your conversation isn’t face-to-face and in a secure location, you’re being monitored.”

  “That’s scary,” the admiral said. “Total comms breakdown.”

  “Yes sir. The Israelis also believe we only have global communications so the terrorists can monitor them for intel. If the Iranians thought we were onto them, the man said the Iranians could take down all our comms nets.”

  “But how? Who do they have positioned to do this?”

  “I don’t know, sir. He did tell me where to find their headquarters, and he let me know that we’ve only got a small window of opportunity to stop them.”

  “Based on the fact we’re now part of the ‘Fourth Persian Empire,’” the admiral said, “I’m guessing the headquarters is in Iran.”

  “That’s a good guess,” Night said. “What do you know about the Iranian nuclear program?”

  “Umm…they lie until they’re caught, they confess and we forgive them? Then they go back to doing it again? Something like that? Honestly, my focus has been on aliens, not what the Iranians have been doing.”

  “Unfortunately, almost everyone’s focus has been on the stars,” Night replied, “and that’s what’s biting us in the ass right now.” He paused to pull out a map and spread it across the central web seating.

  Night pointed to a spot in southwest Iran. “This is Lashkar Abad. In 1998, the Iranians built a plant here for the laser isotope separation of uranium in support of their nuclear program. The site was exposed in 2003, leading to an inspection of the site. Soon after that, the Iranians said they were shutting the plant down because they no longer had any intention of enriching uranium using that method. The plant stayed vacant until 2006, when claims were made that the site had been revived by Iran for laser enrichment.”

  Night met Admiral Wright’s eye. “But that isn’t what happened. It was revived, all right, but it was revived to serve as a portal between our world and anti-Earth. Ever since, there has been trade and communications between the two worlds.”

  Admiral Wright’s eyes widened in shock. “You mean they’ve been in contact with the Efreet for 15 years?”

  “Yes sir. That’s what our new friend told me, anyway. It even escaped their attention for a while. At first, they thought the site had been restarted to conduct laser separation again, and they really didn’t think much about it. Sure, they cared, but it was lower priority than a lot of other things they were following, and they didn’t have enough assets to follow up. They noticed security had been beefed up and a number of scientists and workers were coming and going from the plant, and they just put it down to the plant’s original purpose.”

  “What changed?”

  “Nothing changed for a while, which is something our contact felt very ashamed of.”

  “Still,” the admiral said, “at least they were watching it, if only a little. That’s more than we were doing.”

  “Yes sir, but it was only an accident the site truly came to their attention. During a routine analysis of some photoreconnaissance, their intelligence officer recognized the face of a scientist going into the plant. He had just seen that face on TV and knew who it was, a Dr. Dalir Shir-Del, a very prominent biologist. He was part of a group of 12 men who were going into the plant.”

  “What’s a biologist doing in a nuclear plant?”

  “That’s what their intel guy wondered, so he tried to figure out who was with him. As it turned out, they were all biologists. One biologist might have had a scientific reason to be there, but 12 of them? At once? He knew something else was going on and alerted his superiors.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “August 20, 2018. You may remember that date.”

  “Yeah, the start of the Sino-American War.”

  “Yes sir, you and I were a little distracted at the time. Then, as soon as it ended, the Psiclopes showed up and ‘boom;’ off we went to the stars. We missed it.”

  “But the Israelis didn’t?” Night could hear the hope in the admiral’s voice.

  “They didn’t miss it,” Night replied; “unfortunately, by then the Iranian’s security was tight. The people involved in the program all knew each other, and weren’t letting anyone else in. It was difficult for the Israelis to get an operative close to the site.”

  “What did they do, kill someone to take their place?”

  “He wouldn’t say, but I imagine they took out more than one. However they did it, the Israelis finally got someone into the plant and found out what was going on.”

  “When did that happen?”

  “Two weeks ago.”

  “Shit; just two weeks?”

  “Yes sir, they just found out. That’s why we haven’t heard anything about this; they haven’t had time to tell anyone. They haven’t even finished briefing their own chain of command. Then, before they really even had a handle on everything going on, their inside guy said something changed a few days ago and the Iranians accelerated their plans. Tashkent wasn’t supposed to be the target; Chicago was. They just didn’t have time to get someone to our side of the planet in their universe. Tashkent was close…and the fallout wouldn’t affect them. Picking Tashkent also let them steal the Samarkand Quran, the oldest Quran in the world, because the Iranians thought having it would give them more legitimacy.”

  “What changed?”

  “We went into their world.”

  “So we spooked them into kicking off their plans before they were ready?”

  “No sir, I don’t think so. Well, at least not on our part.”

  “What do you mean?

  “I mean the plan changed when, quote, ‘an elf and his prisoner,’ unquote, landed in the main city of the Efreet on anti-Earth.”

  “You think that’s Captain Nightsong and one of our men?”

  “I would bet money it’s Nightsong and one of our men. Sir, I think he’s been playing us all along. The only reason we went to anti-Earth was because he told us to. He’s the one who said anti-Earth was their capital, and then he scared us into taking a look. He even talked us into letting him take Calvin across with him.”

  “Why did he do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Night said. “But I do know when I see that bastard again, I will kill him.”

  “Well, I don’t know if there’s anything else we can do about it right now, but I agree with your sentiments. Did your new friend have any ideas on what we can do to stop the Persian Empire from taking control of our infrastructure, aside from trading nuclear bombs with them?”

  “Yes sir, he had an idea. We talked about it a bit, and then I brought Lieutenant Bill Bradford, our representative from Department X, into the discussion. You’re familiar with Department X, right, sir?”

  “Familiar with it?” Admiral Wright asked. “Of course I am; it was my idea. I knew we needed an organization to exploit the alien technology we’ve been acquiring, so I set it up.”

  “Okay, so when I tell you about some of these things, I just wanted you to know the equipment exists, and I’m not making this shi—I’m not making this equipment up…even if we haven’t used it yet.”

  “What equipment?” the admiral asked.

  Night turned to Lieutenant Bradford. “It’s your plan, hot shot,” he said. “Why don’t you tell the admiral?”

  Lieutenant Bradford took a breath and let it out, looking at the floor. Night could tell the lieutenant was building up his courage; he suspected the lieutenant had never briefed an admiral before. With a nod to himself, he looked up and met the admiral’s eyes.


  “Here’s what we know, sir,” he said. “First, almost all the cross-universe operations occur at the plant. The Israelis said this is because the Iranians have built an operational portal that will let people cross over—”

  “Wait,” the admiral said. “The Iranians built a portal? Have we ever seen one of these before?”

  “No sir,” Night replied. “The portal is a new capability, and the fact that the Iranians have it makes our position extremely precarious. They could transport people into the other universe and have them show up anywhere on this planet. We might wake up one morning to find Washington has been destroyed…or the world headquarters…or anything. We need to destroy the portal, along with any other facilities they have that could be used to make more.”

  “Complicating this,” Lieutenant Bradford added, “is the fact there’s a portal on anti-Earth like the one in our universe. Both of these will need to be destroyed.”

  “Got it,” the admiral said. “What else?”

  “Second,” Lieutenant Bradford replied, “the Efreet also have two transportation rods to go back and forth between universes; we saw one at the General Assembly building.” He handed the admiral a digital photograph of the Efreeti. “These rods will have to be either captured or destroyed. The good news is both of them are usually kept at the plant in the other universe; they don’t trust the Iranians with them.”

  “Good thinking on their part,” noted the admiral.

  Lieutenant Bradford nodded. “Finally,” he said, “we think Captain Nightsong is holding Lieutenant Commander Hobbs at the facility in the other universe. It could be Lieutenant Knaus, but the description in the reports more closely resembles Calvin. Lieutenant Commander Hobbs would also be more valuable as a hostage. Nightsong has a ship, which is probably the silver ship Captain Train saw leaving when they went across to anti-Earth. Nightsong might leave or move the hostage at any time.”