by J E Kerry
“Thank you, Sir,” Jodie jokes with a naughty smile.
“My pleasure,” Sniper winks back at her as she follows into the portal after Wang, who has already jumped without the need of encouragement.
The ride through the wormhole is a painful undertaking that challenges the boundaries of the human mind, causing the consciousness to bend and warp in ways some might suggest it was not meant to, and altering the perception of time passed giving the feel of days of travel for only mere moments. At its end, a portal spits them out in an underground tunnel of the once so-called White House of the president of the United States of America.
Wang’s team is propelled out of the wormhole and into the tunnel where the rest of Unit 12 already await them.
“Are you okay?” Aaron asks from across.
The trip was an ordeal, but nothing they had not been prepared and trained for. Their bodies and minds readjust to the corporeal, and they each catch their breath. Philipe is still furious about Sniper’s push, drawing the combined amused, and some unamused, attention of the other members of the team.
“He just kicked me into the putain de (fucking) wormhole!!”
“Who?” Aaron wonders.
“Sniper!” Philipe barks.
Wang pats Philipe’s back with a wink, “Don’t take it personal, bro’”.
“Let’s go-go, guys!” Rahul calls impatiently from the door.
As though programmed, they all immediately fall into an operational mindset, activate their invisibility cloaks and fade from vision. The unit heads for the exit as Wang switches to his X-Ray filter and makes sure that nobody is in the next room. He carefully opens the door and walks into the president’s study.
It’s a small room, quaint and heavy with history. There isn’t much in it now but a couple of paintings, a TV and a desk. It is a room that has hosted events which clearly had an impact on the future of ancient America. Passing through undetected, he leads his unit further through the opened door and straight to the Oval Office.
A White House secretary bustles into the room from the other side of the door while the cloaked soldiers strategically take their position and observe the secretary place some files on the desk before she is exiting the room again and closing the door behind her.
Not a minute later, the American president suddenly de-materializes from sight and is gone, leaving Wang and his team standing in position, entirely confused.
“What in the name of Mars just happened?”, Jodie asks, looking between the puzzled faces of her confused teammates.
“Ok, so I just got my cul (ass) kicked for nothing?” comes Phillipe sarcastically from the window.
“Let’s see the bright side. We’ve been to the White House.” Aaron notes as he looks around.
“What the nebula is this?” Brian holds up the president’s pen he just found on one of his files.
“I think it was called a pen or something.” Jodie reads from her Visuals.
“Pen? … P.E.N.” Brian wonders about its meaning.
“What could it do?” Rahul wants to know.
“Was it a secret weapon?” Aaron asks.
“Like a pen gun?” Brian guesses.
“Or a Russian radiation gun?” Rahul chimes in.
“Maybe an advanced LED incapacitator, firing random pulses of colored lights at the enemy to induce vomiting and disorientation?” Philipe shows off, parading his obsession with weapons.
“Well, according to the archives, it used something called ‘ink’ to write down on another thing called ‘paper’,” Jodie gathers from the info on her Visuals.
“You’re spacing, right?” Brian asks confused.
“Nope, asteroid-serious.” Jodie retorts.
“Well, that would explain a lot about the ancients.” Aaron rolls his eyes as if this were another stupid thing their ancestors came up with instead of using higher technology for communication.
“A pen and a paper…I mean, who does that?” Brian agrees, shaking his head.
“Enough with the history lesson, we have to abort this mission and must return to the future,” Wang reminds the unit. “Scoot!”
Wang, Philipe and Jodie are the last to return through the wormhole. The team stands by while Wang crosses to Sniper, General Ma and the High Council that have arrived.
“We’ve seen the footage,” Sniper welcomes Wang back.
“What happened is out of our hands,” General Ma says. “We can’t locate the Lyr-ans in the past. They could have taken the president anywhere without being detected.”
“I might have a solution,” Wang initiates.
Counselor Tsung takes a special interest in him.
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Wang Long Sheng,” he replies in Chinese.
“The ‘Dragon King’,” Tsung mumbles absently, fingers running through his beard as he is forced to a small smile by the Dragon emblem on Wang’s suit.
“Allow me to ask Princess Dha-loo-ma for help,” Wang offers.
The counselors turn to him with raised brows as if he is cracking a curios joke. Their expressions of befuddlement are only heightened when Dha-loo-ma uncloaks rather suddenly above them, coming onto the edge of the bridge. Her stance is regal, a hand on the railing and her eyes very much giving them her full attention.
“That won’t be necessary,” she shouts from the bridge.
Counselor Tinibu and Brooks whisper in secret, eyeing the princess suspiciously as she walks down the stairs.
“I just did another calculation with a 95% chance that whatever she’s about to say is a lie, and we’re all gonna die,” Tinibu says as Brooks shifts his head to him, feeling quite entertained.
“You really enjoy your numbers, don’t you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Tinibu whispers with a pouting.
“Oh Tito, you need a hobby or a wife.” Brooks jokes with a wink. “Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be just fine.”
“That’s easy to say for ‘you’. But in stories like ‘this’, the black always gets killed first,” he says, just getting started. “So, excuse my intellectual way of coping with what you might think is paranoia, but I want to be prepared. Because ‘I’ love my life. Especially this soft velvet on my even softer coconut skin and these absolutely gorgeous legs with the feet of a goddess.”
“I lost you at coconut,” Brooks stifles a laugh, “but, if you’re right, then there’s a foolproof way to make sure we never lose!”
“What’s that?” Tinibu asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“Well, if whatever we’re up against kills the black guy first, all we have to do is focus everything on protecting you and we’ll have an indefinite period to sort this out!”
“Apology accepted.” Tinibu grins, knowing deep down that this is Brooks’ way of saying ‘I’m sorry’ for not taking him seriously. The two have been friends for so many years, they could easily identify each other’s underwear at the dry cleaner’s. Even more so, Brooks likes to tease his bestie and knows exactly when to push which button, getting him up and down again.
Meanwhile the princess has set foot on the ground level and flows into their anxious circle, moving straight to Wang’s side.
“I would like to offer my help in your mission and take Unit 12 to the Mothership,” she says with an oblivious sort of innocence.
The group, however, doesn’t yet look convinced. Wang senses their reservation about the intrusion and takes responsibility.
“We can trust her,” he ensures. “She’s on our side.”
Counselor Tsung studies Wang’s eyes. The words of goddess Xi Wang Mu are still ringing clear in his mind, “Be aware of the dragon king and his army of 12. He, who walks time and space”.
“How do you propose to get there?” Tsung’s suspicion lifts the silence.
“Let me show you,” she invites everyone to follow her.
∞∞∞
Dha-loo-ma stands in the middle of an oval landing platform of H
angar 2 on Level 8. Her attention belongs to the two electromagnetic spheres forming in her hands.
Unit 12, Sniper, General Ma and the High Council watch on from a secure distance.
“What is she doing?” Philipe whispers to Wang.
“Using her Qi,” Wang explains as Dha-loo-ma throws the spheres up in the air.
They collide and magically generate an electromagnetic energy cocoon around her. With the veil settling above her, the princess falls into a meditative state. Eyes closed, she raises her arms and makes carefully guided movements, constructing the alien craft with her mind, and having it slowly materialize on the landing platform.
“For real?” Brian doesn’t trust what he sees unfolding right in front of him. “But how?”
Tinibu and Brooks continue to whisper from behind.
“Highly irritating.” Tinibu wonders, trying to figure out as well how such a delicately built young woman can use her mind to project a gigantic spacecraft into this dimension.
“Well, that’s a first. You’re speechless,” Brooks can’t help it but tease his friend again.
“Satisfied?” Tinibu ripostes.
“You have no idea,” Brooks grins from ear to ear.
Meanwhile Sniper brings light into Brian’s question.
“She’s accessing the astral dimension to manifest her thoughts into a physical object,” he says.
“Created thoughtform of an object,” Jodie chimes in, having Sniper’s attention again and Philipe’s jealous eyes observing their growing attraction for each other from behind.
The combination of a sloping, smooth nosed spacecraft literally being burned into existence at some locations of the tail and roof, and a telekinesis-like placement of other parts such as the ‘cockpit’ and the sleek, foot-like landing gear sliding, floating, and rotating into place, has their attention implicitly. A vehicle built in what one could consider the most perfect and efficient manner. It is difficult not to be jealous as an underdeveloped human being.
“There are four classes of thoughtforms,” Sniper resumes. “The first takes the image of the one who summons. The second takes the image of a material object. The third takes a form entirely created on its own. And the fourth, takes the collective form of a hive-mind, also known as an ‘egregore’.”
“In Chinese Taoism we let our Qi form things through our thoughts.” Wang joins in. “During alchemy lessons we learn about ‘Jù qì liàn xíng’, condensing Qi. It’s when you for example take metal ores and purify or refine them before you mold the ores into a shape. It’s the first step to learn how to use your Qi for the ‘creation of things’. As Sniper mentioned before, the next step is learning how to collect your Qi through your thoughts and manifest them from the astral plane into your dimension. Because everything that surrounds us, is a thought creation. It all once started with one thought that would soon manifest into an object.”
“Little Dragon is correct,” Sniper picks up on his explanation and continues, “however, what you see the princess doing is a very advanced creation of thoughtform for which you will not only need years of practice but also the right DNA. In human history, only a handful of witches and sorcerers were once able to practice the third thoughtform with help of powerful incantations and alchemical formulas,” he says and leads their focus back to the princess.
Dha-loo-ma uses her last reserves of energy to finish the thought-form creation of the craft and eventually collapses to the ground, having everyone worried and on their heels.
“Dha-loo-ma!” Wang shouts and is the first to rush over to her, getting down on his knees and trying to wake the princess. “She’s not responding.”
He instinctively bends over her head, holding it tight while the words of their romantic sunset-break when Dha-loo-ma carved an alien sign into his palm, return to him, “Soon you’ll learn how to activate the eye and use its collective power”.
Wang channels his fear of losing her to activate his Qi and connect with the princess on the astral level. The Qi flows from his hands through Dha-loo-ma’s body, brightly illuminated tendrils extending from his wrists wrapping flailing delicately in the astral, out of the view of unaided human sight. They reach out latch onto her astral body, holding it tight, and dragging the princess back into her etheric body and finally into the physical one.
Wang does this as an instinct, and one he’s never experienced before. Like a survivor’s reaction granted from years of evolution, there feels to be guidance by an even stronger, invisible ‘force’ behind his Qi, more powerful and almighty. For a single moment he bonds with a singularity, as if he’s tapping into a fountain of unlimited energy, wisdom and eternity and becoming one with ‘the All’, the eye of creation. It’s a single, precious moment of divinity, until it’s suddenly over and Dha-loo-ma regains her consciousness, gasping for air.
“Are you alright?” Wang asks relieved as he scoops her up.
“Yes, thank you,” she says. “I haven’t done that in a while.”
The princess points to the craft, “That’s my spacecraft. Unfortunately, it can only hold seven cockpit members. The others must stay hidden in the remed-pods (remedial pods).”
She addresses Tsung, “Does that answer your question, High Counselor?”
For the first time, he is impressed and decides to take a leap of faith, trusting Wang and the princess, “It does, indeed. You are free to proceed while we’re awaiting your return”.
∞∞∞
Princess Dha-loo-ma looks over the Unit 12 members who have been assigned to the cockpit of her spacecraft: Wang, Aaron, Philipe, Jodie, Rahul and Brian.
“Each and every one of our craft is alive,” the princess begins, “that’s why you don’t see a control board”.
“Épique,” (epic) Philipe says impressed.
“When Lyr-an craft are made, they are fed with our DNA and act as an AI,” Dha-loo-ma continues. “The moment I step into my craft it is able to read my mind, and I’m able to communicate telepathically with it. No need to use additional technology like you find it on Earth.”
“So, you can tell it where to go?” Jodie assumes.
“Exactly,” the princess confirms. “And wherever you look in the craft, you will see completely outside once we take off.”
“That’s why there are no windows,” Jodie realizes.
Dha-loo-ma points to an organic device next to where their right hand is resting.
“Put your hand inside,” she instructs.
One by one, the crew let their hands slide into the devices.
“You’re now connected to the living alien organism of this craft,” Dha-loo-ma introduces them.
“This feels like a woman’s -,” Brian starts, but Rahul jumps in before he can finish, “How would you know?”.
“Yep, it does feel ‘very’ familiar,” Aaron smirks.
Meanwhile, Philipe has his own epiphany about the device, making absolutely no sense, whatsoever.
“Pourquoi les poules n’ont-elles pas de dent?” (why do chickens have no teeth?) Philipe asks, noticeably high on alien drugs. “Les voies de Dieu sont impénétrables.” (God works in mysterious ways.)
Jodie looks at Philipe, even more confused than usual, “And he just put ‘spacing’ on a whole new level.”
Philipe exaggerates his movements and puckers his lips, sucking them in and out in loud, pouting motions.
“I know you could never resist me, mon chéri,” he approaches Jodie from his seat.
Sitting across from the two, Brian and Rahul quietly follow the conversation with sheer amusement.
“Did we miss something?” Brian giggles at them, winking to Rahul.
Meanwhile at the front, Wang doesn’t look comfortable at all. His eyes wander to the hand sliding into that alien jelly-handle.
“It will apply a nano-nutrient garment on your hand. They will patrol your body and vital systems, seek out any biological irregularities and correct them before takeoff,” Dha-loo-ma explains further as the alien
organism painlessly digs to Wang’s skin with several thin tentacles. Each one of them stimulates acupuncture points on his fingers and heals one of his cuts.
“It will also inject ‘Tak-see’, an artificially reproduced monatomic gold hybrid-fluid of alien origin,” she adds. “It helps you adjust to the space-travel abnormalities, the manipulation of spacetime and the access to other dimensions. These are all things the body is adequately designed to do.”
Right behind them, the device slips into Phillipe and Jodie’s hands as well.
“Ow,” Philipe screams like a little sissy, “it stabbed me!”.
“You need me to hold your hand, petite princesse?” (little princess) Jodie teases him.
From across, Rahul believes he gets it now, joking to Brian about Philipe and Jodie, “Yep, you’re right. There’s definitely something going on under the jumpsuit.”
Dha-loo-ma resumes her instruction, “However, you might still experience nausea and vomiting on your first trip.”
One of the tentacles connects with Wang’s finger, and an electromagnetic impulse is set off.
“The alien organism acts as your co-pilot and turns your thoughts into actions,” the princess says. “It stands in direct connection with the craft and me, the Commander.”
Wang’s finger trembles for a second.
“The sphere allows you to pan around with the craft,” she adds as Wang’s hand accidentally moves the blue sphere it is resting on, sending the craft into a sudden rotation and having the rest of the team squeeze their own palms tighter. Dha-loo-ma immediately locks Wang’s sphere with her mind, and the ship comes to a controlled stop.
“Oopalala,” Wang apologizes, and the spacecraft slowly departs from the hangar, shooting with zero-point energy out of the gate.
While the Lyr-an vehicle moves through the clouds, keeping everyone mesmerized by the 360° outdoor view, Dha-loo-ma activates the auto-pilot’s inbuilt holo-sphere.
“You see these red dots on the Earth grids?”, she points to a digital display of the planet with very visible red points highlighted.
“Yes,” Wang confirms.
“They are possible vortex portals opening for us to get through and go back in time,” Dha-loo-ma explains.
