Earth Before Man

by Allan E Petersen

  “Sir, the North and South poles have unique properties of varying gravitational instability that require adjustments to the shielding. I will need a few minutes to reprogram the computers.”

  Jumping into the pilot’s seat, Santo responded,

  “That will not be necessary. Although cold, I will not be going anywhere near the poles. I am simply fulfilling a promise and will be back shortly.”

  Santo was good at body language and saw the questionable hesitation in his hangar manager. He said,

  “Spit it out. What’s on your mind?

  It was an awkward reply,

  “Well sir, if you are going into extreme cold weather other than the poles, our lab in Peru has developed a thermal suit that might serve you better than this awkward collection of clothing you have here. Plus, the suit has an attachment allowing the insolated night vision helmet developed in Brazil to snap on.”

  Interested and curious, Santo asked,

  “Is it the same helmet Kirk and I used for night vision?”

  “Yes sir, and when on, it’s warm under there too.”

  It certainly sounded a lot better than the mismatched collection he had scraped up in the supply room. After a friendly slap on Henrik’s shoulder that actually hurt a lot, Santo said,

  “Good man Henrik. Get that stuff for me.”

  Because it was just a short hop west to the Southern Alps Santo didn’t bother with the stratosphere ‘shortcut’, rather simply maxing out the D-wing speed. Once reaching the valley of perpetual and dreaded snowstorms with high winds, he slowed down. Although fierce winds bounced off the steep cliffs and tore off ice and rocks coupled with extreme temperature, nothing affected the performance of the vehicle. Because he had not recorded the GPS location of the cave, not thinking he would need to come back, he accessed the computer log. He entered a program to repeat previous approach directions.

  Ignoring the howling winds, the computer brought him safely to the cave and he gently slithered into it. The deeper he got, the less intrusive the wind became, but not the freezing cold. Rising up to the high ledge near the ceiling, he inched forward and gently put down on it. A flick of a switch turned on the exterior lights and the whole area lit up.

  Within the tight quarters of the cockpit, it was a struggle but he soon managed to don the black thermo-suit. It was perhaps something he should have thought about earlier. The second he opened the canopy he realized how inadequate the old clothing he had gathered would have been. A quick arm reached over to the passenger seat and grabbed the black helmet. After snapping it on, suddenly the cold abated and he was comfortable. Still, Razk was right when he forgot his religion and through chattering teeth had uttered, ‘goddam that was cold’

  With the helmet and black thermos-suit on, he looked like a black featureless robot. Reaching back into the D-wing, he grabbed the ancient ‘babble box’. Razk had neglected to mention one thing. The ledge was coated with a sheet of sheer ice. After a few surprising slips and quick recovery he soon figured that out. Slipping and sliding his way over to the crates and finding the proper one, he put the computer back in and closed the lid. Part one of the promise to Razk was complete.

  Next, he skated back to the D-wing and pulled out a large net looking very much like the type used by fishermen. He understood that it was not possible to put the four frozen Monks in the D-wing and so thought to fly them back to the Snow Monk’s monastery carrying them underneath like a helicopter carrying a large load suspended below. What was the harm or embarrassment to them? They were dead and finally going home so should not mind.

  As he gingerly approached the frozen Monks still dutifully sitting there staring with frozen eyes at what they had sworn to protect, he stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes darted from side to side looking for an explanation to the anomaly. Three Monks? There were supposed to be four. The one in the red robe with the strange black pendent around his neck and sitting a little farther away from the others was missing.

  Confused, for it should be impossible, he started to look for a rational explanation for the absence. Perhaps fierce swirling winds had pushed it across the icy floor. He returned to the D-wing and reached for a flashlight to check in the shadows of the cave. The ledge was not big and so only a short minute later it was clear the Red Monk was nowhere in sight. There was only one other logical explanation, it had slipped off the ledge and crashed to the ground far below. Afraid to inch close to the edge and shine the light down to the floor, he decided to look for the missing Monk when finished gathering up those polite enough to wait for a ride.

  With care, he spread the net out in front of them. Frozen eyes stared at the strange goings on and wondered what was going to happen next. It was not an easy task to slide them onto the spread out net. The harder he pushed, the more he slipped. When one was finally in place, he started with the chore of the other two. When they bumped together on the netting, they sounded like clanging ice cubes tossed into a glass. The eerie sound echoed through the frozen chamber.

  With the net wrapped around the Monks, Santo secured the rope to a hook under the belly of the D-wing. Once back inside the cockpit, frozen stinging hands managed to pull off the helmet. He made up his mind to talk to the lab in Peru about what they call a thermo-suit. His fingers were freezing. Never in his life had he imagined how soothing and welcome heat could feel.

  He lifted off the ledge with three passengers precariously dangling underneath the belly of the craft. Lowering to the floor of the main cave, Santo intensified the interior lights looking for the wayward Monk but to no avail. It was inconceivable that it had blown out of the cave and hundreds of meters far below. Now on his way to the Monastery of the Snow Monks, little did he realize that one missing Monk was not even close to the shocking things he was about to witness.

  Accepting that he would have to return with only three, he lifted the D-wing high and flew north, minus one diligent Monk. With numb fingers from stinging pain slowly returning to normal, he opened the ancient Snow Monk’s journal to a map of their secret location in the rugged mountain range. Because the journal was hundreds of years old, understandably, there were no GPS coordinates or longitudes and latitudes in the journal and so he had to follow antiquated directions. He worried about the accuracy of directions through the valley until coming to two peaks of equal height. For a man accustomed to technology enabling him to travel across an ocean in a few minutes or around the world in a few hours, it was difficult for him to judge the instruction, ‘after a two day walk’.

  After a few minutes and according to the map, the high basin in front of him should be where the Monastery is. From a height of a few hundred feet, he looked down into the valley but saw only ice and glaciers. Confused, he double-checked the directions only to confirm, at least according to the map, this was the right place. It eventually donned on him that perhaps he should not be looking for a bright red monastery on a patch of green grass. Turning on his Infrared Heat sensor program, he was surprised to see a heat blip in the middle of blowing snow.

  Lowering and circling around the indicated spot, through the canopy he managed to make out what could just as easily have been an ice castle from a fairy tale. It sat on a tall plateau that could easily be interpreted as a giant icicle. Coming closer to the plateau, vision hampered by high winds and blowing snow, he eventually saw that the construction was of stone and concrete though covered with ice and long clinging icicles. Along with the castle, the top of the high plateau was covered with white buildings, some seemingly trickling over the edge. In the middle of the white fortress was a courtyard and so he targeted it for his landing site.

  Because of the secrecy of the Snow Monks and the frigid isolation of their monastery, Santo saw no reason to camouflage his approach. What they saw would not hit the major newspapers and television news casts tomorrow. It was his intention to land, leave the three Monks in the middle of the courtyard and lift high into the swirling snow unseen. However, despite his good intention, that did not
happen. As he lowered straight down and the clearer the visibility became, he saw a gathering of Monks in the courtyard as if waiting for their package to be delivered.

  Surprised, for there could not have been a forewarning of his arrival, he nevertheless proceeded with the plan. Because he thought his delivery was of good intentions, he was startled when seeing that the Monks did not seem pleased to have their long lost brothers returned. Still, seeing no danger from passive although strange looking Monks, he landed. Because of the severe cold, before opening the canopy he donned his black helmet. What the Snow Monks saw jumping out of the strange craft was a black robot with a featureless black head, no eyes or ears. Yet again, at least to Santo, they were not startled to see him in this disguise.

  As he stood there looking at perhaps twenty Monks gazing at him, although he was still freezing, they were all clad in traditional brown robes and seemed oblivious to the bitter cold. The way he saw it, at least to them, it could have been a warm sunny day on the plateau. One of the Monks stepped forward, bowed, and said something to him not understood. Next time he will listen to Maria when harping that his daughter spoke more languages than he did. However, this time Santo had something better. From inside his helmet, he spoke one word, “Translate.” A voice through the international converter announced,

  “Welcome angel of the Lord.”

  Suddenly he understood the image he was projecting. He arrived in the middle of a secluded and very secret Monastery in what must have looked to them like a ship from the stars, or in this case, from heaven. Standing there in his black thermo-suit and black helmet covering his whole head, what were they supposed to think but something supernatural? He stood in the middle of a gawking crowd as confused as they were. Because pretending to be an agent from heaven had benefits in other missions, he decided to let that fallacy prevail here as well.

  As he stood there gawked at, he too inspected them. Aside from being clad in traditional brown robes as if they were somewhere on the warm Mediterranean coast, there was something strange about the only feature he could make out, their faces. There was no white in the eyes, all shiny, and black. If he were a critique of creation, he would say that their eyes were too far apart. Not surprisingly, their skin was as white as the blowing snow.

  Because the greeting was one of sociability and nonthreatening, Santo reciprocated in a gentle manner. In response to ‘welcome angel of the Lord,’ the divine pretense prevailed. Knowing that the translator would relate what he said into their language, he said,

  “Greetings friends of the Vatican. What has been borrowed from your cave has been returned to its proper place. Also, so that they can receive the proper last rites, by request of the Vatican, I bring you three of the missing Snow Monks lost in your service to them so many years ago.”

  There it was again. He could not shake the feeling that they were not pleased to see the three frozen Monks. It was as if they did not want them returned.

  The one who spoke to him raised his hands in prayer fashion and said,

  “Last rites are not necessary.”

  He then pointed behind him and added,

  “As you can see.”

  Santo cautiously turned around and saw the three Monks starting to stand up on the netting apparently alive and well. All three nodded politely at him. It was well that he was wearing a helmet covering his face or they would have seen his bulging eyes and shocked expression.

  As if that were not enough of a shock, coming from the back of the crowd of Monks was the one he had looked for in the cave. The Snow Monk with the red robe and strange black pendent approached Santo and offered a respectful bow. Santo, although confused and suspicious, felt compelled to respond to the greeting and too bowed. He spoke to Santo,

  “We are guardians of Vatican embarrassments. As we have done for hundreds of years, we protect what has been burdened to us. Because the leaders of the Vatican did not understand our unique abilities, it was clear they also did not recognize our devotion to the task of guarding articles not symbolic of the faith such as the interdimensional communicator. Please return to those who requested our service and explain their error of returning the Monks watching over such embarrassments. Please inform them that all is well with what we have committed to do.”

  While he spoke, and although Santo was listening, he was also intently studying this Red Monk. Like the others, there was something alien about him. Not exactly like the Great Grays, for he had seen many of them, but perhaps a different species of them. Most certainly, they were not human. No human could survive cryogenic suspension or whatever had kept them alive during their frozen state watching what was strangely mentioned as ‘embarrassments of the Vatican.’ Suddenly he wished he had opened the rest of the boxes and seen what else was in there. Accepting Razk’s error of assuming they were dead and needed Last Rites, Santo was quick to lay blame of the error right where it belonged, the Vatican. He said,

  “I will explain the error to them. Perhaps as atonement, allow me to return your guardians to the cave.”

  The Red Monk said,

  “That will not be necessary. Others have already taken their place.”

  Santo turned around to the three he had flown here in a rather offensive manner and was prepared to apologize to them. However, it was too late. They had already walked off the netting and into the crowd. Recognizing that he had done all he could, turning back to the one with the red robe he said,

  “The Vatican thanks you for your service and protection of their embarrassing secrets. What was taken and returned was important for the preservation of a threat by the Anannaki against all of mankind. With its task completed, it was returned to its proper place for a continuance of your service.”

  Where he was hoping to see a few nodding heads or at least a friendly expression, he saw only shock and fear on their strange white faces. Many had started to talk among themselves but it was not loud enough for the translator. The Red Robe stepped forward and said something very shocking. It was proof that at least this one did not believe he was an angel of the Lord.

  “I saw two humans come to our cave of forbidden secrets and take the communicator. We did not interfere because one was a representative of the Vatican. Are you the second human?”

  Options ran through Santo’s head. Would deceit benefit him or was honesty going to be the best option? He decided that honesty was going to prevail. He did not want to remove his helmet so the Red Robe could recognize him, instead he nodded acceptance of the question. They Red Monk then said,

  “So you are not an Angel of the Lord.”

  Santo shook his head.

  “Are you then an Anannaki black spirit?”

  Suddenly Santo understood the reasoning. He stood there in all black easily mistaken for one of the ancient spirits. What confused him was how the Snow Monk knew about black spirits. Santo again decided on honesty.

  “No, I am at war with the Anannaki.”

  After what appeared as a deep thought, the Red Robe said,

  “Then it is not only heaven that wars against the Anannaki but mankind as well.”

  Again Santo nodded and the Red Monk added,

  “Although we are not like you, we love all of God’s creations except one. Because of what they did to us so long ago, we have no love for them. Even to this day they haunt and disturb our peace in a dark and transparent form. To us, they are like your Satan.”

  Suddenly Santo remembered what Edward said to him in Greece. The ‘ghost’ form of the Anannaki needed transmitting posts to get from place to place in this world. In order for them to get to this isolated and inaccessible Monastery there had to be a ‘post’ somewhere in the vicinity. He asked,

  “I do not mean to pry into any secrets of this holy place for it is clear to me that isolation and secrecy is paramount to your existence. However, answer me true, do you have anything on this plateau that resembles a spire or stone obelisk?”

  Santo did not need a translator in his helmet to see
that they did. There was a look of surprise about the Red Monk as if wondering how he might know that. It was a slow and very cautious reply, one indicating that he really did not want to confirm the question. He reluctantly admitted,

  “We have such a holy spire. Why do you ask such a strange question?”

  Santo was not sure they would understand dimensional transference or gates leading to another world. There was nonetheless every indication that the Anannaki, who apparently are enemies of the Snow Monks were skipping through ‘posts’ and transferring to this Monastery to harass them. Now, because of a mutual enemy, Santo tried his best to explain to the Red Monk how the black ghosts managed to get to this plateau. He was surprised they were not looking at him as if he were a crazy person. They nodded at his explanation and seemed to take the supposed absurdity in stride.

  When he finished explaining transferal posts to them, the Red Robe turned and walked over to another Monk and again what was said could not be heard. That Monk hurried away and disappeared into the main structure of the Monastery. The Red Monk then indicated for Santo to follow him. Despite their strange appearance, he was sure that they were passive and peace loving but the House of the Nazarene security procedures still had to be met. As he followed the Monk, he quietly said inside the helmet, “Code 14 Alpha 3.” Because they were all walking away from the D-wing, nobody saw the canopy close and with net still in tow rose straight up and out of sight to wait for the return code.