by James Harris
Days turned into weeks.
On the surface, life returned to normal. Hawk, a doctoral student of mathematics at Colorado State University, returned to work on his thesis. Joe did the same, but in the physical sciences. Their schedules were flexible, now that they had no classes to attend.
The two of them lived off campus at 34 Bonforte Boulevard. They shared a small office in the main administration building of the university. Both resumed tutoring students in their spare time. They were in high demand. But their hearts were troubled. They pined for news of their father and had great difficulty focusing on anything else.
One morning, several weeks after the Capitol Hill break-in, Joe walked into their office. Hawk looked up from his work, a bit peeved at the interruption.
“Just got off the phone with Justin Jones,” Joe said.
Hawk’s mind hadn’t cleared from his work yet. “And he is …?”
“You know Justin. He was Dad’s first officer.”
Hawk shook the cobwebs out. “Of course. How’s he doing?”
“Something major is up in D.C.”
“How does he know?”
“He keeps tabs on Stell and his crew. Something important is going on. He thinks it’ll be huge. He’s contacted two other former crewmembers embedded as high-ranking military infiltrates in the DoD.”
“Any word on Dad?”
“None. They’re moving Dad around so that even if we get a location on him, by the time we act, he’ll be gone again.”
“But he’s OK?”
“Justin is convinced that Dad’s more valuable alive than dead. He also pointed out that because of the aura he’s almost impossible to kill. Even unconscious, Dad’s aura would reach out and scorch anyone who tried to eliminate him.”
“Then why doesn’t he just escape from them?”
“He’s unconscious, must be. His defense mechanism won’t activate, I guess. I don’t know. Ask one of them when you see them.”
“What does Jones want?”
“He wants us back in D.C. to help him.”
“Why? We were there and accomplished nothing. What would change?”
“I don’t know. Justin asked us to help him. You’re saying no?”
“Not no no. Just not now no. The time isn’t right. We need more information from Justin and the rest of the crew. Ask him to get that, and we’ll be there for them. How’s that?”
“Works for me.”
Hawk leaned back in his vinyl chair. Tapping his pencil on his teeth, he thought about what Joe had said. He hadn’t mentioned it to Joe, but he had a general feeling of dread connected with his father. He knew he wasn’t powerless to stop it; he just didn’t know what it was that had to be stopped.
“Here’s to you,” Stell said, raising a glass to Amonda. They were seated comfortably in Stell’s office, a few doors down from H’s. “Things are proceeding as planned.”
“You’ve infiltrated the media. You still intend to instigate religious wars?”
“Of course. Wars keep the populace under control. Wars over religion – that’s the obvious choice.”
“Stell, this will set them back hundreds of millennia.”
“No, I don’t think so. We’ll be here to guide them through it. History need not repeat itself. We can make sure of that.”
“You may not be able to control the situation. Stell, you run the risk of retarding, not advancing, the growth of these people.”
Stell sloshed the Courvoisier cognac around in his goblet. “You talk too seriously. Cheers!” He gulped the fiery liquid with relish.
“Best wishes. May we all get what we deserve.” She sputtered and coughed as the fiery liquid wound its way down her throat and stomach like molten lava. “What is this devil liquid?”
“It’s called cognac. It’s a derivative of wine.”
“Grapes can taste like this?”
“Yes, after a while. It’s called fermentation.”
“I know what it’s called. It’s just that I’ve never experienced anything so powerful.” She blinked the tears from her eyes.
“Welcome to primitive Earth.”
Amonda lifted the goblet and cautiously examined the amber-colored clear liquid. “To Earth!”
They touched glasses and drank sparingly.
“I have someone I want you to meet,” Stell said after a while.
“Someone important?”
“Yes. His name is H. He heads up an organization of information retrievers and investigators. He’s the chief of spies.”
“Keep your hood up and your head covered,” Stell said. “We don’t want the staff freaking out. I want H to get used to who you are.”
H looked up from his desk as the pair entered. His eyes went straight to the slender, shorter, stranger. “Ah, and who do we have here?”
Stell closed the door softly behind him. “This is Amonda. She is a wizard from my old home. What we would call a savant or witch here. She is from Sargon.”
H rose from his chair. “Come closer, so I can see you.”
Amonda held back.
“She has not been transitioned,” Stell said. “Amonda is in her original body. Don’t be alarmed, H. Her looks will seem somewhat shocking to you.”
Amonda let her hood drop down to reveal her face.
To his credit, H didn’t flinch. “My word. You are so very pale. Your eyes are magnificent. Does she speak English?”
“Perfectly,” Amonda replied with agitation. “She can do many interesting things.”
“Oh, pardon me. Didn’t mean to appear rude. I had no idea that you spoke our language.”
“I don’t. Not really. I understand you and you understand me.” She gestured to the hidden surveillance equipment. “When you play this conversation back, you will discover that I have spoken gibberish to you, and yet, now, standing here, you understand me.”
Amonda kept her back to the camera.
“Amonda has many Gifts, especially the Mind Gift. My powers are diluted because of the human I share minds with. She hasn’t had to transition. She journeyed without transitioning.”
“H, Amonda and I are about to import more of our people to the planet. We’ve decided this is an ideal place to immigrate. You and I have had this conversation before. As you will recall, it’s our intention to introduce our people into the general population at a controlled rate.”
“Gradually.”
“Yes, that’s it, gradually, so we don’t alarm anyone.”
“We’ll be enlightened and coached by you. Given great secrets.”
“Exactly. Great secrets.”
“For the betterment of America and all mankind.”
“Exactly. All of our knowledge and advanced civilization will be given freely to the people of this planet.”
H nodded. “America first, remember. We have to stay ahead of everyone else. You know, from a technology standpoint.”
“You mean weaponry, of course.”
“Defensive weaponry. We are a peace-loving nation.”
“Of course, America first. Your political and military communities will be the first to be integrated – I mean coached. We can learn as much from you as you can from us.”
H began to relax. He turned and sat down at his desk. He gestured for them to sit in the leather chairs in front of him. Speaking to Amonda, he said, “Stell here knows that our department will cooperate fully. Our country can only benefit. It seems we are doing so little in return.”
“Oh but you are doing a lot,” Amonda said. “You are providing us with a safe haven, a new home.”
H looked satisfied and grinned. “Glad to help.”
“We are pleased to hear that, because we have a request of you,” she said.
“Name it.”
“We need you to help control the excesses of the media. As we infiltrate the population, there may be abduction rumors, sightings of spaceships, that sort of thing. We need the NSA and other agencies to dismiss these events.”
“We have ways of discrediting sources. Is that what you’re aiming at?”
“It’s a start. We have technology that I haven’t shared with you yet. Technology that helps control, no, a better word is filter information.”
“I see,” H replied.
“But that’s a little way off,” Stell said.
Amonda smiled a cool smile. “We thought we would get underway shortly.”
“I see.”
Amonda rose, and the two men followed suit. “Well, we are off to make preparations,” she said.
“The first thing you can do is contact the Secretary of Defense,” Stell said. “Make him aware that there will be some airspace activity. We don’t want him thinking there’s some kind of invasion.”
They all laughed.
“I’ll contact him,” H said.
Before Amonda and Stell reached the door, H called out, “Speaking of the DoD, you haven’t heard from Frank Grayer, have you?”
Stell froze in mid-stride.
“The Secretary called, inquiring about him,” H went on. “He seems to be missing. Not that this hasn’t happened before, mind you. This time, however, the Secretary is concerned about his whereabouts. It seems no one knows where he is. The Secretary asked me specifically to ask you if you had anything to do with his absence.”
“Our orders were clear,” Stell said. “Stay away from each other. That’s what I’ve done. I have stayed away from him. He has his sons. Call them.”
“We have. They aren’t much help.”
Stell reached for the door. “Sorry. Can’t help you.”
“His sons are of the opinion that you’re involved.”
“As I said, I can’t help you.”
Amonda smiled a rubbery smile as she placed the hood back over her head. She swirled her clothing about her and she and her brother left the room.
Things are getting out of control, H thought, squirming in his chair. Oh my God, H, what have you done?
CHAPTER63
The Queen of Abishot sat, composed and poised, at one of the command stations of Gamma III.
As an Ancient, the last of the Sargon superhumans bred for immortality, she basked in her perfectness. There were eleven more like her on board the doomed Gamma I. In her mind, her destiny was to rule over man. All mankind, regardless of where they lived.
What made the queen different from the other eleven was that she chose, from time to time, a waking life lived among humans. Unlike her peers, she walked among the people as a sort of living god. Over time, she had ruled over many tribes and countries. She appointed herself Queen of the Abishot and began a dynasty. She saw into the future and remembered the past. She had countless offspring as her genetic DNA was used to further the lineage of many a royal family.
At the End of Days, her only known progeny were Amonda and Stell. All of her other offspring had died off.
The other eleven Ancients would soon perish in an explosion on board their ship. She had seen to that before she left the fleet.
Her mind drifted like a piece of straw on a quiet lake. She had no feelings of remorse because she understood the complex cycle of life. For them there was no “here” nor “there” because in the cosmic existence of Being, everywhere is the here and now. It was a place without yesterdays, tomorrows, dreams, or plans. The destruction of the fleet wasn’t murder; it was a release from one plane of existence to the next.
Her Bio-Com monitored the ship’s functions. She patiently awaited word from Amonda. She was in no hurry. The queen could wait a thousand years and it would seem to her as one day. For her, time was not quantified. She had no sense of it passing. Over the millennia she had trained herself to exist outside time’s relativity.
She continuously drifted in and out of meditative states. To the outside world, she resembled some kind of statue. Her cold body had almost turned to stone. Almost. Her breathing was imperceptible. In her odorless body there was no muscle activity, and her blood flow was the minimal necessary for survival. She was like an ancient Egyptian mummy entombed.
“Majesty?” Amonda’s voice carried over the Bio-Com interrupting the queen’s reverie.
The queen’s leaden eyes flickered. “Amonda. How goes it on the young planet?” She spoke in a harsh whisper, her lips seeming not to move.
“Stell has done well. He has infiltrated the one ruling tribe that has most of the wealth and military might.”
“Good. When do you think we should begin the migration of Abishot survivors?”
“Tomorrow. I will return to Gamma III shortly and help prepare the evacuation of our people’s crypt-orbs. Are you still hidden behind the planet’s moon?”
“Yes, our velocity matches its rotation and orbit and will keep us hidden from any tracking devices on the planet surface. There is some space debris orbiting the planet. The odd piece of litter sends false readings to the planet surface. We will not be detected.”
“Stell’s crypt is one of the orbiting objects.”
“How nice. I will make it a point to locate the crypt if I can. I am limited behind this moon.”
“Understood. Not to worry. We have an idea where it is. It was in an orbit similar to Kor’s crypt and Stell has those co-ordinates. I will personally capture it.”
“Does Stell ask for this crypt?”
“No. But he may need it. His powers would increase if he returned to his original body rather than this human that he shares … and, Mother …”
“Yes.”
“He looks barbaric in his human’s body. Positively hairy.”
The queen let her eyes turn inward and she began to drift again. “I will meditate now. I await your speedy return.”
The hovering transporter tilted ever so slightly as Amonda jumped aboard.
Her mother watched motionlessly as she stood close by on the deck.
The sleek ship hovered a foot above the tarmac of Gamma III’s launch area. Four other transporters lay idle against the walls, their proud silver-white noses facing the launch doors.
Although Amonda did all the physical work of loading the cryptorbs, the queen helped by organizing their selection. The first batch of one hundred twenty-five orbs was securely stowed on board the transporter. The hatch door was poised open as Amonda turned to her mother.
“That’s the last.”
“I have selected the orbs of my most trusted people. They will obey without question.”
“You are not landing any time soon?”
“Any time soon?” The queen seemed to ponder the question as if it were philosophical. “Who knows when I shall visit this place called Earth? For now, I feel no need. I might visit soon. I have plenty of transporters to choose from.” She gestured toward the tiny fleet.
“As you wish.” Amonda flashed a genuine smile, anxious to return to the planet surface. “I have work to do.”
The queen crossed her arm across her left breast in a voiceless salutation.
Amonda raised her arm and crossed her breast in return. “I will be back within a week after we have transitioned these first orbs. There are five transitioning chambers on board this transporter.”
The queen nodded. She saluted again.
The hatch of the transporter sliced downward and closed seamlessly into the fuselage. The small craft lifted a few feet, then banked toward the launch wall. A warning alarm sounded. The launch area would be exposed to open space. There would be a few moments of zero gravity and zero oxygen. This was potentially fatal to humans. The queen paid no heed.
Twenty seconds later, the hull of Gamma III opened like the iris of an eye. Pressurized oxygen blew outward in a soundless cloud. The queen merely stood and watched the vessel depart as gusts of exhaust wind swept by her into deep space.
The wall closed again and the area re-pressurized. The lack of oxygen and the sudden burst of frigid space would have killed most humans. Things like air and warmth meant nothing to this Ancient One. It was inconsequential to her. Her metaphysical existence
encased her physical body in an aura of impenetrable protection.
NATO radar spotted the transporter as it rounded the moon and began its descent to Earth.
On radar, the vessel appeared about the same size as a large incoming missile. The military went as far as Yellow Alert before they were instructed to stand down by the DoD out of Washington, D.C. The radar tracking was temporarily suspended so that the record of the landing location was not known. All records of the incident were expunged.
Amonda began her work of assimilating the Abishot crypt-orbs into selected humans. She enlisted Stell’s help. His Alpha series ship was larger and faster. He had a transition chamber on board, which was welcome considering the number of orbs that had to be processed. More important, he had a specialized Bot that could select the humans for transitioning.
Stell assigned two crewmembers to help Amonda. Still, it took time. More time than they had expected.
Although time was of the essence, Amonda spent as much time as possible with each candidate to ensure suitability for transitioning. After an initial trip inside the chamber to acquaint the subject with the process, Amonda would conduct a final interview.
The humans were able to conduct a conversation in spite of the fact that their bodies were rendered immobile. Physical conversation was not necessary. A temporary Bio-Com was adhered to the head of the person, just behind the right ear. Thus the conversation was without speech. The process allowed Amonda to penetrate deeper into the captive’s mind.
In all, Amonda rejected twenty-three subjects as unsuitable because she felt that they were likely to suffer seizures. They were freed unharmed. Their memories of the incident were expunged.
Of the one hundred twenty-five orbs transitioned, seven humans went mad and had to be disposed of. Amonda was pleased with the low attrition rate, although she mourned the loss of the seven Abishot.
Her work took ten days to complete.
“I need time to assimilate these people into positions of responsibility and power,” Stell said to Amonda. They were standing in a remote oil field twenty-five miles outside the city of Dallas.
