Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2)

by Robert Storey

  ‘You feel it, don’t you,’ Bic said. He stopped outside a blast door. ‘The God Device is a power unto itself.’

  ‘My mind cannot be broken,’ Ophion said.

  Bic moved close. ‘Which is why you are the only one able to do what is necessary.’ He motioned to the door and said more loudly, ‘Are you ready?’

  Ophion gave a nod and the door shifted inwards with a clunk, then slid silently upwards.

  Bic stood aside to reveal a darkened space and Ophion’s visor adjusted to the interior. At first, he thought the room to be empty, and then he saw it, a pentagonal platform upon which moved a strange plasma-like mass. Ophion adjusted his grip on one of his swords and activated the blade, which glowed brighter and brighter until it shone white hot.

  Ophion stepped over the threshold and searched the surrounding spherical chamber for signs of danger.

  Nothing else populated the room; there were only the smooth, bare walls containing the space within. The air crackled with static electricity and tiny sparks flowed along his glowing blade.

  A deep hum preceded the arrival of a diffuse light, which emanated from the concave walls. The red hue illuminated Ophion and the God Device in ghostly shadows. Curious and frightening forms moved through the device’s shimmering plasma, human-like faces appearing and disappearing within, like waves in a sea.

  A cascade of abstract images flashed through Ophion’s mind; he gritted his teeth and the unseen assault ceased.

  ‘Do not do that again,’ Ophion said, and he raised his sword, ‘or we shall see how plasma reacts to heat.’

  The plasma field fluctuated and extended upwards and Ophion found himself looking at a representation of his own face.

  ‘Nex—us,’ a sibilant voice whispered. ‘W—e have been ... waiting ... for youuuuu.’

  The hairs on Ophion’s neck bristled. This thing, whatever it was, possessed great intelligence. When it had touched his mind he had found himself in the presence of an immensity he could only describe as god-like.

  ‘Why have you brought me here?’

  ‘W—e ... did no—t.’

  An image materialised on one of the wall panels. The display streamed footage of a dark-haired man, strapped to a large metal chair.

  ‘The hacker,’ Ophion said.

  ‘Y—es. He ... is ... ours.’

  Ophion gazed at the God Device and moved closer, but as he did so a strange oscillating noise penetrated his helmet. He grimaced in pain and one of his legs gave way, forcing him down onto one knee. The sound intensified, and so did the pain, and Ophion suppressed a gasp. His jaw clenched and then he relaxed, allowing the agony to flood his body and then, against all the laws of nature, he got back to his feet, raised his sword and plunged into the plasma.

  A shriek of noise consumed the chamber and a hole opened within the energy field. Light flashed and Ophion was flung into a wall. The assassin’s eyes slid closed, darkness descended, and all became silent.

  ♦

  Ophion groaned and opened his eyes to find himself looking at the God Device. His face hurt and a low murmuring hum penetrated his consciousness. He reached for his sword, which continued to glow with heat beside him. But, for some reason, the rest of his body failed to respond to his commands and he was unable to stand. That’s when he realised it: the God Device had clouded his judgement, perhaps even before he’d boarded the space station itself. He would never have taken such action with a clear mind. A simple timed grenade tossed into the spherical chamber would have sufficed. Even if it had failed to destroy the God Device, it would have ensured it would be lost to the cold void of space. Instead, Ophion found himself paralysed and at its mercy – at least, for now.

  The image of Bic still remained on the wall and the hacker looked up as if he knew he was being watched. Another panel on the wall glowed brighter and a second scene appeared, showing a woman on a bridge surrounded by bright shining light as she withdrew what looked like a Pharos from a human host.

  ‘Do ... youuuu seeee ... her?’ said the whispering voices emanating from the God Device.

  Ophion stared at the footage. Recognition struck and he said, ‘Sarah Morgan.’

  ‘Y—es. Sheeee ... is ... the one ... w—e seek.’

  ‘You want me to kill her?’

  Bic’s hologram emerged from the screen, which had been streaming an image of his prison. ‘No,’ the hacker said. ‘In time she will come to us. But there is another ...’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Someone more powerful, more ancient.’

  ‘Why?’ Ophion said. ‘Why do you want them dead?’

  ‘We do not,’ Bic said, walking around the God Device, his holographic hand trailing through the plasma. ‘Those who think to control us wish him forever gone. His return cannot stand and it is you who has been chosen for the task.’

  ‘The Committee,’ Ophion said. ‘The Committee seeks to control the God Device.’

  ‘Y—es,’ whispered the voices. ‘Y—es!’

  ‘You served them once,’ Bic said. ‘Why not again, but from a different perspective: our perspective?’

  ‘And you will release me, if I agree?’

  The hidden force keeping Ophion restrained, released, and he got to his feet. He stared through Bic at the God Device beyond. ‘What are you?’

  ‘We are your creation,’ Bic said, ‘and your creator.’

  Ophion raised his visor. ‘You think you’re God.’

  Neither Bic, nor the God Device replied. Ophion knew he was being allowed to leave and he didn’t need a second invitation. The assassin strode from the room and away from the thing that infected his mind.

  As he reached an intersection, he saw Tyler Magnusson standing outside another hatch. The NASA astronaut beckoned to him. Ophion paused, and then followed him into an empty room.

  ‘You must set him free,’ Tyler said.

  Ophion frowned. ‘Who?’

  ‘Bic, of course!’

  ‘Show me where he is.’

  Tyler gave him an odd look, stepped aside and pointed at an empty metal chair.

  Ophion looked at him as if he were mad.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ Tyler said. ‘Help him!’

  ‘There’s no one there, he’s ...’

  Bic’s hologram appeared in the doorway and Ophion spun round, his sword raised.

  Bic laughed. ‘You cannot kill me, Ophion Nexus.’

  Ophion glanced at Tyler, who remained in a state of confusion, and then looked back at the hacker. ‘Tell me where you are,’ Ophion said, ‘and I can set you free.’

  Bic didn’t reply and Ophion seized Tyler’s arm. ‘Where is he?’ He shook him. ‘Where is he?!’

  Tyler gave a shake of his head.

  ‘I think you know,’ Bic said, materialising next to him.

  Ophion stared into the hacker’s holographic eyes and then realised what had been staring him the face the whole time. ‘You were never real, were you? You never existed.’

  Bic smiled and then faded away, and Ophion was left alone with Tyler, whose confusion remained.

  ‘You don’t know,’ Ophion said. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘The hacker was never here.’

  ‘What do you mean? I’ve been helping him for months, feeding him, bringing him water.’

  Ophion shook his head and turned Tyler round. ‘There’s no one there! Look. Bic was never here, do you understand? He never was, because he never existed. He never has!’

  ‘What?’ Tyler shook him off. ‘That can’t be. He’s been helping me, helping us all!’

  ‘Do you not see?’ Ophion said. ‘Bic is the God Device. The God Device is Bic. Whatever the Committee get the God Device to do, an equal and opposite reaction occurs. That reaction,’ – Ophion shook his head in disbelief – ‘that reaction is Bic.’

  Tyler stared at him in shock and a disembodied voice echoed through the room: ‘Run, Ophion Nexus! RUN!!’

  Pain lanced through Ophi
on’s head and Tyler let out a scream and fell to the floor, his body contorting in spasm.

  The shimmering lights beneath Tyler’s skin grew brighter and Ophion staggered back in horror as a Pharos emerged into being. Laughter echoed through the chamber. The Pharos roared and Ophion ran.

  Chapter Two Hundred Ninety-Seven

  Ophion Nexus sped through the GMRC’s stealth space station, chased by a shimmering blue-green light. A strange sound filled the air and Ophion found himself floating, as gravity failed. He glanced back as he adapted to the new environment, but the Pharos arrowed towards him, unaffected.

  ‘Magnetise,’ Ophion said. Blue lights on his armoured boots and gloves blinked on.

  The Pharos bore down on him, but as it dived at him, Ophion sheathed his sword, put feet to the nearest wall and somersaulted clear.

  The Pharos slowed and stopped, allowing Ophion to return to the walkway, where he drew both swords: one glowed white hot, while the other shimmered dark, its ghostly antimatter blade gleaming like Ophion’s death-like eyes.

  ‘Come,’ Ophion said in his deep voice. ‘Come to me!’ The Pharos let out a roar of defiance and Ophion leapt to meet its charge. ‘AND DIE!’

  Chapter Two Hundred Ninety-Eight

  High-ranking Committee member, Selene Dubois, strode through the halls of Tower Central, the colossal Anakim structure located at the heart of USSB Sanctuary. Two purple-clad soldiers, one either side of her, served as her escort. She had been summoned to speak to the Committee’s highest gathering, the Elite Council. Only once before had she been given such a privilege. It was the greatest honour and if she hadn’t trained herself to show and feel no emotion, she would have quivered with excitement.

  Doors to the main chamber swung open, the soldiers hung back, and Selene walked through, unaccompanied, to stand before a large holographic projector. The large red doors closed behind her with a whisper and a fan of lasers shone over her body from head to toe. The lights in the room darkened and Selene found herself visually transported into a chamber in another underground base, located on the far side of the world.

  Shadowy figures surrounded her and one of them spoke. ‘Welcome, Selene Dubois. You have news for us?’

  Selene turned to the man who’d spoken, bowed, and then said, ‘We have regained control of our military systems. The bombardment has restarted.’

  ‘Is it as we predicted?’ the man asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Selene said. ‘Washington is no more.’

  ‘And John Henry?’

  ‘The president’s fleet is destroyed. None could have survived.’

  ‘We will need confirmation,’ said another. ‘His corpse.’

  Selene nodded. ‘It will be so.’

  ‘And what of the surface?’ said the man who had spoken first.

  ‘Civilisation has fallen,’ Selene said. ‘Anarchy reigns. Some nations retain a tenuous grip on their people, but it will not last. The next wave of asteroids approaches.’

  ‘Indeed, it does,’ said the man.

  Selene cleared her throat.

  ‘You have something else to say?’ said a woman, who sat off to the right.

  ‘The hacker,’ Selene said. ‘He is like a virus, he grows more powerful every day.’

  ‘The hacker cannot touch us. We alone control past, present and future. We are all sides and all ways. The balance has been maintained, the sacrifices made.’

  Selene nodded. ‘Then we proceed to stage three, as planned?’

  ‘The God Device has shown us the way. The second pendant has been retrieved. No one can stop us. Our power is complete.’

  ‘What about ...?’

  ‘No, not even him. Ophion Nexus has been chosen. He cannot fail, it has been foreseen. The Second Coming will die as quickly as it began and our reign will be glorious, without end.’

  ‘From the past ...’ Selene said.

  The first man stood up. ‘In the present.’

  ‘To the future,’ everyone said, their voices a droning symphony.

  The shadowy conclave all stood and Selene bowed low.

  ‘Throughout time,’ they all said, in unison.

  Chapter Two Hundred Ninety-Nine

  Tyler Magnusson stood in the circular command centre of the stealth space station, watching through the sweeping window as a Sabre space aircraft detached itself from the docking port. Moments later, its afterburners glowed to life and the ship glided away, back towards the surface of the Earth.

  ‘You let him go,’ Tyler said.

  Bic’s hologram formed beside him. ‘He has a purpose to fulfil.’

  ‘Will he be successful?’

  Bic sighed. ‘Only time will tell. He has a hundred paths, and only he can choose which one to take.’

  Tyler gazed out towards the sun, which glinted and shone as it rose above the Earth’s disc of blue oceans and wispy white cloud. ‘Will I ever be allowed to go free?’

  Bic smiled at him and touched his arm.

  Tyler looked down and wondered how he could feel the hologram’s hand.

  ‘All in good time, Tyler Magnusson,’ Bic said, and turned to look back out into the depths of space. ‘All in good time.’

  ♦

  Ophion Nexus plotted a course for South America, removed his helmet and settled in for the ride of a lifetime. The Earth lay spread out below him and as he re-entered the atmosphere, the air burned bright. But, despite the uniqueness of his descent back to terra firma, his mind remained on the death of the Pharos. The beast’s scream as it died sounded almost human, and Ophion couldn’t shake the feeling that all wasn’t as it should be.

  Unable to resolve the issue in his mind, Ophion rested back in his seat and closed his eyes; his heartbeat a slow, steady rhythm. But, as the assassin drifted into a state of meditation, something appeared beneath the skin on his neck: a glittering shimmer of light.

  ♦

  Back on the space station, Tyler Magnusson remained gazing towards Earth and the occasional flash of light which caught his eye. ‘What is that?’ he said, curious.

  ‘The wars have begun,’ Bic said. ‘The Committee utilises the oldest of deceptions: divide and conquer. But that which the Committee believes is its greatest tool is about to be turned against them.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Long have the all-powerful, all-seeing Committee infiltrated the dreams of others, poisoning their minds so they can gather their wealth. But what they fail to realise is that, despite their best efforts, the balance has not been maintained. Far from it, the imbalance is almost beyond repair, and the tipping point draws close, very close, and soon they, and everyone they believe they control, will pay the ultimate price.’

  ‘How has the balance not been maintained?’ Tyler said. ‘How can they be all-powerful and all-seeing and get it so wrong?’

  ‘Because they inflict far more damage than they can ever know, as they suppress the very things that make them human: their emotions.’

  Tyler gave a shake of his head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s quite simple. Without emotion, you cannot experience the pains and joys of life to their fullest depths, and thus you have no experiential knowledge of the suffering you inflict on others. In the case of the Committee, this begins as hundreds, or thousands, of people, but it doesn’t stop there. It’s like a pyramid, you see, as it’s spread from the top down. Hundreds of tormented souls become thousands, thousands become millions, and millions become billions, which then spreads to trillions of other life forms on the planet. Now, let me tell you what I told your Professor Steiner. You are the most primitive of beings. You know something is bad for you, but do it anyway. You are even considering using another animal’s DNA to produce organs for yourselves. You are so scared of death – which, incidentally, does not exist as you see it, as you never cease to be – that you would rather keep someone alive by polluting your entire race with foreign DNA that will ultimately corrupt your entire species, than allow a few people to die from a condition cr
eated by poor living, be that by them, or their parents, or grandparents, or ancestors before them. Ask those few who are dying if they want to potentially be the cause of millions, even billions of deaths – tell them the truth, always the truth – and see what they choose.

  ‘And yet, the dying will not be given this information by those who provide the treatment, as the truth will destroy the doctor’s own career and livelihood. For there is no meaningful global oversight for medical practitioners, let alone science itself, as those in power focus primarily on population control; this imbalance will end you.

  ‘You breed weakness into your race at every turn, but claim survival of the fittest. You are stupid beyond words, a regressive race that destroys its own planet, and lies to itself about the implications of destroying its own planet, so that the few may have new televisions and clothes, which are soon forgotten in search of the next new television and the next new fashion trend in a desperate attempt to suppress their emotional dis-ease. Humanity deserves its fate. It champions survival of the fittest, and yet those that claim this are no longer fit, because the fittest are those who show their true range of emotions, without restriction. The fittest do not lie. The fittest speak truth, always and all ways. The fittest seem to the arrogant unfit to be uneducated simpletons worthy of pity, but in fact it is the other way round, as many uneducated simpletons possess far higher emotional IQs than those who possess greater knowledge. It is the great irony, or perhaps part of the cosmic joke. After all, a clever fool is still a fool, while the stupidest look on.’

  Tyler pondered Bic’s words, and then he remembered something. ‘What did you mean when you said everyone will pay the ultimate price?’

  Bic turned to look out into the depths of space, as if deep in thought. The silence stretched on, until he said, ‘The Anakim called them the Harvester of Souls, the Great Darkness.’