ABLE MIKE
BOOK ONE: VADE MECUM
God's Apostle said, "When honesty is lost, then wait for the Day of Judgement."
It was then asked, "How will honesty be lost, O Apostle of God?"
He said, "When authority is given to those who do not deserve it, then wait for the Day of Judgement."
- Abu Hurairah
Prologue: Decease Whispering
Approximately 42°22'S 57°16'E, Northwest of the Kerguelan Islands, the Indian Ocean
1535 hours, 29 May 1903
No matter how hard he fought this obsession, he could not expunge the thoughts of the device from his mind. Any momentary distraction that suppressed these notions quickly yielded and reverted back to this fixation; a primordial desire to stand in the presence of an enigmatic object recovered during an Antarctic expedition.
I should not be here. I'm neglecting my duties as the ship's Obermaschinist.
Over the weeks that had passed since the thing was found, innocent curiosity had slowly developed into a persistent mania that had consumed his every moment. It was as if there were maleficent voices at the back of his mind, softly whispering, lulling him into a peaceful catatonic state where every bit of his own free will had been eroded away, leaving him as malleable as a marionette tied to the hands of its manipulator. He felt helpless at the behest of this maligned influence.
It's cold down here. And quiet. Very still.
He desperately wanted to be able to break free from this attraction and return to his own cabin, but every time he managed to stop, something continued to move his feet forward, closer to the cargo hold where the thing had been stowed.
Am I dreaming, I wonder? The ship could not possibly remain this motionless at sea, not even if she were docked.
That thing had been found in the ice, on the desolate continent where no human civilization had ever thrived. Not, at any rate, that had been recorded or left evidence for history to reflect upon. It looked like nothing ever seen before; it had certainly not been crafted by any human hands. Least ways, not fashioned by any sane hands. The exhilaration that he had felt when he first cast his gaze upon the thing had felt like birth and death at once; as if a million stars had suddenly been thrust into his skull.
What if they could hear what I hear?
And since it had been brought on board the Gauss, the crew had taken on a more furtive, secretive demeanor. Where they had survived the cruel Antarctic winter frozen in the ice by forming a myriad of social clubs and general camaraderie, the men now had grown withdrawn and cheerless, avoiding conversation and derisively watching each other out of the corners of their eyes.
I don't think I should be here.
Sleep hardly came anymore, and when it did, it was a wholly distressful affair, haunted by the obscene imagery of alien landscapes with its sickening, furtive motions of things that should not exist and can only be tracked at the edge of one's periphery. Inexplicable mood-altering effects emanated from this thing, as he had formerly experienced first-hand. Whatever it was and however it accomplished this feat, he could not guess. But the voices remained, and the influence grew stronger.
What do you want from me? What can I offer to you that would be of interest?
He wanted to burn it from his memory. He desired the discipline to jump headlong into routine and become immersed in his work, mired in the comfort of tedious toil, too engaged and distracted by duty to spare a second thought on the blasted thing. But it would not allow this. It caused him to neglect his duties without care or concern, forced him to push aside all that should be placed at precedence to devote his concentration on the thing. It desired him; it lusted for his devotion and hungered for his patronage. If only it could reach out and take him in its arms, he would give of himself freely.
I owe everything I am to you. I would happily give my life to you, if you wished it so.
A strange scent not unlike camphor and saffron permeated the atmosphere, while he felt some sort of electrical vibration beginning to tingle through his extremities.
Without hesitation, I could happily live in this moment for all eternity.
He was drawn forward to the hold, compelled to turn the handle and swing the door open. He could no longer avoid this insistence. A warm sense of ecstatic relief flushed over his body at its sight, and knew that everything was alright now. He felt giddy as he approached it, a sense of light-headed ambivalent amusement eroding his German sense of duty to his ship, his crew mates and his country.
My name is Albert.
Every sound, every movement from the world outside stopped cold. Every color was drained out of life, every heart but his own ceased beating. Every image was slowly burned away into a blinding white light.
Every final moment of my life could look exactly like this.
The crew discovered their Chief Engineer prostrate before the thing they had found in the ice. When the Medical Officer was brought to examine the body, rigor mortis had already set in, yet the body was still warm to the touch in the frigid, unheated cargo hold. There was neither sign of life left in him, nor any indication as to what had been the cause of his demise. What he had been doing in the cargo hold was also a mystery, as he had been scheduled for routing maintenance checks on the diesel engines. Some of the crew had inferred that he had been troubled and acting out of sorts lately, but he had been generally well liked throughout the duration of their journey, and no one could guess as to his motives. Captain Ruser detailed the circumstances and the Medical Officer's findings, as inconclusive as they were, in the ship's log. Later that evening, they buried Mr. Stehr at sea under a slate grey sky, and proceeded towards Cape Town with their cargo. From there, they would continue back to their home port of Kiel, Germany.
Unknown location
0424 hours, 7 June, 1928
The vision slowly defined itself, almost too slow to perceive at first. The realization that there were others in the darkness came sudden, as their images were merely shadows cast against the unlit milieu of a dank room crafted from stone centuries ago. The shades of grey were stained red and orange by the embers of a fire that had silently dwindled into smoke. Details of the setting grudgingly emerged out of the gloom. The number of figures were six, and they had formed a circle at the center of the room. All furniture had been moved out of the way, and a pedestal topped with a large, shallow dish filled with a reflective liquid stood in the center of their ring.
Sounds followed the preceding imagery; a guttural, primeval and rhythmic chanting, too low to recognize, but changing in pitch and quality at an irregular rate. The tone and timbre emanating from the six individuals brought forth a vague sense of what could only be described as a passive urgency. They were searching for something - that was clear now - by routes normally reserved for those owning certain rarefied abilities and perceptions of the world not held by the general public. Acuities attuned to the secretive and lesser known realities of the world and its varied histories, honed throughout several lifetimes of practiced discipline.
The bond between these beings is unusually strong, something more analogous than shared familial traits. Their bond is the source of an uncommon power, coupled with an already advantageous matrix of uncharacteristic strengths. Buried within the mantra of their monotone cadence is a veiled request that will not be denied, a call out to awaken a source of an otherworldly influence only recently revealed.
Their voices begin to take on a certain clarity, the language spoken strangely familiar, yet alien in quality. Their combined insistence compelling the information they seek to present itself to the group, as their authority builds to its full strength, forcing submission upon the interstices of time and space. It opens up and yields their truths to the six, reflected in the still water of their scrying pool. A location emerges; the Rhine Province in the Weimar Republic. A village known as Mülheim an der Ruhr, within a castle known as Broich.
A quarter of a century had passed since it was discovered and released from its brumal captivity, only to be lost in the midst of a world war and forgotten in the aftermath of darkness, where it patiently waits.
It has been discovered again. In the darkness, six faces look up to face one another, and in their mirrored visages the same eagerness is reflected. In the darkness, six faces that are one in the same smile knowingly.
"It is time, brothers," one of the six avers.
"Time to return home to Germany," responds another.