ACT I | THE TYRANT'S MALEVOLENCE
CHAPTER IV | TRAVELER
ENIGMA-1 TARGET ZONE | MARS
The vehicle came to a halt.
This was it.
Valentin took a breath, and stood with the rest of the soldiers, who moved out of the transport with weapons at the ready. The Martian soil caked their boots in red dirt as the assembled forces organized into formations. Now outside, Valentin was once again struck by how massive the alien spacecraft was up close.
It hovered ominously; notably threatening for a simple sphere, directly from a physical standpoint.
But curiously, he didn't feel nervous. There seemed to almost be an ethereal glow around it; a presence surrounding the alien sphere that gave it an almost surreal feeling. A comfortable warmth that permeated his entire being and those around him. Valentin didn't know if it truly came from the alien or not, but it would certainly be a coincidence if it was, considering he hadn't been feeling like that before coming to this area.
The collection of the soldiers, news anchors, and support personnel marched forward in organized formation with Commander Calumet up front, with the linguists close behind. The plan from what Valentin knew was simply keep getting closer to ENIGMA-1 until it acknowledged them in some way. Given that the ghosts had been observing them, it was clearly aware of them.
Something had to happen soon, unless the alien wanted to play coy.
Then one of the machines appeared, hovering just above Calumet and the entourage. A second one appeared a millisecond later. Then a third. A fourth. Before their eyes dozens upon dozens of the machines materialized out of thin air. The soldiers were already tense, and hands gripped weapons tighter as they beheld the drone swarm materializing around them. Even Valentin had to resist the urge to lift his weapon – though he still didn't feel he was in danger.
Not yet, anyway.
The drones weren't materializing just in front of them either; they were appearing to the sides and even behind them - As well as directly above individual formations. A trio of the ghosts materialized over his own formation, seeming to look down on them forebodingly; the star-shaped parts whirring and spinning, with electronic bursts and warbles coming from them intermittently. The single eye in the center of their shell glowing blue focused all of them, flicking from person to person, probably scanning them.
Looking past the ones directly over him, he saw the machines everywhere. They were all exactly the same; or at least had the same model. A four-pronged star-shaped shell, or eight-pronged if one counted the back, surrounding a single 'eye'. Valentin couldn't see an obvious engine or means of propulsion, but there had to have been something keeping them afloat.
Ghosts indeed.
"Weapons ready," Calumet ordered calmly from the front though her internal link, though he was close enough that he could hear her normally. Presumably, the alien machines wouldn't be able to hear. "Do not fire yet."
As one, the soldiers of the Triumvirate raised their weapons at Ghost nearest to them, Valentin included. The machines almost seemed startled, darting slightly back, the rear prongs spinning as they moved. A few vanished and reappeared a short distance later; teleporting through their unknown methods.
They kept a larger degree of distance, but still observed mutely.
That was almost comforting, since it indicated that the weapons could hurt them. Valentin believed that these were largely surveillance drones, not military ones - presumably. If it was a good or bad thing that only the observation drones were being sent out was something yet to be decided. The alien could be holding the military drones in reserve.
Or we're all making too many assumptions.
Calumet motioned up one of the linguists who began speaking. "Greetings, unknown entity," the linguist said in English. "I am Milya Mihaylova, I speak for the Triumvirate, of the planet Earth. We come in peace."
Despite the situation, Valentin felt an ironic smile cross his face. 'We come in peace', they said, as they brought a small army and were currently raising weapons at the machines. She could have picked a less cliché line. She was probably only doing it to establish a baseline, and confirm the alien didn't speak a Human language.
One of the closet drones lowered itself to eye level, gave an electronic warble, and spoke. "[Greetings, speaker of Earth. We do not intend harm to your people. We ask that your weapons be lowered.]"
Valentin clamped his mouth shut before a shout of surprise could escape it. He should have heard the voice over the external microphone pickups. Instead… it was as if they were standing in an unseen room, his suit and every other source of noise or absorption removed. An odd feeling of dissonance passed through him: he knew they had been spoken, but had he actually heard them? He wasn't sure. The iris of the main Ghost had turned a golden color, and as he looked above, he saw the drones hovering had also adopted the same color, and there was a slight distortion around them.
Were they linked as a projection system of some sort? Channeling the words of the speaking Ghost?
He had heard the words in perfect Russian. If he hadn't been aware of where it had come from, he would have assumed it to be a native speaker. It was flawless pronunciation and usage. It was in a generic-esque male voice, more robotic than normal, but certainly acceptable.
Milya seemed surprised, continuing to speak in English. "You speak our language?"
The Ghost made a warbling noise. Or did it? Then it not-quite-spoke: "[We have been cataloging your many languages, and have stored them for ease of access and to more effectively facilitate communications. Many people are often incapable of assimilating new languages easily. We have identified the spoken languages of those assembled, and are translating for convenience.]"
The subtext being that the aliens somehow knew which languages each of them spoke – which they shouldn't know unless they'd spent a lot of time figuring that out. Well, the Ghosts hadn't been idle, obviously. Valentin didn't necessarily care about the invasion of privacy at this moment, as with the barriers to communication shattered, real questions could be answered.
"Weapons down," Calumet ordered. "We greet you in peace, alien. Conflict is not our objective."
As one, the soldiers lowered their weapons, if a bit hesitantly, even as some stared suspiciously up at the hovering machines. "What do we address you as?" Milya asked. "Whom do you represent?"
"[We are merely autonomous systems of our creator,]" the drone hovered and angled slightly upward; bobbing to indicate ENIGMA-1 behind it. "[The Traveler.]"
A name for the extraterrestrial visitors.
Not the one he would have guessed, honestly. Seems oddly…generic.
"Who is the Traveler?" Milya asked. "We wish to speak with them directly."
The Ghost again indicated the sphere. "[That is the Traveler.]"
"The Traveler is in the sphere?" Calumet inquired.
"[No, that is the Traveler,]" the Ghost repeated.
"The sphere is the Traveler?" Calumet didn't bother disguising her confusion. "Is the Traveler a machine like you? An artificial intelligence? The sphere is the platform?"
"[No, the Traveler is not mechanical,]" the machine confirmed. "[Although she is not biologically equivalent to life in this galaxy. It is difficult to explain, but the sphere you believe to be a vessel is the shell which contains her. A body in essence; the function of which is little different from your own.]"
Difficult to explain was probably an understatement. Valentin genuinely wasn't sure how that did, or could, work outside of something like an AI. He had odd images in his head of some kind of tree-growth plant-based mind contained in a floating greenhouse. Probably wrong, but there was clearly something to the 'Traveler' as 'she' was apparently called.
She. So aliens did have genders then?
Just from looking at the sphere, he wondered how that even worked. Not really the right time for idle musings like that though. He suspected that there would be a lot more learned about the Traveler in the coming days.
"In which case, we are glad to know who has arrived in our system," Milya continued. "But we must know – why has the Traveler come here?"
The Ghost hovered in the air, the prongs of its shell spinning as it's eye moved around – it was curiously expressive for a machine, and Valentin instinctively felt a bit more comfortable around it than a stoic machine. Almost made it seem alive.
"[The Traveler comes with a message to your species,]" it finally said. "[A message which is intended for the leaders of your people. You are but one species in a vast galaxy, and there are truths you do not know. It is only a matter of time until your species is threatened by forces outside of your knowledge and control. The Traveler seeks to ensure that harm does not befall the innocent species of the galaxy.]"
There were immediately murmurings among the soldiers at that. Valentin himself frowned. In those few sentences were significant implications. First that there were definitely more alien species out there – second that some of said species were threatening. And that the details were only to be shared with the Triumvirate directly.
Guess this is what the diplomats were for.
"Why did you terraform Mars?" Milya asked, asking an odd follow up question, in Valentin's opinion. "Why not make contact with us directly when you arrived?"
The Ghost whirred. "[The Traveler turned this world into a place where your people can thrive as a gift; a demonstrative promise of her intentions. The distance gave you time to observe her actions and understand her intent. And she is always curious how a people react to her appearance.]"
Huh. So this was the alien showing that she had good intentions. Interesting. Or at least it says so, another part of his mind reminded him.
"A test?" Calumet asked, cocking his head.
The front prongs of the Ghost spun. "[An acceptable term, Commander Calumet.]"
Valentin was fairly certain Calumet had never given her name.
"One we passed, I presume?" Calumet asked cautiously.
"[Your people have been judged as holding potential,]" the Ghost said serenely. "[Many of your people may be allowed to wield the Light. Others will not. As it is with all species. There are concerns the Traveler holds with your people, but she is prepared to judge for herself, and by your own actions.]"
"The Light?" Milya asked.
Valentin had a feeling he knew what the 'Light' was.
Above them, the Traveler began glowing brightly, the golden glow they had seen before becoming apparent. The warm feeling grew stronger. The ghost closest to Calumet became encased in the power itself, the prongs separating and angling themselves towards the ground as golden beams shot from the eye, and before their eyes saw one of the Martian trees grow from the ground.
"[The Light is the fundamental power of creation in this universe,]" the Ghost explained, the power fading from the shell and returning to normal. "[It brings life to where there is none. It brings hope where such has faded. It bestows power upon the Guardian. It protects the helpless. It dispels the Darkness. The power of the Light is only as limited as the imagination of those who wield it.]"
Valentin could imagine that this display was causing a bunch of thoughts to run through Calumet's head – probably how massive a military advantage this power would be. He couldn't say he wasn't thinking of that too, but it seemed almost a waste when this power could do something like turn a dead planet into a livable one.
Assuming the machine wasn't exaggerating, they could change Earth itself, and those who lived on it, forever. Philosophical insinuations aside, it was clear the Light was power, and that power could do a lot.
"And this power…" Calumet said slowly. "Only the Traveler wields it?"
"[No,]" the Ghost answered bluntly. "[It can be given to any people; the Traveler has bestowed it upon her champions and those who seek a galaxy as she envisions it. It is a blessing and a commitment. It is not a power given lightly, and only to the most worthy.]"
Valentin remembered the Ghost had said some of them had 'potential' while others did 'not' moments ago. Did that mean if they were worthy enough to use this power? If so…they were going to be the most sought-after people in the Triumvirate. He'd seen enough of the Triumvirate to know this is a power they would do anything for.
Calumet cleared her throat. "This is very informative. We are willing to negotiate with you further. If you are in need of allies, I believe that such an arrangement could be beneficial for the Traveler and our species. You doubtless have technology far beyond our own, which our own people would deeply appreciate."
"[Yes,]" the Ghost confirmed, bobbing in the air. "[We would provide it for the benefit of your people.]"
Well, that was a good sign, though Valentin wondered how much of it would be used for the benefit of the people. Clovis would probably put all of it towards military supremacy. Or augmenting the KGB. Or put everything into Bray Incorporated. Valentin was not expecting whatever the Traveler gave to be given to the working class. Not unless Clovis got something tangible out of it.
"Excellent," Milya nodded. "We are ready to speak to the Traveler directly as needed. Commander Calumet has been authorized to negotiate on behalf of the Triumvirate."
"[She is denied,]" the Ghost said flatly, and electronic warble punctuating the end of the sentence. "[The Traveler will not speak with her.]"
Valentin could imagine the Commander blinking at that. He couldn't say he wasn't surprised as well. "Sorry?" Calumet demanded, stepping forward. "Why not?"
"[You are judged to not be an appropriate ambassador between the Traveler and your people,]" the Ghost elaborated. "[The Traveler has identified individuals she judges as acceptable and will permit their entry.]"
"I can respect your initiative, but we have predetermined protocols." Calumet lifted a hand, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. "I have been authorized to negotiate directly by the Triumvirate heads of state. I will only bring in several of my linguists and second in command. If necessary, we could request for another to be cleared, but it would take time."
"[Unnecessary, the Traveler has determined who she will speak with,]" the Ghost stated. "[And she will speak to them imminently. The negotiations you expect are not required. It has been decided, and these individuals will convey her message to your leaders.]"
Valentin was wondering who was possibly identified. Calumet had the same question. "Who?"
"[Identifying,]" the Ghost said with a whir. Valentin heard something above him, and saw another Ghost hovering above him spinning its frontal prongs, and the eye glowing white, and before he could say anything, there was a bright flash and he was suddenly standing just off to the side of the Calumet's entourage, facing them.
Oh no.
You have got to be kidding me.
He wasn't the only one. To his surprise, both Fang and Liana were beside him, clearly as surprised as he was, as well as Milya, the linguist, and another guy who looked very out of place compared to the rest of them. He looked like one of the CIA agents which had come, and he looked very on edge. Fairly old guy too, at least compared to them.
"I think there's been some mistake," Valentin said slowly, knowing that Calumet was probably wondering if he was compromised.
Now he felt nervous.
His fault or not, this practically guaranteed a visit by the KGB.
"[Do not worry, there is no mistake,]" the Ghost assured him – or tried to assure him, floating down to him. "[The Traveler selected all of you personally.]"
He could feel Calumet's scorching gaze through her helmet. He didn't know how to convey just how much this was not something he wanted. "I cannot speak for the others," she said, looking at the ghost. "But this man is a Cosmonaut. Not even an Officer. He isn't authorized for this kind of operation, especially not without an escort."
Thank you. Come on, Ghost, respect our customs. I don't want to visit the KGB.
"[The Traveler is aware,]" the Ghost repeated. "[Your authorization is not needed to meet with her.]"
"We're going in circles," Calumet muttered. "With all due respect, you have yet to provide a sufficient reason an authorized individual – myself – is not permitted while these individuals are."
The ghost bobbed. "[Operation Silver Bullet, 2004, authorized by Special Operative Evie Calumet. The Traveler does not believe you are compatible to serve as an ambassador between her and your leaders.]"
Valentin had no idea what it was referencing, but judging from Calumet's reaction and immediate reaching for her pistol, it was not supposed to be something the alien should know. Her tone was scathing. "How did you get access to that?"
"[Everything pertinent was reviewed,]" the Ghost answered in a neutral voice. "[This judgement is final. Please do not insist further.]"
"I'm afraid we can't do that," Calumet motioned to a formation of nearby Space Marines. "You'll have to wait for your ambassadors, Ghost. Inform your Traveler of that. You understand that we need to speak to these people you have selected before we can allow them to conduct negotiations on behalf of the Triumvirate. Take them into custody."
This could not actually be happening. But there was literally nothing he could do, since Calumet was a direct superior. Compliance was his only option unless he wanted to be disappeared, and he was more than happy to state that he had no idea this was happening or why the alien would want to talk directly to him. There was a formation of the Space Force also marching up, though they kept their distance, seeming to wait to see what happened first.
"This is ridiculous," Liana protested, though weakly, even as she glared both at the ghost and Calumet. "Tell your Traveler none of us agreed to this, and we don't know anything!"
"Liana, it's fine," Valentin placated, putting a hand on her shoulder, although he could imagine Calumet was going to personally interrogate each one of them, individual nationalities be damned. "We'll comply. Trust me, Commander, none of us know the reason behind this."
"Speak for yourself," the unknown man glared at Calumet. "You can take your people into custody, but I do not answer to you."
Great, the last thing they needed was a clash here. Of course the CIA was going to cause problems. Calumet was clearly not in the mood, from how long she stared the man down. The man surprisingly held her gaze. Not many could do that, especially when she was wearing her helmet.
Though there was something off about this man. He seemed more hardened than any of them, especially in his eyes. Even for a CIA agent, the man immediately put him on guard, and everything screamed 'danger' about him. Calumet spoke slowly after a few long seconds.
"You will agree that these are unusual circumstances, and I do in fact have authorization to detain anyone should there be justification. Being singled out by a previously unknown alien entity certainly qualifies." She looked to the Ghost. "If everything checks out, we will let them speak with the Traveler."
The Space Marines moved closer to him, and Valentin resigned himself to his fate and hoping the KGB believed him. What a turn this day had taken. Without warning, a dozen more Ghosts materialized before the chosen ambassadors, with the electronic irises now glowing red. The main ghost floated before the formation. "[I would advise you refrain from taking these individuals into custody.]"
"Ghost, it's fine," Valentin waved it off, not wanting to make this any worse. It was clearly trying to be helpful, but all it was doing was ensuring that his talk with the KGB was not going to just be verbal, but a lot more physical. Please, just shut up. "It shouldn't hopefully be too long."
Oh, but it would. He was definitely not seeing the inside of that sphere. He'd be lucky to see Earth again at this rate.
"[We have knowledge of Commander Calumet's methods and psychology,]" the Ghost said coldly and yet almost apologetically. "[This is for your own safety.]"
How nice, it knew it was screwing him and actively making it worse. The Ghost angled towards Calumet. "[Return your soldiers, or there will be consequences.]"
"You do not get to dictate what happens to our personnel. Move your machines away," Calumet rejected, gesturing and the soldiers raised their weapons again at the Ghosts. But this time, instead of retreating back, the irises of the machines turned red, matching the Ghosts facing down the formation of Space Marines. "This is a Triumvirate matter now."
"[Please, do not make this more difficult,]" the Ghost warned. "[We shall act and remember.]"
"Take them in," Calumet ordered, determined to call the bluff of the ghosts.
"[Unfortunate.]" The Ghost blinked to materialize above Calumet. The iris of the Ghost flashed white and beams of blinding light shot out like small strobe lights, moving around Calumet's body and enveloping the Commander in a white mesh of light. It lasted mere milliseconds before she glowed white like a hologram and vanished in an instant. It was accompanied by the dozens of ghosts around them doing the same thing, and soldiers, anchors, and support staff, vanished before his eyes.
All but one of the formation which had come to take them into custody were seemingly vaporized in flashes of white light, leaving only a single Space Marine who immediately threw her weapon on the ground, raising her hands in surrender at the hovering Ghosts. Several of the remaining soldiers tried firing their weapons into the air, but the ghosts easily dodged and then vaporized the guns they were holding away the same way they'd vaporized the people, leaving them weaponless.
A heavy silence reigned.
Valentin just stood paralyzed, seeing the commanding officer and hundreds of soldiers just…gone. Vaporized!
"[There we go,]" the Ghost floated over to him. "[Apologies for the chaos. We expected her to be more reasonable.]"
"You didn't…" Valentin swallowed, trying to form words. "You didn't kill her, did you? All of them?"
The ghost warbled. "[Of course not. Fatal violence was unnecessary. They have simply been returned to Earth, perfectly safe. But they would have caused issues later, and I suspect none of us want to deal with that. With the troublesome elements removed from the planet, we should be able to proceed.]"
The ghost seemed to cocked its 'head', looking almost inquisitively at the dumbfounded quintet who looked at each other, realizing they didn't really have a choice in what to do now. "[Do you have any questions?]"
THE KREMLIN | RUSSIA | SOVIET UNION
This was a historic day.
Historical, though not necessarily going as planned.
Clovis would have felt more pleased if he were actually able to witness this historic event in its entirety. As it stood, that was not happening.
The entire cabinet was assembled as the event was broadcast from Mars to Earth. There was a significant delay when watching, of course, but it was acceptable considering the technological restraints. All precautions which could be taken had, and each were ready to play their part. The Soviet anchors present on Mars had not focused on commentary so much as capturing the event itself.
Dutiful and loyal to the finest detail. A credit to the Motherland.
It was not to say the event had been viewed nonchalantly; it had become stressful at times, where each and every one of them were on the edges of their seat and helplessly watching through screens. There had been several moments of alarm, starting when the drones – or 'Ghosts' as they had been dubbed unofficially – began appearing out of thin air. Clovis, and quite a few others, had been concerned that they were going to attack.
The fact that there were so many was not an encouraging sign either.
The cameramen present hadn't been sure how to react at first either, and the cameras had panned all over, almost in a panic, darting from Ghost to Ghost, as if to show that they were everywhere. At least they had some high-quality images now, but it was small comfort – or really useful considering they'd been harvesting images of the Ghost intrusions already.
But they'd not appeared to be hostile, and they'd all slightly relaxed when the main Ghost had started speaking.
Still, Clovis knew a show of force when he saw one.
The alien – the Traveler as 'she' was called – knew exactly what it was doing.
Clovis was less surprised that the Ghost spoke one of their languages. From the data available, the alien had been scoping them out this entire time, and it followed that the language would have been one of the first things prioritized. Which was good news, ultimately. Being able to communicate with the alien was better than the alternative.
The Traveler.
An interesting name. More likely an easily translatable title. It implied an exploratory focus; less of a military affinity, which could bode well for them. Commander Calumet had done well in emphasizing their technological deficiency, and cleverly implying the alien could help them. Which the Traveler – or the speaking Ghost at least – had agreed to.
They had heard the Ghost describe the ethereal power it called 'Light', and that the Traveler had a message specifically for them. Both of which Clovis was especially eager to hear more of.
Then the video had cut out.
Only a blank screen. Not even any static.
It wasn't just the Soviet feeds either. Channels with the other Triumvirate leaders who were watching confirmed the same thing. Every single feed which originated from Mars had gone completely dead. The engineers were trying to diagnose what had happened – so far their own statement was "loss of signal" - but Clovis suspected something less benign than a technical error had happened.
An outage on their end he could understand. One mistake was all that was needed, infuriating as it might have been. His irritation had faded once it was confirmed not to be the case.
Everyone who was watching lost connection at the same time? Not a coincidence.
A few in the room were growing impatient with the delay, with some taking it out on the engineers. Clovis waved it off; it wasn't their fault, and it was definitely not on their end. There was very little they could do except confirm it wasn't their fault, and hope it came back. Clovis sincerely hoped there would be full recordings.
He did not want to rely solely on witness testimony for this. If that failed, the KGB would need to verify everything, and that would take time.
At least he felt vindicated in insisting that the meeting not be televised – and that all of the Triumvirate had agreed not broadcast it. If this were public, there would have been questions and panic the moment the stream cut. The public had no idea this was happening, and that was preferable. If everything had gone well, it would have aired on the nightly news as if it were live, he would have given a speech, and all would be well.
Now, things would have to be adjusted.
"[What happens,]" Luka asked as discussion in the cabinet continued, leaning over to him, speaking quietly into his ear. "[If there was an attack.]"
Clovis rubbed his chin, thinking on the footage he'd seen before it had cut. "[I've considered that. I don't know that is the case. The feed cut out at a rather benign moment. One could even say diplomatic. It wasn't as though the Ghosts started shooting. I am not leaping to a worst-case scenario quite yet.]"
"[There have been no transmissions or contact from the ARES crafts,]" Luka noted. "[I do not like it.]"
Clovis grunted. Join the club. "[The alien even said it terraformed Mars to show it's good intentions,]" Clovis muttered, almost to himself. "[It would be odd to bait and switch to this degree.]"
Luka raised an eyebrow. "[And you believe this alien?]"
"[I operate off of tangible evidence,]" Clovis laced his fingers together. "[And the existing evidence appears to validate the alien's intentions. If it wanted a conflict, I feel it would have started it long before now. Why bother to go through this whole show only to attack the diplomatic party which comes to meet it?]"
"[I do not know,]" Luka shrugged. "[But I believe it is a question we should start asking and answering. How long do we wait?]"
"[Give it another half hour,]" Clovis said after a moment of thought. "[Otherwise, we move forward. Unless the rest of the Triumvirate receives something. I want a call with President Quinn in that timeframe as well.]" He motioned to his aide. "[Ensure that's set up. Now.]"
"[Of course, General Secretary!]"
Clovis leaned back, hands on his chest as he beheld the blank screen. Nothing much to do except wait, and he could afford to wait. No need to panic yet-
There was a burst of light as a humanoid-shaped hologram of light manifested above the conference table, and a millisecond later turned into a Space Marine soldier who fell directly onto the table, leaving a huge crack in it as it fell with a massive thud. Everyone around the table pushed themselves back with shouts of surprise.
The Red Guard immediately moved in front of him, and Clovis's own hand fell to his waist, gripping a pistol, but it soon became clear that there was no danger.
To his surprise, the Space Marine was none other than Commander Calumet herself, who pulled off her helmet after she rolled off of the table, shaking her head, blinking rapidly before she realized where she was. She immediately straightened and fell into a salute. "[General Secretary!]"
He didn't fail to note her voice was not calm. Far from it. He waved the Red Guard to stand down, many questions running through his mind. "[Commander. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're supposed to be on Mars, yes?]"
"[I was supposed to be,]" she answered, eyes darting around the room. "[But there have been complications. We have a problem.]"
Clovis resisted a sigh. Why must there always be a problem. "[Elaborate.]"
She pursed her lips. "[I believe the alien has compromised our system. More importantly, I do not think it is here to help us. Not truly.]"
"[The feeds cut out nearly twenty minutes ago,]" Clovis told her, nodding to the screens. "[We have not heard what happened. Why did the alien – I presume – teleport you here?]"
"[This will take some time,]" she warned. "[If it sent me back, there are probably others.]"
"[We will take care of them,]" Clovis gestured to some of the aides to depart and presumably keep an ear to the ground regarding that, and they rushed off, with Luka stepping away to take a call. The General Secretary took his seat again, fixating on the Space Marine intently.
Time to learn what had happened.
"[Tell us what we are dealing with.]"
RESISTANCE STRATEGY ROOM | TEL AVIV | ISRAEL
It had been a turbulent, frantic, and unprecedented few months.
It was times like this when the Ayatollah considered formally retiring and leaving the Resistance in the hands of someone younger and equally as capable. The days of stress and long nights now were something he had not felt since the days after Tehran fell, and the years of slowly gathering the leaders of nations to assist in this crusade.
Ryan would be amused to hear him admit that he was, indeed, 'getting too old for this.'
But this was a poor time to be looking for excuses and successors. That would need to be something he thought and prayed on – but later. This also assumed the alien did not cause even more upheaval, else their fight would continue for years to come. Or it would end as the Triumvirate reached a point where they could not be stopped.
The Triumvirate had their weaknesses now, but there were troubling signs that they were consolidating their power for…something. Near as Liberman had been able to determine, the actions the Triumvirate were taking were likely in place before the alien had appeared, and they happened to be continuing nonetheless.
Amjah's suspicion that Clovis was more dangerous than assumed appeared to be coming true.
"You look troubled," Amjah said from opposite the table, upon which was a map of the region. "Do you need rest."
"Nay," the Ayatollah lifted a hand. "Forgive me. I am…tired. Contemplating."
"Aren't we all," Arya Burns grunted, having taken a rare and risky visit from the UK to Israel. "Point being that there isn't much time for that right now. No offense."
Amjah's face hardened, but the Ayatollah waved him off. "She is right. There can be no room for further mistakes. We must face facts."
"Yes," Amjah looked down to the map. "The attacks are having less of an effect. It is as I feared. The slide of desensitization; an attack becomes a news cycle, then a story, then a paragraph, and finally an asterisk. Using the bombers has resulted in diminishing returns. I am refraining from continuing these methods for a time."
"Killing people is all well and good, but it needs to have purpose," Arya shrugged. "I'm no fanatic, but killing without point becomes easy to ignore. Do it too often, and then people will just start shrugging their shoulders and saying 'just another suicide bombing'."
"And yet I see no feasible alternative," Amjah muttered. "Where can we strike with the necessary impact?" He shook his head. "I wish Kane were here. He knew where the best place to strike was."
Isaiah's departure had indeed been a hit. Hamaza had admittedly not really appreciated the impact of the stoic man until he was gone. The Dead Cell was still operating, but most of the operations were limited in scope, and his tactical insight was no longer something that the young Quds Force Commander was able to lean on.
On his own, Amjah was struggling to break out into his own. It was a necessary test, but the Ayatollah did not want such a test to be now. The world was going to rapidly change in the coming months, and they had to do what they could now before it happened. This was the wrong time to be running into growing pains.
God willing, it would be done. But with these new hardships, he was now wondering if that was the path they were supposed to walk.
"Your targets are all wrong," Arya interjected, looking at the map closely. "Much as I know you hate to admit it, killing people isn't accomplishing much. Random people, anyway. The economy is the actual force that should be damaged. No economy, no structure, and that leads to chaos. Supply lines, production facilities, the works. If you mess with the standard of living, people will pay attention very quickly."
She nodded upwards. "The Soviets understood that disruption leads to revolution. All they needed to do was disrupt life, and play the powerful against the citizens. And lo and behold, the people 'won' each time – if we ignore the KGB meddling everywhere. But you get the idea. Your suicide bombers are going to be able to hit the world a lot harder if they go after an oil refinery or steel mill. Hell, contaminate some crops or poison a well, and you'll hit the public a lot harder."
Amjah stroked his chin. "Kane has never suggested such methods as being the most effective."
"Kane is very, very good at making sure killing people has impact," Arya admitted. "For better or worse. Consider it his gift. Since it worked, I kept my mouth shut. But he's not here, and you're clearly having issues. I can't tell you how to run the Quds, but based on my own experience and knowledge, I'd strongly consider economic targets."
Amjah looked to him. "Your opinion, Ayatollah?"
He folded his hands together. "I am uncertain. You are substituting one path of violence for another. Violence is not accomplishing what we wish now. Perhaps we should refrain until the path is clearer. The world is changing already, we must adapt to the way forward."
Arya sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I swear, if you say God told you this, I'm going to call bullshit. We're not basing our decisions about a deity who hasn't bothered to help us out yet."
The Ayatollah gave her a thin smile. "Our friend Isaiah managed to join one of the most critical Triumvirate expeditions on short notice, and has remained undetected, and has been given an opportunity to see this alien up close. I would not be so quick to dismiss the guiding hand of God."
Arya rolled her eyes. "It's more likely that I have good contacts, and that Kane is a very skilled operative. We don't even know if he and the others are still undercover."
"Do you really think the Triumvirate wouldn't parade them around if they caught them?" Amjah asked. "No, they are still there, with their cover intact. Though I wish we had a means of communication." His voice turned wistful. "I wonder what it is like, to walk the surface of the red planet."
The Ayatollah remembered watching the footage the Triumvirate had released; of the first people to walk on Mars. Even to him, he could appreciate the gravitas of the event, and had even felt a sense of wonder at the knowledge that Man now walked beyond Earth. Many others had been similarly affected.
It seemed a distant dream, almost an illusion of what Humanity could be. Working together and celebrating this moment as a species. He heard the wonder and joy in the voices of the astronauts who had landed first on Mars. They truly believed in what they were doing; the truths of the Triumvirate's horrors unknown to them.
Nonetheless, it had been a glimpse, and it had moved him.
"You may ask Isaiah when he returns," Hamaza said. "I'm certain he will have opinions."
"Probably not," Arya's voice turned into a fake deep voice. "'Ugh, so much red dust. Hate being surrounded by all these commies. Wish I could kill them. This alien better help us out.'"
Amjah chuckled. "I feel he is more sentimental than he lets on."
"If he is, I've not seen it," Arya shrugged, a faint smile on her face. "Don't blame him one bit either."
"Back to the matter at hand," Amjah cleared his throat, turning back to the table when they were all interrupted by a sudden flash of white light in the corner of the room. The light was so bright that the Ayatollah closed his eyes, lifting a hand to shield his vision. When it cleared a few seconds later, he was struck by what stood in front of him.
"Loras?" Amjah asked incredulously, looking at the man who was in Triumvirate attire, who seemed just as confused as they were.
"Where am?" The eyes of the man widened. "Ayatollah!"
"Peace be upon you," the Ayatollah replied automatically, eyeing him suspiciously. "How did you…arrive?"
"Where is Kane?" Arya demanded. "And the others?"
"I…I don't know!" Loras insisted, looking around, and down at his body as if to make sure he was still there. "Kane…he was noticed by the alien. The Traveler the Ghosts called it."
"Ghosts?"
"Machines, drones…I think," the young man tried elaborating. "They've been spying on us. Everyone is nervous. I'm surprised you didn't hear about them, rumor had it they were also on Earth."
"Is that so," Arya crossed her arms. "I did see the rumors, in fact. I thought it was a hoax. A Triumvirate psyop."
"Not this time," Loras shook his head. "This alien is…powerful. And intelligent. It spoke our languages."
"Wait," Amjah lifted a hand. "You said the alien, the alien, chose Kane?"
"Yes, yes," he nodded vigorously. "Him and some others. To speak directly to it. None of them knew what was happening. The leader, Commander Calumet, she wasn't happy. She tried taking them all into custody. The Ghosts stopped them, and I guess teleported a bunch of us…back." He looked around. "I don't know how many are still there. But I know I'm not the only one. I can't be."
The Ayatollah and Amjah exchanged a look. Priority number one had appeared, and change would come quickly now. The fact that they had heard nothing about this indicated that the Triumvirate was keeping it a secret for now. Their time was limited before something happened. "Sit," the Ayatollah gestured to a chair. "Tell us what you learned."
ENIGMA-1 TARGET ZONE | MARS
The good news – he was going to have a direct meeting with the alien. Presumably.
The bad news – there was a target now painted on him so large that he wasn't sure how he was going to escape it.
Thank you Traveler, very cool.
Isaiah was – ultimately - not very pleased with how events had gone. Despite the Ghosts and their benefactor kicking off Calumet and what looked like two-thirds of the entire Triumvirate force – in literal seconds - his face had been seen, and there were a few dozen people still here who now were going to be pressing him once this was all over. The cameras had been rolling and all of them were going to be relentlessly analyzed by the intelligence services.
He was, in short, screwed.
Not necessarily on Mars, however. Unless there were CIA bosses who were still here – he could only hope they'd been among the ones who'd been teleported away. In that case, he could probably get away with remaining an unknown – to an extent. But the chances of him being able to sneak away after this was all done were probably close to zero. This was, quite possibly, the worst-case scenario. If not worst-case, then still bad.
Don't panic yet. Maybe a miracle can happen. Wouldn't be the first time, he thought sardonically.
And…if he was going to be screwed, he at least wanted to know why he'd been put in this situation at all.
He legitimately had no idea why the alien – the Traveler – had singled him out specifically. Nor did any of the others, which was perhaps the one saving grace; everyone was too confused and everyone was in the same boat. The alien either knew what it was doing, or it did not, and either possibility screamed bad to him.
It didn't help that he'd been hearing the words the Ghosts were saying in flawless Arabic. Which definitely told him the machines were likely beaming it directly to his head, because there was no possible way that the machines were speaking Arabic to the rest of the assembled soldiers. Especially since Calumet and the others spoke English in response.
Milya had also been inexplicably chosen by the alien, and even slightly knowing someone was slightly better than a group of complete strangers. He did feel slightly bad that she was probably going to be interrogated about her connection to a likely terrorist when the KGB passed along his identity to the Indians, but for once she wasn't an intended sacrifice. It wasn't her fault. But that wasn't his problem right now, there was already enough to process.
He was still processing the barrage of revelations that the Ghost had revealed. Other alien life, a presumed threat to Humanity, a power which was described as creation itself, a hyper-specific requirement for ambassadors (of which he was one?), and that the flying sphere was actually a body for an alien.
He certainly wasn't clear on how that worked.
He'd resisted the urge to scream as the Ghost had quite cheerfully agreed to hand the Triumvirate advanced technology 'for the benefit of citizens', which told him that the Traveler was either stupid, hadn't vetted the Triumvirate, or was intending to use them somehow.
None of those were good, though based on what he'd seen, the Triumvirate didn't stand a chance in a military conflict.
But then the Ghost had cited Operation Silver Bullet as a reason to disallow Calumet to speak with the Traveler, which only confused him since it implied that the alien had done enough vetting to know that Calumet was not someone who should ever be allowed to have power and authority.
Which, incidentally, was a fascinating detail to learn.
The Resistance, and himself personally had wondered who had been the individual behind the greatest massacre of workers across Europe, and now they did. Operation Silver Bullet had been an ill-fated attempt to find and root out rebels and spies in industrial centers and other labor jobs. It had, in fact, been a trap he had orchestrated himself. The culmination of months of the Dead Cell leaving enough tips and hints that the KGB were convinced that they were about to face mass workers revolutions across Europe – ones against them this time.
And being the KGB, they acted first, and had convinced the General Secretary, presumably, that something had to be done. The team behind the mass disappearances and killings had never been fully revealed, protected by the State, but close to ten thousand people had been killed or disappeared during the operation, with a sloppiness that ended in a public outcry.
Supposedly, everyone involved in the operation – which produced no public results – had been relieved of duty (killed in Soviet subtext), and the General Secretary had issued a personal apology to the families of the victims. Isaiah had felt very pleased at the result, although frustrated that the Soviet media spent the next month justifying and whitewashing the whole event, until it disappeared from the public consciousness.
He'd hoped that it would exploit some intra-Triumvirate friction and generate anti-Soviet sentiment, but unfortunately the Soviets were more brainwashed than the Americans, and it didn't help that the rest of the Triumvirate media had come together with a single unifying narrative.
The Soviets learned their lesson too. The KGB wasn't nearly as easy to manipulate these days. But he'd always assumed that everyone involved in that colossal screw-up had either been executed or banished.
Apparently, they'd been promoted.
Not shocking, in retrospect. No better way to prove your willingness and loyalty to the Motherland than rounding up a bunch of people who may be treasonous and torturing, then killing them. If you made mistakes, 'oh well, better safe than sorry, thank you comrade, glory to Stalin and the Motherland.'
Isaiah grimaced. It raised the question of what else Calumet had been involved in.
A question for another day. Maybe he'd ask the Traveler, since she seemed to know a bit about her.
The five of them were being guided – or herded – towards the Traveler itself. The trio of those he didn't know were talking amongst themselves, Milya was chatting with one of the Ghosts off to the side, and he was furiously trying to plot a path out of this situation. His cover was blown, or soon would be, but that wouldn't necessarily be the first time.
It was, however, the first time it had happened on another planet. A planet where he had no support, no resources, and no true escape. Which in the most basic of terms was 'a problem'.
He looked to the nearest Ghost, which was hovering at shoulder-level beside him, figuring he might be able to pump it for some information. "[So where are we going?]"
"[To the Traveler,]" the Ghost said, surprising him because it spoke with a female voice. A robotic one, as the other one had done, but it was still different.
"[Your voice is different,]" he shot a suspicious glance at it.
"[I adapt my personality to individuals I interact directly with,]" it – she – said. "[You prefer a female person as your interpersonal ideal.]"
The Ghosts didn't seem to really care about hiding insinuations which indicated highly invasive methods of personal data collection. The Ghost wasn't entirely wrong either, but he was immediately put on guard both by the change and admission. "[If we're going to the Traveler, I assume you mean in the Traveler?]"
The fins of the Ghost spun. "[Technically, yes.]"
He nodded towards it. "[So why can't she do teleport us in now?]"
It floated up to eye level, almost appraising him with concern. "[If I did not know better, I would say you were nervous.]"
Was the Ghost being cheeky with him? Isaiah raised an eyebrow, not failing to note it had not answered his question. "[Take a moment to think about why I might be concerned at speaking with a previously unknown alien intelligence – with no previous preparation or warning. I'm not a diplomat. In fact, I'm the last person you want as a diplomat.]"
"[The Traveler has chosen you,]" the Ghost bobbed as if in a shrug. "[Her reasons will be apparent in due time. It is an honor to be chosen to represent the Traveler.]"
"[But I don't want that,]" he insisted with a sigh. "[You have no idea who I am, do you?]"
The fins spun again. "[Did you not want to make your own case to the Traveler? To speak directly to her?]"
Isaiah went cold, and he almost stumbled while he processed what the Ghost had said. That was, in fact, something he'd wanted to do – not in this exact scenario, mind you, but the alien should not have known that at all. He appraised the Ghost again more skeptically, some pieces clicking into place, and it now seemed more likely that he definitely hadn't been selected at random – or without reason. He looked briefly to the others who'd been chosen, taking a much closer look.
It struck him so fast he was irritated with himself that he hadn't noticed earlier. The woman, Liana. An American. Fang Sov. Chinese. Milya. Indian. Valentin. Soviet. One person per Triumvirate member. And then there was him, who broke up the pattern unless the truth was known.
He was of the Resistance.
Isaiah slowly looked back to the Ghost, who emitted an electronic raspberry, angling itself and looking almost knowingly down at him. Well then, this is an interesting turn of events. Now it seemed clear that there was some kind of method the Traveler had employed to choose it's ambassadors – and it was one where he thought he might be able to figure it out.
The Traveler had to be aware of the predicament facing him if she knew who he really was – and perhaps had a plan to help him. A long shot – which he was still not counting on – but it seemed more obvious now that it knew more than it was telling – and that his chances of getting out of this were slightly higher. That he still had his identity (mostly) intact was good. Maybe he was giving too much credit to the alien.
But perhaps not.
So he suspected he knew why he was chosen. He was to take whatever message the Traveler had back to the Resistance. But out of all the Triumvirate soldiers and staff here, these four people had been chosen to take messages back to their respective governments. And they didn't seem to be of the officer corps or leadership.
There was a reason they had been singled out.
It would not be a bad idea to try and determine why.
Milya had moved closer to him as they kept walking. "I didn't know you spoke Arabic."
Normally that she'd noticed that would be something he would consider a horrific slip-up, but considering the circumstances it was a minimal consequence at worst, and he prepared for contingencies. "CIA, remember. They prefer agents to be multi-lingual."
"Ah, I see," she nodded, accepting it remarkably easily. So easy to exploit gaps in civilian knowledge. "You speak it very well."
"[Do you speak it?]" He inquired. If she'd heard the conversation, that might be more of an issue.
"[A little,]" she answered with a halting uncertainty and stilted pronunciation of a speaker who knew a little, but nowhere near fluent. Good. Probably not enough to follow along, especially since she'd been distracted talking to her own Ghost – which was incidentally bobbing around her shoulder.
He indicated it. "I see you made friends."
"He's friendly," she nodded to it. "As it turns out, most of my theories on the alien symbols were wrong. Go figure. This should be a fascinating experience." She glanced up. "Still, I don't know what it wants with us specifically. I was ready to be a negotiator, but since it knows our languages…" she shrugged.
Oh, you might figure it out soon enough. He thought. But hopefully not until I'm long gone.
"I guess we'll see," he said.
"[Hold,]" the leading Ghost said – which had been hanging around close to the Soviet. "[You will be speaking to the Traveler now.]" The fins spun and inclined themselves as the Ghost indicated a notable pause. "[I will warn you, it may be…disorienting.]"
"What do you mean by that?" The Space Force Infantry – Liana - asked.
"[It is difficult to explain,]" the Ghost said, almost haltingly. "[But do not be concerned. It is normal.]"
Above them, the Traveler began glowing, a shining white sphere surrounded by a golden halo. He felt the Light envelop him, and the last thing he saw was a white flash, and the five of them vanished from the surface of the red planet, with the onlookers wondering where they had gone.
And if they would see them again.
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER V | WARNING
