The Court Martial – Chapter 5
"Seal it," Raziel ordered as he lay the black blade in a clear box held open by Tobias. The human healer quickly closed the lid and tapped a button. A soft sound of hydraulics followed as the quarantine box enclosed the stiletto shaped knife. "Prepare the next container," the angel instructed as he returned his attention to the open wound held open by retractors, peeking past the sterile pads that covered the patient.
While Raziel secured the knife, Miriam slid a thin tube into the lesion and turned her attention to the visual display as the camera attached projected the organs displaced by the knife.
"Confirmed lacerations to the liver and…There!" she nodded toward the screen with her chin, "The infiltrate."
"Heart rate increasing. Leaving yellow and going red," Leah's calm voice spoke from her position over the biometric readouts describing the color-coded range of the patient's heart rate. An insistent beep accelerated as the young assistant healer spoke. "Interleukin pain indicators are rising rapidly. I don't think the entity appreciates your intrusion."
"I think the feelings are mutual there," Miriam muttered. "Turn the sensor audio down, please. Give me status up or down 5 bpm. Increase Desfluranic Nitricide FGF until IL levels regulate."
"You got it," Leah confirmed.
"Got some sound sensitivity issues, Miriam," Raziel turned his comment into a statement rather than a question as the beeping went silent.
"Better than your social sensitivity deficits, Raziel," the human healer countered. The angel snickered in response. Miriam continued, "For all we know, it is responsive to sound or vibrations, and with an open cavity, I don't think we need to provide any additional stimulants. Look at the screen. That's one nasty bugger."
All eyes flicked to the monitor positioned by Leah's shoulder. Miriam's hand remained steady as she pressed the camera closer to the pulsating mass that coated sections of the liver and pancreas, filling the open cavity where the knife had deposited it.
"Magnify 50," Raziel stated. The image immediately jumped giving their first detailed view of the toxin they were fighting. A red mass squirmed with no discernable pattern. "Increase 100." The screen jumped again allowing a view of independent forms that seemed to be locked through lateral appendages that grasped one another. At what appeared to be the anterior and posterior of each separate organism, pinchers or claws waved autonomously until it latched onto the tissue of the host, imbedding itself. As they watched, once one organism impaled the tissue with its pinchers, another crawled over it to advance. Miriam's gaze jumped briefly to Pete's face, mostly hidden by the mask covering his mouth and nose. Her own heart rate jumped with the reminder of the person suffering from this intrusion.
"Go direct to get the sample, Tobias. Pull it straight into the box," Miriam ordered glancing toward his brown eyes visible through the mask shield worn by everyone in the room. The other healer gave a curt nod to the lead surgeon as he grabbed a tube from beneath the cart to his left and maneuvered it into a protected opening on a small quarantine box. He slapped the other end into Raziel's open palm. A soft sucking sound followed as the box resealed the opening.
"Proceed when ready," Tobias spoke as he verified the color indicator on the box next to the tube. He gripped a set of forceps in his right hand and moved to stand over the patient next to the angel while keeping his left hand on the box.
Raziel fed the tube into the open wound parallel to the camera access tube.
"The organism is not drawn to, and in fact, seems to be purposefully moving away from the inorganic materials," Miriam noted as the specimen-gathering tubing came into view. She shook her head, sharing her thoughts out loud. "Is it actively responding to environmental stimuli?"
"Up another 8 bmp, Miriam," Leah announced, "and pain indicators climbing."
"The activity level seems to be increasing due to the approach of our instruments," Miriam stated.
"Suction," Raziel ordered. Tobias pressed a blue button on the top of the box as sound of air intake hissed through the room. The angel closed his eyes, allowing his innate senses to follow the tubing and cocked his head slightly as a portion of the red mass entered the tube. The gathering tube pulled a string of the organisms inside and within seconds, a red globular mass fell into the box.
Miriam took an involuntarily gasp. "Stop suction! Seal!" Tobias immediately pressed the blue button and clamped the forceps around the tubing. The blonde healer placed a translucent cover over the wound, wrapping it around the tubes that remained inside.
"We can afford to take a larger sample, Miriam," Raziel remarked testily, his eyes closed, still concentrating on the molecular connection he was following.
"No, we cannot. The organisms initially attempted to hold on to one another against the suction but when they realized their hold was breaking, they released the ones we caught and starting boring deeper in the tissue. They began exuding an orange-tinted substance in response." Raziel looked up to the screen. Fresh blood oozed from countless new punctures in the surrounding tissue which Miriam suctioned but the cavity refilled dangerously fast assisted by the secretions of the organism. He watched with fascination as the orange discharge changed to a vivid red that oozed off the organism onto the patient's tissues and drizzled into the internal wounds.
"Heart rate just jumped 27 bmp. Going gray," Leah tried, but did not keep the urgency from her voice. "He feels it. The pain. It's breaking through the anesthetic." Her fingers tapped quickly at the controls introducing a stream of chemicals through the IV bracelet attempting to bring his heart rate away from shutdown levels.
"You are a unique little thing," Raziel voiced more curiosity than concern as he bent down to look at the substance in the box, the microscopic details invisible to the naked eye. "I look forward to watching you…that is unexpected," the angel's voice trailed off.
"What?!" Miriam demanded as Raziel stood, a scowl across his features. She could see his wings jerk testily underneath the hazardous-materials suit he wore.
"It stopped moving. It appears that when removed from the tissue it either perishes or goes dormant. Given the complexity we have observed, I think it best to assume that it will not die that easily."
Miriam returned her attention to Burke's face. Even under the anesthesia, his eyes were clinched, his jaw tightening as he ground his teeth against the tubes snaking down his throat. Her own features grew hard. And neither will you, Pete. Neither will you.
xXxXx
"Your anger is cracking these walls about as fast as I can build them," Josh commented softly, hoping to encourage his brother to talk while patting the fallen sand back into place.
"Well, since I'm interfering with what you're building on my project, I'll do something useful and go get more water, shall I?" Zeke snapped back. He grabbed the two buckets and stomped around the wall of Alba to the covered patio where Josh had overseen the installation of the servitors for use by the Rephaim. As he approached, he noticed a Rephaim child leaning against the wall near the corner, watching them, who then followed him though hanging a distance behind. One of the units was free and he plunked the buckets at his feet. He stared at the servitor—Ser-Vi-Tor—Pete's name for the units. He heard what his fiancé's called his "superhero" voice, his brown eyes lighting up with laughter. Zeke's throat tightened. He placed one hand against the wall, closed his eyes, but couldn't stop the tears squeezing through the lids.
"Water in a jar," an accented voice requested. Zeke opened his hazel eyes downward to see the Rephaim child standing next to him, his own rounded eyes focused on the closed hatch of the unit.
"Specify amount," Ser-Vi-Tor instructed. Zeke choked back a sob. The child looked at the angel with an unsure twitch of his nose.
"My Aima uses The Provider. I don't know how much water to ask for," the gorilla admitted.
"Aima? Your mother?" Zeke sniffed and wiped at his face. The male child nodded. "It's best to ask in liters," the angel found his voice when he could think of something other than his beshiert and the procedures the healers were attempting to save his life. "Ask for three."
The child nodded his shaggy head. The ape placed both hands against the wall, his bare feet rising on his tiptoes and lifted his mouth toward the servitor speaker. He spoke clearly although the Rephaim accent influenced by the formation of his teeth and jaws was strong. "Three liters of water in a jar." A huge grin, revealing his pointed teeth, accompanied the gradual appearance of a large jar of water in the servitor dispenser area.
"Let's pour it in the bucket," Zeke explained as he opened the hatch, removing the jar. "Then we'll put the jar back and Ser-Vi-Tor will use it to make more water for us." The pair proceeded to fill the two buckets. After returning the final jar for disposal, he leaned down to pick up the buckets.
"Sir, may I have a jar of my own to make a hut in the sand?" Although he could not sense emotions in the young gorilla with the ease which he read angels and humans, the excitement in the child's eyes was overwhelming for the empath. Zeke's throat constricted again.
"We are building a castle. And I would be honored if you would build your own next to mine," he managed to say.
Josh raised an eyebrow at the pair when Zeke returned. His brother deposited two full buckets of water within reach and a gorilla child plopped a jar in the sand a few feet away.
"Sir, may I put my hut, I mean, my cas-sal here?"
"That would be just the right place for your castle. I'm Zeke and this is my brother, Josh. What is your name?"
Observant of the brothers' activity, the Rephaim child dropped to his knees and began scooping a mound of sand in front of him then poured some water over it. Josh and Zeke had constructed a solid cube of sand about two feet on all sides. Zeke had begun a second layer atop the first. Josh was adding rounded turrets on one corner as he watched the interaction next to him.
"Sir Zeke, I am called Raim. May I make my cas-sal the same as yours?"
"Yes, Raim, you can but you can make it look anyway you like."
The gorilla tilted his head as he watched Josh slowly padding damp sand into the curved shape covering the corner. He sucked against his teeth in concentration before he announced, "My Aima tells me I would learn better if I would do as I am told more often. I think I would like to learn first. I want to make a strong cas-sal that will not crumble back into the sand."
"Me, too, Raim," Zeke felt the tears building again. Josh glanced at him, compassion filling his pale eyes. The angel sat back down near his brother, leaning against his knees. He covered his face with both hands, taking slow breaths as the world spun around him.
"You're hurting," Josh whispered.
Zeke sighed loudly as he lowered his hands between his knees. He studied the gorilla child patting the mound of sand into a squared shape. Silence descended between the brothers. Josh continued to work glancing at Zeke who had moved to dampen the sand next to him and began to make his own turret on the corner diagonal from his own. After several minutes, Josh heard Zeke's barely audible voice respond.
"I. Am. Angry. Jed is gone. Stolen in a moment and not even a chance to let him know I was there. I told him I would always be there for him. Except when he needed me, I wasn't. Alan has been taken and neither our parents nor The Council seem to be responding in any way to bring him back. Galen left on some request made by the Rephaim with no thought about what argument he could take to the Council to pressure them or what offer of help he could provide to rescue him. He says Alan is like a brother to him, but he pushed him aside and put the Rephaim first with no explanation. And he left Pete," Zeke's voice cracked. "Pete is having a damn knife pulled out of his body, Josh. A knife that poisoned him with some god-awful thing no one understands, and I can't help him anymore than I helped Jed. And I don't think Galen can help either, but he should be here. He should care enough to be here, not off in the desert…," he purposefully turned his face away from the child and lowered his volume, "…coddling the Rephaim."
Once he started speaking, the words tumbled out, feelings Zeke hadn't even shaped into thoughts before. "I'm angry at Levi and Malachi because they are leaders of Alba and should be loudly demanding action after we were attacked, and our people hurt. I'm angry at Alan for being taken by the androids for who knows why and doing whatever he did that made them come back for him. I'm also angry at Alan because Pete was stabbed trying to save him. And I'm angry at Pete for putting himself at risk against the damn androids, trying to fight a battle he couldn't possibly accomplish all alone. But he never thinks of the danger when he sees someone in need; he just acts without thinking of the consequences, not just to him, but the rest of us around him. And I'm angry because Pete…is dying. Pete is dying, Josh, and no one has even one damn idea how to save him."
Josh paused, one hand wrapped around the castle turret. The hurt of Jed's loss burned in his throat. He loved the angel from afar but was too cautious to share his feelings with him for fear Jed would always only see him as Zeke's little brother. Both Alan and Pete had become his friends, too, and the threat of losing them both was climbing steadily up from his gut to tear at his heart. His eyes wandered as he struggled to find his voice so he could speak without bringing more pain to his brother. His attention paused and he chuckled out loud causing Zeke to look his way, a scowl darkening his face. Josh gestured toward the Alban wall with his free hand.
"The work crew is arriving."
Zeke twisted around to see two more Rephaim children leaning against the wall. A third peeked around the corner but jerked back when the angel looked their way. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with his bare forearm, taking a deep breath. As an empath, he knew no one had any answers for the anger and hurt that boiled in his belly and concentrated on keeping control of his emotions, emotions threatening to erupt and lash through those around him.
"Well, Josh, I think it's your turn to get the water."
"I will help!" Raim insisted and raced back toward the servitor patio with his empty container.
As the human returned with the four young gorillas, each carrying a full jug of water, Zeke's arm link sounded. His face assumed a neutral mask as he read and announced to Josh's concerned look, "Miriam. She says, 'Come now.'"
"I'll come with you…."
"No. Josh, stay. Help the children. Please. I want…I need them to do this…to build something out of this nightmare." The angel brushed the sand from his knees, dipped his hands in one of the water buckets to rinse them, then flicked his wings before striding purposefully toward the entrance to the city.
"I am here for you, achi," Josh called after him, unsure if Zeke heard him, but he knew his empathic brother was aware of his feelings. He turned to the Rephaim boys staring up at him in anticipation. He smiled at each of them as he spoke, "Let's build Pete some castles in the sand."
"The Sadu," the children murmured together. Josh thought it must be a Rephaim word for sand and nodded his head.
"Yes, the sadu."
xXxXx
After dealing with Zeke's uncharacteristic explosion, including cursing everyone near him and pounding against the waiting room door of the critical care suite when told Pete was in quarantine until further notice, necessitating that Zeke stay locked out of his room—a tantrum which required a brief intervention from a uniformed human from the security forces who happened to be in the open service area to have a swollen hand examined—Miriam sat at a table next to the angel in one of the small patient counseling rooms. His hands ran back and forth along the edge of the table, his head down and shoulders slumped, all energy drained away, dreading the report that was forthcoming.
"Zeke," Miriam was saying, "Pete remains critical, but he is stable. The entity became dangerously active during surgery but has returned to its prior state. It does seem to be advancing but slowly. Quarantine is required until we know more about the creatures. We can't risk exposure to a pathogen we know so little about and that could compromise the entire city. Only Raziel, Tobias, Leah or I will enter the room in bio-hazard gear. One or more of us will be on duty at all times. We have set up a monitor that will allow you to check on him." The healer tapped at a tablet and an angled view of the upper half of Pete's bed appeared on a screen on the wall. The bed was covered with a clear, rounded aluminum shield. Tubes entered through sealed apertures, several running to the blue wrap on his arm, others simply attached to the covering. With oxygen entering through one of these tubes, the mask was removed from his face allowing Zeke to clearly see Pete's shuttered eyes and slightly parted lips, pinched with signs of pain. "I have sent you the data link so you can see him whenever you like.
"Raziel was able to ascertain new information and is studying…." As if on cue, Miriam was interrupted as the dark brown-haired angel ushered himself into the room without knocking. He pressed the screen of the tablet in his hand and Pete was replaced with an image of a creature protected by a red carapace, two antennae jutting from its head and large, clawed pinchers at its posterior, a smaller set at the anterior, and three string-like appendages covered with thin filaments on either side of its body.
"Here's what we know," Raziel stated without preamble, "the creature—we are calling it Entity Kirtland, or EKL, for now—is a complex, multicellular organism. The unique individuals minimally possess digestive, endocrine, integumentary, reproductive, and nervous systems although the extent of its neurological functioning remains undetermined. Hold your questions," the angel cut off both Miriam and Zeke, sticking out his hand in their direction as he moved to stand near the screen.
"As you know, when genetic engineering exploded in the late twenty-sixth and early twenty-seventh century, regulatory requirements mandated publicly identified genetic markers to ensure the developers' products were protected from theft as well providing tracking to hold them accountable for their creations. EKL is not a natural mutation but an engineered organism whose purpose we do not fully understand; however, the markers belong to the United States military of that time strongly suggesting offensive and/or defensive, non-friendly intent. One could have deduced this coming from the Kirtland androids but now we have confirmation of its origins.
"We know that it requires the presence of a host providing living tissue inducing its active state; otherwise, it reverts to dormant within minutes of removal from the host. This would explain the functionality of the porous blade to serve as a receptacle to house the creatures safely until forced into the host. We know it exerts increased activity at any attempt to displace it from the host, including adhering itself deeper into the surrounding tissue using the pinchers, resulting in further damage to the host and threatening to accelerate the host's demise. We know it exhibits cooperative and communicative interaction between individuals and that the creatures operate in tandem to function within the host. We know it uses pain induction which may be used to control the host in a manner we do not yet understand. We know it reproduces or replicates—perhaps asexually, although there may be an unknown genetic transfer process between entities—at a higher frequency when challenged and may be related to the need to fully infest the host at a greater speed. The impetus for this behavior is unknown but given the origins, we must assume that a strategy was inherent in the development.
"We do not know the extent of its life cycle as we have not witnessed the confirmed death of any of the organisms. We do not know how to contain the spread when active in the host. We do not know how to exterminate it. I will entertain your questions now," Raziel concluded as if ending a lecture. Miriam laid a gentle hand on Zeke's arm as he tensed in a building storm of fury.
"Pete," the angel uttered through clenched teeth. "Peter Burke. The host has a name."
"Yes, Ezekial." Raziel had a momentary look of empathy. "You have reminded me of another important fact that we know. Although EKL had a reproductive surge when you reported to Tobias that you had empathic communication with Peter, his unique DNA continues to befuddle the creatures. The EKL designers appear to have engineered species-specific preferences for the creature resulting in a slow learning curve when exposed to alterations from the norm. I further suspect that his absence from your awareness may be his own self-defense mechanism preventing them from unraveling his genetic code. In layman's terms, I think he is hiding. I do not know how he is doing it, but this has provided us with the treasured tool of time to continue to study and breakdown the genetic code of the entity which will guide us to an antidote—a method to destroy it. Peter's very nature is giving me the opportunity to save his life. And I will, Ezekial, I will do everything in my power to save his life."
Zeke held Raziel's stare. He sensed the angel's arrogance which generated perhaps overzealous confidence. But it gave Zeke a glimmer of hope. Thinking through the healer's words, Zeke suddenly straightened in his chair remembering something. "I don't know if it means anything, but when I found him, he called them red apes and he said that they were hunting him. Pete promised me, he was insistent, that he wouldn't tell them anything."
"In a mystery such as this, every piece of information could prove important," Raziel assured him.
"Answer questions," Miriam murmured. Both angels looked at her. "A genetically engineered creature that thrives on living tissue by inducing pain. Developed by the military. A military with a need to extract information from enemy combatants in a time of war. A leap beyond narcoanalysis—truth serums—to force revelation of critical information."
An odd smile formed on Raziel's lips. "You may have stumbled onto something, Acting Chief Healer. Truth serum. I detected that the secretion given off by the creatures when we extracted them from the main body included derivations of sodium thiopental, a barbiturate that can be used to sedate and control the recipient, loosen the tongue so to speak. And if interrogation was the intent, there must be a control switch. The subject will not speak nor continue to supply information if the threat cannot be mitigated or removed. This gives us options. If we cannot find the way to kill the thing, perhaps we can at least slow it down."
xXxXx
Galen trudged behind Misha who remained several yards in the lead, his eyes downcast at his feet leaving long trails in the hot sand. Farsha remained to his right although both had ended their stories hours ago. Grul followed behind, occasional grunts confirming he hadn't disappeared into the glaring light that bounced off the pale-colored sand. All of them had donned the brightly tinted hoods of their robes giving them some protection from the sun. Grul had spoken the next words of The Prophecy as they set off that morning. "Hope renewed, they must continue on their quest. Their search has just begun. The Hunter listens to whispers of the winds and the rest follow where the wind leads."
And so it was, they marched—somewhere following some wind Galen never felt nor heard—through the morning. They paused at the height of the day to eat and rest inside the pitched tents and resumed their on-going trek in mid-afternoon based on the words spoken by Botis—or his Keeper—for over two centuries. The glow of the discovery of the glimmering snakeskin long evaporated, and his mouth longing for water that would not be shared until their next stop, Galen's doubts niggled and then chewed. The gorillas seemed to show no sign of distress from the arduous conditions as he slowed the pace and dragged his feet. He found childish pleasure in noticing that the young gorilla at his side was not lifting her legs with the same strident steps as earlier in the day.
"Are you getting tired, Farsha? We can ask Misha to find a place to stop for the night?" Galen offered gently.
"No!" she insisted, her face screaming the mortifying shock of such a request. "A youngling must never cause an Elder, much less the Keeper, to stop a journey before announced. My Abba and Aima could never know such shame from their daughter!"
"Hmmm," Galen's shoulders drooped further, "my father and mother know a lot of shame from this son, but they did forgive me," he added with a soft smile and a twitch of his nose. "I think they will also forgive when I admit that I am the one who is tired."
"We can stop as the Shulmanu commands," Grul's deep voice spoke from behind them causing the chimpanzee to jump and turn to the rear. He hadn't realized the Keeper had moved so close.
"No! I am in your hands when it comes to traveling the desert," Galen insisted. "I have no idea where it is safe to stop." Grul responded with a curt nod.
As the next mile or so passed, Grul moved ahead and then Farsha until Galen struggled alone in the back, grateful that the sun would set in the next hour and the miserable hike would come to an end. He sighed deeply kicking at a dark spot in the sand. Then he noticed another spaced a pace ahead. And a third. He leaned down and touched it. It was damp. He brought it to his nose. Blood? His eyes followed the continuing trail. His head cocked as he could see from his knelt position that the bottom of one of Farsha's shoes was stained with it. He jumped up and ran to catch up and grabbed the female's shoulder bringing her to a stop. "You have walked far enough today in those borrowed shoes, my young friend," he told her.
"Wait!" he called out to Grul and Misha. "I do apologize for my unseemly weakness, but I must insist that someone wiser than me look for a place we can stop." Farsha lifted her eyes to him about to protest but Galen squeezed her shoulder. "Do not shame your family by arguing with the Shulmanu," he whispered. She dropped her eyes but not before Galen saw relief fill them.
When the adult gorillas joined them, Misha cast his nose in the air then looked past them seeing the dark smudge marks in the sand. He scowled as he lay his hand flat upon the sand. After a moment, he rose smoothly then used the same hand to rest across his brow, covering his eyes as he turned slowly. "That way," he announced. "To the stones." Galen squinted where he pointed but saw nothing but more sand. Misha turned them toward the east so that the sun hit their backs causing long shadows to darken the sand in front of them. They entered an area where patches of spider grass emerged from the ground and even Galen could make out stony outcrops ahead of them. The chimpanzee winced as he saw the young gorilla limping but trying to hide it.
"Farsha, you may ride on my back if you wish," he offered.
"Sir Shulmanu, I am almost a grown female. There is no need to speak to me as if I am but a babe in swaddling," Farsha corrected him, her eyes cutting him a look that announced she was indeed ready to take on the responsibilities of an adult female.
"Forgive my impertinence," Galen bowed his head respectfully. "Perhaps you would be willing to let me tell you some stories to take your mind away from…."
"I am Rephaim. I am strong enough to make my feet walk outside of pain, Sir Shulmanu," she corrected him again, "but I would enjoy hearing your stories."
Galen couldn't help but grimace at the widening stains being left by her bleeding foot. "As you wish. Perhaps I can tell you a story I learned from my friends. Once upon a time—Pete often begins his stories that way—once upon a ti…did you feel that? It was as if the ground shook…."
"To the stones! To the stones!" Misha bellowed, waving one arm urgently. He reached down to a belt at his waist and deftly yanked a sword from its scabbard, its dark blade curved like a crescent moon. Accustomed to the need to react in moments, Galen grabbed Farsha's arms and swung her onto his back and ran in the direction Misha pointed. After assuring himself that they were moving, Grul fell in beside them.
Galen squealed as the ground erupted around them, rounded black shapes the size of his fist leaping out of the sand. He ran dodging the large ball-shaped mysteries and chirped loudly as the shapes unrolled and began to climb onto his feet. The chirp became a yelp when a stinging bite cut its way into his skin. Within seconds, he felt his feet growing numb. He forced himself to focus on the rocks kicking at the creatures unfolding around him and knocking them off his ankles. He quit trying to dodge them, there were too many at this point, and felt a satisfying crunch as he moved closer to his goal. He eyed the rocks as they approached and angled toward those jutting well above the ground. He flung Farsha onto the first set of stones they reached. Grul climbed up with her and held out his hand to Galen. The chimpanzee paused to slap away the creatures. His heart stopped seeing his lower legs black with the animals attached to him, and he realized the feeling in his legs was disappearing. He felt his knees start to buckle as the deadening effect was climbing.
"UP! UP!" Misha shouted as he pressed against Galen using the blade to slice at the creatures, aiming for the underside of the menaces. Several hands pulled him up as his feet fumbled to find the way. He thudded onto the stone, landing on his side. Farsha and Grul began pulling at the black things and tossed them away. Galen sat up and pulled one off his lower thigh grimacing at the blood soaking into his trousers. He groaned as it bit into his hand and groaned again as his fingers almost immediately went numb.
When the stones were cleared of the attackers, Galen sucked in deep breaths of air before he looked down at Misha. He was alarmed to see the gorilla's feet buried in the dark, wriggling mass, his blade leaving a corresponding mass of dead around him. The creatures were attempting to climb the stones and Galen could see a multitude of wriggling legs and an unprotected underside as they fell over into the scores of animals that churned over the ground.
"Help me," Galen demanded as he leaned over grabbing Misha under one arm. Grul quickly responded taking the second and they lifted the hunter up, pulling him onto the elevated rocks. Misha rolled quickly to his feet. His companions worked hurriedly to yank the creatures from him and throw them away from their perch. Misha continued to flip them and jab the tender underside with the sword tip.
Just as the sun dipped below the horizon leaving the sky a dusty pink, Misha stood panting on the stone as his friends dropped to their knees. Galen lowered himself to his back, his arms outstretched. A sickening scratching sound continued at the base of the stones for several minutes. The sky was fading to gray before the silence was marred only by the harsh breaths of the apes.
Galen licked at his lips with a dry tongue asking, "What are those things?"
"They are called Blood Beetles. They can lie asleep for long periods waking when they sense moisture or movement. They prey on the weak and clean the desert of the dead and dying. Farsha's blood and our footfalls called them," Misha explained. He leaned down, picking up one of the dead at his feet by its carapace and lifted it above his head. The shell extended beyond his open hand. His voice yelled loud and long, carrying for miles across the desert. "I claim the shield of The Sadu!" The gorilla then dropped, exhausted, between Farsha and Galen.
"Oh, Farsha," the chimpanzee touched her face seeing splatters of blood on her cheeks before he noted the numbness continued in his hand. They all were covered with little marks where blood oozed.
"It's all right, Sir Shulmanu. I feel nothing."
"It is how the Blood Beetles hunt," the hunter replied. "Their prey are immobilized and devoured alive." He pounded on Galen's unfeeling leg. "But we have found another armament to save your friend, my friend."
Grul clicked at his teeth as he opened both palms to the sky and recited the words of The Prophecy.
"The Chosen travel unseen by all except the senses deep within the desert which protects its own. Though they tread lightly, not even the Hunter can hide their passage.
The sands erupt with a hidden attack, The Chosen surrounded. The Hunter must raise the weapons of old to challenge this ancient foe. Though the battle brings pain and woe to the Rephaim, as silence returns to the desert, The Hunter shall shout a cry of victory and raise the shield of The Sadu proclaiming the Black Guard shall protect him. For the desert knows the danger of the Eternal Beast and gladly gives its gift to the Sadu."
"Since the three of you at least suspected this might happen, you could have warned me," Galen muttered as he slumped back to lay against the rocks but felt a warmth in his chest as he thought of Pete, and maybe, just maybe, they would save him as Botis foretold.
xXxXx
Virdon stood, head down, his recently unmanacled wrists resting inside the delivery box-shaped plate of the sealed steel door, the opening locked shut by his unnamed android guards. Weighed down as if the sand once more drained on top of his head, pooling at his feet, holding him in place, he lacked the strength to move. He pulled one arm up to rest above the opening, and leaned his head against it. Behind his closed eyelids, he saw Burke's face from the holographic image projected in the hearing room, greeting him, the beginnings of an exhausted smile marred by bruising to his cheek; Pete reaching for him, the image paused with his outstretched arm midway to his shoulder, then blinked out.
Alan sniffed out loud. He would not accept that Pete was gone. He would know. He would know. And Galen was with him making sure that Pete knew he wasn't alone, his friends were with him. And Miriam—he couldn't help but smile a little—Miriam would fight with every resource in Alba to stave off the Entropy toxin, and if nothing else, keep him alive until Alan could get to him and bring Pete back to Kirtland for the cure.
Virdon straightened suddenly. He thought of Miriam. He thought of her before he thought of Sally. For a moment, it felt like a betrayal of his wife. Just as he felt strongly that he would know if Pete had died, he always believed he would know if something bad happened to Sally. In his heart, she was still alive and well…in 1980…or maybe '81. Over a thousand years in his past. The difference? She lived and he lived. Had he truly accepted deep in his soul that they would never be together again? And could he accept a new home without her? Pete said he was a widower and he deserved to have a full life. Galen reminded him it's not a betrayal to live, really live—not the half-life he existed in for the last year and a half. And Miriam—she made him happy.
Alan dropped his arms to his side and spun away from the door shaking the lethargy from his limbs. Everything depended on his return to Alba—Pete's life, Galen's life—Miriam's—if the Entropy spread into the city as Mauser warned. He had a duty to fulfill, and he damn-well intended to meet it. He hung the dark blue uniform in the small closet in the sleeping quarters of his VIP prison cell, his fingers brushing the silver oak leaf clusters on the shirt collar, then slipped into the camo fatigues worn by all the service members on the base. He ordered a roast beef sandwich and a steaming cup of black coffee from the CDS in his room before sitting in front of the computer terminal to do the work that would complete his current mission.
Adjusting to the controls of the larger monitor after having become accustomed to the tablets of Alba, he managed to access the evidence files presented by the Trial Counsel. He read the charges, studying the verbiage and the recordings. He paused long enough to return to the CDS for a notepad and pen, grateful the system didn't consider that a forbidden item. The video records presented at the trial were limited and Alan began the tedious process of finding the entire recording history that had been granted to him.
He discovered that the androids were aware of their arrival at Kirtland from the moment Gabe and Josh had swung open the steel hatch leading into the base. The film picked them up as the bright light from outside showed silhouettes entering the complex that focused onto the faces of their party when the hatch was closed. The view was elevated, the camera in the ceiling, and provided a long view down the corridor. Virdon allowed himself a grin at Burke dropping his arm across Galen's shoulders as they entered, and the chimpanzee's familiar head tilt as he gave Pete a look followed by the human's broad smile over whatever unheard remark they shared. Alan scanned and found the unmute command but received only a scratchy hiss in response. Unsure if the system was visual only or the result of damaged recording equipment, he lowered the volume and fast forwarded through the films. He frowned as the group passed the four-way intersection encountered and proceeded straight toward the center of the base and within minutes, he saw the first sign of two androids emerging from the shadows of those hallways and following their team at a distance.
"Misha and Galen heard them all along," he muttered to himself. The recordings jumped as Virdon's suspicion of dysfunctional equipment seemed to be confirmed. Areas of the corridors were blind, including the storage room where they had stopped to eat and later hid when pursued by the androids. The records resumed as they neared the command center. He led Burke to the door, signaled, and the pair moved inside. Virdon spent some time determining how to switch between camera feeds and then viewed the corridor and large room with the open vault door—prepared for them, for him, like a bait trap used when hunting game. He leaned back in the chair studying the team as he and Pete discovered the central terminal and lit it up, his friend pounding him on the back, his own face full of joy and satisfaction. He notched up the volume and was able to hear Pete's voice echo, "This place has power. Look around on the walls, see if we can find a light switch."
Knowing what followed, he leaned in as Gabe joined him at the terminal and began to access the available data. He jotted notes from his memory of their brief conversation as he and Gabe began a search for the FTL (Faster-Than-Light) Drive test data. He watched analytically as the dozen or so androids formed out of the darkness. He shoved the angel, yelling at him to run, as hands wrapped around his chest pinning his arms to his side and began tugging him into the blackness. Gabe reached the safety of the Alban team as Eliana shouted, "Hostiles!" ordering everyone back out the door, exactly as she should. Virdon's eyes jerked to the far-left side of the screen as Pete screamed his name. Alan's image had disappeared into the inky space of the room but recognized that he had called for Pete in return before his mouth was covered and something struck hard against the side of his head, removing him from the encounter. He felt his mouth drop slightly as Pete ran, not for the escape door, but for him. Zeke's strong arms encircled him, pulling him slightly off the ground as he dragged him back. Pete continued to fight, desperately calling Alan's name as he tried to reach him. His struggle continued until Zeke pulled him into the corridor and the vault door slammed shut.
Alan allowed the tape to run as the corridor camera revealed Burke falling against Zeke when he recognized that Alan was gone. His ensuing arguments to go after him were properly overruled by Eliana and the group disappeared into the corridor area when the cameras failed to follow.
He paused long enough to pinch his nose between his eyes, gathering his thoughts. He had no idea Burke had risked himself to pursue him. A sound he meant to be a chuckle came out as a pained moan because he knew Pete. Act first, consequences be damned. Alan needed him. He responded. Thankfully, Zeke had pulled him to safety—until he, personally, brought him back into that room to be captured….
"Focus," Alan murmured to himself. He found the footage of the cells and his initial interactions with Tech Sergeant Hudson and Airman Mauser. The quarters assigned to him as the commander of the base were not monitored so he did not see, but he made notes from his recall of when the commcon device was attached to his arm. His meeting with the base team in the conference area was recorded. Alan scowled noting the flush look to his cheeks and the jerky movements of his limbs he had failed to acknowledge at the time. Miriam had explained that the device had infused him with an array of chemicals which wreaked havoc with his body systems.
"Damn," he lowered his head in his hands, knowing but suddenly accepting the truth of what had been done to him. "They were genetically engineering me." He had a hazy memory of "taking charge" of the base and agreeing to the plan to bring Burke and the Albans to him and the troops of Kirtland.
Alan moved the tapes to that encounter in the central command room where he had been taken and listened with a chill as Pete challenged him, "Just like that? You show up and they just hand over the keys to the city?" The anger that clouded his face in the image startled him as well as his own lack of judgement. As the commanding officer, he should have asked the same question. He winced as he sat in the hard metal chair of his cell, an observer, as he grabbed Zeke by the arm pulling him apart from Pete with strength he should not have possessed. Pete responded by firing at his approaching attacker, white fluid spurting from Schwartz's chest from the hit, the first indication to any of them that these troopers were not what they appeared. His best friend was knocked unconscious with the butt of his own rifle that had been ripped from his hands while Virdon twisted at the angel's arm causing a sick sound as the bone broke and Zeke also slumped to the floor. Virdon held the arm for a moment as if some part of him was shocked by his own actions, yet he stood by and permitted the androids to bodily drag his friends from the room.
With a fierce headache growing behind his eyes and nausea rising into his throat, Alan searched until he found what had transpired while Schwartz had escorted him back to his quarters. Zeke had been taken directly to the interrogation room and chained by a hook from the ceiling and a ring bolted to floor. They left him unmoving on the floor, no attempt to attend to his injuries. Pete, they took first to the medical facility staffed for organics. Sergeant Blake, the attendant who treated Virdon, placed a microinjector against Burke's neck as soon as they laid him on the table. Alan could only assume it was to keep him at least partially sedated as no examination was completed before the drug was given. Yanking up his sleeve, they made several attempts to attach a commcon device, but it would not adhere to his skin. Pete uttered undecipherable sounds in protest which were ignored. An airman Alan didn't recognize threw Pete over his shoulder, his arm hooked around Burke's legs, walked him to the interrogation room, and threw him unceremoniously on and restrained him in the metal chair as the despondent angel pulled his head up from the floor then struggled to sit.
The audio carried Zeke's plaintive cry, "Pete? Pete? What have you done to him!?" resulting in a hard slap across his face.
"Shut up," the android snarled. "We ask the questions here," then he left.
Virdon blinked doing his best to retrieve his own memories as he watched himself enter the room, speak to both Pete and Zeke, and leave his friends with Schwartz and Mauser giving the instructions, "They're all yours, Chief. Do what you need to do."
Alan vaguely understood what followed. Zeke never spoke of it to him at all. Pete had said little about it, other than to emphatically relieve Virdon of all responsibility for the command that had been spoken by his lips, but the aftereffects of the torture had almost killed his junior officer. He knew they had used a shocking device of some sort, nothing more. And as much as Alan wanted to look away, the video ran, the audio up. Zeke thrashed against his chains, begging them to stop. Schwartz flipped a switch on the machine pulled next to Pete's chair, his wrists cuffed in its wired attachments, and Burke jerked against his restraints in the seat. The muscles in his neck and arms corded with tension as the electricity coursed through him. His head snapped back against the headrest. The scream that ripped from his throat was unholy, an animalistic howl. One, two, oh my god, three times, Schwartz shocked him. Each time lasting a little longer. Each time demanding that Zeke admit their intention to steal the enriched weapons-grade material, The Pile, from the base. Each time Zeke screamed denials. Each time Pete struggled to lift his eyes to face them, whatever words he spoke inaudible on the tape. Until Pete didn't move at all.
Virdon watched and rewatched until he could no longer share the horror of his best friend's pain. He watched until only numbness remained. And the words, his words, "They're all yours, Chief. Do what you need to do," repeated in a steady cadence in his ears.