The Court Martial – Chapter 6
"I want to see it," Virdon announced the moment Mauser entered the consultation room promptly at 0800. They had four hours before his hearing convened for the day. He had slept little and the food he choked down when he gave up on sleep sat like stones in his stomach. Without a word, he had jutted his hands out of the door access portal when the guards announced it was time to apply the manacles and they completed the walk along the corridor to the meeting room. Since his arrival, he had been standing at parade rest, his eyes locked on the door waiting for his counsel's arrival.
"What would you like to see, sir?" Mauser followed Virdon's example and assumed at ease posture.
"The individual video, the data drive feeds recorded by you and Master Chief Schwartz taken during the interrogation of Major Burke and Ezekial, the prisoner from Alba." His words were curt and non-negotiable. "I want the entire sequence including my departure and then return into the room."
"I don't see how that applies to your defense, sir."
"It has a great deal to do with my defense, Airman. Do not question my orders. As long as the United States Air Force remains an active entity on this base, the designation of my rank supersedes anyone else here. Present it to me." The lines of his face were hard, ungiving, typical of the organic officers Mauser remembered, especially near the end of the active fighting before the world around them went silent.
"I will be back shortly, sir." He almost saluted out of habit before recalling that Colonel Virdon was a prisoner, temporarily relieved of duty, and then he decided to do it out of respect. The Colonel returned the gesture before resuming his posture.
Long minutes passed before the lock clicked and Mauser slipped through the narrow gap of the partially opened door. He set a flat oblong box on the table and gestured toward the chair nearest Virdon. The colonel paused before acquiescing.
"Well?" Virdon demanded as soon as he positioned himself on the hard seat, back straight, eyes focused on the android.
"My POV record is the more accessible," he gestured toward the box. "Chief Schwartz was…damaged in the encounter with the hostiles before he had executed a download and some of the files in his internal drive were corrupted."
"Explain," the colonel's voice remained tight, his eyes sharp.
"Although we can access a non-direct router for accessing, retrieving, and submitting data, most choose to complete a direct feed into the system rather than through an automatic, continuous feed. Due to degradation in some of our systems, the wireless processing can be distracting. It also feels…intrusive," Mauser obliged.
"Sometimes you pause before you speak when I have requested specific information," Virdon noted.
"Yes, sir. There can be delays as the information downloads to our drive and vice versa. A temporary loss of consciousness can occur when we download large files from or into the central computer, particularly when done remotely."
"The base no longer functions at full operational capacity," the colonel stated.
"Confirmation of that information is not essential to your defense, sir."
"No, I suppose not." Alan paused; his own eyes shuttered for a moment as he examined his memories of the base. "No living people remain," he stated after a few moments.
"If you define living as organics only, that would be correct."
Alan tilted his head. "Biomimetic synthetic organisms such as yourself are classified as living? You are granted rights under the law?"
"We lack corporeal form, but we think, learn, reason, make decisions based on our own deductions. Many would consider that living. We are sentient, sir, developing our own sense of personality, belief systems, and…."
"Prejudices," Alan interrupted.
"I was going to say preferences, but prejudices could apply."
"As I recall, Schwartz had strong feelings against the Albans. 'Abominations' was the word," Alan pressed the point as he sought to better understand the androids. "The debrief with Major Burke confirmed…."
"You debriefed once you left the base?" Mauser interrupted.
"That surprises you. It's SOP to debrief after an encounter."
"Well, yes, sir. But you did so with an officer who is considered a traitor. He joined sides with the enemy over his C.O. And if you debriefed with the hybrids, you violated your oath by providing intelligence to the enemy. I think such an admission could be used against you in support of the espionage charge and as such needs to be considered privileged communication." The airman clicked into a blank stare. He blinked, then stated, "It is now protected from view."
"Major Burke is not a traitor," Virdon stated emphatically.
"You seemed to think he might be during your interactions with Chief Schwartz," Mauser insisted.
Virdon cocked his head in question. Despite everything he knew about their harsh times together, supporting one another against constant danger, vague impressions of doubt about Burke's loyalties rose in his mind. He discounted those thoughts quickly and wondered if the oppressive nature of the base was exerting another unhealthy influence. "Are there recordings of those encounters?"
"Chief Schwartz was damaged…."
"In the encounter. So you said." Alan focused on keeping his hands still despite a desire to drum them against the table as his frustration bubbled. He folded his fingers together and leaned forward on his elbows placed on the table. "As non-organics, you don't produce enough waste to power the CDS to generate the materials you need to maintain the base. You don't generate the discarded matter to act as fuel and energy for the fusion reactor to produce needed goods. Your system is upside-down. How near to total shut-down are you?"
"Not relevant, sir," Mauser stiffened in his seat, his tone clipped.
"That is the reason Chief Master Sergeant Schwartz remains unavailable," Virdon surmised as puzzle pieces slotted into place. "You don't have the power to build the replacement parts. Although I suspect my presence is aiding in a small way, I also suspect that you vandalize what unnecessary inventory is locked in offices and storage compartments to feed into the fusion reactor. You may be able to think, learn and reason but lack the blood, sweat and tears to keep the system afloat."
"He is being reconfigured, Colonel. Parts production is prioritized."
"No offense intended, Mauser, but he is the ranking base non-comm. Why you? Why were you reconfigured first?"
"Command Chief Master Sergeant Williams wanted my special skills as an analyst during this process."
"But he made you my defense council. Who were you going to analyze?"
"Even as counsel for you and Major Burke, I have a duty to report perjury."
"And you expected perjury?"
"It had a basis in the Chief's decision."
Virdon leaned back in his chair, his mind processing the problems before him. His eyes fell on the flat, black device Mauser had retrieved at his command. He remembered his first words of the morning.
"I want to see it now," Virdon demanded. The deep ache growing in his gut disagreed.
xXxXx
On his climb to the surface, Zeke's wings beat with a fury that drove him past another angel in the central shaft drawing a surprised look of consternation and Zeke's own muttered curse of irritation. Miriam had spent the night shift with Pete leaving Raziel to report to him that morning with a maddening sense of perfunctory calm.
"The EKL has begun to shut down liver, gall bladder, and pancreas functioning," Raziel intoned as if reporting the results of chess match. "We have initiated treatment; however, nanites are currently removed from our options due to Peter's medical history of rejection following his experience in Kirtland. His body might see the nanites as an infection. His fever continues to rise, and we cannot risk additional stress to his immune system. The EKL reaction to the robots is unknown, of course, and might accelerate their current attack on his body functions. They have breached his right lung. His respiratory system is not showing immediate signs of impact and his O2 stats remain in an acceptable range; however, they have entered another cycle of increased procreation attempting to fill the space within the lung, latching on to the interior tissue and spreading upward.
"Pain levels continue to rise despite our use of available analgesics. Despite the advances it seems to be making, the EKL remains stymied by Peter's genetic make-up while I have been able to decipher approximately 45% of the EKL DNA. We have introduced attempts at blocking its progress, although none have been notably effective. Be assured, every advance we make opens another avenue for us to discover a viable response to its attack."
Zeke had sensed the angel wanting to offer him some kind of comfort because it was expected of him, not necessarily because he was inclined to do so, and was relieved he opted to simply tap at the screen of his tablet and meet his gaze across the table. "I am truly sorry that we must enforce the quarantine, Ezekial. Your recent loss of Jedidiah, and now, Peter, well…truly, I am sorry." Zeke at least felt a surface sincerity to Raziel's words but as he stroked his way upwards, he could honestly say that he didn't give a fuck.
His feet struck the landing pad of the surface level at a fast walk, and he moved past the security stations with a surly snarl at any who tried to interrupt his march outside. He felt his anger rising along with his feelings of impotence and needed to focus whatever sense of responsibility that remained to shield everyone in his path from his empathic projections. And his hand ached from the wall he hit on his stomp from the Medical Center to the Central Shaft landing pad.
Zeke stopped himself at the open hatchway before stepping outside of what he had always considered the safety of Alba, although nothing felt secure in his life at this moment. He raised his link bracelet and quickly tapped the code Miriam had provided. He drew short, painful breaths as the image of his beloved filled the viewscreen. The beauty of his face and the strength of his soul filled Zeke. Peter James Burke. How did I have a full life before you? He could not hear it, but he knew that Pete moaned as his face twisted against unseen agony. As he watched, Raziel entered the area, temporarily blocking his view of his besheirt, and he adjusted something on the panel next to Pete's pod then lifted the quarantine shield. Zeke couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude as the angel removed his protective gloves exposing himself to lay his hands on Pete in order to better sense the movement of the creatures inside him. Raziel lingered there and then nodded to himself before returning the shield and exiting the room. Zeke stared at Pete's face, willing his eyes to open, his lips to smile, his arms to open for his embrace. Finding no comfort in the ashen pallor that filled the screen, Zeke kept his scream to himself as he ended the transmission and closed his eyes, leaning against the wall for support.
Before anyone could approach him, the angel pushed himself into the light of the desert sun. He picked his way through the Rephaim gathered in the servitor reception area and rounded the wall toward Pete's castle in the sand that he had left in Josh's hands the day before.
He stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide.
Dozens of Rephaim and Albans spread out across the sand building a…a…a city! The castle he had begun with his brother was lost among an ever-widening mass of constructions taking a myriad of shapes and sizes. His face folded into tears as he watched gorilla, human, and angel children laughing as they chased one another between the haphazard collection of sand structures. Not only children, but adults knelt in the sand pouring water over their creations that stretched outward into the desert.
Zeke took tentative steps forward, hardly knowing where to focus. He felt faint in the draining heat of the sun until a firm hand wrapped around his upper arm and Josh's soothing voice greeted him. "Welcome to the Magic Village, achi."
"What? How…?"
"They just came, Zeke. The children, I guess. They told their parents, and…" Zeke caught sight of a beloved face picking her way across the sand. "…and then there was Tirzah," Josh concluded as his mother reached them. Zeke fell into his dodah's arms with an audible sob as his large frame enveloped her, his wings folding around them.
"Oh, my precious son," Tirzah whispered, "what a wonderful thing you have begun." And then she held him as he wept until he was able to step back and look at the explosion of life that spread like a field of wildflowers of multi-colors that he had seen in pictures but never imagined would witness with his own eyes—magic only hinted at the mystery before him.
"Josh told me about the castle of sand you wanted to build for Pete, and well…, how could I stay away?" Tirzah said with a smile. "Not all, but most of the families from my classes allowed their children to come. And many of their parents have joined us." She adjusted a colorful shawl used by the Rephaim over her head. "Do you know I have never been outside of Alba before today? I have never stood in the sun before. Yura," she gestured toward a gorilla to their left making her own castle in the sand, "gave me this beautiful head scarf and a paste to block the burn of the sun when she saw the reddening of my skin."
"So I see." Zeke wriggled his fingers at the brown patches that covered the woman's visible skin.
"I suppose we should have thought to request some UV protective cream from Ser-Vi-Tor," Josh noted. Zeke grinned at his brother's adoption of Pete's affection for the servitor devices.
"Nonsense. The aroma of the Rephaim paste boiled from goat excrement adds to the ambiance of a new experience," Tirzah's eyes smiled. "And the children loved what the Rephaim call 'mud cake' being wiped on them. We just had to teach them it wasn't for eating." Zeke and Josh glanced at one another with raised eyebrows as she went on.
"Yura made sure all the children were covered in mud cake and the females of the Village brought scarves to wrap around their heads and shoulders before sending them off to play. None of these children have been outside the protective walls of Alba before today. Oh, Zeke," Tirzah entwined her elbow with Zeke's and patted his forearm. "To feel the sun for the first time. To know the touch of a breeze. To watch the children discover the companionship of one another in a world larger than they ever imagined. I would never wish the adversity you are living on anyone, but the gift it has brought to us…, I cannot begin to describe." Tirzah blinked at the tears filling her green eyes. "You have brought such joy out of tragedy."
Zeke leaned back, watching the movement before him. A young angel with a red cast on his arm caught his eye as he hopped energetically over a Rephaim child and the pair of them fell in glorious giggles followed by a human child landing on top of the heap creating a mess their mothers would curse—and celebrate—in the sand. Tirzah's tears spread into his eyes as the festive emotions stirred all around him. His heart thudded in his chest as a single thought pounded loud enough to be heard by whatever god listened.
"Please. Pete. Live."
xXxXx
"Come!" Levi gruffly responded to the sharp rap at his door, his eyes locked on the holographic display of Gabe's first draft schematic for the dedicated communications device. A quick glance toward the intruder as the door slid open gave him just enough time to swallow his angry reminder about not being disturbed. "Miriam. Please come in." He gestured to the single chair in front of his desk. The blonde healer hesitated, her eyes bouncing from Levi to the image and back again.
"A long-range, communication device to be worn by personnel when traveling outside the city," he nodded toward the hologram with his chin as Miriam settled on the edge of the seat, her back straight. "Gabe said the concept of the 'A' shape to be worn on the chest came from a discussion he had with Alan. A star trek communicator from his time," Levi enunciated the words. He leaned forward. "You didn't have to come up here to see me. I would have come to you." He suspected the weary cast of her face had more to do with this visit than the obvious lack of sleep.
"Thank you, Levi. I needed to speak to you in person…," she started.
"Is it Pete?" Levi asked, keeping his voice level despite the quickening of his pulse.
"Oh, no. He's…well, he's not fine, but he continues to fight with us. The EKL has advanced but Raziel has made some advances in understanding its nature."
"An antidote?"
"Not yet," she shook her head as her eyes flashed, "but they can't have him. I won't let them. And that's why I'm here. They can't have Alan either. I'm going with the Away Mission to Kirtland."
Levi sat back in his chair at the finality in her voice. "You've talked with Eliana," he stated.
"Yes, but not about this. I am keeping her apprised of Pete's condition. Levi, I was Alan's primary healer the last time he returned from Kirtland. He may need an experienced healer immediately. As Acting Head of Medical, I insist on being present when he is rescued." Any hint of exhaustion had evaporated from her voice.
"Miriam, you have a relationship with Alan, do you not?"
"And you have a relationship with Malachi," she snapped. "That doesn't stop you from engaging in Council business."
"You cannot have a relationship with your patients, Miriam. Medical oath. I didn't write it. I'm simply reminding you it exists for a reason. Objectivity is lost when love gets in the way."
"Then for the time we are on the mission, you can consider Alan and I as a former relationship." Miriam crossed her arms defiantly across her chest.
Levi smirked. "Which renews when he returns?"
"First, Levi, I don't know yet if I love Alan. I care for him. I want to know him better. I am…comfortable when I am with him," she allowed her posture to relax slightly. She knew that Levi had lost a spouse and felt safe sharing private thoughts of the difficult days she had endured. "After losing Tim, it feels nice to be with a man who makes me smile again.
"Second, I'm currently the best damn healer in Alba and now that the world is opening up around us, you need me on the ground for Alan and any of your team who might encounter injuries or exposures we haven't seen before. Put me on whatever list I know you are writing. I am going with the team."
"With me," Levi grinned. Miriam's eyes grew wide.
"Malachi must have had a fit when you told him."
"Tirzah still isn't talking to me."
"When do we leave?" Her back straightened again.
"That has not been determined."
"Alan was taken three days ago, Levi!"
"Sounds like you and Eliana have been talking," he raised an eyebrow in question.
"Obviously, we should be!"
"I assure you, we will go to Kirtland, if necessary."
The building anger in Miriam's eyes mirrored the expression Eliana had flashed in his direction last evening. "Perhaps you should explain what constitutes necessary." Miriam also shared the same steel tone as his security officer.
"We do not believe that the actions of the base were intended as an attack…," Levi explained.
"Let me run back to Medical and share that opinion with Peter Burke," Miriam flashed, her arms crossed again. "And since they treated our people so well the last time, my confidence in your appraisal is soaring."
It was Levi's turn to stiffen. He continued as if she had not interrupted, "…and as we do not want to escalate our response prematurely, we are first attempting diplomacy."
"And how does that work exactly?"
"The specifics remain a security matter," Levi's tone communicated no further questions on the matter would be answered. Miriam dropped her arms again, the worn look settling back in her eyes.
"Of course, Levi. My apologies. You don't tell me how to run Medical. I won't second guess your decisions about Security. I know you have a greater stake in this outcome than most."
Levi's silver head nodded his acknowledgement. "Please keep sending me regular updates on Pete's condition. Immediately for any significant…."
"Levi!" Enoch shoved his head in the open doorway, his knuckles white as he gripped both sides of the doorframe. "It's…," the young security guard caught his tongue when he realized that the Head of Securitywas not alone. "You are needed in communications, sir." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. At the same time, Miriam glanced down at her link bracelet, a furrow forming across her forehead.
"On my way," the older human confirmed, rising smoothly from his chair. "Miriam, you will have to excuse me." The healer stood and their eyes met across the desk. Neither chose to ask about what new information or development the other might know and be willing to share.
"I need to be on my way, as well. Thank you for your time, Levi." Miriam spun out of the room as soon as Enoch stepped aside.
Levi made his way out of his office, his blue eyes beginning to spark. "You contacted Malachi?" he asked when he was assured that Miriam was out of earshot.
"Before I came for you. He's coming straight away. Only audio communications established. Eliana was speaking to a Tech Sergeant Hudson. Said that their Commanding Officer, Command Chief Master Sergeant Williams was prepared to talk to our Commanding Officer. Said he could give you two minutes."
"Did he, now? I suppose it's a good thing I can tell them everything they need to know in about 30 seconds."
Levi took charge of the room from the moment he entered. Seven members of the security team gathered around the receiving communication console with Eliana maintaining contact with the other side. She glanced up from her seat at the controls, but Levi gestured for her to continue. All others stood back although stayed close enough to hear the exchange.
"Holding for Head of Security Leviticus," she depressed the key as she spoke then immediately muted the microphone.
"Holding for Command Chief Master Sergeant Williams," came the scratchy reply.
"That's a lot of title," Enoch murmured to no one in particular. A raised graying eyebrow from his boss prompted him to add, "better to keep it short and to the point." Levi scoffed.
With his arms crossed, his eyes locked on the symbol designating an open line on the communications visual monitor, Levi established calm control as the others in the room fidgeted. The mutual acknowledgements between Alba and Kirtland repeated several more times before Malachi flowed into the room, his gray wings stretched past his shoulders. As usual, his expression was inscrutable, but Mal's slightly labored breathing revealed to his partner that he flew down from the Council Chamber. Malachi and Levi exchanged a look.
"El, open the channel," Levi instructed. She nodded.
"The channel is now open for Head of Security Leviticus."
Hudson's voice responded, "Command Chief Master Sergeant Williams accepts the open channel."
"Chief Williams," Levi's voice boomed in the room.
"Security Head Leviticus," a new voice sounded.
"You are holding Colonel Virdon," Levi's tone was as crisp as his unblinking blue eyes.
"Confirmed."
"We can have no further discussions until he is released, or I have absolute confidence that he is acting under his own free will."
"Colonel Virdon answers to you?" the android asked with a slight rise of emphasis on the final word.
"The colonel answers to no one here but I will have verification of his safety."
"Or…?"
"Williams, let me be clear. We are not a militaristic society. We have no intentions of establishing anything more than an open dialogue leading to mutual benefit for our two cities. But you will release Colonel Virdon back to us or I will come get him."
"Your position is clear," the android voice betrayed no emotion as a click sounded.
"Transmission cut off, Levi," Eliana stated, her brown eyes hardened as she looked up from the console. "When do we leave?"
xXxXx
Virdon forced his fingers to remain still despite a recurring need to thrum them against the wood of the defendant table. Or loosen the damn tie knot rubbing at his Adam's apple. His guards had escorted him to the hearing room from his quarters with their typical precision only to discover that neither his counsel nor the lead judge had arrived. If Virdon needed any reminders that these realistic looking robots were only facsimiles in human form, the utter stillness of the fifteen androids in the room during the some ten minute wait eerily reinforced that life had abandoned Kirtland centuries ago.
Mauser uttered, "Base needs demanded our attention elsewhere," when he slid into the seat next to Virdon and Williams assumed his center position among the twelve presiding judges before calling the hearing to order.
The next several hours involved Sergeant Kelley pontificating out of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and presenting both video and audio evidence supporting the trial counsel's arguments that Colonel Virdon had committed several courts-martial offenses:
The black and white images of Misha carrying Jed's body, Nethaniah carrying an unconscious Pete with Zeke and Josh barely managing to support one another right behind them, and Galen practically dragging Virdon's own stumbling body out of the exterior door as the bedraggled team hurried toward the safety of the hovercraft was intended to prove his desertion.
Films of him moving with the Alban team through the complex and then taking no action as the "invaders" returned fire then ultimately disabled the attack force of the base airmen played as proof that Virdon endangered the unit and his failure to engage the enemy troops to the detriment of the base. A repeat of him handing his gun to Burke and removing the commcon device concluded the charge of Misbehavior Before the Enemy with Kelley adding an exclamation point to the desertion charge.
Aiding the Enemy seemed to focus on Galen's attention to his needs presented through both overview and android unit cameras with Kelley arguing that Virdon harbored and protected the ape and that the ape was an enemy and Virdon knew he was an enemy because he was an ape. That Alan would have fallen flat on his face had he not been held up by said ape seemed to be lost in who was harboring and protecting whom in the circular argument.
Espionage evidence played long stretches of the team searching the tunnel offices with Virdon in the point position, and the much shorter clips of Virdon and Gabe at the console in the central computer room with his vague statement of, "That's the baby. Let's see what we can find, Gabe," presented as the damning final word.
Virdon leaned back in his chair as Kelley appeared to be winding down the prosecution's case after five solid hours. The androids seemed to have forgotten the organic in their midst with no hint of a break being offered.
Alan kept his thoughts off his face. The notable lack of witnesses and the evidence against him displayed through the recordings was easily summed up as he came to the base with the Alban contingent, went looking for information, assumed command of the base upon request, and then decided to leave with the enemy. The way in which the evidence was presented allowed no opportunity for cross examination.
Virdon's eyes jerked up as Kelley announced, "Trial Counsel rests."
Williams glanced down both sides of the bench and then toward Mauser before stating, "If there are no objections…."
"I have an objection," Virdon stood, pushing the chair to the side, silently cursing the stiffness in his hips and knees from the long hours of sitting. Mauser scrambled to stand beside him, grabbing at Virdon's sleeve and hissing, "What are you doing, Colonel?"
"Sit down, Airman," Virdon ordered. The android lowered himself back into the chair, his eyes darting between his client and his base commander. Virdon continued, "I am hereby advising the court that I am removing Airman Mauser as defense counsel, and I will be assuming my own defense until further notice."
"Colonel Virdon," Williams started to speak, "I would advise you…."
"And I hereby advise you, Chief Williams," the colonel looked to the bench and then the table to his right, "and Sergeant Kelley, that when the hearing reconvenes, I will be calling Airmen Mauser and Chief Schwartz to the stand as witnesses for the defense."
"Master Chief Schwartz is currently not available," Williams leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.
"Then I suggest you make him available. I will be ready to call my first witness at 0800. Unless you have any objections, I will be escorted to my quarters now." The colonel completed a precision about face and marched toward the door as his guards quickly moved to meet him, one pulling the manacles from his belt and clipping them on the colonel's outstretched wrists.
Virdon shoved the door open and exited the room, refusing to turn to acknowledge the sound of the gavel or Williams intoning, "We are adjourned."
xXxXx
A night sleeping on stone was hardly the worse Galen had experienced, but the aching throb of a multitude of bites across his feet, ankles, shins, thighs, hands—ahhh!—if only the blissful numbness of the Blood Beetle wounds had continued as the sun rose. The night before, Farsha had pulled cloths from the packs and sifted a pale powder onto the dampened fabric and instructed them all to clean the tiny bites. Grul had distributed rolled packets of travel food and portions of water. Misha had carefully wrapped several of the black carapaces of the dead beetles within another cloth and packed it next to the molted skin of the barrel snake before they succumbed to sleep.
Galen was not the first to rise, preferring to languish in the warmth of the early morning sun before forcing his eyes open and accepting the throbbing of his body. As he rolled over with a groan, Farsha offered him a canteen, which he readily accepted. She then handed him another cleansing cloth for his injuries. The mysterious powder may have helped stave off infection but did nothing to curtail the pain. They completed their morning rituals in silence until Galen asked, "Which way?"
"Hunter?" Grul asked.
Misha took a deep breath and scanned the land around them. "We shall go toward the desert forest."
Galen raised his brow in question. "A forest?"
Misha grinned. "You will see." The gorilla pointed southeast. "The desert forest offers treatment for our wounds and moisture for our throats," he said. "Perhaps we will find what we seek along the way."
A long day passed as they moved through the endless landscape of sand under the beating of an unrelenting sun. The bites of the Blood Beetles ached and then itched. Galen could feel bumps rising on his skin in dozens of places where their teeth had struck. Although the persistent pain poked constantly, his eyes drooped, and his mind wandered absently. Despite the brief respite they claimed hiding beneath their tents at the height of the remorseless heat, Galen questioned anew how any lifeform could exist in such extremes and wondered what sins he must have committed to deserve the life he lived. He slept fitfully until Misha tugged him awake and helped him apply more of the powder to his wounds. He had a vague memory of Misha telling Grul that the poison of the bites was affecting Galen differently and they both agreed his chimpanzee blood must have less resistance to the creatures than the gorillas. He wanted to argue that the raised whelps hurt too much to be the numbing properties of the Blood Beetles, but he was far too sleepy to discuss it.
Galen felt like he was struggling through a walking dream as they approached a patch of greenish haze shimmering on the horizon before him. At one point, he had some sense that someone latched onto his arm and pulled him forward because he had lost all sense that he should move on his own. A tiny internal voice needled at whatever remained of his consciousness that he needed to wake up and stay alert, because someone called Alan and another named Pete depended on his help but the memory of who they might be faded in and out as the heat drained all semblance of concern from his emaciated existence.
"Drink," a voice commanded as a waterskin was thrust into his hands. Galen accepted and swallowed the warm water that spread a pleasant coolness through his burning chest.
"We will rest here tonight, Shulmanu," a voice he seemed to remember as someone called Misha told him. He found himself guided to sit upon a blanket. Cool relief from the biting pain caressed his limbs as gentle fingers rubbed a fragrant balm against his damaged skin. "Farsha has drawn sap from the desert trees. One of the desert's many favors to the Rephaim," a gruff, accented voice spoke. The chimpanzee turned his head from side to side and saw throngs of thick, green trunks stretching upwards, fat limbs reaching out to the sides then turning upwards.
Galen—that was his name, wasn't it? Or was he sometimes called something else?—allowed himself to be laid down among the tall, green timbers of the desert forest. He marveled at the height of them. A damp cloth was laid across his forehead and he blinked against the sky that darkened from a spectacle of amber into sparkling points of light his friends said spread beyond his imagination. What were their names again?
A blanket was laid around him and the sounds of conversation, smells of a fire, and the tinkling of the bones and bells that lined the ropes to warn of predators surrounded him. The voices were worried. They asked, if he is struck down, how can the Shulmanu help the Sadu? They wondered how to find the Gathering of the Clans without the Shulmanu to guide them. He thought his eyes closed as the voices faded but he could still see the tops of the great trees sway above him. A nudge prodded his shoulder then a wetness lapped across his face. Friend. Come. She calls you now.
Remembering this presence, he turned with a smile to see large blue eyes peering along an extended muzzle, the tongue reaching out again to lick his face. The head, a variegated blend from charcoal to gray, looked over its shoulder, paused, and back again to nudge at the tender part of his neck. He sat up and scanned past the coyote. His eyes widened as he saw huge emerald eyes form in the trunk of the great tree—no, not in the trunk—but a part of it. She leaned forward, her face the color of sage, her jade hair flowing back into the trunk, her gown sparkling with shades of mint, fern, and moss.
She waits for you, Friend.
Pulling on the coyote to help him stand, he rested his hand along its back, and they walked together to greet her. She had to lean down to reach him, her arm drawing across her body to stop in front of the ape and the coyote. She held a thin blade, stark white, a knobbed hilt of forest green. Her head tilted with a welcoming smile, and she extended her arm farther when he hesitated. The coyote glanced at him with an encouraging look reminding him, Take it for you must give it to another.
A sharp pain lanced through his hand as he accepted the blade. He was drawn into her eyes as her words whispered like wind, "In blood it is taken, and in blood it must be given."
And suddenly, Galen stood alone. A huge cactus was inches from him, his fingers wrapped around a spine, its sharp point extending beyond his grip. He chittered, then pressed down and the spine separated from the cactus. He turned to discover the Rephaim had quietly formed a half-circle behind him. He slowly opened his fingers so that they all could see. He winced at the sting and frowned at the blood that rose in a thin line across his palm. The spine of the cactus gleamed white in the darkness.
Grul spread his arms and leaned his shaggy head back as he spoke the words of Botis.
The Chosen travel on, though the days in the desert grow heavy around The Shulmanu for his injuries do not heal as the Rephaim heal. When The Chosen come upon a place of rest, the Rephaim shake their heads and raise their voices in grief for the path they have followed stops. They seek the way that leads to the Gathering of the Clans, and they know not where to turn. And though he is not of the desert, but is called to its lands, The Shulmanu sees beyond what the Rephaim see. The Shulmanu walks the path guiding them to the Clans knowing that they hold the sword of The Sadu. The Shulmanu stands before the Queen of the Clans receiving from her hand The Blanched Blade to arm him. The Clans bow in honor of the Sadu who must wield their gift against a great foe gaining strength as his own begins to fail.
xXxXx
Raziel lifted the quarantine lid from the patient's bed before purposefully positioning himself to block the observation camera that Miriam had insisted upon for his friends. He tugged at each finger of the haz-mat gloves for removal as he spoke.
"Peter, in our efforts to study the EKL in your system, an emergency decision was reached under the guidelines established by the Ethics Committee. As you are currently incapacitated and have no next of kin on record, as Lead Researcher and Head of the Ethics Committee, I can grant consent to the study proposals without convening Committee review and have done so for the procedure I am about to perform."
He set the gloves aside and laid his hands on the patient's upper abdomen near the incisions where the camera and filter tubes remained in place to better study and access the continually spreading organisms. His innate senses quickly moved along the now familiar molecular connections finding no new information. He looked at the camera feed magnified to visualize the microscopic individuals, numbering into the millions now, which covered all visible organ tissue. Raziel had watched hours of this feed witnessing exponential birth and growth rates but had yet to capture confirmed evidence of a death.
The individuals were in what he had dubbed their Conventional Phase. New entities were emerging from designated birth parents with surrounding individuals assisting to move the newborns toward available tissue. Secretions of narcoanalytic chemicals breaking down the host's ability to resist responses to questioning were randomly jetted out of an excretion opening near its anterior. Raziel considered it an efficient use of the creatures by engineering transmutation of body waste into valuable interrogation tools, if that was indeed the intended purpose of these creatures. Available evidence did support that hypothesis.
He adjusted the camera feed to visualize the tube used to extract the creatures. He removed the cover of the tray he had set at the bedside out of view of the friends' external camera feed revealing several filled quarantine specimen containers.
"Peter, the infiltrations in your right lung have filled the lower lobe and are now spreading along the areas near the diagram which will eventually provide access for the EKL to break through into the heart tissues. Your O2 stats have shown a steady decrease while your fever has fluctuated with an upward trend. We have provided pain blockers; however, the EKL appears capable of adjusting to known analgesics to counteract those measures allowing break-through pain to continue.
"The specimens we withdrew from your system went into dormancy and we cannot determine if the counter measures taken are successful in exterminating the individuals exposed. Exposing them to blood alone did not induce reanimation. As our next procedural option, I will be reintroducing these specimens into the original host environment to observe if they reactivate. Your patience with this process is appreciated."
Raziel connected the specimen extraction tube to the first container with the words ABSOLUTE ZERO inscribed on the top. He set a command on the box causing a red light to appear and the EKL creatures within the container were sucked into the tube. The angel immediately returned his hands to the patient's bare torso and closed his eyes. Later, when he watched the films, he would see a red mass enter the patient's abdominal cavity through the tube and the nearby individuals coalesce around them. Within seconds, the dormant EKL opened their shells into an active state, excreting a yellowish, thin liquid from their outer layer that dispersed rapidly through the tissue. Beneath his hands and through his connective senses, he felt the patient's muscles tighten, his back arch, and tremors radiate from the area across other body systems. A soft groan accompanied the tics that marred the patient's face. The creatures entered what Raziel called Initiation Phase with the introduction of neurochemicals intended to overwhelm the immune system sending the host into system shock while the EKL affixed itself to host organs and initiated pain responses.
"Cold -274°C negative for termination of EKL," Raziel intoned.
With statistical efficiency, the angel attempted four additional specimens exposed to excessively high heat and known, powerful toxins. Each specimen reintroduction was welcomed by its established brethren and each subsequent reawakening resulted in similar attacks to the host's biological systems. He hesitated on the irradiated box and ruled out exposure to the patient since there was no safe way to remove the radioactive creatures once they were released. He would have to consider other options for testing that method of extermination. Once done with that task, Raziel moved the tubing away from the return site, set up a clean quarantine box and removed a new sample of the creatures. He was startled, but continued without pause, when the patient stiffened and screamed.
Burke arched over the mattress, his head and ankles anchoring him down, his feet and hands curled into misshapen claws. The scream continued until his breath was gone.
When the box was half-full, Raziel stopped the extraction and watched as the creatures in the collection box went dormant. The patient slumped, his face ashen, his cries replaced with labored breathing and piteous whimpers.
The door to the room slid open and Miriam rushed in without donning a quarantine suit. She briefly glanced at Raziel going immediately to Pete. She checked his vitals and responded by affixing an oxygen mask over his face at high perfusion and then quickly drew up medications into a microinjector which she pressed against Burke's neck. She held her own breath, transfixed by the readings on the monitor.
"Shit," Miriam threw the injector aside, grabbed a second unit, filled it, and applied another injection. Only after a moment staring at the screen did she begin to breathe again.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she demanded, turning on Raziel, keeping her fingers wrapped around Pete's wrist needing to monitor his throbbing pulse by her own touch.
Raziel labeled the time and date on the box then checked the patient's lesion area to ensure that it remained sealed from external exposure.
"I plan on saving his life. Did you have an alternate suggestion?" he responded coolly, lifting his wings with the barest of glances in her direction.
Miriam felt her face growing red as she spoke through a clenched jaw to keep her voice level. "The pain indicators are at the highest readable measure, his oxygen sats have dropped to 81%, and he is in a state of active shock trauma. All of the EKL are secreting narcoanalytics and engaged in pain inducement behaviors. Most have begun procreation."
"As for the EKL, they have entered what I have designated the Assault Phase. It will continue for approximately twenty minutes after their perceived threat has ended," Raziel responded matter-of-factly. "In terms of the patient, all of his symptoms remain treatable."
"Raziel, I will have you restricted from this case and every other patient under our care if you ever pull another stunt like this without the full consent of the Medical and Ethical Oversight Committees."
"I am attempting to discover viable treatment options," Raziel went on as if Miriam had not spoken.
"I can see what you were attempting. You are doing it with no consideration of the risks to this patient."
"Miriam, using the extrapolation tables I configured, Peter Burke will be dead within 36 hours." The human healer drew her fingers into fists wanting to land one good punch in the angel's face at the sneer directed at her from her recent admonition of her colleague to use patient names when meeting with families. "Given that benchmark, these risks," he waved his hand with a flit of his wings over Pete's quivering body, "are acceptable given the potential benefits such as—oh, I'll pick one, shall I?—not dying."
"As long as I remain the Lead Healer, you will clear all future procedures for Peter Burke through me. Failure to do so will result in sanctions. Do you understand, Raziel?"
"Of course, Acting Lead Healer." The angel picked up the covered tray of specimen boxes and thumbed open the door. "I'll be in the lab studying the EKL. Do buzz before you enter. Quarantine measures remain in force," he reminded as he raked his eyes up and down her uncovered uniform before spinning out of the door as it automatically slid shut.
"Bastard," she uttered as she laid a hand across Pete's burning forehead then winced as she watched the tiny jerks and tics roil like waves through his muscles accompanied by low moans of increasing intensity. She leaned over the IV monitor pressing in a high dose of pain blockers and tapped in a steady drip of muscle relaxant for the next half-hour. On the monitoring screen, the entities heaved in an undulating mass from the disruption Raziel had initiated but as predicted, did appear to be slowing their attack.
"Pete," she returned her hand to his forehead as her face pinched with concern, "I'll let you kick his ass after he saves your life. Promise."
xXxXx
His eyes shut, for a moment, his arms outstretched just beneath his fully extended wings. Pete allowed himself to glide. The air, cooler at this altitude, brushed his face. He nabbed any momentary relief from the heat that enveloped him, sucking his breath away. The incessant pain in his chest wasn't doing much to quell the discouragement pecking at him. He would find Alan. He had to. Alan depended on him. They depended on each other. He couldn't let him down. He was maintaining Angels Three, about 3000 feet, providing a good view of the flat ground. He was confident he could detect movement given the openness of the terrain—there wasn't any. He followed standardized search parameters although without a map, he had to establish and memorize landmarks he could find and hope any secluded areas where Alan might be hidden would show a trace of occupation.
He wasn't sure how long he had been flying. A while. His memory felt fuzzed over like there were things he should know that had drifted away behind the clouds. He figured he'd catch up to them all in a second or two so he wasn't worried, although maybe he should be? Before he could think that through, he wandered into other thoughts. Better ones. Like the way he loved the feel of the wind on his skin, the upward draft rising through his feathers. Erotic. He couldn't come up with any other word. He got that zing in the cockpit, too, but different. His wings would never touch the speeds he had achieved in Vipers or the X-15 much less the FTL achieved on The Hyperion but not being encased in metal as he flew gave sensuality a whole new perspective.
He had flown a lot of test missions over this very desert. He was based at—what was it called? The name was on the tip of tongue, but he couldn't remember which was odd being so close. Hadn't he and Al just talked about the place? He did remember he was a pilot there. Damn, he loved that, too. His reputation as a cocky jet jockey rubbed some the wrong way but no one could deny he earned first draw over more experienced pilots when assignments were announced. His touch on the stick made magic in the air. He grinned a little at that memory. He never concerned himself with his reputation as long as he had the premier seat making vapes and not watching them streak the sky from the on-ground observation decks.
Maybe that's why the colors looked wrong. The shield of the cockpit dome would diffuse the light in a different way than flying free form. The colors now were more vivid, almost unreal. Like a Kodachrome filter laid over the whole thing. Or a painting maybe. The way he imagined it in his dreams. In fact, he'd be totally enraptured by the whole thing if he wasn't so damn hot. And Alan wasn't missing. And the fucking red apes weren't somewhere nearby. And though he couldn't see them, he knew those bastards were hunting him. They were near, always close by, waiting for him to slip, to fall, and they would swarm him.
Stray thoughts nudged at him that if he was captured, maybe it wouldn't hurt to tell the red apes stuff. Lead them on a little. No harm would come of it really. He could even make it up if he had to. His stomach seemed to hurt a little less when he considered it. He had to willfully push those dangerous inclinations aside. Talking led to revealing and he had made a promise to Zeke. He would sacrifice himself before he allowed any information to be taken from him that the red apes could use against his new home, his new family. Shit, so it had to hurt more when he decided to refuse them?
The growing pain spreading up from his gut was concerning. His inability to catch his breath was just because he hadn't stopped to rest, and he couldn't seem to cool off because he was in the middle of a desert destroyed in the apocalypse. Just tired. That's all. But he couldn't stop. He had to find Alan. Especially if the red apes had him. He was fuzzy on that, too. He rubbed his eyes trying to remember how, and when exactly, Alan was taken, but he did remember the apes showed up when his commanding officer disappeared. He figured it had to tie together somehow. Apes had been after them for over a year and a half, Urko's apes. Damn, the thought of that gorilla could still twist his guts in knots. Maybe Urko remembered his failed attack of Alba, that they had escaped him again, and he sent the red apes after them. Pete pressed at his temple willing those memories away. He couldn't think about apes right now.
His mind wandered again. To Albuquerque this time. He remembered Albuquerque. He had some good times in that city, but Pete made a point of finding good times back in those days and good times seemed to find him even when he wasn't looking. That close to the base, there was always some sweet thing interested in seeing him out of uniform. Hell, he was twenty-five years old, only a few years out of college—a lot of guys wanted to buy him a beer when they recognized him from his gridiron days and the local talent wanted to take him to their places when he'd had too many and needed to stay away from the base until he sobered up. And what better way to get sober than a little time between the sheets or in the shower or in the pool or on the pool table or that one time on the 7th hole of the Los Altos Golf Course….
Yeah, he had some good sex in Albuquerque—empty sex but good, nonetheless. Plenty of willing and able women. He just had to watch the bar scene being so close to the base. Airmen got sent overseas and sometimes their wives decided it was their time to play. Contrary to what many people thought of him and his playboy persona, Pete didn't do married. He knew most of the tricks they'd use to hide the ring although he had been fooled a time or two. Promises and vows mattered, and he wasn't going to help someone else break them. He drifted again.
Back to Alba. And Eliana. He hated—and loved—the way his stomach turned when he came near her. Her dark hair, falling to her shoulders when she let it loose, framed her beautiful face leaving no doubt that she was all woman—one tough woman—proving strength heightened her femineity. The way her brown eyes could size him up for a weak spot to throw him down while sparring then suggestively beckon him to join her for another kind of take down made him turn in all kinds of twists. He had to question if it was the squirm of worms or the flit of butterflies tumbling inside him when she looked his way. She said she liked him. He liked her. She said he could be with her and still be with Zeke. But he couldn't risk it. He wouldn't, couldn't throw away the love he had found in Zeke's arms. He would never betray his beloved. He just couldn't wrap his head around that in Alba he could have both. Hell, he could barely wrap his arms around the miracle that he found one relationship that might stick.
And then there was Alan and Miriam. All the signs for a relationship were there—someone just needed to point it out to them. Alan had a chance to find love again if he could just crack open the door a little and let today come in. Pete kept subtle pressure on his friend to accept the notion that he had been true to his vows, but life had thrown them one screwy-ass curve ball and the game was on a completely different field with a rewritten rulebook. He knew how much the loss of Sally and Chris haunted Alan. Hell, he lost them, too. He loved the way Sally brought him what she dubbed his break-up beer when he showed up at their house after another dating experiment fell through. He loved the way Chris called him Uncle Pete and came to him when he had his first crush. Their secret. As promised, he never told Alan. He missed them, too. But Miriam was here and now. Alan was just starting to see those possibilities since they began spending some time together. A selfish part of Pete wanted to find a way to take the past off the table. He didn't want to look for it anymore, and he needed Alan to stop looking for it, too. Shit, Pete admitted he was never looking for anything to begin with because he never expected that there was anything out there worth finding. He was riding shotgun on Alan's road trip when he got t-boned by a Mac truck and woke up in the land of Oz complete with flying monkeys—well, angels—but he was meandering through any number of analogies, none of which explained Zeke.
He beat his wings in a dreamy rhythm letting out a long, slow breath hoping to find some relief from the heat. Hell, even his breath was hot.
Ahh, but hot didn't begin to describe Zeke. Everything came back to Zeke.
His beautiful besheirt. He knew it was a damn cliché but now that he knew what love was, he would fight with every fiber of his being to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do us part. Now he understood what had driven Alan all those months, clinging to a tiny disc of magnetic hope that one in million would strike again sending them back the other way. And for the first time, he knew who he wanted in his life. Pete had made a vow to Zeke, a promise to stay and he was ready to give his oath to share their lives together.
But then, he'd made a vow to Virdon, too. Well, not in words. But they both knew it. They may as well have pulled a knife across their palms and shook hands on it. He'd follow Alan anywhere. His ahuvi, although he hadn't known there was a word to describe the unspoken bond they shared until they fell into Alba. And he figured Galen would give up everything they had found to do the same. Galen had done it once before losing his family, his friends, his whole damn life. Bound to be easier the second time. Not nearly as much to lose. And that scared the hell out of Pete. The thought of losing Zeke made his stomach hurt worse.
He grimaced as the pain took over his attention. He quickly scanned the terrain below him. Squinting at a rock formation off to his right, Pete banked in that direction. The scream erupted unexpectantly from his lips as he doubled over into a ball, his wings curled around him, and he began a tumbling spin. The spasms wracked him with convulsions that screeched from his throat like banshees wielding blades as they cut their way out. He jerked back flipping his wings beneath him; his body locked against a rigid torque turning against itself. Long seconds passed before awareness shoved pain aside to make room for fear, pressuring him to acknowledge that he was falling, tumbling through the sky in free fall, hurtling toward a messy death splattered on the ground. The tailspin caused alarms to reverberate through his skull allowing his pilot instincts to take over. He forced himself to rotate to give the underside of his wings the updraft to open enough to level and slow his descent. The pain wracked him again, pulling his knees to his chest even as he arched his back to keep the wings spread. He targeted the rock formation that looked like three lost souls hunched against the desert sun. He pinched his eyes closed and flew by feel, trusting his senses to adjust until his wings achieved full extension slowing his fall, gliding as if a parachute had opened. His body became the stick gripped in his steady hand which he tilted and tipped into a circular descent as if rounding a drain.
Despite his efforts, Pete failed to maintain the control required and he knew he was coming in hot. He cut away in the final seconds to crash into the sand several yards from the stony figures. The sand was unforgiving. Although he was able to land feet first, his legs gave way and he fell face first and twisted like flotsam on the hard, golden expanse of the desert. He finally stalled on his side; one wing egregiously bent beneath him. Gulping at the dry air to fill the hollowness of his lungs, he desperately thought, Alan and Galen will help me. And then he remembered. He was alone.
Contorted inside the chasm of pain, a long howl tore from his throat which was echoed by the harrowing blast of a not-so-distant horn calling the red apes to the hunt. A new word forced its way into his consciousness. Survive. Pete pushed at his ragged limbs to rise. The sand in his watering eyes blurred his vision but the three rocky figures waited for him to come. Stagger. He both laughed and cried at his ineptitude as he sagged through the shifting sand. He felt the change in his feet as the rocky surface stretched into the desert floor. Shelter. The three stone figures grew large in his vision, one with a cocked head, another eyes up, and the last, its shoulders slumped as if bent over.
He hurried his steps as his back itched in growing trepidation. Images and sounds coalesced among the heat waves around him. He stole frantic glances up sensing the threat of the net hovering over his head about to entangle him into a heap on the ground, his arms quickly knotted in leather thongs at his back, then dragged to a place where the world spins outside his control. Drawing shallow breaths, unable to suck in enough air, he felt the hands of a gorilla tightened at his throat, the panting of an angry face inches from his own as he begged, "Urko, Urko! You kill me, you kill yourself!" He stumbled into the rocks as each head seemed to look his way. A voice screeched incessantly in his head, "Tell me who helped you!" The stones gave an answer.
"Hmph. Another wandering fool who has lost his way," proclaimed the first, its head tilting toward him.
"They approach," announced the center being, its eyes peering ahead.
The third remained silent but Pete was drawn to its protective gaze. He had to climb up, over and through the jagged stone before reaching the place guarded by the third. A narrow slit in the stone provided a way inside. Pete fell to his knees and crawled the final distance. The horn reverberated through the rocks.
"They arrive," stated the sentinel.
"A horde of beasts!" bemoaned the first.
The head of the last nodded. Pete dragged his way headfirst into the slender opening. His slim body squeezed through the narrow gap, his wings catching in the serrated stone leaving skin and feathers to mark his passage. He crumpled into the secluded haven, pulling himself into the shadows of the cave knowing the apes could never come through the opening and hoping they would continue their hunt thinking the same of him.
His body quivered; his vision began to gray throwing him back in a jet above the desert trapped in G-loc which tumbled into a turning table which spun into the squeeze of death at his neck. The red heat wrapped him in a suffocating grasp. The unrelenting pain knocked all sense of anything but the inescapable torment of thrashing limbs and mutilated flesh that burned from the inside out. He swallowed the screams as the red apes drew near, unable to settle on which torture to inflict upon him. He escaped them all by falling into the domain of blackness.