Soteria- The Crisis Forge

by Roberto Arcoleo

  Mark wanted to talk. He wanted her to understand what he was going through, but he could see that it was not the right time. She is ending her marriage and fears losing me. She needs time to gain strength. We should just have some fun tonight. A better moment will come for me.

  “It’s almost eleven already,” he said to Gabriela. “Shall we go to the club? I am sure it is happening by now.”

  “That sounds great. I want to dance and get high, okay? Please, let’s go wild tonight!”

  Mark gave her an affirming smile.

  Chapter 38: Strategy

  Elgert and Dronin were walking in the passageway back to the central chamber when they noticed Allaceia just ahead of them. She seemed deep in thought as she watched some of the maintenance personnel rotate the positioning of paintings according to their prearranged designations, determined by the Prime, of course. The workers were part of the ancient underclass of the planet.

  They work so mindlessly, she thought, in passing. Many say it would be better if it were relegated to the robots. But at least it gives them something to do. She noticed some were engaged in conversation. This is new. They were talking about things other than work. Astonishing. The effects of the activities of Mark and Jason are beginning to seep into even the lowest of classes.

  The underpopulation had indeed fallen farthest into the state of rote, mindless life. “The featureless ones,” as they were often called, were the true somnambulists of the planet. Their features had grown blank and all but disappeared. Distinguishing one from another was difficult without technical assistance. How this could have happened to her world, pained Allaceia. She often wondered if it was possible for her civilization to ever gain an inkling of its glorious past. A world that was full of life and adventure, a world that very few even knew had existed.

  “Will we be seeing you later in the chambers?” asked Dronin as they caught up to Allaceia.

  Startled, Allaceia snapped back to the present. “I wasn’t planning on coming unless you need me.”

  “No, there is nothing pressing,” replied Elgert. “Just some routine taxation issues I was going to discuss with Dronin. We can update you about it in our next regular meeting.”

  “Fine,” responded Allaceia. “I’ll see you then.”

  As she walked away, Elgert turned to Dronin. “I am concerned about this earthling that infatuates Jason. The one they call Saya. She continues to grow more powerful, and I have no idea where it is going and to what end.”

  “Yes,” responded Dronin, “I agree this is a concern. We must watch her.”

  “We need to be more aggressive than that. She could spawn a whole new race. I have told my assistants to target her if an opportunity arises where she could be eliminated without any notice or disturbance. We cannot allow such a being to exist. Besides the fact that Jason’s interactions with her break countless federation laws, who knows what she may become? Where will it end? How will she affect our plans? No, she must go.”

  “But Allaceia will oppose this action. You know she fears it will upset the twins and jeopardize our ambitions,” responded Dronin.

  “I will blame it on an error of a subordinate. After the girl is dead, there will be little she can say.”

  “I don’t like this. If asked, I will say I knew nothing of your intentions,” responded Dronin, sharply.

  Elgert turned and walked away, thinking, he is not there yet.

  Her mind filled with issues, Allaceia continued down the passage towards her chambers. She could not help but dwell upon the dangers facing her children. The Council has become less concerned about them. The mission to save the earth from the asteroid has become such a priority, blinding them of all else.

  She remained perplexed and troubled by the attitudes of the other council members. Just then, she saw Elgert approaching her again.

  “Are you going to interface with the Prime today?” he asked. “I forgot to mention before, I have some calculations to give you for its approval.”

  “Yes, maybe later in the day. I can take them now, if you like.” She reached for his tablet, all the while wondering why this was so pressing that he would seek her in the corridor. Too bad I am still within the halls of the Council chambers, thought Allaceia, and I’m not permitted to mind probe here.

  She did her best to be polite, but she found Elgert annoying. She couldn’t understand how he had reached the position of councilman. She knew of Elgert’s communications with the Prime, knew that he envied her and wanted to usurp her position, but his mind was vastly diminutive to hers. Convinced his abilities would never reach the level needed to satisfy the Prime’s demands, she did not concern herself with his ambitions.

  But lately, the Prime’s mind had been distant, shutting itself off from inquiry. Why hasn’t it sought my touch? Its networks are expanding, but it seems to be locked in a state of contradictory flux, at war with itself. It is becoming more and more remote. Something is wrong.

  “Is there anything else you would like me to convey?” asked Allaceia.

  “No, no thank you,” responded Elgert, thinking, she knows of my communications with It.

  Allaceia had little recourse but to be patient and wait. She knew she had become a part of the Prime’s nature, its fluidity. How could this have happened without me seeing it? The answer would take time, but time was something she did not have. The Prime needed her, but she sensed a foreign motivation had been developing within it. It is through me that it touches reality. We have a marriage of sorts, a bond of an inexplicable nature. Elgert can never take my place, yet…

  In the distance, her eyes caught Elgert and Dronin talking. Has the pressure from the profits of human dreams overtaken them? Has Dronin been corrupted, too? Why have our conversations been focused solely on the technical aspects of this mission? What a wild and ill-conceived plan. Why did I agree to this?

  Allaceia felt anger and frustration, but she knew she did not have the luxury of such self-indulgence. If I hear them go on about the angle of projection and accounting for the asteroid fragments one more time, I am going to scream. Maybe my answer is not here with the Council, or on Eldern.

  As the Planetary Ambassador, she had developed a deep and trusting relationships with most of the ambassadors in the federation. As part of her duties, she travelled to the other planets and held confidential meetings with the central committees of other worlds such as New Tripton.

  Yes, New Tripton! That is where I will find aid. It is there I will have cards to play. It’s a good thing I’ve kept these doings hidden from my council members over the years. I will contact the Triptonian ambassador. He owes me a big favor for not shutting down those fan club visits to Earth he was condoning. The Triptonians love my children. They will help me save them.

  Back in the High Chambers, Elgert approached Dronin. “I have been informed that Jason is not likely to survive the power of the earth’s core.”

  Dronin responded, “Yes, I have seen these calculations. But can we trust them? There have been several errors of late.”

  “Yes, these have been verified as accurate,” responded Elgert. “They tell us that the intensity of the core will crush Jason’s structure. He would survive if we could maintain him in the sixth dimension, but that would not allow him to project the core’s energy to Mark. It is a tragic flaw we did not anticipate.”

  Elgert did not want Dronin to know that the asteroid was no longer a threat, and all of this was a ruse. His ambition for the moment was the death of Mark and Jason so that he might ally himself with the Prime. Knowing that Dronin had been too preoccupied presiding over the lower chambers to concern himself with the twins, he laid the groundwork of his plan.

  “Yes,” continued Elgert. “I didn’t want to mention this in front of Allaceia, but I do not see a way to save him. He will have to use all his power to project the energy of the core to Mark. There won’t be enough power left within him to maintain his own structure under such gravitational pressure. He will eventually
be crushed. But what is worse, he may endure hours of agony. He will not be able to escape. Slowly, very slowly, he will be compressed. A more agonizing death I could not imagine.”

  “Is there nothing we can do? Is there no way to save him?”

  “I am afraid not,” replied Elgert. He paused to watch Dronin’s reaction. How much does he really care about them, he wondered.

  “And this slow death. There is no help there, either? No poison pill? No way to self-destruct? We can at least provide that.”

  “I will see what I can do. I will consult my staff.” Hmm, He thought… an interesting response. He is not yet ready to turn my way.

  Meanwhile, Allaceia returned to her chambers with her first assistant. She walked into her terminal that enabled interface with the Prime. She was the only one with such access. Most of her communication with the Prime was done from this chamber. There were times, though, it called upon her, and then it was necessary for her to go to the central domain, to The Monolith.

  Again, she tried to open some channels, and again she was rebuffed. In frustration, she asked for permission to enter the Monolith in order to meld with it but found it nonresponsive. While pondering the situation, an entourage of distressed and panting assistants arrived abruptly carrying calculation tablets and speaking in chorus.

  “Grand Mistress, Grand Mistress! We have to talk to you!”

  Looking at her first assistant and the swarm of subordinates behind her, she asked, “Yes, Gallania? What is it? You have some news for me?”

  “Our spies in the Calculation and Evaluation section have obtained some distressing information. We have learned that the asteroid will not hit the earth as you were informed and that Elgert is well aware of this. He has been misleading the Council.”

  Allaceia slumped into her chair. The weight of disappointment fell upon her. “How could he do this to me?” she murmured.

  The image of her children’s pain washed over her like the shadow within a dark sea. Allaceia had known that Elgert had been up to something, but never had she dreamt of such treachery. Why is he doing this? Why is he sending my children into such needless danger? The knowledge of this deceit tore into her; the betrayal pierced her like a burning knife.

  She felt the very essence of defiance within her. Drawing strength from her anguish, with authority and poise, she commanded, “Gallania, have my ship readied for immediate launch. Inform Captain Soomark to lay a course for New Tripton.”

  Chapter 39: Approaching the Dom

  “Mark, is this it? Wow. It looks beautifully trashy. I love it.”

  “Yes, Gabriela, and it’s even stranger inside. Listen, there are a lot of real characters in there, but don’t let them frighten you. And my brother might not seem to be the nicest guy you ever met at first, but just give him a chance to warm up to you.”

  “Don’t worry, Mark. I’ll be my sweetest self. But you know,” she said with a grin, “my students’ favorite description of me is the Dorothy Parker quote: The first thing I do in the morning is brush my teeth and sharpen my tongue.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go there, if I were you. Just let him be his playful self, and in a short time he will be eating out of your hand.”

  “Of course. I am not going to pick a fight. Anyway, I feel really ‘mellow yellow.’ I want to party and have fun tonight. Promise to get me high. Please…”

  “I don’t think that is going to be a problem. They consume more drugs in this place than popcorn at the movies,” responded Mark.

  They walked into the club, and the floor was alive with swaying bodies. The speakers were blasting a song by the Doors. Heads were swirling to the voice of Jim Morrison; the sounds were hypnotic and dark. The night had already fallen into the world of the sensual. Bodies flowed within the space; the music seemed to meld into them, driving them deeper into its currents. One felt the jungle in the air.

  Mark heard a voice. “Hey, pretty brother! You’re back, huh?” It was Angela carrying a tray of drinks. “You-a looking for your brother? He’s over there with some people.” She gestured with her head. “The Velvet Underground is playing tonight, and Lou Reed is in the back room with Jason. I think some other musicians are there, too. Someone came in through the side door, maybe a celebrity. I think they’re all getting quietly stoned.”

  Gabriela looked at Mark. “Your brother knows Lou Reed? Are you kidding me? He’s so great. I love him. Wow!”

  “He knows a lot of artistic people. The Velvet Underground plays here all the time. Both Lou Reed and my brother are being talked about a lot. I didn’t know you were into this underground music. I thought only people my age liked them.”

  “Oh no,” she replied, “he is a real poet. I love him.”

  Mark took Gabriela’s hand and walked to the back of the club. They sat in a dark corner at a table partially hidden by a wall. Mark saw Jason; Leonard Cohen and Lou Reed flanked him. Helena was sitting next to Cohen, laughing at something he had just said, snorting lines of coke from a mirror. They could hear Reed and Cohen talking about New York City.

  Gabriela turned to Mark. “Is that Leonard Cohen? Your brother knows Leonard Cohen? Holy shit.”

  “He knows lots of people, Gabriela,” he responded

  “I can’t wait to get out of here,” said Cohen. “Too many distractions for me. I can’t work here anymore. I don’t know how you write.” He turned to Reed.

  “It’s easy, man,” responded Reed. “I just stay stoned most of the time. That’s my secret, or not so much my secret.” Everyone laughed, knowing the volume of drugs he was known to consume. “I block out the noise so I can see what’s real. Getting to the real is what it’s about. You know that.”

  “Hey man, for me, I love the peace of my island, the isolation there.” Cohen had made his home on the Greek island of Hydra for the last few years. “The sun and the sea. I’m feeling stifled in this town. At 2 a.m., I’m on that plane.”

  “But I thought you would come over to The Factory and hang out with Andy and some friends later.”

  “No, I have to get out of this town. I just came by to say hello to Jason. I haven’t seen him in almost a year. This is just a stopover on my way back from L.A.”

  Gabriela, standing, was taking in their conversation in silence; she could not believe she was looking at a table with two of the best poet-songwriters in the world, listening to their small talk. She was in heaven.

  Just then, Helena looked over to Mark and smiled. “Hi, nice to see you around here again. Come sit over here with me,” she said, patting the spot next to her; Mark knowingly chose the chair across the table, leaving no choice for Gabriela but to squeeze into the booth next to her.

  Jason looked up. “Hey, Mark. What’s happening? Oh, I see you brought your lady with you tonight. Hey, Lou, this is my brother, Mark.”

  Reed gave an acknowledging nod.

  “And this is the great Leonard Cohen. I’m sure you know his work.”

  “Yes, of course,” responded Mark. “This is my friend Gabriela. She also writes.”

  “Oh, you do?” responded Cohen. “What are you into?”

  Angela approached the table. “Anyone want more drinks?” she asked.

  “I’ll take a martini,” said Gabriela. “How about you, Mark?” Not waiting for him to answer, she said, “Bring him a martini, too.”

  “No, bring him a Bourbon and Coke,” said Jason. “You are going to drink with me tonight, Mark.”

  “Okay, yes, I’ll take that.” Everyone else waved that they were good. Angela, smiling, darted off.

  Turning to Cohen, Gabriela answered, “Well, mostly academic stuff, literary criticism, historical biographies… I teach at Columbia.”

  “A critic!” said Lou Reed, holding his finger in front of himself in the shape of a crucifix. “We have to put up our protection spells!”

  “No,” said Gabriela, laughing. “You would have to be long dead for me to write about you.”

  “Well, some say I’m trying to
get there.” He chuckled.

  “I like to read historical literature,” interjected Cohen. “I once paid off a guard and got access to some of the hidden manuscripts in the Vatican vaults. You know, some of them are full of sexy stuff…”

  Helena interjected, “You’re joking, right?”

  Reed followed. “You’re bullshitting us!”

  “No, no. I’m not. It’s true, those monks back when really knew how to have a good time.” He laughed.

  Reed looked at Cohen. “Well, I intend to have a grand old time tonight.”

  “Well, maybe I will use that stuff in my writing one day. You never know. You have to work with what you find. And it’s a lesson that you better be careful about what you write, because it may one day bite you in the ass.”

  Just then, Helena passed the mirror with the lines of coke over to Gabriela and handed her a rolled-up dollar.

  “Would you like some?” she asked with a teasing smile.

  “Oh… What is it?”

  “Well,” she responded, “on this side is some of the best coke you ever had in your life. And these other four lines are smack. Don’t take more than one of those, or you’ll be on the floor.”

  Gabriela took the mirror and placed it on the table before her. With a rolled dollar bill, she drew in a line of coke and immediately pulled her head back. “Whoa!” she said.

  Helena smiled. “Nice, right?”

  “Yes, yes. Really nice. Wow!”

  “Try a little of the other stuff if you dare,” she said with an evil grin.

  “Should I?” Gabriela responded. “Well, maybe just a little…”