Toshi nods his head. “Perhaps, though I am not sure quite what to make of it.” He looks around to see if there is any disagreement. “Elder Traemuña, do you have anything to share on this matter?”
“I think you are generally heading in the right direction. Beltare, I think you judge Zaleria a bit harshly. Yes, I do know more than I am telling you and more than I will share with Zaleria. It is far less relevant than you suspect. Sklávoi Ashtoreth is the target, not a dead man. They are the threat to humanity, and I know the actions of Zaleria's unitary on Earth did not enable their cause. So I feel it is best to let her figure that part out. It pains her that she doesn't know, and it will pain her more if she does know, so you should respect my choice to let her figure it out. These things happen from time to time, and from such we grow and mature.”
Toshi seems lost in thought, while Jevelle and Fandtha wait on him to make a decision. Beltare is watching Traemuña closely, mixed emotions on her face.
Finally, Toshi seems to make up his mind. “I think Zaleria is right about at least one thing. A galan or galanen are opposing our efforts on Earth. Who and why is unknown. It is imperative we learn these facts and nullify their efforts. I will make additional archival records available for your research. They are not to be shared with anyone outside this group. Also, all results are to be shared with all within this group, no matter how private.” He looks first at Zaleria and then at Traemuña as he shares this. “There is too much at stake for such nonsense. Jevelle, you will head to Luna with Beltare to take ownership of local operations. Fandtha, you and I will help support both efforts. I will remain here, you on Luna. We may need your expertise to overcome hostile intent. Humanity is our genetic twin—they are galanen. If we fail them, it is as if we are failing as a race. We cannot allow that to happen.”
He faces Beltare. “I know you will feel this is a demotion, a demonstrated lack of faith in your abilities. You would be wrong. You have the most expertise on the humans; you can best serve them by devoting your full attention to finding our common enemy. Jevelle will attend to daily operations and offer you advice and insights. Do not let your emotions cloud the issue.”
Beltare nods curtly and turns toward Jevelle. “I look forward to the opportunity to learn from your expertise.”
Jevelle smiles. “And I look forward to teaching you. Traemuña has often said you were one of her brightest pupils. Where do you suggest we start looking?”
Beltare looks over at Zaleria. “Outcasts were mentioned. It might be worth tracking them down, to see if any have been to Earth. We may also need to look at who has been to Earth, officially or otherwise, who is now unaccounted for, or who had an odd experience.”
“A logical suggestion.”
Beltare nods. “I agree, it was Zaleria's plan, the reason she reached out to me in the first place.”
Zaleria looks down and away from Beltare's face. “That was not my only reason. I recognize I have been selfish; it is time I ceased being self-centered.”
Beltare nods, still hurt, and angry. She turns to Toshi. “Elder, is there anything more we should discuss here? I am anxious to get back to Earth.”
“Only this. We must be discreet. We do not know who outside this group we can trust. I am making available a private channel to be used only among us and only for matters pertaining to this investigation. Use the following phrase to access it: 'Urthru's heirs must survive.'”
Traemuña looks at him, nose wrinkled. “That's the best you could come up with?”
Toshi grins. “I've never had your flair for prose, Elder. But I think it gets the point across.”
∞∞∞
Achi is back in Turkey, in the wasteland. This time he has followed the procession from a safe distance, anticipating the point where the route doubles back on itself. After about half an hour of tracking them, he finds they have halted. After creeping into view around a small ridge, he sees that they have stopped just inside the mouth of a wadi that over the eons has cut a sharp defile through the sandstone. A natural choke point, easy to defend. He sees the sedan chair being placed on the ground. The woman exits, stretches, and looks around.
He can tell she is abnormally beautiful, even from a distance. Raven hair, glowing honey like complexion. She turns and looks in his general direction, and he can again see her eyes—an abnormal cyan. Her face, it looks so much like Zaleria, it could be her. But not quite.
He looks closer. She appears taller, with a slightly fuller figure. And entirely evil. He can feel it radiate from her being. She looks at everything and everyone around her; it is all hers. Her home, her place, her slaves, her world. And humanity? It is her plaything. She does what she pleases, with whomever she pleases. And those who displease, she takes immense pleasure in eliminating them in slow, creatively cruel ways. Fallen, she is completely fallen. He just knows it; he can't explain why. Her eyes scan the horizon one last time, then she turns to go…home. Her priests follow.
Achi awakes with a slight start on the couch. He thinks about the dream, and what it might mean. It feels significant, though he can't explain why. It makes no logical sense how he could dream about someone he's never met, or about a place he's never been, but he strongly suspects both the person and the place are somehow real. How? Why? He does not know. He checks the time; it is 5:30 in the morning. He should get up and start making breakfast. He isn't going to get any more sleep. He starts to plan how to solicit information out of Cheryn, feeling guilty again for the violent turn of events. He needs to stop underestimating Sklávoi Ashtoreth's willingness to use excessive violence.
He gets up and goes into the kitchen, placing his used highball glass next to the sink. He pulls out some sausage links and a small cast iron frying pan. He drops in a little ghee and heats it up, waiting for it to get to temperature before dropping in the links. As they start sizzling happily, he pulls out a couple eggs, some shredded cheese, and a bag with chopped onions and peppers. Makings for a nice western omelet.
After he finishes cooking, he sits down with a laptop and starts perusing his favorite news sites while he slowly eats. He sighs. The world is rapidly spinning out of control. Societal upheaval is nearly universal. It is almost like the civilized societies have lost their will to live. Age-old moral codes have crumbled faster than he would have ever expected just half a human life-time ago. Violent crime is up, suicides are up, abortion is up, child bearing is down, marriage is nearly non-existent in some communities. These trends are perplexing and disheartening. For someone who has spent countless millennia just trying to keep his various families together as long as he could, losing so many loved ones to disease, accidents, and war, he can't understand how people who have never known such hardship just throw it all away. He shakes his head. It would be criminal to continue advancing humanity towards the singularity if things don't change. If they can't turn things around, and soon, it might be better to enter a new dark age just to reset the clock and give humanity more time to evolve morally. That might have to be considered as an absolute fallback plan. What would it take?
He stops himself and sighs. He's seen it all before. Rome fell, and it took over a millennium before mankind again reached that level of technological advancement. And nothing changed. If he can't eliminate Sklávoi Ashtoreth and their malign influence, more time won't change anything.
He makes some strong coffee and goes back to the main room to sit on the couch. He closes his eyes and tries to relax. He wonders, not for the first time, how Zaleria is doing and whether he'll be able to see her again. He also wishes Zaleria had focused more on galanen history, as her memories have almost no specific details about how her people actually orchestrated their transition. It would be really, really useful to know that. Knowing that it can be done is much different than bringing it about.
He also wonders if he should reach out to the galanen and let them know all that he’s discovered. He’s not sure the time is right, because he feels he will need to have something decisively acti
onable. It is far too great a risk to expose himself unless there is a high likelihood they will be empowered to end the threat to humanity. He knows if he contacts them, he may have to accept they will strive to remove him from Earth. Perhaps he can learn more. But if he feels that he’s run into a dead end, he may have to risk it. But not now—he still has leads to follow. He finishes his coffee and decides vigorous exercise is in order, to help clear his thoughts.
He works out quietly, doing stretches and strength training, followed by some martial arts forms. He only moves at half speed, concentrating on form and flow. It is mostly to relax. While he is doing this, he again thinks about Cheryn. He wonders if she will be willing to train with him, now that she is feeling better. It would help her survive and perhaps help her regain some confidence. He also thinks about how much she has changed since he first met her. She has gone through a fairly remarkable transformation, but she has a long way to go. She doesn't trust anyone and seems unable to form bonds, even though she is apparently willing to become physically intimate—it is without attachment, selfish. That has got to be lonely. Very much like Clive when he first met him, but she is much older than he was then and far more jaded. Is she still able to change? He'll have to see; there is much he can work with, when the time is right.
He finishes and decides to take a shower. Probably best to not start the day with her by being sweaty and reeking of onions and cheese. He cleans up, brushes his teeth, and changes into fresh clothes. It is now after 9:00, and Cheryn still hasn't gotten out of bed. He peeks in her room; she is still asleep. He shakes his head. She isn't apparently worried too much about whatever threat he might pose to her. After about another 20 minutes, he begins to hear her stirring. She comes out of the room looking a bit sheepish, yawning.
“Is it really almost ten?” she asks.
Nils smiles and nods. “Did you sleep well?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so.” She smiles. “Be back in a moment,” she says as she heads to the bathroom. “Nature calls.”
“What would you like for brunch? I make a mean omelet.” He calls out to her.
“Sure, I'll eat whatever you're willing to fix, if your offering. I'm still pretty hungry from those things…fixing me up.”
“Tell you what, why don't you grab some fresh clothes and a shower, and I'll make sure there's food waiting when you get out? You prefer coffee or tea?”
“Coffee,” she says as she heads back to the bedroom to get some clothes. “Thanks.”
After she's cleaned up, fed, and they've both had a chance to sit down with some additional cups of coffee, she finally looks over at him. “I appreciate what you've done. I spent a lot of time thinking about things last night, probably why I slept in so late. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to tell you what you want to know. I can tell you about my experiences with SA; I'm just not sure I know enough about their inner workings. I don't know what you're looking for.”
Nils nods his head. “I'm not sure I know what I'm looking for either. Let's just start with what you know. How'd you become part of Sklávoi Ashtoreth?”
“I was kind of raised in it. I grew up in a commune outside Philadelphia. I never knew who my parents were. Kids were treated as communal property. There weren't any families. People just lived together, slept where they felt like, with whomever they felt like. I don't even know if my mother or father lived there or moved on at some point. People moved in and out, but the kids, we stayed. But there was structure. There were a few men and a couple women who were always there. They seemed to run the place, but I don't know why they were the leaders. They always seemed to have money, brought the food and other supplies, and the drugs. And they were the ones who taught the others. They would hold seminars, militant stuff. Marxism, communism, you name it. In hindsight, I think it was really targeted at the kids. As we grew older, fed on a diet of that crap, we became true believers. When I was a teenager, they sent me to a training camp somewhere in South America. I learned how to fight, how to kill, how to improvise weapons, explosives, you name it. I was good at what I did. Then they sent me to school in Berlin, where I gained knowledge and more indoctrination. History, as only communists can teach it. I hated the west, capitalism, big businesses, the works. I blamed them for everything wrong in the world. I was used. It took dying to figure that out…” She grows quiet for a few minutes.
“I can see now how they shaped me, molded me, and when no longer useful, disposed of me. But you already know this, don't you?”
Nils smiles grimly at her. “We ran your background. Clive is very good at what he does. Yes, he was able to ferret out much of what you just told me. We also had access to your medical records, finger prints. We left few stones unturned.”
She stares at him. “That was a lot of effort for one foot soldier.”
“But you weren't just a foot soldier, were you?” Nils asks matter-of-factly. “Rolle had run across many of their foot soldiers; they were mercenaries, guns for hire, rented muscle. You, however, were a true believer. They'd invested in you. That meant we should likewise invest in you.”
“You're scaring me again.”
“I know” Nils replies. “But that doesn't change the fact that I'm right.”
She nods. “Perhaps so, though I never really felt like more than a foot soldier. But I knew enough to know that I had a future with them. I could rise through the ranks, so to speak. I started small, working through people just a step above me. Doing odd jobs. Progressing. I went from participating in demonstrations, to doing property damage to leading marches, and planning mayhem. Then I got into the serious stuff. Hurting people, killing. I was good at it. I could get in, get it done, and get away with it. Most of the time. I got caught a couple times, but SA would spring me. Once by bribing a judge, once by killing the only witness.”
“How is SA organized?” Nils asks.
“In cells, as you'd expect. Most folks that participate are amateurs. But each cell has a couple people who've been trained. And the cell leaders are the next rung up the leadership ladder. Cell leaders are organized by a regional network, usually no more than a handful of people who coordinate operations within a geographic region. Above them are sector leaders, who actually interface with the higheries.”
“The what?” Nils asked.
“The higheries. I'm not sure how it’s spelled, but that is how I remember them being called. I always assumed it was some form of the word ‘highers,’ like ‘higher ups.’ Some people called them the priestesses, but I'm not sure why. I never met any of them and have no idea if they were male or female.”
“Hmmmm. That is…interesting. Are you aware of what the name Sklávoi Ashtoreth means?” Nils asks her.
“Yeah, its Greek for Slaves to Ashtoreth. As I learned more about the organization, they said they communed with a celestial being. I always thought it was a bunch of crap. Stuff they tell people who get turned on by being part of a cult.”
Nils nods his head. “Yeah, it might seem that way. How would you describe Zaleria? She is over 10,000 years old and is considered young by her race's standards. Many are older than mankind.”
“I hadn't really thought about that. She seemed human to me when I looked at her. A bit tall, perhaps a little exotic, that's all I recall. Why?”
“Higheries sounds a lot like the Greek word for priestesses—iéreies. That's all,” Nils says.
“Are you ever going to tell me how you know all this stuff?”
Nils shakes his head. “I've studied a lot. When your enemy is named after a Greek goddess, perhaps it is wise to learn a bit about Greek mythology.”
Cheryn smiles. “I'm sure all that is true, but I think it is also a line of bullshit. You don't trust me enough to tell me the truth. Yeah, I know, you aren't lying to me, but you're not really answering my question. I'm not stupid, you know.”
“I would never accuse you of that. Nor would I say you lack perception. Please continue.”
She sighs, realizing that is all she is go
ing to get out of him for now. “That's about all I know about the structure. The higheries were the beginning of the inner circle that leads the organization, but I never learned more than that. I also know there were others that worked with investors. I was never part of that group. I think they kept the radicals like me away from them.”
Nils looks at her closely, but he doesn't think she is hiding anything from him. It makes sense. She'd risen only a certain level in the organization, but she has revealed some interesting details. “Tell me about their philosophy.”
“Well, I pretty much summed it up before. This 'Celestial Being' said that we should resist those that use others by taking more than their fair share, or that steal other people’s labors, or keep other people down so they can live better lives. The people I know in the organization definitely seemed to believe in this. In fact, you couldn't rise up unless you'd pretty much proven you were committed and willing to do anything to advance the cause. I never met any Celestial Being, but I sure believed that the rich enslaved the poor. To some extent I still do. People advance by stepping on those beneath them, don't they?”
“Some do. Many others do it by working very hard and developing things people want, building a culture and society along the way. There is good and bad in almost everyone,” Nils declares.
“Yeah, but not you, right? You're nothing but sweetness and light, aren't you?” Cheryn states, a bit exasperated.
“I would never tell you that,” Nils says quietly, but harshly. “I have done many things that will haunt me to the end of days.”
“I don't believe you.”
Nils sighs. “How's your leg?”
“It's fine, why?”
“You've made an enemy of Sklávoi Ashtoreth. You need to learn how to defend yourself, properly. Those two buffoons in the ally shouldn't have been able to take you down so easily. You need to practice. You've given me what I asked for, so the least I can do is help you better defend yourself.”
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