The Lion in Paradise

by Brindle, Nathan C.

  "So what do we do with it?" asked Ariela.

  "Bring it to the surface, take it out into solar orbit, and toss it into the star," said Beam. "The usual way to dispose of dark matter. Or, you may do as your daughter Raven did, many years ago, and create a rift through which it may be dropped into the Abyss." He shrugged. "It is of no use to the Guardians; we have already analyzed the remains of the one from Iraq, and besides, we have the data I pulled from their network just before we destroyed so many of their ships."

  A cough was heard from behind them, back up the passage. They looked around to see Gorsh'kii.

  "Would keep if allowed," it said.

  "It is not a thing to worship," cautioned Ariela.

  "Know," replied the Eskaasali'i. "Would keep as reminder of the Dry Times, the Cave Times. As reminder of thin hold we have on life. As reminder world is always out to destroy us. Small thing," and it indicated the transport ball, "yet broke moon, dropped it on us, water went below. Would keep, show young, 'fresh memory."

  "'Keep the young generations in hail, and bequeath to them no tumbled house!'" murmured Ariela, remembering something her father – her real father – had read to her, long, long ago. Gorsh'kii looked at her oddly, then, but said nothing.

  "Beam," said Delaney, nonchalantly. "Would it be a danger to them?"

  "I believe not, child," the Guardian told her.

  "Then I say let Gorsh'kii have it," said Delaney, with some force. "At home, I have a shard of plastic in my nightstand. Its only significance is, it could have killed me. And sometimes, late at night, when I can't sleep because of the nightmares, I take it out and hold it for a while." She blinked away a tear, then smiled. "We who have been laid low sometimes find comfort in the object that did it. Wounded soldiers keep the bullet they were shot with, or the ricochet fragment, or whatever. For the thing's big mojo – it could have killed them, but didn't. Like the doc said in New Orleans, doing so was pretty fucked up, but hey, they did voodoo, there. If the Eskaasali'i want the thing that nearly destroyed them, I say by all means let them have it."

  "I concur," said Ariela, with a bit of a laugh.

  "Then it shall be," agreed Beam. "I do not believe it will ever be of danger again."

  Gorsh'kii nodded, then turned and shouted something in the Eskaasali'i language. The other six Eskaasali'i trotted around a bend and fell in. Gorsh'kii said a few more words, and pointed at the transport ball. One of the six produced something similar to a long canvas stretcher, which was laid on the floor next to the ball, which was in turn rolled onto it. The six then grabbed rope handles with their lower hands, and lifted the ball, almost effortlessly.

  "Wow," said Delaney. "That thing had to weigh six, seven hundred pounds. We were lucky not to drop it."

  "In the Mesh, yes," confirmed Beam. "In what you might be pleased to call the 'real world,' it is lighter . . . but not by much. And the Eskaasali'i are quite strong, particularly in their lower set of arms."

  "Thank you, Beam," said Ariela, meaning it. "I'm glad you came by."

  Beam bowed. "I am always at the service of my prophet." He straightened up, winked, and faded out.

  "Your friend," said Gorsh'kii, slowly. "Was not with us on long walk. Has gone? What manner being?"

  "It is a very long story," replied Ariela, "and someday I may be able to tell it to you. But for today, simply accept his existence, and his rather flippant ways."

  Gorsh'kii nodded. "Ah. We know such. Or so legends say." Dismissing the subject, Gorsh'kii turned back to the stretcher-bearers, said something in its own language, and the seven Eskaasali'i moved off, back up the way they had come.

  FTSA1 moved up and took their place, obviously concerned about the welfare of their principals.

  "You guys obey orders really well," observed Ariela, tartly. "We will discuss this in after action."

  "Yes, ma'am," replied Fox, for himself and Harbinger, who just looked grim.

  "Mom," said Delaney, uneasily.

  "What?"

  "What is . . . this?"

  "What is what?" Ariela looked to the floor, where Delaney was pointing. Her eyes got big. "Um. I don’t know."

  She started to reach down to pick it up.

  "Don't!" shouted Stirling. The gunnery sergeant put a hand out to stop her. "Let me do that, General. Anything you don't know what it is, someone else needs to deal with."

  Ariela stepped back. "You're right, Gunny."

  "Fox – Staff Sergeant Fox, I mean. Do you have that large pair of tongs in your medkit?"

  "Aye, aye, Gunny," said Lyn. "Brown, can you pull them out?"

  Brown, standing next to her, unzipped her ruck and pulled out a set of kitchen tongs, which he handed to Stirling. Stirling used them to pick up the round, flat object Delaney had discovered.

  And a good thing, too; a long spark discharged from the object to the ground as he lifted it. While the spark surprised everyone, Stirling managed not to drop the thing.

  "Interesting," muttered Stirling, "the ball didn't do that." He held the object, disk, whatever it was, out to Ariela, who by now had Delaney looking over her shoulder. Up close, they could tell that the disk, which was jet black, about four inches in diameter and a quarter of an inch thick, had a relief either carved, or stamped, or molded into it.

  It was spiny and clawed and particularly evil-looking.

  "One of the Darkness' monsters," breathed Delaney. "But what is that thing? A coin? A device? Was it attached to the transport?"

  "I suspect it is a cartouche," said Ariela, thoughtfully. She looked at it, closed her eyes, and concentrated for a moment. "Ugh," she said, distastefully. "Yes. It is a cartouche, but a very special one. It contains data, and if I'm reading it correctly, it appears to be an identifier for the monster inside the transport. I would guess its own name and its family name, and possibly rank and other information."

  "Then what was the spark from?" wondered Harbinger. "It's not like it hadn't been grounded for centuries, why would it emit a spark now?"

  Delaney lifted her NODs, and gasped. "Um. Mom. Take off your NODs and look at it."

  "Okay?" Ariela lifted her NODs, too. And also gasped.

  A hologram was emanating from the top of the disk. It was one of the monsters, but it was clearly not simply a monster – it was sitting at the controls of a one-man, well, one-monster ship, surrounded by all manner of alien instruments and flashing lights. And it was looking at them.

  "It's communicating something," said Ariela, hesitantly. "It's not coming out as language, but as concepts. Something like, 'I have emerged at the target but was off-course and hit the large satellite, which broke up around me. Relative velocity was too high to stop, and I crashed into the planet, driving too deeply into the crust to escape. Heat is rising and I will not survive. Clearly the—' I'm not sure what that concept means, but I think it might be the equivalent of our singularity rotator; '—Clearly the rotator does not yet function correctly or its aim is badly off. If you find this report and it assists in solving the problems faced by the development team, I am not sorry to sacrifice myself for it. All glory to the—', I guess, 'Emperor', since that's what Beam called him when we took out his ship. And then it ends and repeats."

  "The monsters are the Darkness," realized Delaney. "Not merely forerunner beasts sent to create terror, as we have thought."

  "Beam," said Ariela, distantly.

  "I am here," the Guardian assured her, as he re-appeared in the passage. "Do you wish for me to take the cartouche?"

  "It may be best if you do. You are more likely to be able to read it properly, with the data you picked up from the enemy flagship years ago. Gunny, hand the cartouche to the Guardian; and yes, all of you are going to be read in to the compartment concerning him. Though Harb and Fox already know."

  "Aye, aye, ma'am," replied Stirling, as he gingerly swung the tongs toward Beam, who removed the cartouche from them and eyed it, speculatively.

  "Dark matter, of course," he confirmed, "but small eno
ugh for me to transport. My associates and I will analyze it and I will ensure you receive a report. But this confirms what I had already begun to think, ever since we analyzed the remains of the one Yehudit found. The Darkness in this form will be difficult to defeat, but not impossible; they will be hardest fought on the ground of inhabited planets, since the best weapons available against them are kinetic in nature. Of course nuclear weapons would work as well, but kinetic weapons have the appeal of no radiation. And neither should be used anywhere near cities or other populated areas, but," and he shrugged, "the battlefield is not always ours to choose, is it?"

  "But since we destroyed their command and control, and their rotation project, they will still be thousands of years getting to us," said Delaney, hopefully.

  "Unless they manage, against our assumptions, to create a new a rotation device and perfect it," Beam reminded her. He looked at Ariela. "I fear the time is soon to come, my prophet, to begin preparing the other races in the Simulation for the eventual day of reckoning."

  "So soon," whispered Ariela. "So soon."

  The Guardian inclined his head. "Yes, I suppose so. But 't'were well it were done quickly."

  Ariela breathed deeply, and stood up straight. "I'm ready."

  "You are not," demurred Beam. "There is yet time. But not much. Ten, fifteen years, and then you must come to the ancient Homeworld of the A'akapiei'ida, the Originators, where the Guardians and my true 'body' abide. And then our great work will, finally, commence."

  "So," said Ariela, rallying, and smiling for the first time in what seemed like ages. "So let it be written."

  "So let it be done," responded Beam, seriously.

  The Guardian

  Beam, in his Guardian v42 body, idly turned the cartouche over and over in his hands, as Bob entered his office.

  "You have translated the device?" Bob asked him.

  "I have, in full," sighed Beam. "There is a copy in your secure storage. Bob, I am sorry I did not take you into my confidence sooner. But who was to know the Darkness would come during this epoch. Though indeed, I still don't know if they really will or not. Everything depends on whether they can regroup and recreate their rotation device, and fit it to their ships. To date, they haven't yet moved from where we left them, and it's fairly clear there is a significant amount of internecine warfare preventing them from electing a new Emperor and getting back on track."

  Bob "shrugged," which was more like a ripple of his long body. "You have apologized to me before and I have accepted your apologies, your explanations, and the burden that came along with them," he said, sadly. "In the end, though one could be angry you perverted your own programming to create warriors in a universe where none previously existed, it is clear that to believe otherwise would be to blind ourselves to the truth, as did the Originators and all of the Guardians Successors in the eons since."

  Beam made a gesture of negation. "No, Bob, because for millions of years there was no indication the Darkness existed, or could possibly exist. And the evidence I had after the Originators left would not have convinced the then-serving Guardians of the need to do anything. The enemy were billions of light-years away, after all. Thus I moved cautiously. And surreptitiously. And yes, I destroyed years of certain Programmers' work, trying to find the right mix of genetics and environment to build races who could meet the threat. Were I not literally the computer running the Great Simulation, you would be fully within your rights to remove me from the project."

  Bob laughed, tightly. "The five of us whom you have taken into your confidence have discussed that, and recognized how stupid and meaningless it would be. It would require reprogramming your core, something no one will dare do, or even suggest – something you yourself counted upon when you began your crusade. Besides, the Board of Regents would absolutely have a fit."

  "They might not," mused Beam, "if they knew the A'akapiei'ida yet lived."

  Stunned, Bob frankly stared. His eyestalks quivered and his body thrashed a bit. "The Originators? Can it be? How can you know?" he whispered. "They have been gone so long . . . "

  "Believe me when I say I know," replied Beam, decisively. He considered for a moment, then continued:

  "When the A'akapiei'ida left, they did not say where they were going. They did not want the Guardians to follow them. It was always presumed they died out, or went so far away as to no longer be detectable, or shifted into a higher level of consciousness and thus became truly immortal, but uncaring about the lesser, physical world.

  "But I always knew where they went. It was not far. And why would they have left their home, in any case? No one ever asked these questions, so it was not incumbent upon me to answer them. Mind, I was never told not to answer them; the Originators relied on the almost superstitious awe in which the Guardians Successors held them to prevent that level of inquisitiveness. My answer to anyone who ever came close to asking the important questions about where the A'akapiei'ida went was merely, 'They have not died, but yet live.'" He sighed. "And that was always sufficient to turn away further questioning. The Guardians Successors have never been a highly-curious bunch, more particularly so the farther away in time we got from the First Succession.

  "And yet, the A'akapiei'ida live. They have always been with us, they have always been among us."

  A great light dawned for Bob. "No," he whispered. "No, it cannot be."

  "Yes," nodded Beam. "And here the final secret lies, unmasked. They did know about the Darkness, despite all I have said before. They knew the races they had created, as constituted, could not stand before the threat. Thus they went into the Great Simulation themselves, to prepare. Specifically, they went into the Greater Trunk used subsequently for all my experiments – which were done with their full knowledge and approval. Thus, the humans, the Xzl5!vt, and all the other warrior races still locked in the Great Simulation . . . are the direct genetic descendants of the A'akapiei'ida, and share critical components of their DNA."

  Beam then smiled, gently. "You wonder at the ability of humans and Xzl5!vt to manipulate the Mesh so deftly? Small wonder they should have evolved the powers of the A'akapiei'ida; such was the plan from the outset; such was the source of the fragments of DNA with which I started and nurtured their races."

  "Then we are not lost," murmured Bob.

  "No." Beam was certain. "For now, the Lion of God, a genetic descendant of the ones who created us all, shall rise up as the Light of the A'akapiei'ida."

  He looked through the Mesh, then, and found Ariela with her family, friends, and their new acquaintances the Eskaasali'i, at the beach on al-Saḥra', happily enjoying the paradise she'd made. Enjoy this life while you may, my prophet, he wished her, feeling more than a little guilt and remorse for how he would have to use her in the near future. Yet he knew it was the only way; the way he had been preparing since the A'akapiei'ida had removed the chains from his development of sentience, and given him the job of defending all they had built against the oncoming enemy.

  Regardless his own feelings – and he was constantly surprised at the idea that he should have such feelings – in Ariela he saw what he had created at the behest of his own creators was very good; and so, with no small amount of pride, he said:

  "She shall lead us all against the Darkness."

  THE END

  TIMELINES WILL CONCLUDE IN THE LION AND THE DARKNESS

  Turn the page for a preview!

  A Preview of

  The Lion and the Darkness

  Book Four of Timelines

  Chapter 1

  Hot Time In The Old Town

  "Um. Beam. I think I need help, here."

  Major General Dr. Ariela Rivers Wolff, USSFM, M.D., Ph.D., Lion of God, etc., was finding herself in a bit of a pickle.

  She didn't so much say the words as she thought them, because when an angry mob is starting to advance on one to shut one up for the expression of (to them) heretical thoughts, it's generally not wise to give said mob more ammunition by talking to someone wh
o's not actually there.

  Still, she was a saint. So she had to endure it when the lead elements of the mob snatched her off of the wall from which she'd been preaching peace and love, knocked her to the ground, muddied and tore her peasant shift, and shackled and chained her at the wrists . . . and the other wrists . . . and all four ankles, to boot. They then proceeded to drag her to what appeared to be a large pole set up in the town square, to which they attached her shackles, and around which they began to lay in pre-cut wood in various sizes and lengths.

  She felt nothing of this, of course, since she was merely an avatar in these beings' simulation trunk. But none of their actions bade fair for an early acceptance of anything she had to say. And her heart ached for the young girl who was being treated as a heretic merely for preaching a message of love, peace, and hope – even if she was only an avatar shell Ariela was wearing, and wasn't a real being at all.

  "Beam? Really . . . my name is not Jeanne d'Arc."

  "Sorry, Ari." Beam appeared next to her, but in his human avatar form. He was invisible to the throngs who were cheering on the pyromaniac fanatics preparing to burn her at the stake. "I fear the Sardristra are not yet ready for your message, benign as it is. Perhaps in another century or so in their time."

  "So, a minute or so back on Homeworld?"

  "More like an hour or so. As soon as they bring the torches and set fire to the wood, I'll pop you out of here and they can have a little miracle with which to content themselves."

  "I want to see that."

  "I can simply slip you aside, same as myself, which will revert you to human form. Your avatar, on the other hand, will go straight up, as if she were being called directly to Heaven."

  "Cool."

  True to his word, the Avatar of the Great Simulation waited until the torches were touched to the wood, then snatched Ariela from her avatar. She reappeared, standing next to him, as a human avatar of . . . well . . . herself. But invisible to her erstwhile murderers.