Stones: Theory (Stones #4)

by Jacob Whaler

  “Release me!”

  Ryzaard smiles. “When you have received the gift I have brought.”

  “We know the gift.” The voices move up and down in sing-song fashion. “We know its purpose.”

  Ryzaard squeezes his fingers tighter. A wheezing sound comes from Miyazawa’s mouth. His lips turn purple.

  In one smooth motion, Ryzaard swings his left hand, opening the palm just before making contact with the flesh behind Miyazawa’s head. A faint hissing rises up as the blue jewel bonds with the skin and becomes one with it. Releasing his grip on the priest’s throat, Ryzaard lets him drop to the floor, a haphazard pile of arms and legs.

  Miyazawa’s screams fill the soundproof compartment. The voices now come from outside his body.

  Give us the power.

  “Behold the power.” With both hands, Ryzaard rips open his shirt to reveal row upon row of Stones arranged neatly above the rippled muscles of his chest and abs. “I am the power.”

  Miyazawa’s body goes still. Staring with wide eyes, he speaks with his own voice, a single rasp that barely clears the throat and makes it out of his lips. “Give me the power.” Trembling fingers reach forward to touch the Stones.

  Taking Miyazawa’s hands by the wrists, Ryzaard lays them directly on the Stones. “You will have the power by being one with me.” He lets Miyazawa’s fingertips slide greedily over the Stones.

  A giddy laugh tears through Miyazawa’s vocal cords. “We need the power.” Each of his hands grasps a Stone and begins to pull.

  After a few seconds, Ryzaard takes a long inhale. The black Stones glow deep purple. A thin membrane of the same color materializes around him.

  It shocks Miyazawa, pushing him back. The implant behind his ear goes from dark blue to a lighter shade with inlaid veins of gold.

  “Now that the world has been gathered into Shinto, we will offer this gift to all, that they all may be one in us.” Ryzaard opens the palm of his hand to reveal a dozen of the implants. “They will be delivered to each shrine across the world. Place them behind the ear. See that they are distributed to all, without money and without price.”

  Miyazawa stands on his feet. “We will.” His fingers calmly reach up and touch the object behind his ear. “That all may be one in us. That we may have the power.”

  “Yes,” Ryzaard says. “That you may have the power.”

  CHAPTER 71

  “Tell me,” Jessica says. “When will we be able to go back?”

  Matt opens his eyes and looks up from his lotus position on the floor near one wall of the mud hut. “The real question is, what is Ryzaard doing now?” He reaches out to a plate in front of him and picks up a bright red fruit in the shape of a donut.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Alexa stares out a window as the sun drops below the horizon on the other side of the valley. The sky is violet just above a jagged ridge of dark mountains. “He’s implementing the final phase of his plan. Complete subjugation of the human race. He wants it all to be wrapped up in a nice neat bow before you come back and mess it up.”

  “Yes,” Matt says. “But how exactly does he plan to accomplish that?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Jessica says. “The longer we wait here, the more solid his grip on power becomes. The sooner we make a move, the better.”

  Alexa rolls her eyes at the ceiling. “Thanks for restating the obvious.”

  Yarah comes running into the room from outside bringing another girl her age. They jabber and laugh at each other in the native language of the Chimpotee.

  “That’s why we need to be careful.” Matt looks over at the two girls. “The minute we jump back to Earth, Ryzaard will know exactly where we are. He’ll pursue us without mercy. We need to jump to Earth, hide our Stones, get to a remote location and go into hiding.”

  Jessica plunges her teeth into a blue fruit. “I have a few ideas.”

  CHAPTER 72

  Ryzaard walks with his arms behind his back down an aisle between two long rows of black boxes stacked on chrome aluminum racks. His eyes cross from right to left as he inspects the implant fabrication plant.

  “The need for a constant supply of seawater makes it necessary to locate the factories close to the ocean.” Jerek walks alongside Ryzaard and runs his fingers across the surface of one of the black boxes. “They consume a surprising volume of liquid. After a month and a half of research, I still haven’t been able to pin down the exact mechanism. I can’t find any moving parts in any of the components. All I know is that the production process works like a charm.” He reaches down and picks up a warm golden sphere from an opening in the bottom of the nearest box before it is grabbed and whisked away by a robotic arm. “Whoever designed this was in possession of technology far superior to anything we can dream of.” Jerek quickly reaches for another golden sphere and walks away from the robotic arm.

  “Yes,” Ryzaard says. “In many ways she was an amazing woman. Where do you have the silver cube that produces the black boxes?”

  “We call that the Alpha Unit. It’s in a secure bunker a hundred meters below the foundation of this building. With a constant supply of seawater, it produces one of these black box beta units per hour.”

  Ryzaard takes the sphere out of Jerek’s hand and admires its perfect symmetry. “Like the goose that lays the golden eggs.” He hands it back to Jerek. “Where are you housing the spheres for the actual implant fabrication?”

  Jerek points across the floor and out the window. “We’ve taken over the entire building next door for that purpose, all 175 floors. There is a similar pump system to supply them with seawater.”

  “And what is the production rate?” Ryzaard raises his hand to his mouth and takes a deep drag on a black Djarum. As he slowly exhales, the pale blue smoke pours out of both nostrils.

  Jerek pulls a clear slate out of his pocket. “At current levels, we can produce just under a million implant units per day. That will ramp up quickly as more beta units come on line.” He turns around, admiring the rows of black boxes. “But keep in mind this is only our first plant. The beauty of the production process is that productivity increases geometrically over time. Ten identical production facilities are currently under construction in remote coastal areas. We can replicate them at will.”

  “When will we have enough implants for every human being on the planet?”

  “Twenty billion? That’s easy.” Jerek’s fingers dance over the slate. “Thirty days from now.”

  Ryzaard nods. “Let’s have a look at the production facilities across the street.” His fingers reach out and wrap loosely around Jerek’s wrist.

  Jerek knows from past experience to shut his eyes as the air turns to light. When he opens them, they stand in the middle of a wide floor. Row upon row of golden spheres, each roughly the size of a basketball, are neatly arranged on chrome silver racks twenty feet high.

  “Where’s the tubing to carry the seawater.” Ryzaard walks to the nearest rack and peers at his own distorted reflection in its mirrored surface.

  “You’re looking at it.” Jerek touches the silver metallic rack. “Water flows right through it and is injected into the sphere at the contact points.” He picks a sphere up. Drops of clear liquid bead up on its surface near the top. “Finished implants are automatically ejected out the bottom back into the rack interior and carried away by the flow of water.” Jerek drops the sphere back into place. “That was my only contribution to the process.”

  “Ingenious,” Ryzaard says. “Where do the finished implants come out?”

  “You want to see the packaging process?” The crisp click of Jerek’s boots plays off the black-matte floor. “Follow me.” He turns and walks down an aisle between the racks. As he walks, he twists his neck around to look at Ryzaard. “I think you’ll like this.”

  The blue implant behind Jerek’s right ear catches Ryzaard’s eye.

  CHAPTER 73

  “Everyone ready?” Matt looks around him. Jessica stands on his right. Alexa is on
the left.

  Jessica pumps her large-size pulse rifle and points the barrel up at the sky. “Let’s go.” The index finger of her right hand rests gingerly on a shiny black trigger.

  “Now or never.” Alexa points her rifle sights at the ground and stares out at the multitude of Chimpotee people standing around them, a sea of brown faces and deep green eyes.

  “How about you, little princess?” Matt’s hand reaches out and ruffles the top of Yarah’s head.

  “They don’t want us to leave.” Yarah’s eyes drop to the Stone glowing orange in her hands. A stream of tears streaks her face. She slips the fingers of her other hand from the grip of a Chimpotee girl her same age and stares into her eyes.

  The girl stares back at Yarah and slowly backs up until she rests against an old woman with braids of gray hair hanging down past her shoulders.

  “Thank them for all they’ve given us,” Matt says.

  Yarah wipes her eyes and looks up. Her lips tremble with emotion as she speaks the language of the Chimpotee.

  The old woman puts her arms around the child in front and pulls her close. Glistening rivers of moisture trail down from her eyes. She stares ahead at Matt.

  Matt bows deeply in her direction. “Please tell Saatuk that I will never forget the kindness she showed us.”

  As Yarah translates, Saatuk drops to her knees and cups her hands in front of her. As if that were a signal, the entire crowd goes to the ground. Words tumble from the Saatuk’s lips.

  “She calls us the Gods-With-Stones and begs us to watch over her people. She says that we will always be in their hearts and asks permission to worship us.” Yarah looks up at Matt.

  He takes a step forward. “Tell her that we are not gods and not worthy of worship. We are her brothers and sisters. We go to our home planet to battle another Stone Holder who is consumed with hunger for power. If we are successful, her and her people will be safe from harm. If not . . .” Matt looks at Jessica and Alexa. “We will not survive.”

  Yarah speaks the words. As she finishes, the crowd breaks into wailing and moaning that turns to chanting.

  “What are they saying?” Jessica says.

  “They call us the Gods-With-Stones-Who-Die-For-Love. They will not worship us with shrines built of rocks and mud, but they will build shrines in their hearts where they will hold our memory sacred throughout their generations.”

  “You do realize,” Alexa says. “This is how new religions get started. It would be interesting to come back in a thousand years to see where this goes.”

  Matt nods. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the time.” He places a hand on Yarah’s shoulder. “Tell them to live in peace.”

  Yarah speaks to the crowd. They seem to repeat her words over and over until it becomes another chant.

  “Here we go,” Matt says. “Be ready for anything.” He grips his Stone in one hand and the cloaking box in the other. Its lid is shut tight.

  “Do you really think Ryzaard will be able to find us out in the middle of Wyoming?” Jessica says.

  “We’ll see,” Matt says.

  The last thing he sees are the wide eyes of Saatuk as the air around them turns to fire.

  Two seconds later, silence envelopes them as they stand on the side of a shallow slope. The air is dry and chill. It’s either dusk or dawn. From the color of the sky, the sun is hiding just below the horizon. Nothing but sagebrush fills the open gap between them and a ridge of mountains twenty miles away. A lone hawk circles slowly above them.

  Matt works his fingernail under the lid of the cloaking box and flips it open. The glow of his Stone and Yarah’s fades to black. He looks around, still holding his breath in vague anticipation of impending doom.

  Alexa moves her head from side to side. “Looks like we picked the right spot. Maybe Ryzaard doesn’t have anything he can throw at us right here.”

  “Maybe,” Matt says.

  Jessica stares at the jagged-tooth mountain range. “My father took me hunting there when I was only twelve.”

  A small orange dot suddenly appears in the sky just over one of the snow-capped peaks.

  “I can still remember—”

  Matt twists to the ground and pulls Jessica with him. Just before they hit the dirt, his finger finds the open lid. As their backs make contact with the hardpan, he snaps it shut.

  Churning walls of fire rush to them from all sides, converging and covering the sky. Sagebrush vaporizes, and the ground melts and falls away, leaving only a small island on which they hug the dirt.

  A thin film of green energy floats just above their heads and around their bodies.

  “Running out of oxygen!” Alexa says.

  Yarah wheezes as she struggles to breathe.

  Matt stares up at the boiling mushroom cloud rising directly above them. “Nuclear detonation.” The air is a maelstrom of dirt and rocks sucked up into the sky. A high-pitched, ear-splitting noise whines like a scared cat.

  Matt tries to remember the location of the mountain range on the horizon. Struggling to get a last mouthful of air, his chest is empty and hollow. He closes his eyes and gropes for Jessica and Yarah.

  By prior agreement, Yarah grabs Alexa. They all know what is coming next.

  In a flash of white light, the cloud of dirt and rocks vanishes, replaced by blue sky and the lonesome chirp of a bluebird. A light wind blows cold air into their faces. Last year’s snow still covers the ground.

  Far below them, a single mushroom cloud rises from the valley floor. Its trunk extends upward, a brown column of dirt moving to the sky. At the top of the column, a boiling mass of pristine white gas expands out in a nearly perfect sphere.

  Matt opens the lid of the cloaking box, killing the Stones. In the silence, the roar of the nuclear detonation still rings in their ears and mixes with the song of the bluebird.

  “Shockwave!” Alexa says.

  From nowhere, a blast of hot air hits them like a wall, displacing the cool mountain breeze. As they scramble to their feet, the hard crust of the snow melts away beneath them.

  Matt pulls Jessica further up the slope. “Everyone run. Uphill. Now!”

  Alexa grabs Yarah and sprints away. Matt digs his shoes into the slushy snow and struggles to find footing.

  From somewhere directly above them, shards of light explode down out of the evening sky and land only a few meters away. Rocks shatter and shower them with sharp fragments. Blood runs down one of Jessica’s arms.

  “Sat-lasers.” Alexa pulls Yarah and runs to a large pine that grows out of the rocks just above them near the summit. “Get under the trees so they don’t have a visual.”

  Matt finds an open patch of dirt and sprints with Jessica in tow to the nearest brown trunk with outstretched branches. Hands clasped, they press their backs against the rough bark.

  Streaks of neon light shoot down around them, splitting wood and throwing up dirt and rocks. Big trees start to catch fire and turn into giant torches. The stench of burnt ozone and atomized carbon stings their nostrils.

  “We can’t stay here long.” Alexa yells across a stretch of snow to Matt. “They’ll keep firing until every tree and rock is vaporized. Just a matter of time.”

  “I’ve been on this mountain before.” A look of recognition floods into Jessica’s eyes. “There’s a shallow cave on the other side just below the summit.”

  Matt casts his eyes upslope. The summit is only ten yards away. “Everyone make a break for the top and drop down the other side. Follow Jessica. I’ll distract them.” He points uphill and makes sure Alexa and Yarah understand. Then he turns to Jessica. “Go with them. I’ll meet you in two minutes.”

  Her grip tightens around his fingers. “No—”

  Before she can finish her sentence, Matt slips off his backpack, lets go of her hand and shoots out from under the tree, running downhill in the open on the snow. As he starts to slide on the soles of his shoes, he finds a familiar rhythm.

  Jump to the right. Slide. Jump to the left.
Slide.

  Just like skiing.

  Lines of fire explode with hot air on either side and behind him. Following his instincts, he takes a random path and hopes the sat-lasers won’t get lucky. After a hundred meters of turns, he spies a large boulder with an overhang, rams his heels into the snow for a sudden stop and ducks in under it. A quick glance back up the summit tells him what he wants to know.

  Jessica and the others are just crossing the top and dropping down the other side.

  A laser shot slams into the boulder above him, breaking off a large chunk. Matt watches it separate and roll away down the slope.

  Then there’s silence. No more lasers. The bluebirds begin singing again. As he listens intently for any signs of attack, a sickening sound starts up in the east, dropping down from the summit of the mountain.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  Attack ships. He can’t tell how many, but the sound is growing louder. Faster than he ever remembers. There isn’t time to run straight up to the summit and down the other side. He probably wouldn’t make it anyway.

  Only one option.

  Matt pulls the cloaking box from his pocket and snaps the lid shut. In an instant, the air burns white, and he stands at the top of the mountain looking down the other side at a brown slope strewn with rocks and cliffs. Jessica, Yarah and Alexa are nowhere in sight. The silhouettes of a swarm of attack ships hang in the evening sky. As he watches, their outlines grow visibly larger. At this rate, the ships will be on top of them in a few seconds.

  A green bubble jumps around him nanoseconds before a white streak of pure energy tries to slam into the top of his head from directly above. Sparks of light burst from the flying black shapes. The air screams as pulse fire rakes the ridge.

  The ships are already firing.

  Fire rains on him from the sat-lasers. Impact craters work their way on a diagonal down the slope, shattering boulders the size of buses, as if sniffing for Jessica and the others.