by M. G. Harris
“You again!” one of them exclaims to Tyler. I pause for a second and then realize that this medic treated Tyler after he was kidnapped in Brazil. He recognizes Tyler, even with the bleached hair.
But not this Tyler. In this Tyler’s reality, Josh never went to Ek Naab, neither did Tyler.
One of the medical team inspects the wound dressings and prepares to whisk Tyler away for surgery. She doesn’t bother to ask me what we’ve been doing risking our lives – again.
Ixchel gives me a hurried kiss goodbye and then goes with Tyler, something that the chief suggests rather forcibly.
Chief Sky Mountain stands by the entire time, patient and unmovable. When Tyler and Ixchel have gone, I turn to him very reluctantly.
“Sir . . . Chief . . . I’ve got good reasons for what I did,” I begin.
“Is that so? Then you’d better come and address the ruling Executive. They’re waiting for you. Some people think it’s time you were stripped of your Bakab status.”
I try to avoid his eyes, but the mayor of Ek Naab won’t let go, holding me in an appraising stare. Can this mean what I think it means? I can’t even speak. After everything I’ve been through trying to do my duty, trying to serve the 2012 plan, they’re just going to throw me aside?
“Who thinks that?” I say, my voice cracking.
“Lizard Paw and Rodolfo Jaguar, your fellow Bakabs. And possibly Lorena, too. She’s had trouble with you in the past, I believe, stealing tranquillizer darts from her labs.”
“And you, Chief, what about you and Montoyo?”
The chief takes a step forward and puts his hand on my shoulder.
“You’re the Bakab Ix, Josh, son of Andres, grandson of Aureliano. Your sixteenth birthday is weeks away. You could be Bakab soon, my boy. But there’s no denying it – you have been and continue to be reckless. Allowing the NRO to capture a Muwan Mark II is, without a doubt, a most serious breach of our security.”
I nod, white in the face, fighting to stay calm. “Right. And Montoyo? What does Carlos say?”
“He supports you, of course. He always does. And who among us knows you better than Montoyo? Montoyo is a man to whom I’d entrust my life.” There’s a lengthy, considered pause. “Which is why, Josh Garcia, you will also have my support. As the mayor, I carry the vote of Blanco Vigores, in his absence.”
“That’s three against three.”
The chief grins. It’s a rare sight. “Ah. But as mayor, the casting vote is mine. . .”
Montoyo backed me up.
I stand motionless, feeling a tingle in my fingers and along my arms, hairs rising at the back of my neck.
Even without knowing what really happened, Montoyo put his reputation with the rest of the ruling Executive on the line. He supported me.
The chief begins to move away. When he sees that I haven’t budged, he halts. “What are you waiting for, Josh? We need to get to the Hall of Bakabs right away!”
“I need a moment,” I mumble, unsteady.
Again, he smiles, this time more gently. The chief sets a broad palm on my shoulders and gives me an affectionate pat.
“Don’t be nervous,” he says. “Montoyo tells us wonderful things about you.”
“Montoyo says good things?” I echo, stunned.
“He’s protected you where possible, Josh. Even more since he became close to your mother. You won’t find a stronger advocate in the city. Montoyo urges the ruling Executive to include you now, to heed your counsel.”
Then I say something that I can hardly believe I’d ever admit. “But I’m . . . I’m still just a kid.”
“You’ve had more experience in your young life than most people will get in a lifetime.”
“Seriously?”
“Josh, I’ve always suspected that your role in the destiny of Ek Naab goes far beyond your being the Bakab Ix. Montoyo has kept us informed of your exploits.”
“He . . . he has?”
Chief Sky Mountain chuckles dryly. “I doubt he’s been comprehensive. Carlos is most definitely one for keeping secrets. But he’s told us enough. About your messages from the time traveller Arcadio. About your own forays into time travel.”
“Ixchel and I . . . we copied out part of the Ix Codex, with Itzamna. . .”
“Exactly. And now you return with your old friend Tyler, from England. Who – unless I’m very much mistaken – has grown into a man since he was last here.”
I can’t remain silent any longer.
“He’s from the future. I . . . I know I wasn’t meant to time travel again, but I did. Something had to be done, you know? So I went to 2014. And Chief . . . I’ve seen how everything turns out.”
A flicker of anxiety crosses the chief’s face. “Montoyo was right; you couldn’t resist the lure of time travel. May I ask how you got hold of the Bracelet of Itzamna?”
“It’s a time-travel device,” I say softly. “There can be more than one at any point in time.”
“It seems we’ve got you back to Ek Naab just in time.” He lifts a single finger. “For now, say nothing of this to the ruling Executive. I can’t guarantee that they’ll accept the voting if you add a further misdemeanour to your record.”
Without another word, the chief turns away. He doesn’t even bother to check that I’m following, but leads me out of the aircraft hangar, past the jump-suited engineers and the stench of hot metal and oil, through the starkly furnished offices of the Sky Guardians and out into the city, opposite the black cenote of Ek Naab. We cross over to the pyramid that houses the Hall of Bakabs and enter through mahogany wood doors.
It’s only the second time I’ve been invited inside. The last time, I was installed as the Bakab of Ix and introduced to the ruling Executive, the guardians of all secrets in Ek Naab. It’s the place where I first learned the awful truth about 2012. The mere memory of that sends a shudder of cold apprehension into my bones. But this is no time to show weakness. I make an effort to walk tall; I catch up to the chief. By the time we enter the dining hall, we’re side by side.
Three other members of the ruling Executive are already there, sitting at one end of the huge table. Lorena, the Chief Scientist, and the two other Bakabs of Cuauc and Muluc, Lizard Paw and Rodolfo Jaguar. When they see us, they stand. The chief nods and they sit. We join them at the table, which is laid with glasses, carafes of juice, water and wine, bowls of soft fruits, guavas, prickly pears, loquats and strawberries.
Everyone is dressed in their work clothes: Lorena in her white lab coat, me in the fresh Muwan Sky Guardian uniform I changed into before getting into the aircraft, the chief and the two Bakabs in variations of the pale-coloured linen clothing that is everyday wear for most people in Ek Naab.
Montoyo, brooding and impassive, breaks off his quiet conversation with Lorena as we enter the hall. It’s plain to see that the meeting has been called in a hurry. From the expressions of the other three members I can tell they’re anxious as well as expectant. Only Montoyo seems impassive.
Five members of the ruling Executive. Blanco Vigores, the fourth of the Bakabs, is missing.
The chief pours himself a glass of water and sips. He stares at each of us in turn.
“The NRO have acknowledged their capture of the Muwan Mark II. They’re well aware of our anxiety for its return. They’ve indicated willingness to hand the aircraft back within twenty-four hours. Their price,” he adds, pursing his lips, “is full cooperation with us with respect to the 2012 plan. Full access to the Ix Codex, the Revival Chambers and to the moon machine.”
The other three don’t react, except to swivel their eyes in my direction.
“OK,” I begin. “It’s my fault they have the aeroplane, I know that. And I’m really sorry! But surely one Muwan Mark II isn’t worth all that?”
Lizard Paw says, dismissively, “If the NRO build a fleet of Muwan Mark IIs, it is simply a matter of time before they could conquer the city.”
“But not before we’ve sorted out the 2012 problem, right?�
�
There’s a collective gasp. “Before or after,” says Lizard Paw, “it’s no trivial matter for the secrets of Ek Naab to fall into foreign hands.” He flashes me a disdainful glance. “If this reckless child hadn’t been allowed to risk so much so often, he might have had the humility to keep out of matters that are beyond him.”
“Yeah – I risk so much so often – usually my own life,” I counter.
Montoyo cuts me off, raising one hand. “Josh’s actions have secured the Ix Codex for the city. He has, as he says, risked his own blood and that of his friends to protect the Ix Codex. And on more than one occasion. Aside from our own Chief Sky Mountain, no one at this table can claim to have more ‘skin in the game’.”
Rodolfo Jaguar says, “The boy’s courage isn’t in question, my friends. His judgement is.”
Lorena gazes at me with kindness in her eyes. “Josh. We know how dedicated you are. How determined. But you are still so young. I fear that we’ve exploited you. Allowed you to assume too much responsibility. I don’t blame you for exceeding boundaries that were not clearly set.”
“Huh. Sounds like you’ve been talking to my mother,” I mutter.
“These are personal opinions that are being expressed here,” says the chief. “But to the collective decision about whether or not to remove Josh Garcia’s status as the Bakab of Ix, his right to be heard now and his right to succeed Carlos Montoyo on his sixteen birthday; my dear friends, please, speak now.”
Montoyo says, “Josh remains as Bakab Ix.”
Lizard Paw folds his arms. “We remove the Bakab status.”
Rodolfo nods. “Remove.”
Lorena reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Remove. To protect you, Josh, before your mother loses a son.”
Chief Sky Mountain clears his throat. “I myself vote for the boy to remain as Bakab. As proxy to the absent Bakab of Kan, Blanco Vigores, I add another vote. Not only the right decision, in my mind, but assuredly how Blanco himself would have voted. We all know of our colleague’s close interest in Josh and his keen approval of the boy’s adventures. Since the voting is tied at three-three, I use my mayoral casting vote in favour of Josh.”
“That’s outrageous,” breathes Lizard Paw, quiet with rage. “The vote is very obviously three-two to us.”
“The regulations that govern our voting have been obeyed,” Montoyo says.
“Now that the young man has the Executive’s ear once more,” says the chief, “may I suggest that we turn our attention to the other matter at hand? Do we accept the NRO’s offer?”
Montoyo glances at each member of the Executive in turn. “I believe that the correct decision is to continue with our mission, to protect our secrecy. Thanks to Itzamna, Ek Naab alone has sufficient knowledge to enact the Erinsi’s 2012 plan. We don’t need the NRO.”
“You’re wrong,” says Rodolfo Jaguar, his dark eyes flashing with anger. “And you know it, Carlos. We don’t have all the information we need – we don’t know the location of the moon machine. Most important of all – we don’t have a member of the Erinsi.””
“Not strictly true,” says Montoyo. “That location of the moon machine is buried somewhere in the Books of Itzamna. We simply have not yet succeeded in decoding it. As for the Erinsi – there are other Revival Chambers. We can rescue other survivors.”
“After years of trying?” sneers Rodolfo Jaguar.
Lizard Paw says loftily, “The NRO claim to have information vital to our cause. We should cooperate.”
Lorena snaps, “You’re deluded! Have you learned nothing? The NRO captured Andres Garcia; they stole the wreckage of Aureliano’s Muwan when it crashed. Have you forgotten how they imprisoned Josh’s father until shortly before his death? And now they use the lives of a mother and an innocent child as tokens in some ridiculous game! You don’t make bargains with people who behave like common gangsters.”
Lizard Paw sighs, then glances at me, a cautious look in his eye. “On the one hand, obviously the NRO are not to be trusted. On the other, do we have a choice? Shouldn’t we hear the NRO out at least, learn what they might know before we decline their offer?”
The chief mutters, “You know as well as the rest of us that there isn’t time to negotiate. Their offer is clear. And our time is about to run out.”
I glance from Lizard Paw to the chief. “Huh? Why? December twenty-second is six months away. There’s loads of time.”
But from the grim expressions of the ruling Executive I can tell something is wrong.
After a taut silence, the chief responds. “No. The moon machine is solar-powered. It requires at least six months of charging before enough power can be generated. In fact . . . if it isn’t activated very soon . . . it’s likely that the superwave won’t be fully counteracted.”
The chief holds his breath for a second or two, then releases it. “The Erinsi themselves hold the secret to how to activate it. We have a date, an absolute date by which the device must be activated. That time is seventy-two hours from now.”
I’m the first to burst in to the silence. “But . . . but why? Why do all that planning stuff and then leave it in the hands of some people who might not even survive?”
Lorena says, “The Erinsi didn’t have any idea what the society would be like.”
“How could they trust a society they didn’t know?” Lizard Paw says.
Lorena agrees. “A technology that can counteract the galactic superwave could be lethal in the wrong hands.”
And then the chief refers again to the secret that Montoyo told me in absolute confidence: “The five Revival Chambers were designed to keep a total of one hundred and five members of that civilization alive, in suspended animation. Only three Erinsi are needed to activate the moon machine. There are simply no written instructions beyond the ones that say three living Erinsi are needed. Without them, we can do precisely nothing.”
I say, “So we do what Carlos said – we find three Erinsi survivors.”
The chief nods. “With the cooperation of the NRO. We’ve been trying to find more Revival Chambers, as you may know. . . Our own chamber, here in Becan, was empty of Erinsi survivors. Those Erinsi were lost to us thousands of years ago.”
“I know – Bosch did that. But to be fair – he didn’t know what it was. Bosch didn’t know about the 2012 plan back then.”
“Itzamna – the original meddling time traveller,” Lizard Paw says bitterly.
Ignoring the time-travel jibe, I say, “But there are other chambers!”
The chief shakes his head grimly. “We thought we’d achieved a breakthrough with locating the Revival Chamber in India. Unfortunately it’s completely inaccessible. The entire area is rife with military training camps.”
“What about the others in Iraq, Australia, China?”
“We found the Chinese chamber some time ago. Like the chamber in Mexico, it’s been empty for centuries. As for the chamber in Iraq – it was discovered by United Nations weapons inspectors before the Iraq War. It has been controlled by the NRO for years. The US troops left Iraq at the end of last year. Anything that could be gained from that base, the NRO would have taken long ago.”
“OK, so how about Australia?”
“We can’t find the chamber,” the chief says, shortly. “Either the location in the Ix Codex is incorrect . . . or the entrance has been moved.”
“By the NRO?”
“Possibly.”
“What about the Sect?”
“We saw no evidence of any human presence at the presumed location of the Australian chamber. It’s in the middle of a desert.”
“So in fact . . . we’re missing the location of the moon machine, the precise location of the fifth chamber . . . and we don’t even have one Erinsi survivor?” I stare around the table. “We’re completely stuffed.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence.
“I mean – am I missing something?” I continue. “Because it looks pretty simple from where I’m sta
nding. The NRO is our last hope.”
It’s obvious from his bristling body language that Carlos Montoyo is furious at the idea that we would hand over the secret technology of the Erinsi to the world’s most powerful military nation.
“Would it really be so bad?” I say. “Look – no one here has a bigger grudge against the NRO than me. I can’t forget what they did to my dad.” Ixchel’s words return to me. There’s a lump my throat as I say, “But maybe I can forgive. Because when it comes down to fighting the Sect, aren’t the NRO at least on the same side as us?”
“Our role is to maintain the status quo,” says the chief. “The superwave is going to destroy the vast array of computer networks – the nervous system of the planet. But that is not caused by anyone on Earth. It is a freak of nature. All we are here to do is to prevent that one terrible incident. We don’t take sides!”
“The NRO had access to the chamber in Iraq. They might have revived some Erinsi survivors.”
“Possible but unlikely,” Lorena says. “It takes a particular combination of Erinsi technology to activate the Revival Chamber.”
“Yeah, I saw the Sect trying to do it. Took them months; they kept failing.”
She continues, “To activate the Revival Chamber you need the Adaptor, which I suppose the NRO might have found. But you also need the Key peptide.”
“We’ve got the Key . . . the Sect, they have the Key. Why wouldn’t the NRO have it too?”
There’s an uncomfortable silence. “Josh, it took us a long time to decode the inscription on the Adaptor,” she says, “to realize that it was an amino acid sequence.”
“The NRO aren’t stupid.”
“No. . .”
“And for all we know they’ve got an inside man in the Sect.”
“Again, unlikely. . .”
“But not impossible,” I insist. “The NRO might have the Key. They could have revived Erinsi survivors. Which means they could help us.”
Lorena hesitates. “Most of this is conjecture. But it’s theoretically possible, yes.”
“I think what Josh is saying,” Lizard Paw says smoothly, “is that for now, we ought to decide to begin negotiations with the NRO. Let them put their case. If they really can help, we let them.”