The Tenth Legion (Book 6, Progeny of Evolution)

by Mike Arsuaga

Now he sat up, with predatory alert. “How do you know? Did you talk to your priestess?”

  “Yes. She said I’d recognize them when I saw them. I think we need to put the pieces together.”

  By dawn, the archeologists had cleared a flat space in one of the larger tents, and had pieced together a quarter or so of the calendar fragments. The director objected to Ed’s directive, citing potential damage to the artifacts, but since the corporation paid the bills, with reluctance he followed orders.

  The fragments arranged themselves into three tablets.

  “As you can see,” the director said, with the patronizing tone the experts take with a superior who is not trained in their discipline. “There’s nothing but panels of a routine calendar.”

  Unimpressed by the dismissive explanation, Ed turned to Lorna, showing he trusted her instincts more. “I don’t care. Keep assembling them. Fit every piece you find. Work double shifts if you have to.”

  The director shrugged. “As you wish.” He departed with the attitude of the selfless scientist in the clutches of an ignorant benefactor about to wreak havoc on the art of discovery.

  Five days later, three six-foot-by-three-foot stone slabs covered the tent floor.

  “There are about ten pieces missing,” the director said. “Not bad, considering the total is over six hundred.” Putting his head down, he continued in a mumble. “You were correct, Ms. Winters. There is a star map in the arrangement.”

  “You spoke your mind. No fault in that.” Ed smirked at Lorna’s appropriation from among his favorite expressions. “The next step is to take a photograph from straight above each of them,” she added.

  The director turned to Ed for confirmation of the order. He nodded. “Do what she says, please.”

  An hour later they projected the photos on the best computer screen in camp.. Lorna arranged them side by side on the monitor. Using the computer’s graphics suit, she examined them in every combination of orientation or sequence.

  “See anything?” Ed asked after a few minutes.

  Lorna rubbed a smooth chin. “Yes. I think so.”

  “And?”

  She pointed to the first one. “There’s the sun, and there’s the earth.”

  The director did a double take. “The sun’s at the center, a fact unknown in Roman times.”

  “Look at the second one,” Lorna said.

  “The sun’s larger.” Ed observed.

  “I’m no expert on the subject, but it seems to me the sun is bulging out on the side facing the earth,” the director added.

  “Now check out the third one,” Lorna said.

  The two men scrutinized the picture of the last tablet. In a deliberate motion, like the movement of a large weight, they turned back to her. She imagined an accompanying grind of heavy mechanisms. Ed spoke first. “The sun absorbed the earth.”

  “Not exactly,” the director said. “I think we’re seeing more like some kind of coronal mass ejection, a CME.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, again I’m reciting from what I read in scientific journals, but a CME is an eruption of radiation from the sun. If large enough, it could reach earth with devastating results.”

  “How devastating?” Ed asked.

  “Theoretically, if powerful enough, one could scour the earth of all life.”

  Ed gasped involuntarily. “Didn’t the prophecy say…?”

  “Yes, it did.”

  “What’s the star in the corner?” Ed asked, touching a small asterisk-shaped engraving in the stone.

  The director adjusted his glasses, studying the three tablets. “Judging from the relative position among the steles, it has to be one of the other planets, maybe Mars.”

  Ed traced a finger over the other engraved symbols. “Could these be constellations?”

  “Most likely,” the director answered. “There’s software able to pinpoint the date the symbols represent.”

  “The date of World’s End,” Lorna said. “Imagine that.”

  The director laughed. “Is this going to be another 2012 scare?”

  Lorna returned the laugh, despite the sinking feeling in her stomach. “Probably so.”

  Ed and Lorna tried not to show alarm or even concern when they took departure for their tent. Ed scanned the photographs back to headquarters with orders to determine the dates depicted.

  Less than an hour later, they had part of the answer. The alignments indicated, with 99.9999 percent probability, dates in 2107, 2333, and 2767. A companion report predicted increased solar activity beginning in 2106 but not any worse than past peaks.

  “Are you sure this is what’s going to happen?” Ed asked.

  “God, I’m not sure of anything, but it makes the most sense.”

  “How can we move six billion people to Mars?” Ed asked himself aloud.

  “We can’t. If this is going to happen, we need to save what we realistically can.”

  The same night, Cithara appeared again.

  “Touch the stones,” said a young Cithara, emerged not more than a year. “They will show you the fate of the world.”

  “Your image is faded. What’s happening?” Lorna asked.

  “This will be our last meeting. The worlds we inhabit are on disparate paths. They allow us a final contact.”

  “I won’t see you again?” Lorna asked.

  “Not in this cycle of time. Now, hear me well. Touch the stones. They will show you the fate of the world,” the fading image of Cithara flickered once, in a demonstration of intensity, like a flame right before extinguishing forever, and then she disappeared.

  Lorna got up without disturbing Ed. Something told her she needed to do this alone. In the sterile light of the fluorescent lamps, the three steles reflected sandy brown. Sitting in front of the third one, she placed a hand on it.

  An electrical pulse seemed to shoot from the stone and up her arm.

  From the vantage point of a hill, she overlooked a large city at night. A great live oak arrayed above and around her. The long, curved branches formed a thick canopy that almost reached the ground. She crouched down to get a clear view of the city below. Tall, thin buildings challenged the night sky with audacious illumination, a million twinkling lights. Automobile headlamps filled the major roads radiating from the skyline.

  A golden glow grew in the east. Too early for sunrise, something told her. In a moment, the illumination became brighter, washing the city in full daylight. The busy movement of traffic continued, unfazed. Perhaps the occupants of the vehicles were confused, even a little alarmed, but not enough to stop and observe. In the vast diversity of structures, countless faces must’ve turned toward the mysterious radiance. Growing into a blinding whiteness, the light, carrying millions of roentgens, swept over them.

  Death occurred almost instantly. The cars, the buildings, the surrounding homes, along with humans of all three kinds, blended into the light. Vegetation seemed unaffected, but weeks later, it would show the inevitable effects. Worldwide, leaves wilted and turned brown. Trunks hardened into lifeless husks.

  Lorna regarded with horrified fascination while the earth’s rotation advanced the wave toward her. As the blinding whiteness neared, it separated into countless individual flashes. Her feet seemed rooted to the ground. Not many places on earth, if any, offered safety. The massive tree couldn’t provide a tissue’s worth of shelter against the onrushing torrent. Why did such a magnificent creation have to perish?

  “God save us!” she cried. The tidal wave of radiation overwhelmed her.

  Pulling her hands away, she returned to the present. Ed stood behind her.

  “What is it?” He kneaded her shoulders. “What did you see?”

  Turning, with tears in her eyes, she said. “The end of the world. I witnessed the end of the world.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  From Oom, upon Lorna’s recommendation as Deputy Security Director, they went straight to the island.

  “It has the Operations Cen
ter, and it’s the company’s most secure facility,” she explained.

  Ethan, Toby, and Karla met them in Ed’s office, adjacent to his old bedroom. Fond memories centered on the rich, leathery smell of the books arranged in neat rows on polished, wood shelves, mingled with the crisp odors of electronic equipment hard at work in the next room. The model airplanes, artifacts maintained in memory of a beloved father touched her—all good.

  “Ed and I’ll stay in the adjoining bedroom,” Lorna said, rejecting Ethan’s suggestion they take the First Parents’ room with the commodious round bed. Ed’s cell offered better proximity to the Operations Center. The memories didn’t hurt, either.

  “Dibs on the Greats’ room,” Toby said. “Jamie and the girls arrive tonight. Jamie’s always wanted to try out the round bed.”

  Ethan smirked. “In the interests of sleep research, eh, brother?”

  Toby winked back with reddening cheeks. “Of course—what else?”

  After the small talk of working out sleeping arrangements and agreeing on meeting for dinner, Ed got Doctor Kelso and Andrea Small, the new director of Rocket City, on web cam, further ordering that no humans attend. “Until we understand the help we can give humans, it’s best not to worry them.”

  Andrea Small, a prim Oriental lycan whose predecessor had died of the virus, sat behind a desk. Off-camera, key members of her staff groused around, shuffling papers or taking seats.

  “Are we ready?” Ed asked in a tone designed to spur things along.

  Andrea looked up with a square saffron-toned face and dark eyes that observed the world through narrow, angled slits. “Yes, sir,” she said. “All set.”

  “Good. Assuming the predicted solar activity happens at the earliest of the three predicted dates, can we convey the complete community to Mars?”

  “We can begin transporting by summer’s end.” She consulted transcribed notes. “The Event isn’t for five years, at the earliest. We should have plenty of time.”

  “What about logistics? Do we have what we need to sustain the colonies independently of Earth?” Ed asked.

  “The old plan had the present colonies being self-sustaining within two years. With the prospect of the anticipated influx tempered by five more years, we can make it by 2107.”

  “What about the work on Space Gate?” Ed asked.

  Andrea’s mouth formed a red-lined circle of surprise. “Sir, are you sure you want to discuss…?”

  “In view of what we face, free exchange of information is more important than secrecy. We have a common end here. You may speak of the project.”

  Andrea retrieved a brochure handed to her by someone in the room, put on a set of rimless reading glasses, and read aloud, “Space Gate is a project to bend space for transporting material instantly over large distances. We have gates at Rocket City and the Mars 1 colony. Through them, we have delivered up to a ton of material at one time at a cost of a hundred megawatts of electrical energy.”

  “What about people? By weight, there are over twenty in a ton.” Lorna asked.

  “As of now, nothing organic has arrived alive. We’ve tried a variety of organisms, from bacteria to sheep. The other drawback is the energy expenditure. We can’t devote the amount we’d like because of the commitments to supply the grid.”

  “I’ll get the legal department working on reducing them,” Ed volunteered. Turning to Lorna, he asked his new security chief. “What threats do you see and what do we have to do to protect our facilities and people?”

  “As you know, the story about the predictions made the news before we got back from Oom. Public opinion doesn’t put much credence in them. For now, this works to our advantage. But, when the date nears, we predict there’ll be more concern. To be safe, procurement is letting contracts for projects to strengthen defenses on the island, at Rocket City, and key labs, including the Orlando headquarters complex. In order not to raise suspicions, they’re coded as infrastructure-related.”

  Ed returned to the monitor. “Dr. Kelso. Tell us about the physiological effects of the voyage to Mars.”

  “We know adult vampires and lycans are not adversely affected. The experience of over three hundred successful voyages proves that. Hybrids, and humans, still pose challenges.”

  “How so?” Ed asked.

  “In the case of both hybrids and humans, radiation is the culprit. Adult hybrids are minimally affected. In fact, the older they are, the better, because with less lifespan remaining, the radiation has less time to take effect.”

  What a great relief that would be to Karla and Thomas.

  “And humans?” Ed asked.

  “Technology has improved since the first voyages, but there will still be losses. The latest information, based solely on calculations, since there are no volunteers, is a twenty-percent mortality rate from all causes within five years and forty-percent within ten. Those remaining can expect reasonable life spans.”

  “That’s a dramatic improvement,” Thomas said.

  “But at the same time explains why humans still won’t risk travel beyond the moon.” Doctor Kelso’s face became serious. “There is another problem. Because none have ever made the trip, we don’t have any idea what effects, if any, there will be on children, human hybrid and pre-emergents, not to mention pregnant females.”

  A cold hand clutched at Lorna’s heart. Her voice cracked when she asked, “Pregnant females? What do you mean?”

  Dr. Kelso became uneasy. He was aware of Lorna’s condition. After a hard swallow while organizing what had to be said, he began, “No child or pregnant woman has made the trip. We’ve no idea what the effects of radiation or bone loss from lack of gravity would be.” Pausing, he avoided Lorna’s eyes. “We cannot speak to the bone loss, but studies of the radiation effects go back to the Hiroshima and Nagasaki detonations. They conclude the adverse effects on fetuses and the young are orders of magnitude more deadly. Right now, we’re unsure if any child can survive the trip to Mars.”

  Ed was instantly on his feet. “Solving this will command our highest priority,” The Chairman said. “We owe the children this much.”

  Dr. Kelso’s hard, tan face showed nothing when he said, “Of course we will. There’s much to be learned before we become alarmed. We’ll experiment with animals.”

  After the meeting, Ed walked with Lorna down by the waterfront.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “To walk, just walk. I can’t be still right now.”

  They left the mansion through the front door, passing rows of bougainvillea worming their way up the palms flanking the road leading to the house. They colored the trunks, from immaculate white to orange and red to royal purple, lush and arrogantly vivid. At road’s end stood the village. The cream-colored stucco walls and red tile roofs of the buildings reflected the late morning sun. Beyond that, the waterfront basked under a soundless outpouring of light. The dark, wood piers fingered out into the crystal-clear sea. The shadow of the wharfs flickered across the shimmering water, turning the aquamarine into a darker, murkier blue. A steel pointed triangle, the stubby rust-stained bow of a lighter peeked from behind a larger hull. The previous night, the supply freighter docked on the weekly stopover from the mainland.

  The street they followed let out onto an open space at the foot of the tourist pier. Lorna remembered the place where pleasure craft and boutique-sized cruise ships dropped off tourists for a run through the shops or a tour of the public area of the mansion. This time, there weren’t any jostling multilingual crowds escorted by ship’s crew in crisp white uniforms. The waterfront sat, quiet as an empty church, still as a landscape painting. A lonely seagull squawked, startled by their approach, taking flight from the corner of a roof. Besides the gull, the endless murmur of the ocean made the only other sound. They walked to the end of the pier, leaned on the railing, contemplating the distant crash of waves on the beach across the bay.

  They remained side by side for several minutes. Then Ed spoke. “It’
ll be all right.”

  “How can we know?” she answered.

  “We don’t, but we have the full resources of the world’s greatest corporation to devote to a solution. If one exists, we’ll find it.”

  “What if we don’t? If we can’t leave until the children are grown. What then? Do we die?”

  “I don’t believe we came this far to be left behind to die. But, if that is to be, we’re a family. We’ll stay together.”

  A flock of seagulls fell upon a school of fish. The shiners scattered in skipping splashes radiating from the killing zone. “You know,” Lorna said, “before we got back together, I planned to get rid of them. It’s not too late.”

  Turning at the sound of a deep inhale, she watched the flesh draw back across the massive bone structure. His eyes were like two green, electric arcs. They displayed a restrained intensity that seemed to always be just under the surface, like something held in a cage, but the intensity seemed more fired up than usual. Lorna feared whatever itched to break out might just succeed this time. “Don’t even think such a thing,” he said.

  “Our lives would become much simpler. We can have more children.”

  The tension in his face grew, almost to the point of pain. “If you do this, you’ll never forgive yourself. I know.”

  “How?”

  Leaning over the rail, he stared into the languid, crystal-clear water. Lorna followed his gaze. They could see thirty feet down to the boulders on the bottom. A hog sized grouper drifted lazily along the bottom.

  After a minute, he said in a low, tense voice, “When Bobby was three, Miriam became pregnant. She was forty and starting to feel old when we learned of it. I did everything to reassure her she was still attractive and how happy I was about the pregnancy, especially when we learned the baby was a girl. I truly wanted the child.”

  Ed stopped. The grouper pulled at something in the rocks, stirring up the bottom. “Six weeks into the pregnancy, she began talking about an abortion. I suggested using a surrogate mother, but she complained about the inconvenience of a baby coming so late in life. With all the resources at our disposal, the argument never rang true. I believe she just didn’t want another child. For two months, for every waking minute, she talked of nothing but getting rid of our baby. She promised she’d hate the baby while never forgiving me for making her go through the pregnancy. In a moment of weakness or exhaustion, I don’t remember which, I agreed. In those days, a husband’s permission was needed to get an abortion at a corporation or a government facility.”