“I went to Sunday school as a child and I never heard anything like that,” Jack said.
“Don’t be so quick to discount what the ancients wrote.”
“Come on,” Jack said. “You’re saying fallen angels, guys with wings and—”
“No,” Samson said. “Firstly, no account in the Book speaks about angels with wings. That is a medieval convention and has nothing to do with the actual text. Secondly, what does fallen angel mean in a strict sense? It means a being from another place quite distinct from Earth. Wouldn’t such beings have access to fantastic technology? Why do we presume they would use archaic tools?”
Jack frowned.
“The indications are these fallen angels before the Great Cataclysm no longer had access to their supernatural heritage,” Samson said. “In some manner, they had fully entered our physical sphere of existence and could no longer access the spiritual sphere. Yet, they still presumably had knowledge of deep mysteries. Therein is the origin of the ancient stations.”
Jack stared at the man, shocked Samson could expound such ridiculous ideas. He could accept ancient aliens, the old Chariots of the Gods thesis. Real fallen angels struck him as too…wild.
“You’re unconvinced,” Samson whispered. “I can see it in your eyes. If it helps, a fallen angel or bene elohim is by definition an alien, a being from somewhere other than Earth.”
“Okay. So what about the gods and goddess in Egyptian, Greek and other ancient religions? Are you going to tell me you think those accounts are true, too?”
Samson’s eyes burned intently. “How would the ancients have viewed beings with fantastic powers and advanced technologies? They could easily view them as gods. Stories can become garbled over time. It would make sense that some of the ancient books are more accurate than others. We know that all the ancients speak about a mighty disaster that overtook the world, and they each indicate it had something to do with the higher gods or God being angry with what was happening on Earth.”
“Or…it could have been a power struggle between the aliens on Earth against those not on Earth,” Jack said. “Or maybe the aliens used their stations wrong just as Mother did when she caused the Tunguska Event.”
Samson was quiet for a time, finally saying, “You’re suggesting that Arthur C. Clarke’s quote is correct.”
“What quote,” Jack asked, “and who is he?”
“Clarke was a famous science fiction writer. He said that ‘any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’”
“Right,” Jack said. “That makes more sense to me than this other stuff. Why do we have to get all metaphysical about this?”
“We do know this for sure,” Samson said quietly. “The ancient beings used the stations they built at the dawn of history. In some manner that brought about their downfall, wiping out the first civilization so our only memories of them came from the Book and from the tales in Egyptian, Greek and other religions. It appears these beings made super humans for reasons we can’t know now. Mother used a DNA stamper her people found in the Persian Gulf in present time to make me and others just like me, those she calls her children and my brothers and sisters.”
Jack thought about the soldier he’d first seen in the D’erlon Plant. The big man had been quite real. Here was something concrete, not…
“Why did Mother use the DNA stamper,” Jack asked, “in order to create a conquering army of supermen?”
“That is clearly not the case,” Samson whispered. “Mother possesses superior agents, but that wasn’t the main reason for our birth. She needed superior technology, stronger brains and bodies than ordinary humans possess. She wanted to understand the ancient technology and duplicate it where she could.”
“In order to repair the broken stations,” Jack said.
“That is correct.”
“And you’re saying that you’re one of those hyper-intelligent supermen?”
“Yes.”
“But you had a falling out with Mother.”
Samson began to cough weakly again, nodding as he did.
Jack turned away. The ideas were fantastic, difficult to accept. What did the stations do anyway? What could the ancient beings—the aliens one way or another—have hoped to achieve on the ancient Earth with the stations? What did Mother hope to achieve in the here and now with them?
“You have to stop her,” Samson said in a fading voice.
Jack faced the trembling man, noticing the bulging eyes staring at him.
Samson Mark Three had carried him to the stone object. He had a second chance because of that. Otherwise, Jack knew he would be dead.
“Why don’t I put you in the stone object?” Jack asked. “Let the needles pump you full of the healing substance like they did to me.”
“The ancient needles won’t work for me. Mother saw to that at my birth. She didn’t want any of us living as long as she did. To give us long life would only be her discretion.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked.
Feebly, Samson waved the question aside. “I know of potent weapons I never showed my clone. I’m dying, and I don’t want to go back into the cyro-tube. It’s time to attack. From what you’ve said—”
“What kind of weapons?” Jack asked. “And where do I go and how do I get there? I have the feeling time is running out for us.”
“You’re going to have to help me get there.”
“You got it,” Jack said.
***
Jack found that Samson was heavier than he looked. He mentioned that. The man informed him that his muscles had greater mass and his bones were three times as dense.
“My predecessors were heroes once,” Samson whispered.
Jack saved his breath instead of commenting, staggering as Samson gave him directions. They hurried through hot corridors with the floor plates vibrating under them.
“I thought this station didn’t work,” Jack said.
“The repellers are offline here, if that’s what you mean.”
“What are repellers?”
Samson began coughing, leaning more of his considerable weight against Jack. When the man finally wheezed, he was too tired to comment. After several more turns in the corridors, they came to closed doors.
Samson’s lips moved. Jack had to reposition the man so he could put his ear near the man’s mouth.
“Now it gets interesting,” Samson whispered.
Soon enough, Jack typed in a sequence of hieroglyphic symbols. The doors opened, revealing a large elevator. They entered, and Samson typed in a code.
The elevator doors closed and the box dropped, picking up speed the deeper it went. Jack expected the elevator to stop at any moment. It did not, but kept on plunging faster into the Earth.
“How far are we going?” Jack asked.
“Several kilometers down,” Samson whispered.
“What? Are you kidding me? How is that possible?”
“Magic,” Samson wheezed.
Jack realized that was an Arthur C. Clarke joke.
It grew hotter inside the box the farther they traveled. Sweat slicked each of them and began to drip off their noses and fingers.
“What powers the stations?” Jack shouted. The elevator had gotten considerably louder, too.
Agent Elliot had put his ear beside the man’s mouth again. Jack thought he heard, “Thermal vents.” But that couldn’t be right. Did the super-genius mean magma heat? How was that possible under any kind of high-tech?
Finally, the elevator slowed and then stopped. The doors opened.
Billowing hot air shoved the two of them against the back of the elevator. Samson recovered first. It was as if he’d been saving his strength all this time. He pulled Jack to his feet, propelling the two of them down a trembling, groaning corridor.
“This station is broken,” Samson shouted. “The protective shields aren’t in place anymore. That’s not going to matter soon.”
“This place is going to explode?�
� Jack shouted.
“Hot magma will gush up into it.”
“When is that going to happen?”
“I’m not sure. Soon enough, I imagine.”
“Then what are we doing down here?”
“Before I went into the cryogenic tube, I rigged Station Eight to respond to the other stations. It’s running like this as a warning.”
“Okay…” Jack said.
“Everything works on magnetics and concentrated gravitational forces,” Samson said, appearing to be weakening again. “The stations are linked to each other. It wasn’t like that in the beginning. The ancient beings made tunnels in the deep rocks through magnetic and gravitational drilling. Likely, it’s getting desperate on the surface.”
“What do you mean?”
“I no longer have time to explain everything. You’ll find out later if you’re successful. If you’re not, it’s not going to matter anyway. The stations are linked. That’s the important point. You’re going to go from here to the underground pyramid using gravitational acceleration.”
“What underground pyramid?”
“The one in the Libyan Desert,” Samson said. “It’s the first pyramid ever built on Earth. They constructed it as a control center. The pyramids in Egypt are poor copies of the original.”
“Go on,” Jack said.
“I don’t know if gravitational acceleration will work now.”
“You mean it’s dangerous?”
“Yes,” Samson said.
Jack nodded. He should have known nothing was going to be easy.
“I’ll show you how to use the pads. I’ll also give you a force-field suit. It’s good against bullets but won’t stop heaters.”
“What do heaters shoot?” Jack asked.
“Lasers. I’ll give you one.”
“Got it,” Jack said.
“Your task is to reach the underground pyramid and kill Mother. Then, you have to shut down the stations. If you can’t convince any of my brothers and sisters to help you, kill them and start destroying control panels. That might or might not work. It’s all a gamble. I’m sure if you fail Mother is going to destroy the Earth, if nothing else by accident. If I’m right about everything, though, she’s going to bring another judgment from God against us.”
Jack discounted the latter, but after watching the Tunguska Event, he felt the former to be more than likely.
“We’re at an acceleration pad,” Samson announced.
The corridor widened here with a silver disc on the floor beside a panel of flickering, colored controls. Instead of a steel corridor, a rocky tube went horizontally into the Earth. After several hundred feet was a sizzling, shimmering energy field of some sort. Heat radiated from the exposed rock.
“I left weapons and a suit around here somewhere,” Samson said. “Ah. Now, I remember. We have to move fast, my friend. If we’re going to stop Mother, now is the time to act.”
-79-
LEARJET 85
LIBYA
Selene had a pounding headache. She was sure it was the brain enhancer wearing out her mind, making it spin too fast all the time. How long could she keep going like this?
Marcus piloted the Learjet. The navigator said little. All his instruments were dead. The engines kept the jet going, but little else worked on the plane. Every time they tried the radio, harsh static sounded. It had become intensely hot in the jet, the air conditioner barely humming and sometimes sputtering.
Ney still had his gun, although Marcus had taken the flat heater device. Had the DGSE agent forgotten about the force field that had snapped on around Marcus when Jack Elliot had shot the soldier? Was the hidden force field the reason why Marcus hadn’t disarmed the Frenchman yet?
Marcus glanced at Selene. “We have to stop Mother,” he said.
“You really believe we can?” Selene asked.
“The Tunguska Event proves your thesis that the ancients misjudged the power of the stations. Why will Mother do any better now? I’ve begun to wonder, though, whether we’re too late.”
“If that’s true—that you doubt we can make it to headquarters in time—why did Mother send you after me and then tell you to bring me in?”
Marcus nodded. “I would suggest Mother wanted to keep me busy so I wasn’t at headquarters with her.”
“Why order you to come in then? That doesn’t make sense.”
Marcus shrugged. “I don’t have all the answers. Only Mother knows all. Maybe in giving me orders others listened to what she said. Mother has or had to keep them off guard, too. Remember, Mother is exceptionally cunning when it comes to wielding and keeping power. The fact of her extended existence says it all.”
“If Mother is so intelligent,” Selene said, “why does she persist in an endeavor that threatens human civilization?”
“My guess is that she doesn’t care about mass death or our puny civilization. Her great age assists her in this. She has watched everyone come and go. She has seen ideas bloom and wither away. Her goal must be paramount to her. It is the only stable thing in her long existence. That is why it must be easy to sacrifice whatever she must to achieve her dream.”
That made sense. Yet—
“You must secure yourself,” Marcus said. “The weather—it’s too turbulent up here. We must go lower.”
Selene hurried from the cockpit, selecting a seat in the first row. She snapped a seatbelt into place.
The jet shook worse than before. The nose lowered and air howled outside. Wouldn’t it be worse lower down with the desert sands buffeting against them?
There was no more time to ponder the idea. The plane began to shake and rattle, while the howling noises became deafening. Every few seconds a terrible thud caused Selene’s head to snap up.
She didn’t want to stare outside anymore. It was too frightening. Why had it become so hot? The extreme heat must be causing these great weather shifts. What could the stations possibly do that made it this much hotter?
Selene groaned as she bent her head. The throbbing in her mind faded away. That was a relief. The noise around her grew so loud it drowned out everything else. She felt as if she was in a womb.
The flashes in her mind continued. New thoughts popped into existence. She mulled them over and then a new idea bumped an old one aside, and she sped along a new train of thought.
I have to get control of myself. What good is a heightened intellect if it’s uncontrollable?
Selene fought for self-mastery. She wanted to order her thinking, making one logical step after another. The stations…heat…hums…magnetics…ancient technology… Selene found herself panting with her mouth dry. Slowly, she realized that she heard individual sounds again.
She raised her head. The shaking had lessened. Marcus must have found one of the quieter air zones. Selene dared to unbuckle the seatbelt and totter on unsteady legs into the cabin.
“I have an idea,” she shouted.
Marcus focused on flying the plane. He had a reason for that. Outside the window, the desert flashed before them. They were barely flying one hundred feet above a sea of sand dunes.
“It’s not so windy down here on the deck,” Marcus said.
The navigator looked sick and frightened. He had curled into a corner, as if didn’t want any more to do with this. Ney had removed himself, buckling down in the passenger area.
“You should go sit down,” Marcus said. “It could get dangerous at any moment.”
“I’ve thought of something,” Selene said.
Marcus nodded without tearing his gaze from the window.
“In some fashion, the stations are causing this unnatural heat. Have the stations been idling do you think?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Global warming,” Selene said. “It’s hot now, probably because the stations are working up to full power. Maybe Mother has been testing the stations the last decade or so. That’s what caused the melting ice, hotter weather and the reason why the global warming was alway
s so spotty. You know, every time they had a global warming conference it would be freezing there. The stations might have slowed down, and that allowed normal weather to proceed.”
“You may have something there,” Marcus said. “Now, please, go buckle up.”
“Listen,” Selene said, trying to tell him while she focused on the idea. Already, other interesting puzzles buzzed for her attention.
“There’s more?” he asked.
“If I’m right about this, the reason for global warming, that means Mother has been testing the stations for some time. I’d really like to know why you needed antimatter.”
“You have another idea?”
“I’m not sure,” Selene said. “It depends if I’m right about—”
A loud explosion aboard the plane made the jet sink fast. A second later, engine silence told them the worst.
“Buckle up!” Marcus shouted. “We’ve lost the engines.”
“Where’s Ney?” Selene asked.
“Buckle up!” the big man shouted. “We’re going down. I can’t glide far, and we’re still too far away from headquarters.”
The jet sank again, making Selene stumble. She caught the door before it swung shut. Then, she staggered for the nearest seat to buckle in before the plane crashed into the desert.
-80-
GRAVITATIONAL LAUNCH PAD
STATION EIGHT
Jack couldn’t believe he was actually going to try this madness.
Samson Mark Two had finished explaining the propulsion system. By the implications, it meant he was far down inside the Earth’s crust, as in many miles down. They were supposedly as low as the ocean crust. The elevator had taken them down much deeper than he had suspected.
Magnetic tubes bored ages ago by gravitational drills linked the various stations, at least the deeper shafts. It would appear Mother knew less about the intricacies of the stations than some of her children. It was like a racecar driver not knowing everything about the engine, hard to believe but possible.
“It’s either that,” Samson had explained, “or she’s not worried about anyone trying this.”
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