A thunderous roar came from the crowd that brought Hastelloy’s attention back to the pyramid. A flight of stone stairs consisting of 365 short but wide steps rose 100 feet up the north face of the pyramid. Upon the apex of the steps stood the grand entrance to the pyramid. The newly crowned Pharaoh stood triumphantly in front of the massive bronze doors Hastelloy had employed in his attack the prior morning.
Pharaoh yelled at the top of his lungs for the entire city to hear about the greatness of his brother, the accomplishment of constructing the pyramid, and a host of other topics Hastelloy did not comprehend the language well enough to interpret. Whatever the subjects were, it had the crowd of over 200,000 riled up. Speeches by individuals to large crowds often had this effect. Hastelloy was reminded of his first psychology professor back in the academy who told him that individuals are intelligent, but mobs are dumb as a fence post and easy to manipulate. Pharaoh may not have attended the same lecture, but he was intimately familiar with the principle.
Mosa gently tapped Hastelloy on the shoulder to announce her presence. Hastelloy didn’t turn to greet her; he simply inclined his head toward the princess in acknowledgement. Without any prompting, Mosa began translating Pharaoh’s words for Hastelloy’s benefit.
“Great are the accomplishments we have achieved together. Great is our monument. Great have our harvests been, and above all, great is our culture,” Mosa interpreted.
“A true test of our greatness is upon us now. There is not a man, woman or child among us who has not felt the sting of insects, smelled the stench of our poisoned river, or felt the pain of hunger in our bellies. I am here now to tell you the suffering of our people is at an end.”
Pharaoh spread his arms wide and raised them above his head. “Behold. The light in the sky is returning. The insects have gone and the river now flows with fresh, clean waters. I know many of you fear the swarm of locusts consumed all our food, but you would be wrong.
“The great god Anubis may be gone now, but we learned our lessons from him well. The seeds stored in the royal granaries were kept safe from insects and will now be planted in the fields. With the restored flow of fresh water, the harvest will be plentiful and none of us will feel the sting of hunger again.”
The crowd exploded with cheers and applause. Pharaoh waited patiently. He was in no hurry to continue. He knew how to play the crowd, and he didn’t want to rush their exuberance. It was a valuable asset to him.
As the roar of the masses slowly faded, Pharaoh finally extended his arms out in front of his body and motioned downward several times to induce a quiet over the crowd. It was a nice touch Hastelloy thought. Rather than letting the silence fall over the crowd on its own, it now looked like he commanded them to do so. It was a subtle but important display of his continued power over the crowd.
“The bountiful harvest will not come on its own,” Pharaoh paused to let his ominous foreshadow hang in the quiet air. “It will take work to prepare the fields and plant the seeds. Then it will take time for the crops to grow, and still more work to harvest them. This will not be easy, but I have faith in our people. I have faith it will be done.
“The plagues that afflicted us these past weeks are now lifted. I fear this may have come at a terrible price though. I struck a bargain with Mosa and her god. The cost of this bargain to our great kingdom could be devastatingly high, or none at all. The severity of the arrangement rests on all of you.
“This famine we face does not care if you are a slave, a soldier, or even Pharaoh. It will affect every one of us. Therefore we must face this famine together as equals. In exchange for lifting the plagues, from this day forward there are no slaves in this land. We are all citizens of this great nation we have formed. We will face this famine as one people - the people of Egypt.”
Once again the crowd erupted with praise for the words they heard. So profound was the sound of their elation that Hastelloy had to cover his ears to keep from losing what hearing he’d managed to recover.
The crowd died down and Mosa continued her translation efforts, “As free people I cannot force you to stay and work the fields with us. I can only promise that if you stay there will be food, clothing, and shelter for all who are willing to work for them.
“Your alternative is to join Mosa. Leave the comfort and protection of our fair city, and march out into the desert and face the harsh realities of the unknown.” Pharaoh allowed a pregnant pause to occupy the crowds mind.
“Any who wish to leave may go without risk of harm, but know this. You will have willfully turned your back on your people. If you try and return to this land you will be persecuted as traitors.
Pharaoh took two strides down the steps as a show of solidarity with his subjects below. He abruptly stopped and stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “You have one hour to make your decision to stay and work as free men, or leave this city forever. Any among you choosing to leave must present themselves at the northern gate of the city. There you will be branded with the mark of an exile and sent out into the desert with Mosa to lead you.”
Not a person in the crowd moved a muscle for several uneasy heartbeats. Everyone, from the soldiers standing guard to the lowliest slave, was stunned at what they just heard. Eventually, as if the crowd was moving in slow motion at first, people made their way back to their respective tents.
Mosa leaned over Hastelloy’s shoulder. Her lips were mere inches from his right ear so her voice could be heard over the din of the masses. “He certainly sold short the prospect of leaving the city didn’t he? I’ll be amazed if anyone comes to the north gate an hour from now. Looks like I may be wandering the desert alone.”
Slowly, Hastelloy turned to face Mosa for the first time since her arrival next to him. “Not to fear princess. You’ll have at least four companions on your wandering journey,” Hastelloy countered with a loose grin.
Chapter 51: Leave with Nothing
Pharaoh’s hour deadline came and went in a flash. Contrary to Mosa’s prediction, roughly two thousand men, women, and children gathered at the north gate waiting to be set free.
The scene was utter chaos. Carts carrying tents, clothing, and whatever food was left littered the narrow streets. Despite the mayhem of the moment, the exuberance of those choosing to leave was unmistakable. There were no fights, arguments or people jostling to get ahead in line. They all waited patiently for their turn while enjoying the freedom they were taking for themselves.
Hastelloy stood next to Mosa near the locked gate. An uneasy feeling was brewing inside his stomach. This was an ideal way for Pharaoh to round up all his enemies in one place and have his soldiers attack.
Hastelloy calmed his nerves with the knowledge that from Pharaoh’s point of view there was no real reason to kill everyone. In Pharaoh’s opinion the slaves were being led into the desert to die. There was no need to murder a few thousand and upset the couple hundred thousand choosing to stay. Nature would do the deed for him.
As the minutes passed, Hastelloy batted the two ideas back and forth in his mind like a ball in a tennis match. It didn’t make sense for Pharaoh to attack, but the man did have an ego that needed stroking. The situation was a toss-up.
A commotion on top of the stone gatehouse drew Hastelloy’s attention. Pharaoh struck a stately pose in the middle of the archway that ran across the northern gate. The two massive wooden doors remained defiantly closed and under heavy guard from several hundred soldiers. The moment of truth was at hand. Would Pharaoh raise his hand and order an attack, or would he keep his word and let the people go?
Pharaoh spoke and Mosa once again orated a translation. “My heart is heavy with grief that so many choose to betray me and my people. You bring shame and disgrace upon yourselves, but you are free men now. It is your right to make such foolish decisions.”
Most in the crowd had a deep-rooted hatred of the Pharaoh and his kingdom. To them the city brought a year of hard labor, torture and rape. These thoughts were at the front of
their minds so Pharaoh’s admonishment bounced harmlessly off of them. Those in the crowd who were not so sure of their hatred gave his words credence. There were not many, but Hastelloy noticed some in the crowd sporting thoughtful looks as they internally examined themselves and reconsidered their choice. These were the people Pharaoh was addressing.
The fact that Pharaoh was trying to convince more people to stay lifted Hastelloy’s spirits since it reduced the likelihood that a massacre was in the offering. He listened to Mosa’s translation as Pharaoh continued.
“I see you have come with carts to carry belongings out of the city with you. Why would you feel entitled to take these things that were granted for you to use by me?” Pharaoh paused. Everyone present knew what was coming next and Pharaoh wanted to let the anticipation hang in the air and fall over the crowd like a wet blanket suffocating them. “These things do not belong to you, they belong to this kingdom. The carts, the tents, the food, even the clothes on your back have all been given to you by me. If you choose to leave this great city, then I will have my property back. You own nothing so you will leave with nothing.”
That did the trick. Those on the fence about leaving immediately changed their minds. Pharaoh looked around with a smug smile as he watched hundreds turn around and return to the city. Like a tidal wave, the momentum of those immediately choosing to leave pulled others nearby along with them. No less than half the crowd faded back into the city.
Realizing he had the crowd right where he wanted them, Pharaoh signaled for the gates to open. As the doors slowly parted, Hastelloy caught a glimpse of the next deterrent. Five fires burned brightly with branding irons for cattle resting inside them. In unison, ten guards around each fire, fifty in all, pulled their irons from the fire to display a glowing red six-pointed star consisting of two overlapping triangles pointing in opposite directions.
Men in the crowd drew in a breath and held it, most women let out a frightened squeal, and the children began crying at the prospect of having the symbol seared onto their skin by hot metal. More people turned around and walked back into the city.
“If you truly wish to leave my protection you will strip down to your bare flesh, proceed through the gate, take the mark of a traitor, and never return.”
With his final words spoken, Pharaoh strutted down from the gatehouse using a narrow set of steps on the left side and strode back into the city under the protection of his guards. He never once looked upon the crowd again, as if their decision was ultimately unimportant to him.
Mosa looked up at Hastelloy with an unflinching stare. Without a word spoken, she untied the rope around her waist, slid the dress straps off her shoulders and allowed the garment to fall to the ground. Completely naked, she glided toward the fire pits. With a sadistic grin, the guard eagerly pressed the red-hot iron to her right shoulder.
A soft, sickening sizzle was heard and smoke rose from the point of contact. Soon after, Hastelloy caught a whiff of burnt flesh in the air. If the process hurt at all, Mosa showed no signs of pain. When the hot iron was withdrawn, Mosa proceeded forward into the desolate desert that filled the horizon as if she didn’t have a concern in the world. She never once looked back.
The tremendous amount of respect and esteem Hastelloy already held for Mosa grew exponentially at that moment. She was truly an inspiring leader. One he would follow to the end of the world if he didn’t already have his own agenda.
Hastelloy turned his head to see Gallono, Tonwen, and Valnor standing behind him. He gave them a subtle nod and all four men disrobed and followed Mosa’s example. They took their brand without a sound and walked on.
Hastelloy couldn’t help stealing a glance over his shoulder. Unlike Mosa, he was not so confident others would follow. To his great relief, hundreds of naked bodies followed her lead.
Chapter 52: Let’s Talk
Mark burst into the NASA flight director’s office, slammed the door shut and locked it behind him.
Alfred Kranz casually looked up from his computer monitor while seated at his desk facing the door. He regarded the intruder with a patient smile. “You look upset. Would you like a Prozac to take the edge off?” he asked while extending an open palm with a pill in the middle.
Mark’s only response was a flaming stare that threatened to melt everything in the office.
“Suit yourself; more for me,” Alfred said with a shrug. He popped the pill into his mouth, took a drink of water and swallowed.
“How’d you do it?” Mark shouted as he leveled his pistol at the flight director. “No more games. You reinstalled the probe’s message and strengthened the signal. How? Why?”
Alfred slowly raised his hands in the air to show his surrender, though his laidback posture in the chair indicated he couldn’t care less about the gun pointed at him.
“I suppose it all started five years ago when I designed Rex and commissioned the boys at Raytheon to build him,” Alfred said. “Things really got set in stone six months ago when I got a hold of Rex’s programming and added a few extra lines of code.”
“Your plan for sabotage really went to hell five minutes ago when I typed the execute command into my computer. This enacted my protocols and instructed Rex to reinstall the message your people deleted, gave the transmission signal some balls, and then sent the probe on her merry way. The last line of code told Rex to commit suicide into the receiver equipment so nothing could be done about it.”
Mark shuddered as he fought an overwhelming urge to pull the trigger.
“As to the question of why I did it,” Alfred continued without a care in the world. “I knew the only reason the probe mission got funding was for the fusion reactor. The transmission was designed to be somewhat powerful, but everyone knew it would never be heard, or at least not for another ten or twenty thousand years. To everyone else it was just about the reactor, but to us it was the message. We wanted to reach out and touch someone. Now that the signal has some oomph, it will be heard.”
“And what if the wrong people hear that message?” Mark protested. “It tells them where to find earth for Christ sake; we’re all toast.”
“Then the trick is making sure only the right people hear the message,” Alfred countered as he let loose a hearty yawn.
“Is that where the frequency of the transmission comes into play?” Mark challenged. “Is that your guarantee only specific recipients will get the message?”
“Figured that out all on your own did you?” Alfred mocked.
Alfred’s flippant answer was the last straw; Mark knew he needed to dial the interrogation up a notch, because obviously just pointing a gun at the flight director wasn’t getting the job done.
Mark stepped forward and violently whipped his left arm across the desk sending the phone and a stack of papers and folders crashing to the floor. He brought his arm back across the desk and sent the flat screen computer monitor careening to the ground as well. He then leveled the pistol point blank at Alfred’s nose.
“What made you flip like this,” Mark demanded. “You had a distinguished career with NASA, and now you throw away that legacy to conspire against your people. Why?”
“I am a patriot,” Alfred insisted through half shut eyelids.
“You’re a traitor,” Mark screamed at the top of his lungs. “You’ve sold us all out.”
“Patriot or traitor depends on your point of view,” Alfred lazily instructed. “I’m a patriot to my cause.”
“And what cause is that,” Mark demanded.
Alfred let out a chuckle as he picked up the only remaining object left on the desk, his lucky baseball cap. He looked upon it with reverence and then placed it on his head. “I still need to keep some secrets.”
Mark dashed around the director’s desk and hit him over the head with the hilt of his gun, then pointed the weapon at Alfred’s nose again. “Soon I’ll know all your secrets; it’s just a question of how much pain you endure before I do.”
Alfred cried out and grasped hi
s head with both hands. As he did, he slowly turned the lucky ball cap around backwards. “It’s rally cap time,” Alfred said as he began laughing uncontrollably.
“You’re going to need more than luck,” Mark said. Then he clubbed the director over the head again with his gun. Alfred let out a loud shriek of pain that lasted a few seconds, but soon turned back into laughter.
“Damn you, tell me,” Mark hollered, but the laughter continued. Mark was left with little choice. He pressed the barrel of his pistol into the meaty part of Alfred’s left thigh and pulled the trigger. The muffled gunshot was drowned out by Alfred’s ear piercing scream that brought the NASA flight director’s laughter to an abrupt halt.
“Okay. You win,” Alfred said as he struggled to remain conscious. “I’ll tell you my secret.”
Alfred gestured with his hand for Mark to bring his ear close. Mark leaned in, careful to keep his gun pointed at Alfred’s mid section.
The flight director waited a pair of heartbeats, and then whispered in a soft voice. “That wasn’t a Prozac I swallowed earlier.”
With the last word uttered, Alfred placed his lucky cap on Mark’s head and then slumped forward onto the desk.
“No,” Mark bellowed as he desperately checked for a pulse but it was no use. His only lead to the frequency source was dead, and Mark didn’t have a clue what to do next.
He leaned back against the desk in despair and looked down at Alfred’s body strewn across the desktop.
He pulled the ratty Texas Ranger’s baseball cap off his head and looked at it for a few minutes while he contemplated his predicament. “Let’s see if you bring me more luck than Alfred here.”
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