by Unknown
“Whether or not we’re alone in the universe?”
“No.” He smirked, walking around the back of his desk and sitting in the chair. “The change in direction.”
“These... beings who destroyed that city. Quite clearly they’re not the friendly sort. If what they were able to do in such a short amount of time is an indication of what they’re capable of, then I fear we as humans are in for some trying times.” She sat down and pulled out a recording device. She jiggled it in front of him and he nodded, agreeing to be recorded. “Obviously, they have the capability to wipe us out. Whether or not that happens I guess is a matter for God to decide. However, it’s awfully reminiscent of us as a people. We’ve spread across the globe much in a way some say these aliens are said to have spread across the galaxy. In the wake of our destruction are little pieces of the civilizations we crushed for our own advancement. I would hope in the ages to come, people would look back on us now and study the way we were, learn from us, and in some ways appreciate what we were.”
“This article is a way for you to build karma for us?” He tilted his head side to side in a contemplative manner, leaning back in his chair as it squeaked. “I like that.”
“What can you tell me about the exhibit that wasn’t already covered in previous articles?”
“I’m not sure… So much was covered.” He leaned forward, propped his elbows on the desktop, and removed his glasses. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I guess there is an aspect of these artifacts which was largely glossed over...”
“That would be?” She didn’t waste a beat, staying right on top of his words, which was her normal modus operandi.
“The majority of the things we uncovered were from around 320 B.C. Your basic tools for eating, farming, things of that nature. Most of it was nondescript and typical for the cultures from that area. However, the things the most curious in nature were found among Greek battle ruins buried deeper in the earth than expected and left completely undisturbed by the people who later built upon the area.” He grinned slightly and sighed with content. His hand gestures mimicked his words. “It was as if the entire area was sucked in on itself.”
“How do you know the date of the artifacts if they were buried so far under the earth?”
“We carbon-dated them based on similar artifacts found just twenty miles away from what seemed to be the epicenter of a cataclysmic event.” He folded his hands, twiddling his thumbs. His forehead was stacked with several v-shapes in the folds of his skin. He briefly opened his mouth, catching his breath, and then placed his index finger over his lips. His shoulders tensed up as he shifted in his chair, looking contemplatively at her. He reached for the recorder, pausing it. “I need this to be between us.”
“OK.” She nodded, crossing her legs.
“Among the ruins were not only Greek warriors well-preserved in a mummified state, but armies from all over a triangle region sprouting from eastern Egypt all the way to western Pakistan and then northwest toward Greece. It suggests a large battle took place and not one ever recorded in history.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“The cataclysmic event.”
“What caused it?” Emma sunk down into her chair, draping her hand over the armrest. She spread her fingers, opening the top zipper of her bag to confirm the second recording device she had brought was still doing its job. Her eyes moved back up to meet his. “An asteroid, maybe?”
“No. This was something more like a sinkhole, but on a massive scale. Everything just sort of... imploded.”
“Why do you think these three different armies converged like this and it was never recorded in history?”
“I have my theories, though others don’t share the same sentiments.” He shrugged his shoulders. “So it wouldn’t be right for me to speculate.”
“You sort of have by telling me.” She smiled—leaning forward—trying to goad him into a further response. “Why not say what you think? That’s why I’m here.”
“Off the record?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“There’s little talked about theory regarding Alexander the Great’s conquest to expand his empire eastwards. At the time, not much was known about India. Many armies had tried to rule them before with no success. It was thought their gods were stronger than the others and that afforded them advantages in warding off invading armies.”
“Didn’t he want a bridge with the Orient to create a trade route?”
“That is the prevailing theory. A humanitarian first, warrior second, but we all know about hiding true intentions to get what you want.” Dr. Nambitu nodded, as if knowing her secrets. “It was said the Hindu people drew their power from an ancient relic not of this world. Alexander the Great wanted this relic, as did just about every other major army that attempted to conquer the region over the ages. It’s funny how we’re still fighting there today.”
“I guess that part of the world just drew the short end of the stick.” Emma rolled her eyes. “It’s not like armies nowadays would be naive enough to think such an object exists.”
“No?”
“You don’t agree?” she laughed, slapping her knee. “What? You think the Americans are just another in a long line of civilizations looking for a quick power boost?”
“It would certainly fit their demeanor.” He nodded, grinning. “Speculation, like I said.”
“You found something.” She leaned forward onto his desk. Her eyebrows lowered, focusing in on his breathing rhythm. “I can tell. You should just come out and say it. I’m like a dog with a bone; I don’t give up when I catch a scent.”
“Your reputation from your time at the MIT precedes you.” He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. He made an exaggerated gesture with his eyes, pointing her in the direction of a fake plant sitting atop a filing cabinet. “I have my sources too, Miss Brighton. I’m not one to judge someone’s disgraced and disillusioned past, but I would think if there was anyone able to take a leap of faith into the supernatural, that would be you.”
“Is that so?”
“Your curious personality lends itself to moving from the force to journalism,” he smiled, sat up straight and twirled his fingers in distinct patterns on the top of his desk. “Why don’t you ask the real questions you came to ask so that we can move forward?”
“Ok then. This object,” she pulled out the print clipping and laid it in front of him, pointing at the egg-shaped slate-gray stone on the podium behind him in the picture, “was this one of the artifacts found at your latest dig?”
“No comment.” He nodded, eyes wide.
“Oh, come on, Dr. Nambitu. I thought we were off the record. Give me a straight answer.”
“You of all people should know,” he tilted his head toward the plant again, “things are never off the record. This is a boring story. Go write about those aliens in Moscow just like everyone else. You’ll be better off... your career, that is.”
“I can take care of my own career.” She grinned, acknowledging his subtle clues and warnings, and stood up. “However, I’m afraid it seems I would just be spinning my wheels with you. I won’t be getting anything here.”
“Correct.” He stood up, nodding. He reached for her hand and she obliged. “Thank you for stopping by. I really wish I could have been of more assistance.”
“Me too.” She leaned over his desk, shook his hand, and placed a small magnetic chip onto the motherboard on the back of his computer. She stepped away from the desk and grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulders. She wandered down the hallway, pulling out her mobile phone from her pocket, and dialed Jonas. It didn’t ring for long before he answered. “Is it transmitting?”
“I’m siphoning the data as we speak,” he replied. “I’m getting a few things now.”
“Anything on the stone?” she prodded, leaning onto a wall and biting her fingernails. “C’mon, out with it.”
“These things take time,” he snapped back. A few moments
passed. “Ok, here we have it. It seems the object we’re after was labeled ‘of unknown origins.’ The carbon-dating on the relic was deemed inconclusive. They sent it away to have the metal analyzed.”
“To whom?”
“Sending an SMS now.”
She looked at her mobile and smiled.
“I love you,” she said with a cheeky grin. “You’re simply brilliant.”
“I know,” he laughed. “I’ll see what else I can find.”
“I’ll head over to talk with this Sheila Bonnfield.” She clicked the red dial on her phone and headed out to hail a taxi.
* * *
Dr. Nambitu shut the door behind Emma and sprawled out on the brown leather sofa in his office. He rolled the sleeves up on his pink Gucci shirt and rubbed his forehead down, pressing the base of his palms in on his eyes. He kicked his shoes off, trying to relax. After several minutes, there was a knock.
He slowly pulled himself up, his lower back aching. He slightly cracked the door open, looking at who was on the other side. Immediately, his face fell. The three Arab men pushed into his office, two of them grabbing him by the shirt and forcing him onto the ground. The third shut the door and locked it.
“Mr. Yasser was very clear about the artifact,” Nassim said. His greasy black hair was slicked all the way back, and his almost yellowish tan had faded under the English sun. “You should have done more to avoid her questions. We told you what would happen...”
“I know, but you don’t understand. She’s a former detective with an ambitious goal of her own.” Dr. Nambitu’s hands tremored almost as fast as his speech. His breathing paused briefly as the men holding him down placed a blade between his legs. He quickly tried to reason with them. The knife sheared through his pants. “She’s been exposed to the underground world of the supernatural. If I gave her nothing it would have aroused even more suspicions.”
Nassim snapped his fingers at his counterparts and they halted. His eyes peered into Nambitu’s pleading gaze, as if briefly mulling over the doctor’s words. It was well known that Mr. Yasser valued his pawns, and the renowned Abayomi Nambitu opened a lot of doors for their operation. Nassim motioned with his head for the men to leave the room. They released their prisoner and followed the silent command.
“Thank you.” Nambitu brushed himself off, almost in tears. His dress shirt was soaked with sweat. He stood, believing the ordeal to be over until Nassim struck him in the diaphragm with a cross hook. That was just a warning shot, ringing loud and clear as Nambitu fell and hit his head on the floor. Nassim used his right foot push the doctor onto his back, making sure the devious grin expressing his pleasure was clear enough for Nambitu to see. Nambitu knew that the knife would do the talking in the future.
“Next time, don’t take the appointment.” Nassim pushed the archeologist onto his back with the bottom of his boot, pressing hard on top of Nambitu’s chest. “I’ll report this to Mr. Yasser later today. He’ll decide the final course of action. Understood?”
“Yes,” Nambitu hacked, unable to catch a full breath.
The men left his office and he fell back onto the couch, trembling. He pulled out his mobile phone and hovered over Emma’s contact information he had added himself earlier in the morning after agreeing to meet with her. He didn’t want Yasser’s men to get their hands on the artifact. He knew what it would mean, but he was unsure about risking the life of his family. He put the phone back in his pocket.
Chapter 3
Where did you go? Oreios stood at the foot of the bed, watching Zeus sleep. I remember the great battle and you disappearing. I remember an earth-shattering crash. Poseidon and you side-by-side, Oreios thought, kneeling to rest his chin on the footboard. His eyes peered closer to Zeus. The rage in your face… I can see the lines of anger from that day present on your forehead.
The angelic sight with which Zeus had gifted Oreios’ kind upon creation helped him see into the Archangel’s aura. The energy was severely drained as whatever Jackson and his forces were doing to mimic Zeus took its toll. He was sure the thousands of years spent locked away in a cocoon of the angelic alloy didn’t help his master either.
He moved around the side of the bed, pulling the silken sheet up to Zeus’ shoulders. Zeus’ hair was almost white and not the sandy blonde Oreios remembered. His skin was pale like that of a bleeding warrior lying on a battlefield with a sword in his gut. Oreios looked at Zeus’ starstone—which lay at his bedside—able to feel its power waning.
Three knocks on the doors to Maya’s chamber interrupted his focus. Oreios quickly walked over to the doors and squeezed through a small opening. Niko and a few dozen other inhabitants of New Troy stood waiting.
“What is it?” Oreios snapped, getting into Niko’s plump face. “I wanted to be left alone in order to collect my thoughts.”
“Sir, forgive me,” Niko stuttered, lowering his face. He kept his nose pointed toward the ground, but raised his eyes to look at Oreios. “With the rift sending our forces to invade the human realm—”
“Wait, what?” Oreios shook his head. He took a step back, holding his hand up for Niko to pause. “We sent a force to invade the human realm?”
“Yes.”
“Was it successful?”
“Hardly.” Niko shook his head. “The blue remake foiled their plans.”
“Well, the guy has some spunk after all.” Oreios nodded with a grin, thinking of the formidable force Jarrod might become.
“That’s not all I wanted to tell you.” Niko stepped forward, folding his hands at his waist. He swallowed his saliva and continued talking. “Over half of our forces are left trapped between realms. Lady Khali, at the behest of Lord Vishnu, has demanded we retract them from the rift space or else suffer their wrath. They’re upset that an attack of that size was done without their Corner’s consent.”
“What is it any of their business what we do?” Oreios looked at his toes, rubbing his chin. “You say they’ve threatened us? That means they’ve pretty much made up their mind.”
“How so?”
“It seems the only people who didn’t know about the invasion were those living under a rock. I can tell you, I was lonely under that rock.” Oreios walked through the crowd of people dressed in their ironclad armors. He thought many of them were too old or the wrong gender to really mount an effective defense against any sort of onslaught brought on by another Corner’s army. “They know our numbers are reduced and our forces weakened. If we could have removed the army from the rift, we would have done it by now. They’re coming for us.”
“We’re powerless to stop them,” Niko said in a frightened tone.
“You need to chill.” Oreios smirked.
“How will getting cold help?” Niko shook his head.
“Never mind,” Oreios sighed with a roll of the eyes. He walked back toward Maya’s chamber, hoping to wake Zeus just long enough to get some words of wisdom. “I need time to think. I don’t plan on letting this place fall.”
“How will you stop them?” another voice called out. An older man stepped through the crowd, arching forward. He looked up into Oreios’ eyes. “Their Corner was left mostly intact. They still have an Archangel at their helm. We can’t match their power.”
I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Oreios thought to himself, looking at the old man’s emblem on his left pectoral. It was the crest of Aeneas, a symbol that this old man took part in the last great battle. Oreios put his hand to the old man’s shoulder. “Rest up, my friend. A warrior like you will need his strength if he is to hold off the Legion of Vishnu.”
Oreios nodded at the people, then pressed onward into the private chamber.
* * *
Night reigned supreme over the London skyline. Lights showered the walls of Big Ben and the Palace of Westminster with a golden hue, reflecting over the calm waters of the River Thames. The London Eye was the imposing figure gleaming over her left shoulder to her back. Emma stood on the Westminster Bridge watching wh
at seemed to be the last few tourists in London. They were taking pictures of one another. From what she could tell, they were faking smiles.
They don’t want to be here, she thought, looking at her watch. She was still waiting for her guide. I guess in the rush to catch a flight home these folks drew the short end of the stick. No one wants to face potential alien extinction away from their loved ones.
Her guide, Harold, was later than usual, which wasn’t really a shock given the day’s events. One of his bodyguards was a Cyclops and Emma saw plenty of them sprawled out dead in the footage from Moscow. A gentle breeze massaged her shoulders and the back of her neck, bringing with it a quick pink glow.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the tourists frozen in place. The second hand on Big Ben’s face moved at a snail’s pace, barely able to tick. The heavy booted footsteps crept up behind her and a familiar musk of cologne invaded her senses.
“I was almost beginning to think you weren’t coming,” she said, turning to look at Harold. He wore a Yankees hat—and not the typical brown and green thatched hunting cap she found to be more typical of his usual attire. She looked at it, smirking. “Did you lose a bet?”
“I’m trying to be inconspicuous given the circumstances,” he replied through his thick beard. He put his hands in his fluffy oversized American jacket that looked like something out of a bad ‘90s film. “I’m trying to come off as a tourist and fit in.”
“All the tourists have left,” she laughed, nodding at the group to her side, “except the unlucky ones. You’d be better off in your normal clothes.”
“Really?” He wiggled his nose. He snapped his hands like a whip, pointed at the tourists, and their outfits were changed to match his. He winked at her. “Abracadabra.”
“You’re being facetious with your outfit,” she nodded, turning her face back toward him.
“God damn right I am.” He snapped his fingers, changing his clothes to a sleek black suit and a mauve dress shirt. “See? I still have an elegance that can’t be defined.”