“Thanks you, Flash. I am only fulfilling my duty to the Master of Light,” replied Thunder.
“It pains me to inform you that the Gnosis is not as pure as it ought to be,” continued Flash.
His speech was interrupted by whispers and murmurs.
“We are all aware that, following the betrayal of 'the Condemned One, whose Name has been Erased', he who caused the great explosion in the compound decades ago, the Brotherhood of Purity was founded in Istanbul and has spread to Uruk as well. The Brotherhood dealt with internal security affairs and loyalty checks of Gnostic members. Fortunately, the Brotherhood has successfully dealt with these matters so far, but never have we tackled a challenge like the one we face now. It turns out that not only do we no longer have the Sacred Uruk Tablet that will choose the redeemer for us and so we pray to an empty frame, we also lack a leader.” He paused to allow a moment for the murmurs to subside and then continued. “I can only confide in you; I shall share the information I possess only with you.”
“What are you implying?” The murmurs rose again.
“I will explain everything; be patient. If you may recall, Smoke managed to escape unscathed and became Truth's senior deputy.”
“Yes, yes,” they nodded.
“Elusive as a demon, like a ghost,” said Thunder. Flash could not suppress an involuntary twitch in his face.
“After the battle, I examined the battle computer myself, the one that tracks all the devices and processes of each aircraft that participated in the exercise. I found anomalies.” Flash paused to heighten the sense of suspense and then continued. “Whoever does not believe me may check the log himself. Smoke suffered from a technical malfunction. A malfunction caused by his failure to perform the essential pre-flight checks, as every Gnostic warrior should.”
“A malfunction does not necessarily indicate disloyalty,” piped one of the members.
“Correct. A malfunction indicates a lack of professionalism, and I am not sure if I am prepared to accept the authority of a future commander of the Gnostic forces if he is professionally lacking. But this is not what I came here to speak to you about. In this case, fraud was committed by the Commander in Chief himself.”
“Truth?” they gasped in unison.
“Yes. I know that this is hard for you to believe. You do not have all the facts. Remember, this was a ceremonial exercise.”
“Yes, yes,” they nodded.
“And you are all aware that, during these exercises, it is forbidden to save those who fail or make mistakes. Just like during the ceremonial Walk Along the Abyss, so too during this flight: a commander must not rescue his soldiers. This type of assistance harms the Gnostic purity. I will not bore you with conjecture. The moment when it became apparent that Smoke's device had malfunctioned, Truth overrode his system and corrected the error. His leadership demonstrated weakness that is inappropriate for a Gnostic,” he added in a firm and somber tone.
Incensed mutterings could be heard all around.
“I too had great difficulty believing it initially, but I hold the proof right here in my hands.” He presented the data documenting Truths's activity on the portable display he pulled out of his pocket. They stared at it, stunned. The uproar rose again.
“How far has the Gnosis deteriorated? The father of the ship, a traitor?!” exclaimed Abyss in anger. Flash watched the pandemonium with satisfaction. 'Everything is going according to plan,' he mused.
“We must act at once! He has defiled the sanctity of the Gnosis,” thundered Spark.
“Please, lower your voices so that we aren't heard,” coaxed Flash. Some of the members shot anxious glances toward the door. “Do not worry. It is almost time for us to come out of hiding and act out in the open. We shall purify the Gnosis in the name of the Brotherhood.” All nodded in agreement.
“Thunder, please,” Flash turned to him.
“Like many of you, I have been part of the Gnosis since I was a young boy. I have never been supported when I fell, I have never supported others who have fallen and I have never encountered a true Gnostic who behaved otherwise. Since the betrayal of the Condemned One, whose Name has been Erased, I was sure that we had uprooted all the traitors from among our midst; now, however, I fear that this is not the case. Flash informed me of Truth's correction during the sacred ceremony. I saw the data with my very own eyes, like you did, and to my chagrin, I cannot deny reality. Truth cannot be trusted.”
“You too cast doubt on the father of the ship?” asked one member incredulously.
“Yes!” Flash answered for him, “It is clear to me beyond any shadow of a doubt that if Truth was stricken with faint-heartedness and supported the falling during the exercise, then come the moment of truth, he may also be seized with weakness in the face of the supreme nullification, of achieving our mission. We are obligated to bring the Gnosis forward to a new era of purity; to be alert, to return the Gnosis to its original values. We must let Truth fall when he stumbles, and if not, we shall overthrow him.”
Thunder nodded approvingly. The other members whispered briefly among themselves, their somber faces a testament to their tempers.
“What must we do?” asked Spark.
It was not clear if the question was directed at Thunder or Flash. Thunder was the senior of the two, but Flash already acted as if he were the leader of the Brotherhood of Purity.
“I have no interest in leading the rebellion. I do not aspire to appear to be the redeemer. I have no interest in replacing Truth in his path to becoming the redeemer. My only interest is to preserve the sanctity of the Gnosis. We must choose a leader for ourselves. Thunder, our comrade in the Brotherhood, is more senior than I. I propose Thunder.”
“Managing the Brotherhood will be detrimental to my current management of the headquarters. I do not want Truth to suspect anything. Please, Flash, you be the leader,” said Thunder. Even though he wanted to lead the Gnosis, he knew that he was not prepared to lead the opposition against Truth.
“Yes, Flash, tell us what to do,” said Spark.
This is exactly what Flash had anticipated. He assumed that Thunder would respond the way that he did. Now he could take the leadership position without any opposition. “In light of the circumstances, I have no choice: I must lead us. We have no choice: we must take action in order to save the Gnosis. For the sake of efficiency, I propose that some of the members here form a leadership committee. The committee will prepare contingency plans for various scenarios of Gnostic activity, as well as for various failures committed by Truth during the course of his leadership in various scenarios. We must recruit a portion of the badgers to our service as well. During the moment of truth, we will need to perform operations on the ground.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“If so, in the name of the Master of Light, we are all together now?”
“In the name of the Master of Light!” they all chorused.
“The meeting is now closed. And now, we will leave here one at a time and avoid contact for the remainder of the day.”
Flash could feel fresh blood coursing through his veins. He had waited a long time for this moment. His newfound power was intoxicating in its intensity.
Oh, Master of Light.
You have surely redeemed me from wandering.
You have brought me near to You.
I stand before You without fear or trembling,
In the complete eternal light that contains no darkness,
Bless me! For I am but dust and ashes.
Flash was the last one remaining in the warehouse. He finished his silent prayer and returned to the mundane routine of the compound.
The Gnostics refrained from deliberately harming the Syrian city of Aleppo. Its inhabitants were mainly merchants who managed to maintain good relations with most of the tribes. On occasion, they also served as intermediaries, transferring messages or supplying rare cargo. The wealthy residents of the city forked over substantial sums of money in order to be a
llowed to keep their wealth, and this is how the city on the hill continued to survive. Inside the city, where crowds filled the streets, none of the sentinels stationed on the walls paid any attention to a dusty vagabond who was passing through their midst. He seemed to be down on his luck, one of the survivors of a tribe now scattered throughout the planet. He wore sandals made of black plastic strips and a tattered desert cloak. On his head was a thatched straw hat bearing a pin with three rays circumscribed in a circular frame, a relic of a twentieth century car manufacturer.
He removed a few coins from his pocket and refreshed himself with some bittersweet pomegranate juice from a street vendor in the shade of the wall. He then made his way through the alleys of the kasbah. Everyone ignored him: the shouting peddlers, the shopkeepers trying to lure in the passersby, even the beggar children who chased after anyone they could reach; even they turned their faces from him, afraid he would ask them for money. It was obvious that he was a man of no means. He crossed the garment street, turned right onto the fruits and vegetable street and continued to the spice alley. He passed by the all-purpose plastic strip stalls and stopped at the entrance of a store that sold antiques from the twentieth century.
Bakhnus was a very shrewd merchant, but only a few people were aware of this in Aleppo. Only those who engaged in the black market trade with him knew this, and most of these customers came from outside the city. As an antiques dealer, he did not stand out with any particular skills, nor did he demand extraordinary prices. But as far as his true trade went, the sale of contraband merchandise, he was second to none in Aleppo. He acquired this position mainly through his ability to keep secrets and win his customers' confidence. The vagabond entered the store.
After shaking hands, Bakhnus said, “Sit, Rial, have a drink and rest from your journey. Perhaps some coffee? Cold coffee?”
“Yes, cold coffee, thanks,” said the stranger called Rial in a deep, melodic voice that bore no signs of dust from the roads nor weariness of traveling. He gulped the cool drink served in a large mug and praised his host on the coffee's fine quality. Indeed, it was a rare blend.
“Wait here a moment, I'l get what you paid for in advance and be right back,” said Bakhnus.
Bakhnus pulled back the curtain at the edge of the store and entered the storage room. The vagabond continued to slowly drink his coffee and observe the curious objects around him: books made of tree paper, ceramic plates, clocks with gears that had stopped and other collectors' items that had been out of use for years. Bakhnus returned with a package wrapped in brown plastic fastened with straps. The vagabond peeked inside the package, smiled in satisfaction and retied it. Bakhnus fastened the package with another two strips of plastic to form a harness.
The vagabond slid his arms into the straps and hoisted the bundle onto his back. He parted with the merchant and exited once more into the alleys of the Aleppo kasbah. This time, a string of children trailed after him in hopes that his package contained money, or that he would at least throw some candy in their direction. He ignored them and they gave up their attempts. After exiting the city gates, he marched alone southbound on the dusty path.
The aircraft stood unscathed, concealed inside the thicket not far from the city. He neutralized the electronic defense field and performed the pre-flight checks. He changed out of his street clothes and donned his Gnostic uniform, examined his appearance reflected in the shiny cover of the cockpit and took off vertically, turning toward Baalbek. A few minutes after passing Baalbek, he radioed, “father of the ship is on his way back
.”
Link to "Mesopotamia – The Redeemer" book page
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/293038
Mesopotamia - The Healer, the Slave and the Prince Page 15