The Betrayal of Ka (The Transprophetics Book 1)

by Shea Oliver

  “Give him something to wake him up and make him alert,” she commanded the physician.

  “Yes, ma’am,” blurted out the physician, “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

  She stood watching as the doctor returned and injected a stimulant into the IV line running into the man’s arm. As the stimulant hit him, his eyes popped open wide, and he bolted into a sitting position.

  “Only the bloodline of the true chief of the Burongi may handle the blade,” he warned as he collapsed back into the bed. “You should have never touched the blade. It is a relic from a long lost time, and you must pray it is never needed again.” He looked at her with a piercing intensity that almost frightened her. Then he blinked, and the milky cloudiness of his ancient eyes returned.

  “What happened to me when I touched Sabro?” she demanded.

  “You must understand, that only the bloodline of the true chief of the Burongi may handle the blade,” repeated the old man, sighing heavily, “Only he is capable of wielding this weapon.”

  “We can’t find anything about you, or Sabro, or any endowment for an archive,” she accused him, the frustration growing in her voice. “By the Lords of the Fourth System, who are you and what does this blade have to do with the Ministry?”

  “I am the last Archivist of the Ministry. Without an heir, I have returned the blade,” he repeated, as his eyes seemed to drift into a trance. “I pray we never again see the Lords of the Fourth System.”

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

  “Do you even know where the phrase, ‘Lords of the Fourth System,’ comes from, Chief Executive Minister?” the old man asked, with a seriousness that made her shiver.

  “It’s just a phrase,” she replied. “It’s been around forever.”

  The old man coughed, but more gently than before and looked at her questioningly, as if he was trying to decide whether he should say something or not. He was being well cared for by the medical staff, and they would ease his passing. Sadly, the doctors believed that he would die within the day.

  “It’s more than a phrase; its meaning has been hidden in history,” the old man told her. “My father and his father before him and his father before him have kept the secret alive and guarded the blade. For generations, we have lived a simple life in the jungle, fulfilling our duty.”

  “Okay, tell me the story, so that I may protect the blade and its secret for you,” she suggested.

  The old man relaxed, and his eyes glazed over as his mind drifted into the past. “Do you know what the Fourth System was that men from Koranth invaded?” he asked.

  “Not off the top of my head,” she replied.

  “It was the Twelfth Corporation that installed the portal on the Fourth System,” he began.

  “There have always been Eleven until recently,” she interrupted, declaring that he must be wrong.

  “Please listen to my story,” he commanded, “and I will tell what the Ministry itself hid in history over seven hundred years ago.”

  He began his tale, explaining that after the Exorthium Colonial Wars, the Ministry had been formed, and it was to monitor Twelve Corporations, not Eleven. As planets were identified that contained life, missions were sent, and eventually portals were opened to three other planets. The profits and riches that flowed were enormous. A mission, to the fourth planet that had been discovered by the early explorers from Koranth and Zoranth, found a planet with vast cities that were frighteningly similar to the metropolises of Koranth and Zoranth, with one exception—there was not a living human on the planet.

  That first crew visited many of the giant cities, finding nothing but nature taking over what once had been built by the hand of man. There was one striking similarity in each of the cities. A huge pyramid had been built on the south end of each city that was grander than anything on either Koranth or Zoranth. The base of each pyramid spanned well over a square mile. The walls rose quickly to over two thousand feet. The top revealed a massive courtyard with nine buildings in a horseshoe. In each city, it was the same.

  The largest of the buildings atop these pyramids was at the top of the horseshoe. On each side of the horseshoe, four temples stood, with towering columns supporting high roofs. In every one of the buildings, massive amounts of jewels, coins, and objects of rare metals were piled in gigantic heaps. The walls were stacked deep with bars of rare, shining metals. The amount of wealth in each of the buildings was impossible to calculate.

  However, that largest building at the top of the horseshoe was very different. A flight of a hundred stairs led to a single door, well over two stories tall. Opening that door revealed an enormous throne room encompassing nearly the entire building. The ceiling, floor, and walls were decorated with fine tiles, adorned with gems and rare metals. Statues of grotesque beasts that were abusing and consuming humans lined the walls, gilded with thick layers of precious metals, and adorned with gemstones larger than the fist of man. The throne itself was raised above the floor of the room by many steps, with each of the steps, covered in razor-sharp spikes of gemstones of a thousand different hues. The throne itself was made of a material that no one had ever seen. It was pure white, but light seemed to pass through it, sending off bursts of brilliant colored lights. The wall behind every throne exhibited a macabre mosaic of blackened human skulls, stretching up for over five stories.

  Behind each of the thrones, in the middle of the wall of skulls, was a passageway, a long corridor that sloped downward, deeper and deeper, winding into the very heart of the pyramid. The walls of the passageways were lined with countless human bones and skulls. Splitting off from the main passageway were more rooms filled with treasures. The passageways all ended in a large room that should have been pitch dark but was not.

  In each corner, a large caldron of oil burned. The oil seemed to be fed slowly from an unknown source. A few of the caldrons had flames running down their sides, as the oil fed slightly more quickly than it burned off. In the middle of each of these fire-lit rooms lay a massive, stone sarcophagus.

  The first crew was wise enough, or perhaps superstitious enough, to leave the sarcophaguses as they were. They believed that whatever was in those sarcophaguses had probably sat on the thrones. They dubbed them the “Lords of the Fourth System.” They sent their reports and artifacts back to Koranth in the return vessel, and within a few years a ship returned with a portal. A large hydroelectric station near one of the cities was brought back online, and Koranth was connected to the Fourth System.

  Celestina watched as the old man began to cough again. The telling of the story was obviously difficult in the man’s condition, but when doctors came to tend to the man, she ordered them to give him another stimulant and sent them away. She wanted to hear the entire story as quickly as possible.

  “I can’t believe that we’ve never heard any of this,” remarked her secretary, Besnik Treowe, who had accompanied Celestina to meet with the old man.

  “No, my friend, the Ministry has long been a powerful organization,” replied the old man with another cough. “What I have told you and what I will now tell you was erased from history to protect all of us.” The old man continued the story.

  Once Koranth and the Fourth System were connected, the Twelfth Corporation’s military flowed through the portal as a precaution. Experts were sent to study the planet and, moreover, to study the grand pyramids. They were declared some planet-wide religion. Of course, as is the reality of human nature, one of the sarcophaguses was opened.

  Inside the sarcophagus was something like a man, or perhaps it was a god. It was hard to tell. Its skin was almost translucent, but light seemed to be lost into the surface of its skin. It was clothed in very royal, but functional, almost warrior-like clothing. Upon its head lay a crown of gems welded together somehow, as no metal or other material was apparent.

  As that first scientist gazed upon the being, its eyes opened, and a cruel smile spread across its face. It rose from the sarcophagus, climbing out,
but seeming to float and barely make contact with any surface. It stood before that poor scientist who was transfixed by the creature’s presence. Those who saw the event said that the caldrons all began to burn brighter as the being stretched out its hand and touched the scientist’s face. The scientist screamed as his entire body erupted into flames. A nearby soldier opened fire with a laser gun, but only managed to end the scientist’s suffering.

  Energy blasts, lasers, and projectiles seemed to only pass through the being as it came up the passageway, turning each person it touched into a human torch. Within hours, the Corporation had exhausted every weapon in its arsenal, trying to stop the being. But nothing seemed to work. Knives, rocks, and sticks seemed to pass through what looked and moved like a large man. Over the next few days, the few humans left on the Fourth System retreated to the portal, pursued by this terrible being. When the last of the humans on the Fourth System perished, the creature stepped through the portal to Koranth.

  “How can this be?” asked Celestina. “I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

  “Of course not,” replied the old man. “Your own Ministry never wanted you to hear of this ever.” After another cough and drink of water, the old man continued to tell his tale.

  As is still the case, portals are dangerous devices. The Twelfth Corporation had placed the Koranth side of this portal in the remote jungles of the country of Zuoruntu. Unbeknownst to the Ministry or the Corporation, the portal had been placed near a sacred site of the Burongi.

  When the being came through the portal, it massacred everything the Corporate military could throw at it. It simply walked up and whomever it touched burst into flames. It was a terrifying death, but what came next was even worse. Some of the Burongi had been watching what was happening. They were still mostly a tribal people, living in the jungles and the mountains at that time. They witnessed the creature’s destructive nature and then watched as the beast began to gnaw on the burned bones of the dead.

  A young warrior chief among the Burongi was outraged at what was viewed as sacrilege. He traveled into the scared site, where a warrior king of old was buried. The Burongi believe that this king of old had fought demons of some hell with a weapon from the gods—Sabro. The chief retrieved the blade from the burial tomb and returned to fight the being.

  “The blade passed through the creature, just as every other weapon had. For a mere second, it appeared the creature would be unaffected, but then its scream shook the trees. Much like Celestina’s arm, the creature was frozen.

  A scientist, who had hidden in the jungle, began to examine the being. He was frozen solid, but within a few hours, the Lord of the Fourth System began to thaw. Fortunately, one of the Ministry’s Ministers had come to the site. Upon seeing the creature beginning to move, he ordered it thrown back through the portal. The creature, that Lord of the Fourth System, was returned to his own world and within a few minutes the portal was powered down.

  The Ministry moved quickly to absorb the Twelfth Corporation and all its assets. A large stone temple was built over the portal, and within a few years, the jungle reclaimed the evidence of our so-called advanced human activity.

  Celestina watched as the old man worked through another terrible coughing fit. It was obvious that he was in great pain. She felt some pity for him but wanted a few more answers before she left him. She summoned the doctor, commanding him to administer another dose of whatever stimulant was keeping the old man alert.

  “So the Ministry actually absorbed the Corporation and took its rights to this planet of great wealth?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he replied, “but only to power down the portal and make sure no one ever opened it again.”

  “So, your family long ago was entrusted with the sword and the story. Who else knows?” asked Celestina, hers eyes getting wider and wider.

  “Chief Executive Minister, the people in this room are the only ones,” replied the old man, as yet another wrenching coughing fit gripped him, and he began to choke.

  She glared at him, until the fit ran its course. He stared at her with blank, empty eyes. She cared little, as she only had one last inquiry. “Pray tell me then, old man,” began Celestina, with a greedy glint in her eyes, “where is this portal hidden?”

  Celestina let out a scream, as the old man’s head slumped and his eyes glazed over, staring into a distant place from which he would never return. He was dead, and any secrets from the Ministry’s past vanished as the final bit of air escaped from his lungs.

  Turning to her longtime, trusted secretary, Besnik Treowe, she declared, “You’ve just been promoted. I don’t care how long it takes, or what resources you need, find me that portal!”

  Chapter 33

  Master of Illusions

  Kadamba stood on the balcony and looked out over the Thames River. The sun had been down for a few hours, and the air was brisk and cold. He could hear the muffled sounds of Dr. Tarea and the woman who owned, or maybe just used, the rundown apartment. It wasn’t pleasure that came from them. It was more animalistic. They were using each other—she wanted money and Dr. Tarea just wanted to get off.

  The last few weeks had been so different than anything Kadamba could have ever imagined. The mission seemed twisted and warped. Kadamba understood that they didn’t have resources here on this planet. They had to steal them. Cash had worked great in the United States. You could get anything you wanted. Then came the challenge of leaving the US. Something called passports were needed.

  Dr. Tarea and Kadamba had made it to Washington, DC. They had stolen a few cars and robbed a few gas stations. It was even easier than either had expected. The further east that they traveled, the more money Dr. Tarea decided that he wanted. Cheap motels were no longer good enough for the doctor; he wanted to stay in nicer and nicer places. The food here was different. You could get things cheap at fast food joints and diners, but Dr. Tarea discovered he enjoyed nicer restaurants.

  The two of them had been casing a gas station in a less refined part of Washington, DC when Kadamba saw the exchange. He recognized it. He’d done the exact same thing years before. It was a small-time drug purchase.

  Kadamba followed the older one, who was obviously the seller. He wore all black leather and dark glasses that hid his eyes. He ducked around a corner and was trying to unlock a door in the alley when Kadamba approached him.

  “Sir, I saw you sell that kid some drugs,” Kadamba informed him.

  “Yo,” replied the dealer as he pulled his glasses off, “you didn’t see shit, motherfucker!”

  “I don’t want to cause trouble. I just need some help. Please?” Kadamba disclosed.

  “And that honky motherfucker standing behind you is what?” the dealer asked, pointing to Dr. Tarea. “Your seeing eye dog?”

  Kadamba saw the man reaching into his pocket to pull out a small revolver. Before the man could completely raise the weapon, Kadamba took him to the ground, disarming him and poking the gun into his temple.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” began Kadamba, “if I did, you’d be dead. I need help, and I am thinking you probably know someone who might know someone who could help.”

  The man was obviously angry. “Fuck you, asshole, I ain’t doing shit for you.”

  “Listen,” Kadamba commanded, as he cocked the revolver’s hammer back, “I need to buy passports for the doctor and me. Can you help me?”

  “What, motherfucker! You want papers! Do I look like a passport office to you?” defiantly barked the dealer.

  Kadamba pushed the barrel of the gun harder into the man’s temple, as Dr. Tarea walked over to them. “Just blow his brains out. He can’t help.”

  “Okay! Okay! I know a man!”

  Kadamba helped the man to his feet, pocketing the gun. They walked for many blocks, and the farther they went, the more rundown the neighborhood became. They climbed up onto a loading dock of what looked like an abandoned warehouse, and the drug dealer knocked on the door.

  A small
metal window on the door slid open at the same time that Kadamba realized that there were three men across the street, standing on the loading dock of another warehouse. The three men had automatic weapons trained on Kadamba and Dr. Tarea.

  “Fuck you want, Lippy?” came a voice through the small window, which now had the barrel of a handgun pointing through it.

  “Got some buyers for Daddy Rings,” answered the obviously nervous dealer. “The brother here and his honky be lookin’ for papers.”

  “You a dumb motherfucker,” came the voice as the window slammed shut. The door began to open, and two men holding small automatic weapons stepped out.

  They looked Kadamba and the doctor over. One of the men gestured for them to go inside. Once they walked through the door, they found themselves against a wall, being frisked, and everything they had with them was taken. They were walked down a long corridor and brought into a large room.

  Music with a deep, thumping bass played somewhere in the distance. The room, furnished with old sofas and beanbags, was lit by some twenty or so lava lamps that were spread about on small tables and shelves. About a dozen people sat around the room, half of them smoking joints. At one end of the room was a very large sofa with an equally large man sitting on it. Two men stood at each side of the sofa, dressed in black, holding what Kadamba knew to be Uzis, nasty projectile weapons that were difficult to control. None of them moved as the three men were brought in front of the sofa.

  The large black man on the sofa removed his dark glasses. All of his fingers and each of his thumbs were adorned with heavy gold rings set with huge jewels. Around his neck hung thick braided chains of gold, and a few of the necklaces had huge rings dangling from them. He threw the glasses onto the sofa and stared intently at the dealer, who Kadamba now knew was nicknamed, “Lippy.”

  “Da fuck you thinkin’?” demanded the man, in a voice as deep as his size, as he rose from the sofa. He was tall and thick. Kadamba watched as the huge man looked Lippy up and down, with an obvious look of disdain on his face. The man wasn’t quite as big and muscular as Jackos the Giant, but he was every bit as intimidating. Lippy was shaking as the man strode two paces and landed his fist with a terrible blow into Lippy’s gut.