“What?” asked Steropes, having gotten lost in the memory. He looked down at the man under his staff. “Oh, yes, sorry about that.”
He removed the staff, and Calvin helped the man up. “What can you tell us about the pyramid from this point further?” Calvin asked.
“Nothing,” the man said, rubbing his throat. “Only the priests are allowed beyond this point. To go past here is to die most horribly.”
“Do you know how many priests and snakes there are?” Master Chief asked.
“I don’t know,” the man said. “There are probably at least 10 priests, and then another 30 of their assistants and acolytes. I don’t know how many of the gods there are.”
“They are not gods,” Steropes repeated. Calvin could tell that Steropes must have had some past history with the coatls to be so vehement about it.
“I don’t know how many there are,” the man said again. “There are probably at least five although I have a hard time telling them apart. Most of them look the same, except for Him.”
“Who is ‘him’?” Calvin asked.
“Quetzalcoatl,” both the man and Steropes replied simultaneously.
Calvin looked at Steropes. “How did you know?”
“Easy,” Steropes said. “He is a telepath. He knows we are here. We should be going; every minute we linger is a minute he can use to prepare.”
“Master Chief, you heard the man,” Calvin directed, “move ‘em out!” He looked at the man, shivering in fear. He had failed the coatls; he knew his life and the lives of those he loved were now forfeit. “Go that way,” Calvin said, pointing in the direction they had come. “You will probably want to be a long way from this pyramid very soon.” The man left at a run.
The squad moved slowly down the passageway, watching for traps.
Wraith moved up to walk alongside Steropes. “It is obvious that you are a master of both the open hand and the staff. Do you know all of the forms?”
“Yes,” Steropes replied, putting his suit back on. “I spent about two centuries learning all five of the traditional family styles. I also know the spear, sword and saber, as well, although I could never quite master the spear as well as I would have liked, due to my size.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “I once had the most beautiful spear in the world, but I gave it to King Fuchai of Wu to use in his war against King Goujian of Yue. Fuchai should have listened to me and killed Goujian when he won, rather than leaving him behind while Fuchai continued to advance. Goujian sacked Wu, and Fuchai was forced to commit suicide,” he said distantly, lost in thought. “It was very sad.”
Steropes shook himself. “We can talk about it more later. We need to focus on what we’re doing.” Looking up, he saw that several of the soldiers had gone further up the hall. “Please let me lead,” he commed, snapping on his helmet. “I know what to look for.” The soldiers in the front slowed and allowed him to overtake them slightly. While they had a new-found respect for Steropes as a hand-to-hand fighter, he didn’t have a rifle and had no way of hitting a target outside his reach. They stayed close in order to protect him.
The squad turned another corner, and the passageway began to slope up. “We will start finding traps and snakes soon,” he advised. He stopped suddenly, looking at an inscription on the wall.
“What does that say?” Calvin asked.
“Basically, it says that if you go any further, you will be cursed by a jinni and will die a slow, painful death,” Steropes replied.
“A jinni?” Master Chief asked. “C’mon now, you don’t really believe in jinn do you?”
“What are jinn?” Calvin asked.
“Jinn are supernatural creatures that exist in the galaxy,” Steropes replied. “They are spoken about in Islamic lore on Earth. There are many kinds of jinn, with various powers. One literary example of a jinni is Aladdin’s genie in the bottle.”
“So, you’re saying that these things really exist?” Calvin asked. “And they grant wishes?”
“They certainly do exist,” said Vice Sergeant Ismail Al-Sabani. “Getting a wish from one is a very dangerous thing, as they will usually try to turn it around on the person asking for the wish.” He nodded to the inscription. “Curses and witchcraft are bad enough on their own,” he added, “but if they have jinn, we must be very careful.”
“Not all witches are bad,” remarked Sergeant Margaret Andrews. A Jamaican by birth, Calvin knew that she was a believer in many forms of witchcraft. The rumor in the platoon was that she was also a practitioner. Wondering what the chaplain thought about this topic, Calvin looked over to find the priest following the conversation intently. Making good on his vow not to cause problems within the squad, he didn’t participate in the discussion, although Calvin could tell that he had strong feelings about it.
“Not all jinn are bad either,” answered Al-Sabani. “They are one of the three sapient creations of God, along with humans and angels. They have free will, so they can be good or bad. If the snake creatures are controlling a jinni or jinn, we must be careful. They are made from the smokeless fire by Allah, and some are very powerful. If they have enslaved one of these, its anger will be immense. It will do everything it can to kill us.”
“Surely you don’t believe in these spirits?” asked Petty Officer David Levine. “I have never seen one. Have you?”
“Most of the time they are invisible,” Al-Sabani replied, “but the Prophet saw them; therefore, they exist.” His tone indicated that there was no doubt in his mind.
“OK,” Master Chief interrupted, “I’m sure this will be a fun topic of conversation when we get back to the ship. We can all sit around with a nice tea in the comfort of the squad bay and discuss religion all day. At the moment, though, there are things that are trying to kill us. How about we focus on them now and worry about that later?” The way he said it made it a command, not a question.
“What I was going to say,” Steropes commed so that everyone could hear him, “is that we may be exposed to a variety of poisons past this point. It would be prudent to ensure your helmet seals and go to recycled air.”
“Got it,” Calvin commed. He looked up the ramp. “Do we continue up?”
“Not unless you want to be doused in poisonous chemicals,” Steropes answered. “That is a dead end passageway. Once you go a little further, a powder will dump out a number of holes. If you take even one breath of it, you actually will be cursed with a slow, painful death. That warning isn’t just for people that don’t belong here; it’s also a reminder to the new acolytes and priests not to go any further up this passageway.”
Steropes looked closely at the left wall. Finding what he wanted, he pushed in one of the stones. There was a ‘click,’ and a five feet square section of the wall rotated in on oiled hinges. “This is where we want to go,” he said. He turned on his helmet light. “We’ll need lights from here. This portion won’t be lit. If anyone sees writing on the walls, please let me know.”
Steropes walked into the dark passageway and turned left to follow it, going back in the direction they had just been coming from. He walked along the right side of the passageway, scanning the wall as he slowly made his way along it. Vice Sergeant Ismail Al-Sabani moved up to walk next to him. Although Al-Sabani didn’t transmit, Steropes could hear him saying something inside his suit. Finally Steropes stopped and looked at him, “Do you know something that I don’t?”
“Do you have a qarin?” Al-Sabani asked.
“If I do,” Steropes replied, “I am unacquainted with him or her.”
Al-Sabani nodded. “I have had my qarin since I was a little child. When I was five, I became very sick, nearly unto death. I had a fever that nothing could cure. As I lay there on my bedroll, I could feel two qarin wrestling over me. One was evil, the other benevolent. They fought over me for two days. All the while, I lay in a coma at death’s doorway. Finally, the benevolent spirit was victorious and threw down the evil one. Ever since that day he has guided me, speaking to me when needed. I am the one most ac
quainted with the jinn. It is best for me to accompany you.”
Steropes nodded. “What is he telling you now?” he asked.
“He is telling me to pray,” Al-Sabani replied.
“Then you should certainly do so,” Steropes agreed.
“Wait a second,” Calvin said. “Is there something the rest of us should know? What is a qarin?”
“We’re not going to stand here and discuss old wives tales when there are things that need killing, are we?” Petty Officer David Levine asked. “I grew up with an Islamic friend, and that was all he ever talked about. Jinn this, qarin that. I don’t know what good they’re supposed to be; his qarin didn’t tell him not to step on the land mine that killed him.”
“I’ll ask again,” Calvin repeated. “What’s a qarin?”
“A qarin is a special jinni that is assigned to a person,” Al-Sabani replied. “The uncultured believe in guardian angels; they are really jinn.”
“What is the difference?” Calvin asked.
“Angels obey the will of Allah,” Al-Sabani answered, “whereas jinn have free will. A guardian angel would always help you and keep you on the correct path. A qarin might be bad and constantly try to lead you astray.”
“And you’ve got one of these?” Calvin asked.
“I have had a good qarin since I was five,” Al-Sabani said. “Haatan has never led me astray. He is telling me that this temple is full of evil and that we should leave. He also suggested prayer, but he doesn’t think that will be sufficient. He believes that if we stay, we will die.”
“There issss an anti-jinn prayer?” Bob asked. “Can you teach it to ussss?” Calvin had noticed that the therapods’ lisps always got worse when they were excited. Or scared.
“It is the Throne Verse of the Qur'an,” Al-Sabani replied, “but if you are not a believer, it will not work for you. That is why I do it for you.”
“And I, as well,” Leading Seaman Abdul Wazir agreed, a Muslim from the Kashmir region of India.
“Can we go now?” Levine asked. “I need to get back as quick as I can to my jinn...my gin and tonic, that is.” He laughed at his joke.
“Knock it off, Levine,” Master Chief O’Leary ordered, hoping to avoid a religious war. “Let’s focus on killing whatever’s in this pyramid. We can discuss this when we get back to the ship.”
“Steropes, please lead on,” Calvin ordered. “Anything you can do to assist, Sergeant Al-Sabani, is most welcome.”
The 15 remaining members of the squad and their chaplain followed Steropes as he proceeded along the dark passageway. As they came to the next corner, a glow could be seen from around it. Steropes and Sergeant Al-Sabani rounded the corner to find an empty passage leading off as far as the eye could see, well lit by torches placed every 20 feet or so. Steropes stopped suddenly, causing Petty Officer Sherkov to walk into him. “What is wrong?” Sherkov asked. “I see nothing out of place.”
“I know,” Steropes replied. “I don’t see anything wrong either, and that’s what worries me.” He slowly started forward again, searching the walls and floors for any sort of marks that might indicate a pressure plate or any other sign of a trap.
They had walked almost 100 yards when Doug asked, “You wanted to know if we found writing, yesss?”
“Yes,” Steropes agreed. “Did you find some?”
“There is some on thisss torch,” replied Doug. He grabbed the torch and tried to pull it from its holder to show the Psiclops, but it appeared to be stuck.
“NO!” Steropes yelled, turning around to see the lizard pulling on the torch, “don’t touch it!” But it was too late. Doug pulled harder on the torch, and it came free. As it did, a 20 feet long section of the passageway behind him came unhinged and dropped. Petty Officer Remy Martin, Leading Seaman Abdul Wazir, Leading Seaman Sigvar Borsheim and Irina Rozhkov went tumbling into the abyss that suddenly opened up beneath them.
Seeing what he had done, Doug slammed the torch back into its holder, and just as suddenly as it had dropped, the passageway closed back up again, trapping the members below. For several seconds the sounds of grunts, groans and slams could be heard from the soldiers as they bounced down a tunnel in the darkness, and then there was one last “Fuck!” which sounded more annoyed then hurt.
“Are you guys OK?” Calvin asked. He brought up the display of their suits. While he could see that the four had strong life signs, their suits showed a variety of warning and danger signs.
“Da, I am OK,” Irina Rozhkov replied, “but my suit is going crazy. We fell down some kind of slide that dropped us into a pool of mercuric cyanide. At least, that is what my suit says, anyway. If I had been breathing the outside air, I would be in danger of both mercury and cyanide poisoning. Otherwise, I am mostly just bumped and bruised.” There was a pause as she looked around. “We are in a small room with nothing but this pool of acid. I can see a door out.”
“I am fine, too,” Remy Martin said. “Just bumps, bruises and a thoroughly disgusting residue on my suit.”
“I am not so good,” Abdul Wazir said. He broke off in a coughing fit. “My suit tore on something, and I got a bunch of the stuff inside my suit.” He started coughing again. “My throat and air passages are burning and trying to close on me.” Another coughing fit. “My eyes are burning, and I can barely see.” He broke off, coughing again. “The suit needs to be drained of the stuff in order to get it fixed all the way.”
“I also am OK,” Leading Seaman Sigvar Borsheim said. “We can patch Abdul’s suit, but we’ve got to get him out of both the suit and this room first. The whole room is full of toxic vapors. My suit’s systems are going crazy.”
“Mine, too,” Rozhkov agreed. “There’s no way we can get back up to you. We will try to go somewhere that we can help Abdul and then find another way out. Rozhkov out.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Three
Inside the Great Pyramid of Cholula, Keppler-22 ‘b’, August 12, 2020
“All right, we’re not getting paid by the hour, ladies,” Master Chief advised. “Let’s see if we can’t go kill some snakes so we can get out of this shit hole.”
“I’ll lead,” Steropes said. He moved off in the direction they had originally been heading.
“And no one touches anything!” Ryan added. “If it doesn’t kill you, I will!”
“Sssorry,” Doug mumbled.
The 11 remaining soldiers and the chaplain followed Steropes and made it to the next corner, turning on their helmet lights as they went back into the dark. After another 150 yards the passageway ended, with a door on the right side of the wall. Steropes surveyed the door. He didn’t find any traps and put his hand on the latch to open it.
“Wait,” Al-Sabani warned. “Haatan warns us that we do not want to go into that room.”
“The jinni know what he be talking about, mon,” Sergeant Margaret Andrews added. The black woman shuddered. “I gotta bad feeling about it, too.”
“I’m not going back without killing Quetzalcoatl,” stated Steropes. “If you want to stay here, I’ll go alone.”
“Oh no, mon,” Sergeant Andrews said, “we not be letting you go by yourself. I just be saying that something inside that room be needing our killing. I feel it.”
“OK,” Master Chief said, “no sense highlighting ourselves. Turn off your lights.” He put a hand on Steropes and gently pushed him to the side. “We’ll take it from here.” He formed up the soldiers into two lines. One would go each way as they entered the room. “Ready?”
He eased the door open. The door led into a room that seemed to go on forever. A dim light suffused the room. There was just enough light to see movement, but not enough to identify it. In the distance, things were moving. Every once in a while, the things would stop and appear to bend over. Although the Terrans couldn’t see what was going on, they dialed up their suits’ audio sensors and could hear a variety of grunts and groans, as well as a wet slapping noise.
“Listen up, people,
” Master Chief commed quietly, “Here’s how we’re going to do this. On the count of three, I want Bob to throw an illumination grenade as far as he can to the left, and Doug to throw one as far as he can to the right. Everyone else be ready with your primary weapons in case whatever is out there comes our way. Ready? One...two...three!”
The grenades flew out from the group and detonated. Although the room was too big for the two grenades to light up completely, the harsh glare of the burning magnesium and the suits’ augmentation made the room almost as bright as a few minutes prior to sunrise on Earth. It was more than bright enough for them to see the 50 or so half-eaten bodies on the floor, and the creatures that were pulling pieces of flesh from them. As the grenades went off, all of the creatures’ heads spun towards the door, and the Terrans lined up along the wall. Master Chief could see two distinct types of creatures. There were about 20 creatures that were bipedal with the legs of a donkey and the horns of a goat. There were another 20 creatures that looked something like greyhounds, although their muzzles were elongated, and they had black stripes running down their sides. All of the creatures charged simultaneously, with the ‘dogs’ making a high-pitched whine.
“Ghuls!” Master Chief yelled. “Fire!” Both Master Chief and Petty Officer Ivan Sherkov fired off a long line of antimatter grenades across the incoming creatures. Some fell, but most of the others appeared to go momentarily insubstantial or invisible, only to solidify again once the detonations had ceased. Both men dropped their tridents and pulled out their rifles.
“Bismillahir-Rahmanir-Raheem!” shouted Al-Sabani over his suit speakers as he began firing his laser rifle. “Allahu la ilaha illa Huwal Haiyul-Qaiyum!”
Calvin recognized the cadence of the Throne Verse of the Qur’an that Al-Sabani had been chanting earlier. Now that he could actually hear it, his implant translated the Arabic. “In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful. Allah; there is no God but He, the Living, the Self-Subsisting and All-Sustaining.”
When the Gods Aren't Gods: Book Two of The Theogony Page 18