She was being led deeper into the earth, down gradients that became steeper as they went, through tunnels that soon became even more rough and narrow. The artifacts that she’d seen in the tunnels above were no longer in evidence. These tunnels appeared were purely functional, only to be used if you were going somewhere.
Finally, the Nefilim stopped in front of a bare piece of wall and touched it in three different places. The surface dropped away to reveal another tunnel, bathed in the same gray light. Secrets? she wondered. From who? From the locals? Or do they have secrets among themselves?
The Nefilim turned and looked at her. ‘A few.’
They entered the tunnel. Sahrin made no more attempts at conversation, vocal or otherwise.
* * *
Good morning
BARK, BRYCE AND REINA had followed Sahrin’s footprints, and were gazing in silence at the rows of unconscious giants. The glow cast from the coffins bathed the whole scene in an eerie light, from which they sheltered in the same shadows that Sahrin had relied on.
Bark was whispering to the other two. “I doubt that these are corpses. They are probably asleep, and nearing the end, I suspect, of a long rest. This is probably not the only place on this planet where this is happening. We should be careful.”
The light from the coffins had grown brighter. In the distance, a group of Nefilim ascended a staircase and disappeared through a door.
They heard a sound, or felt a vibration, it was impossible to tell. It seemed to come from the walls themselves. The occupant of one of the closest cabinets stirred suddenly. The Nefilim lifted its hands to its face, and lurched over onto its side. It tried to lift itself up onto its elbows, but it seemed to lack co-ordination and fell back, its limbs moving slowly as though it was a newborn baby.
There was movement in the other chambers. Long limbs stirred slowly, then their actions became more coordinated as the inhabitants became aware of their surroundings and began to orientate themselves.
Without warning, the cabinets filled with clouds of gas.
As quickly as the gas arrived, it cleared. The top of each pod slid back, exposing the inhabitants to the air.
As the Nefilim emerged from their long sleep, the three intruders, without concurring and without hesitation, turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the tunnel they had come down. For now at least, Sahrin was out of reach, and would have to look after herself.
- - -
PART 2
Welcome to Mount Weather
THE HELICOPTERS flew along the water’s edge, following the curve of the coastline. The beach below would have made an ideal holiday resort, were it not for its isolation. Although part of the North American mainland, it was guarded at its various edges by the sea, mountain ranges, and an intractable stretch of desert.
At a point halfway along the length of the undulating ribbons of white sand, the helicopters turned away from the ocean and headed inland, following the path of a stream that flowed towards the sea.
They were heading for Mount Weather. A huge complex carved out of the interior of an old volcano, it was the operational headquarters of the United Nations. Military, scientific, and communication facilities were maintained by a resident population of more than nine thousand. It was the site of the world’s real government, even though the world’s population didn’t even know it existed.
Mount Weather soon appeared among the clouds. One by one, the helicopters descended into a crevice halfway up its northern face. Along one of the rock faces that were formed by the incision in the mountain’s side, hidden under heavy brows of overhanging rock, were arranged a dozen or so landing sites, each one large enough to accommodate several of the helicopters. Arc lights illuminated the landing areas, leaving the depths of the chasm below lost in darkness.
The helicopters landed in front of a group of waiting officers and civilians. Guards surrounded the area.
An overweight, over-jowled man in a finely tailored suit was waiting among the officers. It was the Secretary-General himself.
“General,” he said warmly – half a bottle of gin’s worth of warmth – as he came across to meet the group. He was accompanied by the President of Europe, who kept glancing nervously in the direction of one of the other helicopters. The two Nefilim were crossing the landing area towards the group.
“Are they sociable, General?” asked the Secretary-General, lowering his voice. “You’ve had more exposure to them than I have… are they easy to deal with?”
“They’re… alien. Don’t expect it to be like talking to any human you’ve ever met. And they can read your…” The arrival of the Nefilim cut him short.
‘…mind. We can indeed. And you will find us firm, but fair, I think is a phrase that you might understand, Secretary-General.’
The creature spoke to its companion. Their speech was a thin rasping sound, with none of the resonance of their telepathic communication. It was hard to listen to.
“As you can see, Secretary-General,” the General persisted, not caring whether they heard him, “our guests appear to possess the ability to read minds, and they can communicate directly with us on that level as well.”
The Secretary-General nodded and reached up to offer his hand to the two creatures. They seemed to know what was required and offered theirs in return. The first physical contact, the General mused.
‘Not quite the first.’
The thought appeared in his brain, and he realized that the second Nefilim was looking at him again. He turned away. He was beginning to develop a dislike for them.
Later, in the hallway outside the offices of the Security Council, Thead was shown – as one parades a slave or a horse in front of a prospective buyer – to the Secretary-General. Thead’s red and white overalls and collection of earrings dangling from one ear combined to convince the Secretary-General that he was some sort of freak.
“Oh, Jesus. Have him questioned. Get everything he knows,” the Secretary-General sniffed, and turned away towards the Council chambers, where the two Nefilim were waiting.
A pair of guards led Thead through the labyrinth of corridors.
“I hope they know what they’re doing,” Thead said to the stone-faced soldier next to him.
The guard said nothing.
* * *
An alliance
SEVERAL THOUSAND MILES AWAY, Bark, Reina and Bryce stood at the top of a sandhill, looking up into the sky. Bark had just told them that the ship was moored above them.
“Where?” Bryce and Reina both asked, squinting into the sky, seeing nothing.
“Just above these trees,” Bark replied, feeling better now that they were above ground. He pointed to a group of pines on a small plateau of rock.
Bryce and Reina looked up beyond the tops of the trees, but there was nothing to see except a glimmer of light in the atmosphere, which might have been something. Or not.
Bark reached out and held onto something. “Like this,” he said, and swung himself upwards. He began climbing, supported by nothing. A few feet above the ground, he started to flicker, then disappeared.
“No shit!” Bryce went to the spot where Bark had been standing and felt around in the air.
His hands encountered something that swayed under his touch. It startled him for a moment, feeling something that he couldn’t see, but he soon deduced from Bark’s actions and the texture of what he could feel that it was nothing more sinister than a rope ladder. He took a firm grip on one of the rungs and swung himself up.
“It’s OK,” he said to Reina, before he disappeared. She watched in silence for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and followed.
As they climbed, the ladder gradually became visible. By the time Bark disappeared over the side of the ship, Bryce could see the dark underside of its hull. He looked down at Reina. They both shrugged their shoulders and continued.
Bark was waiting on the deck. He took Reina by the arm and helped her over the railing.
“Welcome… an
d what do we have here?”
The Senator was climbing up the ladder behind Reina, grumbling to himself and to anyone who cared to listen. The group’s failure at finding Sahrin was still bothering him, and his experience with invisibility, temporary though it was, had not helped his temper. He communicated his feelings on both matters to Bark. At length.
“I suppose you were there when the Nefilim were revived,” Bark sighed when the Senator finally finished. “You would have to agree, wouldn’t you, that our options at the time were limited?”
The Senator reluctantly grumbled something approaching agreement, and reached into his pouch for a bindoo leaf. He sat down heavily on one of the ceramic converters near the base of the main mast.
“I’m Senator… oh, never mind,” he said to Bryce and Reina, who were looking confused. “And you two are locals. You must have had an interesting day.” The bindoo was already painting a glaze over his eyes.
“We sure have.” They nodded agreement, but their attention was already turning to the ship.
Whatever its position might be in the pantheon of space-going vessels, the ship was a mess. It had been added to relentlessly over the ages, with cabins and decks and masts attached at random, so that they protruded in all directions. It was a floating maze. What little of the original deck that was left was littered with furniture and effects, as if the crew were accustomed to living outdoors. The contents of the hold were bursting from the hatches. Some of the crates had been opened, and their contents gone through.
“Mmm... ok... this is a relaxed looking place,” said Reina.
“Well, we are relaxed about most things,” replied Bark. He looked over the rail, half expecting to find that they had been followed. Satisfied that they hadn’t, he turned back to his guests.
“As you might have guessed, we’re not from your world. Some might call us aliens, but actually we’re more what you might call distant relatives.”
“Relatives?”
“Well, as you can see, there’s no physical difference between us. We are just from a different place, and slightly better traveled as well, that would be right, wouldn’t it, Senator?”
The Senator hummed happily in agreement. “Oh yes, we get around, all right.” He offered Bryce a strip of Bindoo. Bryce took it and started chewing.
“Do you know what’s going on?” Reina asked Bark. “Why all the excavations and drama with the soldiers? And what were those creatures, the ones you call Nefilim? Whatever’s going on, it must be serious if people are getting iced.”
Bark weighed his options for a few seconds. “Why don’t you come with us? In fact, you should come with us. Yes. I could use the help, as you can see…” He gestured towards the Senator, who had retreated into a world of his own. He was nicely relaxed, adding to his notebook of speeches that would never be given.
“I can’t sail the ship on my own, and I’ll explain on the way.”
Reina thought about the vegetable deliveries she was supposed to make the following day. She couldn’t see how there was much contest.
“Sure. How long will we be?”
“What do you mean?” asked Bark, releasing the anchor and gesturing to her to help him wind it in.
What the hell. Reina began winding and forgot to reply.
* * *
Thead’s career path opens up
IN THE DEPTHS OF THE MOUNT WEATHER COMPLEX, Thead’s interview had gone well. They had gone now, leaving him alone in a room containing nothing but a table, a few chairs, and a camera that stared unblinkingly down at him.
He had told them everything he knew and, not wanting to leave any room for doubt, a few things he didn’t as well. They had listened intently and asked questions as he described the ship, the crew and their travels. He told them how they had been guided to Earth by the map. They had shown great interest as Thead told them how the ship sailed through time as well as space.
When they had finished, they took their notes and their recorder, and told him nothing. A guard brought him something to drink. It was hot, and tasted bitter and sweet at the same time. It made Thead’s head rush. He liked it, of course.
He waited patiently, idly wondering about what had hap-pened to the others, when the door opened and a pair of guards walked in.
“You’re in luck, freak. He wants to see you.”
“You don’t want to know what the other option was,” the other one added. “Now move it.”
They led Thead through long and identical corridors until they reached an elevator. A few seconds later they emerged into a foyer more plush than the bare functionality that Thead had seen so far. They stopped in front of a secretary, who spoke briefly into a headset and then nodded at the guards.
Through a heavy hardwood door, Thead found himself in the presence of the Secretary-General, the President of Europe, the General, and a few others whose jobs seemed to consist of hovering.
“Please sit down, Mister Thead.” The Secretary-General nodded towards a seat in front of his desk.
Thead sat.
“Your story is an impressive one.” The Secretary-General tapped the recorder sitting on the desk in front of him. “You are either mad or a liar – and about to get a bullet in the back of your head in either case – or you are a young man with some interesting career prospects. What do you think?” He sat back in his seat, fat rippling, and waited for an answer.
Thead’s heart raced at the idea that the white lies he had used to decorate his stories might be found out. “Everything I’ve told your men is just as it is. I have much experience.”
“That may be so. Do you know who I am?”
“Not really, I must admit,” replied Thead. “Every place in the universe, planets and otherwise, has its own way of doing things. But I assume that you are a person with authority. And that your opinion matters.”
The President of Europe sniggered. He was thin, with a long face and slight, shifting eyes that could never hope to conceal his sycophantic nature. “Oh, ze Secretary-General’s opeenion matters, all right.”
“Yes, thank you, President Veal,” the Secretary-General interrupted. “Why don’t you pour us all a drink, Helmut.”
The President went to a cabinet at the side of the room and started sorting through bottles.
“President Veal is a trusted ally of mine, and I very much value his assistance in keeping the various autonomous regions of Europe in line. But you don’t need to know that, Mister Thead. All you need to know is that I am the Secretary-General of the United Nations, and therefore what I say goes. Conditional upon the approval of the Security Council, of course.” He looked in the President’s direction and both men smiled.
“Of course, Secretary-General,” said Thead. “Order is a necessary component in any society. This is something that I’ve found to be true in every place I’ve visited,” he lied.
“Have you now? Well, you can leave the sociology to us.” The Secretary-General took the glass that Veal was offering him.
Thead picked up the drink that had been put in front of him. He sipped the dark amber liquid and felt a burning taste in his mouth, which he liked instantly. His pleasure increased when the warm sensation extended to his stomach.
“We’ve gathered from what you said to the officers downstairs that you do indeed seem to know something about our new friends. Some of it supports what we already know. The rest, if it is true, is interesting indeed. Such information, of course, is welcome at any time, but especially so now, given the… well, innovative nature of our relationship with the Nefilim.” The Secretary-General paused to adjust his bulk in his chair. “We’ve decided to put you on probation. Let’s see how you go. I’ll be watching, of course.”
Which was what Thead had been waiting to hear. That, or something equally reassuring.
“Of course, gentlemen.” Thead made sure he got in some subservient eye contact with President Veal as well as the Secretary-General. “You can rely on me, Secretary-General. Don’t worry.”
<
br /> The Secretary-General laughed. “Oh, I’m not worried. Now, you can accompany the General on a little mission he has to undertake. He will explain all the details to you. I’m not really a details person, Thead. I’m more inclined towards the big picture. The grand strategy, if you like. History. I’ll look forward to seeing you again. One way or the other. You can go now. The General will show you the way.”
The General stepped towards the door. “Come with me,” he said flatly, not bothering to look in Thead’s direction.
They took some elevators and walked in deliberate silence along more featureless corridors until they came to a large room with no windows. There was a whiteboard on one wall, and benches arranged in rows. On the benches sat thirty to forty serious and fit-looking young men and women in full battle dress, waiting for something to happen.
The General went to the front of the room and started talking.
They were going to a place that the UN had only just found out about, and they needed to be ready for anything. They had learned of its existence from the two Nefilim who had spent the last few hours with the Security Council. It hadn’t been scouted, and no one knew what to expect. The place was some kind of navigation or communication center, and the Nefilim wanted to be taken there. They said it was important.
These soldiers were the General’s special boys and girls, which was why he was telling them everything. Totally reliable, totally conditioned, they were his pride and joy, his Praetorian Guard. They fought like hell and he could rely on them in any situation.
Thead suspected that he knew the place that the General was talking about.
It had been common practice, for as long as the history of the universe had been recorded, for there to be on every planet a place that could be used as a way station. A cross between a first aid post and a command center, it contained facilities for navigation and communication, as well as a place of refuge for weary or endangered travelers. In a variable universe, the Pilots’ Stations were beacons of stability.
The Day of the Nefilim Page 7