Reformation

by Henrikson, Mark

  “That leaves us with the runaway engineering section then,” Gallono concluded. He had to give the Alpha credit for that one. “If that’s the case, they survived a massive explosion, and then managed to get half of a crippled ship under control enough to guide it in for a safe landing. That took some stones.”

  Hastelloy added his praise as well. “They established a colony and made it thrive to the point they can now build sophisticated communications equipment and space craft.”

  “It’s not like they had the benefit of the Nexus to reanimate after death,” Gallono went on. “They had to do it the old fashioned way and made it a multigenerational effort.”

  “It’s not the first time,” Hastelloy responded. “They spent ten generations building their fleet before launching the war machine against us. They are a very dedicated species when their collective efforts get behind a goal.”

  Gallono suddenly felt his feet turn to lead weights anchoring him in place. The full severity of the situation suddenly hit him, and it was more than he could bear. “They landed on Mars almost four thousand years ago. By now there must be tens of thousands of them waiting to land and take over.”

  Gallono picked up another oddly formed rock and hurled it toward the water with all his might and succeeded in generating three awkward skips before the stone plunged below the water’s surface. “We can’t fight against that even if we had a hundred years to prepare, and all we have is eleven months at best to try and stave off Armageddon. We’re completely boned.”

  Hastelloy came up next to Gallono and spent a few moments staring at the ground. Finally he picked up a flat, rounded rock that was almost a perfect circular disk. He casually reared back and threw it sidearm across the water with relative ease. Gallono marveled as the stone took monstrous skips across the water. It must have bounced thirty times before a soft clink from the far shoreline let him know the stone made it safely across.

  “There is more to success or failure than brute strength,” Hastelloy said in a calm, level voice while pointing toward the stone now resting two hundred feet away on the far shoreline. “It’s about having a good plan and the right tools to accomplish the end objective.”

  Gallono allowed a sardonic chuckle to escape his lungs. “You just got lucky; this is the dry season and that river is not twice as wide right now.”

  Hastelloy grabbed both sides of Gallono’s head and forced him to look up river until his eyes met a dam made of cut stone, dirt, and rubble that stood over thirty feet tall and three hundred feet across with a dozen flow doors open to allow water from the massive reservoir created behind to gently flow into the river. “Luck had nothing to do with it my friend, that dam did.”

  The hands holding his head in place were removed and took with them Gallono’s state of melancholy. He liked where Hastelloy was heading and he continued following in his footsteps upriver.

  “Before this dam was put in place, this river would flood uncontrollably in the rainy season and dry up completely the rest of the year. That dam allows the controlled release of water so the farmers have a steady supply year round. I think it’s time we revert back to the old ways, don’t you?”

  Chapter 35: Operating Above the Law

  Professor Russell and Alex passed the time on their flight to China pretty much in silence. The first eight hours were spent more or less unconscious as they both caught up on some much needed sleep. The soft cushions of the seats combined with a warm blanket and pillow to lay their heads on was infinitely more accommodating than the cold hard floor in the captivity cage inside the Sphinx.

  When Brian and Alex both awoke, they were careful not to say much of anything: important, mundane, or otherwise. The assumption was that every word they spoke was being monitored by their host.

  Chin spent his time aboard the flight in the forward compartment immediately behind the cockpit. They did not even see the middle aged man until the engines of the aircraft wound down and the nose tilted forward to begin their descent.

  “We will be landing in Xi’an Xianyang International Airport in a few minutes,” Chin reported.

  “Wait, I thought we were going to Beijing,” Alex said, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

  Chin pulled his head back slightly in genuine surprise. “What gave you that impression? The pyramids are out in the countryside, and dozens are located near Xi’an. It makes no sense to land in Beijing and then drive six hundred miles to reach any of the pyramid sites.”

  Brian was as equally unfamiliar as Alex about the size and scope of China’s geography, but he was certainly familiar with the name of its most prominent archeological site. “Xi’an? Am I right to assume that we’ll begin our research by mapping the inside of Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s burial mound?”

  Chin bowed his head slightly to acknowledge Professor Russell’s familiarity with his nation’s history. “Yes.”

  “Who is Emperor Huang and why is his final resting place so special?” Alex asked.

  Brian could not stop himself from shaking his head in disappointment at his assistant’s statement. Alex was a wizard with machinery, but her knowledge of history was rather wanting. “Qin Shi Huang was the first Emperor of China. The man was so concerned about the afterlife that he constructed a scale model of his entire empire and built his burial mound over the top of it. He then tried to protect it with an army of clay soldiers.”

  “Oh, you mean the Terracotta Army?” Alex asked.

  “See, you do know your history,” Brian applauded.

  With the plane making its final descent, Chin took a seat across the aisle from Brian and Alex to continue the conversation. “Our government has strictly forbidden anyone from entering the burial chamber located inside the mound. We are therefore left with investigating the great monument from the outside only. That is where the two of you and your wonderful mapping techniques come in.”

  “Why not just go inside; why is it forbidden?” Alex asked. “If you know where the burial chamber is located why not open it? If it has truly been untouched for all these years then what’s inside would probably make the discovery of King Tut’s tomb look like the unearthing of a few broken pots.”

  “For better or worse, superstition is a prominent factor in Chinese culture,” Chin instructed as the plane’s tires touched down. “Legend states that if the tomb is opened, then the collapse of China will immediately follow.”

  Professor Russell jumped in with his more cynical reasoning for not opening the chamber. “Plus the burial mound is a major tourist attraction with the mystery of what lies inside still out there. If you open the doors and nothing is there then the mystique will be gone along with all the tourism dollars.”

  “That is certainly a concern to some,” Chin conceded.

  Brian felt the plane lurch to a stop and a melodic tone sounded throughout the cabin to let the passengers know it was safe to stand and exit the plane. Chin was the first to his feet and extended a hand toward the front of the aircraft. “After you.”

  On his way down the gangplank steps to the tarmac, Professor Russell looked to the rear of the plane and saw his six coffin sized wooden crates being offloaded onto a waiting transport truck. In front of the transport idled three Mengshi off road vehicles, the Chinese equivalent to the American Humvee. These beastly looking jeeps were all black rather than sporting any attempts at camouflage painting that a military vehicle would employ.

  Before Professor Russell followed Alex into the back seat in one of them, Brian considered how odd it all felt. There were no customs agents checking the crates or verifying travel papers. Everything he knew about China and its government pointed to a regime that bordered on a state of paranoia; the lack of security was quite disconcerting.

  As the convoy of vehicles sped away from the airport and passed through a security checkpoint without even slowing down, Brian could not shake the feeling that Chin was somehow operating outside his government’s authority; perhaps even above it in some way.

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nbsp; Chapter 36: An Early End

  Mark used his time on the eleven hour flight from Cairo to St. Louis wisely – he slept. He could tell his mental edge was slipping. He couldn’t even maintain a constant train of thought to formulate the big picture and his next moves. Considering he was about to come face to face with the leader of an alien presence that had been on earth for over four thousand years, Mark thought it best to be well rested rather than pouring over reports to be well read instead.

  It had been an intense thirty-six hours since he last closed his eyes to recharge. He was afraid his mind would have too much going on inside to allow sleep, but the instant he reclined his leather seat back flat and put his head on a pillow it was lights out. Ten hours later he awoke with a clear head and an energized body ready to continue the good fight.

  Thanks to the plane flying with the time zones, it was still midday in St. Louis when he arrived. On final approach Mark stole a quick glance out the window to see his favorite feature of the city. Along the Mississippi River front near the downtown skyscrapers stood a reflective, stainless steel arch that rose six hundred and thirty feet toward the heavens. It was a profound monument to the pioneers of the 1800s who conquered their fear of the unknown to boldly expand the nation westward. He drew inspiration from their strength in order to conquer the unknown he now faced.

  The small plane did not even come to a full stop before the exit door immediately behind the cockpit was let down allowing Mark to charge down the built-in steps and climb into an awaiting Suburban SUV. The oversized vehicle sped away, left the airport grounds and headed east toward a downtrodden neighborhood that lay directly in the airport’s landing pattern.

  Mark looked around the vehicle to take a head count. Four local NSA agents were all he had to work with. “We certainly bring the heat when faced with a threat on American soil don’t we?”

  “Terrance deemed the situation too sensitive to involve the local authorities, and he does not have presidential authority yet to engage the nearby National Guard units,” the driver reported. “Besides, we are just going to pick up one man. How hard can that be?”

  Mark let the disapproving sneer on his face give the clueless man his answer. At least Terrance did not have presidential authority yet, that was a bit of good news. Mark half expected to wake from his flight to find the entire planet at war with the western power that dropped a nuke on a sovereign Middle Eastern nation.

  The SUV rocketed into the parking lot of the Henderson Home Psychiatric Facility which stood a single story high with a dark brick exterior and tall, narrow windows every fifteen feet. The building sat in a valley relative to the neighboring buildings; which happened to be poorly maintained government housing.

  Mark could scarcely believe his brother, who was so smart and talented, wound up earning a meager living in a dump like this place. He could be in Hollywood or New York City having the rich and famous pay him obscene amounts of money to whine about their oh so tortured lives. Instead, he earned peanuts tending the incurably insane. He never understood what drove his brother to do this.

  With the Suburban parked just outside the front door, Mark and his four helpers stepped out of the vehicle and ran up the narrow sidewalk to reach the entrance shaded overhead with a rickety awning. Mark ripped the door open, but forced himself to actually walk down the long corridor to reach his brother’s office in order to not raise too much alarm. He was among the insane right now. They were unpredictable at best so the less disruption the better.

  Mark stepped through the open door into the outer office where a strikingly attractive young woman with long dark hair still in her early twenties looked up at him with patient eyes. Ah, Tara, she was exactly how Mark pictured her based on the voice he’d heard over the phone numerous times.

  “Dr. Holmes is in a session at the moment, can I help you with something?” Tara helpfully asked. When Mark’s four travel companions entered the room a moment later she sprung to her feet in alarm. An index finger pressed against Mark’s lips was enough to keep her silent, however.

  “I’m his brother, Mark, and he’s expecting me,” he said quietly and then drew a pistol that had been tucked into a holster near the small of his back under his sport coat. The other four men drew their weapons as well while Tara helplessly looked on in silence.

  Mark raised the gun to eye level and reached out with his left hand to turn the knob and nudged the inner office door open. As the six panel white door slowly rotated open, he returned his free hand to the pistol grip and moved into the room leveling his two-handed aim straight at a man seated across from his older brother.

  “The session’s over,” Mark announced to the room while his four companions fanned out around the office.

  Chapter 37: We Meet at Last

  “Or the real session has only just begun,” Jeffrey heard his patient say. For his part, Dr. Holmes was left completely speechless by the sudden armed entry of his little brother into the office. Even though the guns were not leveled at him, Jeffrey was quite sure he needed a change of pants, yet Hastelloy sat cool as a cucumber eyeing Mark as he crossed the room holding a steady aim.

  Jeffrey had never seen this side of his brother before; the cold professional. When they got together for holidays and shared vacations it was all jokes and stories of the foolish antics of their youth. Now the little boy he once watched ride his bicycle head long into the back of a parked truck without even looking up stood with a deadly weapon drawn on a man sitting six feet away.

  Seeing his brother now brought back the nightmare which interrupted Jeffrey’s troubled sleep the night before. In his mind, Dr. Holmes could still see the primal anger in Mark’s eyes. Even now he held the same two-handed grip on his weapon as he did in the dream.

  Jeffrey felt a cold shiver dance its way up his spine when he recalled the imagery of following his brother, out of loyalty, into his office only to be saved by Hastelloy when his brother turned out to be a monster. In the end, a lifetime of familiarity with Mark won out over a single bizarre dream. That concluded, he still did not like the way Mark was going about things. Hastelloy was a patient under his care after all.

  Without even consciously deciding to do so, a wave of professional ethics prompted Dr. Holmes to spring from his chair and stand between his patient and Mark with his arms open wide to provide as much protection as possible. Staring down the barrel of a loaded handgun made Jeffrey’s knees buckle a bit, but he defiantly held his ground to ask, “What is the meaning of this?”

  “Jeff, get out of the way. Like I told you on the phone, this man is dangerous in a way you’ve only read about, and he is coming with me.”

  “To what end?” Hastelloy asked in a very conversational manner. “I am perfectly happy to carry on a discussion with you right here NSA agent Marcus Andrew Holmes.”

  The last five words passed through Jeffrey like a bolt of lightning to electrify every nerve ending in his body, and make the hairs on the back of his neck stand at full attention. He wasn’t sure which realization was more shocking: that the patient knew his brother’s full name, or that his brother worked for the most secretive intelligence agency the world over.

  Either was enough to prompt Jeffrey to turn around and face Hastelloy with his jaw dropped open wide enough to swallow a battle ship whole. “You two are familiar?”

  “Never in person, but when being hunted, it is always wise to know the hunter better than he knows himself,” Hastelloy responded while still remaining seated as if the therapy session were still continuing uninterrupted.

  Mark stepped around Jeffrey’s human shield to stand alongside his brother and put his deadly aim back on the target. “I recently became acquainted with him after spending some time with his partners in Egypt.”

  “Above ground or below?” Hastelloy questioned.

  “Inside your little hiding place if that’s what you’re trying to get to,” Mark snapped back.

  “Whoa, wait, what?” Jeffrey stammered.

&n
bsp; “Yeah,” Mark said with a raised eyebrow and a confirming nod of his head. “It’s inside the Sphinx with a three mile tunnel leading to it just like he told you.”

  Hastelloy shifted his gaze to Jeffrey and looked upon him with grave disappointment. “Shame on you, Doctor, for divulging information told to you in strict confidence. I am very disappointed.”

  The stern glare then morphed into amusement as he looked back toward Mark who was still pointing a pistol at him. “Then again, this moment might never have happened without your transgression.”

  “And what a special moment it’s been,” Mark taunted as he grabbed Hastelloy by the wrist to yank him to his feet. “Now it’s over and you’re coming with me.”

  In a blindingly quick motion, Hastelloy yanked Mark towards him with interlocked hands and turned his shoulder under Mark’s armpit. The resulting hip toss landed Mark sprawled across the couch clear on the other side of the coffee table with his own gun pointed at him in the hands of Hastelloy.

  It all happened so fast Jeffrey’s mind barely had time to recognize the complete turn of events before Hastelloy addressed Mark in a commanding tone that only comes from a lifetime spent in military service. “If I truly intended either you or your brother harm, then believe me, harm would be done.”

  “Drop it or I drop you,” one of Mark’s armed accomplices shouted.

  Hastelloy regarded Mark with the acerbic smirk of a man who owned the moment. “We both know killing this body will not do you any good.”

  “It will get a gun out of my face, remove my brother from a dangerous situation, and render you trapped back in Egypt,” Mark responded calmly as he repositioned himself to sit comfortably upright in the couch with his arm draped over the backrest.

  Hastelloy held the kinetic stare between the two men for an extra heartbeat and then turned his aim toward the ceiling and released his grip on the weapon so it hung from his index finger by the trigger guard.