by Paul, Alan
RINGS OF POLARIS Book 2
GIANTS OF MARS
RINGS OF POLARIS
S A G A
PAUL ALAN
“The nitrogen in our DNA, calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff…”
Carl Sagan
© 2015 by Paul Alan Gober. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by P. Rebog Productions 10/05/2015
& CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, North Charleston SC
ISBN: (sc) 13 978-1517686970
ISBN: (hc)
ASIN: (e) B01675YAS6
Library of Congress Control Number: 201591667
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Giants of Mars; Rings of Polaris SAGA is strictly a work of fiction and any characters within this book resembling any real persons is purely coincidental.
Dedicated to Ashley
GIANTS OF MARS
P ART 1 NINE INCH NAILS
P RIESTS OF SYRINX
The Raven’s hover pads tilted forward in a fiery blue glow, projecting amplified electromagnetic energy in a perpetuating accelerative momentum; sizzling with intermittent pops and clicks, the growling thrusters fiercely burned, radiating off the crackly sun-baked surface of the Mediterranean Salt Flats, spurring debris in its wake.
Void of water for thousands of years, the extinct oceans of Earth stretched across great expanses in a show of uninhabited landscapes, except for the occasional giant cavity like an abandoned mining pit. When the seas vanished, greedy Corporations stripped away the treasure trove of precious metals, and mineral deposits, leaving behind vast empty holes, and ghostly remnants of a distant past.
“We’re nearing the ancient pyramids,” said Captain Rengar Falger, while monitoring the Raven’s heads up display.
Comprised of acute dark angles, the ship was equipped with antiquated stealth technology but Mitchell Thacker’s upgrades had made it effective enough to diffuse radar signals transversely over a broad range, helping them avoid detection as the clandestine Raven sped across the barren wasteland.
“Our progress has been steadfast, and without incident, but our return timetable is questionable.” Mitchell Thacker spoke regarding the red giant anti-cyclonic storm forecast on the Raven’s Skin.
“I don’t see any problems in our return, Mitchell; we should have plenty of time to beat out the storm.” The stressful man fingered through his blond hair.
“Well, Captain, it’s not for you to analyze the data…with our mission, there are many unseen variables that can be expected,” said Mitchell in a superior tone.
“Why does the Vril covet this area so much?” Rengar inquisitively asked.
“I know you’re new to this organization but maybe you shouldn’t ask so many questions,” Mitchell sarcastically answered with an impatient tone.
“Hey, I know I’m a freelancer to the group, and in no way bound to your cause but if you keep up the smart mouth, I’ll drop your skinny ass off right here, and let’s see how you survive the scorch,” Rengar belligerently replied.
Mitchell’s tongue dipped in a black venomous harshness when he sneered back with spitting malevolence. “If you compromise our mission in any way, Rengar; not only you, but your entire family will not live to see another day. I can guarantee you this by the pact of the Vril covenant.” His threat had a biting sting of reality, and albeit Captain Rengar Falger’s temper, he was no fool. He knew if he crossed the Vril, Mitchell’s threat would most likely come to fruition. The shadowy Vril Brotherhood’s influence stretched far and wide; with their tentacles spanning across the Galaxy, Rengar would have nowhere to hide.
“Listen, Mitchell, I’m just trying to make small talk here; I get a little chatty when stressed out, it’s how I handle things.” Rengar felt his words had fallen on deaf ears. He continued, “You know, a little brevity to ease the tension this sortie has created, that’s all.”
Mitchell thought about what Rengar said, and realized the nature of the over-heated conversation was a little exaggerated; but it did not help lessen his fears that if they failed today’s mission, the two would find their fates intertwined at the hands of a Vril executioner. Letting his emotions get the best of him was not in Mitchell’s makeup; he logically thought to smooth things over quickly when he amicably spoke. “The ancient pyramids of the Anunnaki is the birthplace of the Star Child where Vril Priests hold a constant vigil, worshiping in hope of his return.”
“Perplexes me how the Polaris Corporation lets it go on when the abolishment of all religions was systematic. Anyhow, this whole place gives me the creeps.”
“Rangar, this’s not only about religion, and beyond the abolishment of any one faith; this is about the coming of a new dawn,” prophetically Mitchell spoke.
Learner Rotterdam, dipped in and out of his cognitive circumstance. His battered and bruised skin had a briny inelastic but sticky feel from lying days in his own urine and fecal matter. The confinement’s smell was beyond his mind’s comprehension; he could not stand his own stench as he fingered away at the dried flakes of rust pealing from the bottom of the ancient iron door. In a state of temporary lucidity, he contemplated his situation. “How did I get locked up in here? My devotion and loyalty have been unquestionable.”
Shaking from the cold, he slowly pulled his wretched knees tight up against his stomach. Miserably, he curled up, and devotedly searched out for help. “Star Child, why have you abandoned me? Please, I beg you, don’t let them sacrifice me!” Pain shot through his abdomen to his spine, causing his whole body to spasm, he clung to very edges of life. Vril Priests had mercilessly dealt him a cruel and brutal beating.
Prayers turned to anger, and his voice echoed down the long ancient corridors when he screamed, “I’m going to kill you, Master Paladin!”
“Why has he betrayed me? I can’t let this be the end of me…” Learner flinched out of his deep rumination when the oxidized door clanked open.
“It is time to pay your debt, Brother Rotterdam,” the Vril Priest said with fiery green sparkle in his eyes. They then picked the nearly crippled man off the soiled floor.
Exclaiming in a tone of defiance, Learner hoarsely voiced, “You’re making a big mistake!”
“All will be forgiven soon, Brother,” said a Priest in a calming tone while dragging his naked body down the darkly lit dungeon hall; his feet scraped the inlaid sandstone floor, making a raspy sound. They then pulled him into a large round room where two more Priests stood holding long spiky nails.
“Stretch him!” The head Priest pointed at the wooden cross lying at the room’s center.
“Please wait, did you talk with Master Paladin?” Learner’s arms were pulled across the dry timber.
“Who do you think ordered your cleansing, Brother Rotterdam?”
The Priest lined the spike over Learner’s hand, and enthusiastically spoke. “Yes, all will be forgiven, Brother,” and in one swift movement, the mallet flashed with blood, driving the nine-inch nail deep through his hand, and into the wooden cros
s.
Learner screamed, “Stop! You’re making a…” he agonizingly paused when the Priest nailed the second spike through his other hand, and before passing out from the excruciating pain, he continued, “…mistake! The Master would never betray me!”
When they sank the last nail into his white boney flesh, blood sprayed all over the Priest’s face who was holding Learner’s feet. He vocalized in full astonishment, “Look at it spurt, you must’ve hit a large artery!”
When they finished crucifying him, the cross was inverted upward into a carved rectangular slot in the stone floor’s center; blood gushed down his legs covering his whole body, creating a liquidly gory scene. Surrounding the tortured man’s near lifeless body that precariously hung nailed to an inverted wooden cross, stood five hooded Priests, shrouded in ceremonial black robes; each had a place at one of the five points of a pentagram that was carved in the round room’s textural stone floor.
The very top of the room’s dome was exposed to extreme elements of the surface, while the ancient temple remained entirely intact and protected below. Above, a single shaft of natural light beamed down through a square window, illuminating Learner’s bleeding, crucified body.
Eclipsed by the torchlight flickering off the wall, the lead Priest spoke. “You will be sacrificed to the coming of the Star Child, our Savior.”
They all then chanted, “To the Five Points of the afterlife!”
Overtones of the underworld, shadows danced in a devilish nirvana around the antediluvian stone room, each chasing one another in the dark alcoves and recesses.
In precession, the next Priest spoke. “Your life will end so others may live, and the great redeemer will protect us all.”
“To the Five Points of the afterlife,” again all chanted in unison.
Blood trickled down Learner’s mouth when he moaned a defiant but near inaudible, “Fuck you!”
Ignoring the dying man, the next Priest continued the ritual. “You will be cleansed by the future, giving your life meaning.”
“To the Five Points of the afterlife,” they chanted.
Around the room each spoke in turn. “Your past failures will be washed away in a sacrament of fire and flame.”
“To the Five Points of the afterlife,” all chanted.
The fifth and final Priest spoke. “Your soul will forever remain bound to your flesh’s atonement.”
Lastly all chanted, “To the five points of the afterlife.”
The Priests then decanted ceremonial vessels, simultaneously pouring a flammable liquid into a portico at each five points; reflecting like liquid glass, the thick solution glistened as it slowly moved down, filling the carved grooves of the pentagram.
“Light the fires of the Light and Dark,” commanded the lead Priest.
Encompassing Learner, the pentagram was set preternaturally ablaze, satisfying the ritual of fire; they then began to loudly hum in a harmonic meditative trance as the room brightly glowed.
The ground unexpectedly started to shake. Showering downward, cavorting dust particles pirouetted to life, sparkling in the light bathing Learner’s crucified body, which barely clung to life.
Stupefied Priests locked their gaze upward when the window’s light blotted out. The entire structure began to violently rumble, and the stone opening around the window turned amber in color when it began to burn in a molten glow. Within seconds, the stone around the window liquefied, widening the opening; debris seemed to have unnaturally evacuated upward, causing the Priests to loudly gasp in near unanimity from shock.
Sediment filled wind, howled and rushed downward into the chamber, dousing the pentagram’s sacramental flame. The five bewildered Priests ran for cover in the long dungeon corridor when a long mechanical arm shot down through the enlarged opening; its dactyl finger-like ends opened and gently grappled on to the upside down cross, snatching Learner skyward, leaving behind bewildered Priests of the Temple of Syrinx.
After pulling Learner’s blood-covered and crucified body aboard the Raven, Mitchell Thacker struggled, wrenching the nine-inch nail from Learner’s flesh; a squeaking noise emanated from the dry timber when he twisted the head of the imbedded nail. Standing over the cross, he pulled with all his might, slowly freeing it from the wood and Learner’s hand.
“One down, two to go.” Captain Rengar Falger assisted by holding Learner’s arm.
“I can count, Captain Rengar.”
“Again, it’s just small talk, Mitchell.”
“Can we small talk our way out of here before the Vril come after us again?” Mitchell Thacker was referring to when he and Learner Rotterdam, both were detained by the Fissure Point Security after their payload went nuclear; Learner was handed over to the Vril, and for some strange reason, he was let go.
Through his blood bubbling lips, Learner whispered coarsely into Mitchell’s ear, “Master Paladin betrayed me!”
“No, it was he who saved you.” Mitchell corrected the near comatose man.
“What?” Learner asked in complete shock.
“He gave us your coordinates, timetable, and everything; and instructed us ‘If you fail to bring him back alive, you will not be around to see tomorrow.’ Those were his exact words, Mister Rotterdam.” Mitchell excitedly spoke as he watched Learner pass out.
The magnetically cloaked Raven disappeared under the visual spectrum as they sped away.
LEVEL SERENE
Lexis climbed out of her regeneration chamber and bare footedly stepped on to the soft-carpeted floor; her toes sunk into the long shag, tickling her senses. Momentarily, she analytically peered out of the room’s large glass window; soft morning light crept through the forest canopy, softly yielding a soothing glow. Early morning’s artificial weather generated a brisk but gentle wind that caused cedars’ branches to creak and sway. Also, large ferns and other undergrowth species rustled in a dance of life. Level 7 living offered a serene and calm setting unseen by any other descending levels, and the Earth’s barren surface had not seen such natural beauty in thousands of years.
Walking within the glass and timber house, her footsteps were easily masked by the simulated climate outside; and after entering his bedroom, the frosted glass-door quietly shut behind her, producing a muffled whistling hum from the slightly negative pressure the barrier triggered.
The early ambient light gave rise to as many visual dead zones, as not. And her eyes were naturally drawn to his darkly lit silhouette, dividing the bed; darkened portions of the half uncovered man seemed to have just melted away into the shadows and folds. Innately he stretched out from between sheets, draped his arms around a supple appearing pillow. She gazed upon his smoothly profiled curvature, and imagined him slowly thrusting out of the bed, taking hold of her like a sexual god.
New systems modification caused a spike in her sexual excitement, and although calculating at the highest of functions, her powerful neural network could not keep in check her overactive thoughts. Hardly making a noise, Lexis sat down in the bedside chair and watched the now partially naked man sleep. His rhythmic breathing soothed her consciousness and she wondered, “Will this man ever love me the way I love him?”
Jason’s eyelids wiggled side to side in a display of rapid eye movement. His body began to twitch aggressively as his REM sleep accelerated. Suddenly, a strange pain pierced into her chest. A pain like no other before, and with the knot of a woman, she continued thinking, “It hurts to love someone so much, and not feel a return in the same love.”
“What’s wrong, Lexis?” Jason said after stirring from his dream.
“You were thinking of her in your sleep again?”
Jason tiredly pondered at the question and realized the situation required his full attention; he smoothly turned over from prone and sat up against the headboard, exposing his torso as the white sheet fell to his waist. She excitedly noticed the early morning light glistening off his rippled abs.
Jason shook his head yes, and wondered if the kinases of her neural
cells were evolving.
“How did you figure that out, Lexis?”
“I am not sure but call it a woman’s intuition.”
“More like extrasensory perception,” he thought before saying, “Is this something new since your upgrade?”
“Yes, I have a stronger sense of what people might be thinking but mostly when the human mind is relaxed in a state of subconsciousness, such as sleep.”
“Well, can you be more specific about what I was dreaming about?” Jason inquisitively asked.
“You were running down a long corridor, chasing after the killers who murdered your wife and child.” She paused momentarily when Jason flinched. She continued. “You shot at them. All escaped except but one, and when you turned over the dead man who lay in his own blood, you screamed out, Rafe.”
In a state of disbelief, Jason’s reaction denoted a pin dropping silence.
Lexis then asked, “What is a Rafe?”
“Rafe was my brother, Lexis,” he sullenly replied.
“Did he kill your wife and child?”
“No. Yes.” Jason rubbed his forehead briskly.
“I do not understand the answer, Jason.”
“It’s very painful to talk about. Can we please talk about this subject later, maybe when I’m more awake?”
“Yes, Jason,” Lexis calmly replied.
Jason wiped away the eye matter in the corner of his eyes, and took a good hard look at Lexis before he asked, “Did you change your hair color?”