Sentinels of the Cosmos Trilogy

by John Anderson

  If it was tracked at all the virus would be tracked back to this rented storage facility. The virus was his own design. Ivan was not going to use the inferior American virus, he was going to use the superior Russian virus he called ‘The Ivan.’ He wanted Charles to know that he wasn’t just a superior killer he was also a successful scientist. His virus didn't need an app to starting killing people, it killed quickly as soon as a person touched, licked or smelled it. None of that tricky stuff Sam had come up with. He didn't care if it caused political catastrophe. That was America problem. He also knew Charles would enjoy the challenge of fixing the political fallout. Actually Ivan was a biological geneticist who just happened to be in the military. He never knew why he was picked for this assignment by President Chenkeroff. He had never even met the man. He was a Stalinist and even though Stalin had killed his entire family he actually believed that Stalin did it for the good of the motherland. He was horrified that Khrushchev had vilified Stalin. Ivan was older than people thought; he was actually almost 70, but looked 50, partly due to his healthy lifestyle, but also because he had made a few genetic discoveries experimenting on himself. Ivan really wanted to go home. He loved Russia. America was too stressful for him and he hated speaking English.

  “OK, Thanks!” Hank replies as he signals Big Ed to park in Bay one.

  Ed brings the truck in and Hank gets out and opens the back.

  “Is your friend going to help load the truck?” Ivan asks.

  “Nope, Ed drives, that’s what he does!” Hank says. “I drive,” Ed yells out of the truck cab.

  When Hank sees the skids of boxes he asks, “So what are we hauling?”

  Ivan does not like questions but answers, “Envelopes for Zerizon, New York Electric,”

  “Smells weird,” Hank says.

  “It does?” Ivan asks.

  “Yeah, it smells like a bucket of fried chicken,” Hank says.

  “Strange, maybe factory had fried chicken picnic,” Ivan replies with some annoyance.

  “Where are you from? I noticed you have an accent,” Hank asks.

  “You ask lot of questions,” Ivan comments sharply. “Oh, sorry,” Hank says.

  Ivan finds a small pallet loader, gets in, starts it up and slams the blades under the wooden pallet. He cranks it up off the ground and drags the pallet into the truck.

  Hank asks, “You’re from Russia, aren’t you? I’m real good at guessing accents.”

  “Correct, from Russia,” replies Ivan.

  “You are Jew?” Hank continues to pry.

  “No Jew,” Ivan says.

  “Then how did you get into the U.S.?” Hank asks. Ivan is getting clearly more and more upset and says, “I immigrate.”

  “But how, I’m curious?” Hank asks "I’m interested because I have a friend who wants to get a friend of his out of Russia. I thought you might know something."

  Ivan’s face begins to twitch saying, “You smart guy, I come through proper channels. I apply and wait, and then they admit me. Tell your friend to wait his turn.”

  “Oh! I thought you might be one of these ex-KGB guys,” Hank says disappointed.

  “There no more KGB, I work for electric company in Russia, always want come to U.S.A., land of free,” Ivan says.

  “Oh, so where did you get the scars?” Hank asks as Ivan puts another pallet on the truck

  “I fight in Mid East War,” Ivan says.

  “Stupid war; like our Vietnam right?” Hank asks. “Right!” Ivan says.

  “I still think you’re ex-KGB, and you came over here to give information in exchange for asylum. I like your fake moustache, but it’s drooping,” Hank says. “I hiding from wife,” Ivan says as he tries to put the moustache back on straight.

  “Really?” Hank says laughing. "That is the worst mustache I've ever seen in my life. Ed, look at that moustache - it's not going to fool anybody, and why would you want to hide from your wife?"

  Ivan puts the last pallet into the truck and says, "Please not say anything. I owe wife lot of money. She can't find me.”

  “Sign here please,” Ivan says and passes the clip board and pen to Hank.

  “Sure, I hope you work out that problem with your wife,” Hank says uncomfortably as he signs for the load.

  “Yes, problem with wife…” Ivan is upset. He clearly doesn’t know what to do in this situation. Should he just kill them or let it go. He reaches in his pocket for the long switch blade, but then notices people clearly standing nearby.

  “Well, nice talking to you Ivan,” Hank says as he jumps into the front seat of the truck and says quietly to Ed, “let’s get out of here, now! This guy is a whack job.”

  Ed starts up the truck and they pull away from the loading bay and onto Lafayette Avenue on their way to the Bruckner Expressway.

  “Something goin’ on there for sure, he’s got a fake moustache; man, I think he’s part of the Russian mob. I’ll bet there are diamonds or some kind of valuable stuff in those boxes. Let’s see what we got here?” Hank gets up, goes into the back of the truck and rips open a master case, takes out a box and goes back into the cab, saying, “Damn, its envelopes, whoa! Smell that, it smells like fried chicken,” Hanks says. Ed reaches over, takes out one of the envelopes, licks it and says, “It tastes just like fried chicken, try it if you don’t believe me?”

  “I don’t have an eating disorder like you,” Hank says. “It’s an envelope asshole, taste it,” Ed says.

  “No! It’s not lunch time; I’m not eating between meals,” Hank says.

  “And you think I have eating disorders, you’re sick, you know that. I don't believe that stuff about his wife. I think you're right. He’s part of the Russian mob. There is something not right about these envelopes,” Ed says.

  “Shut up fat boy, we’re going back there tonight. I know there is something good in that warehouse other than envelopes. Maybe the warehouse itself holds the answer,” Hanks says.

  "You're going to get us killed, let's just do what we do and deliver and leave. We just transport, that’s what we do. Why do we always have to make something out of every little thing? Just leave it alone Hank. These may be dangerous people, what we have in this truck is just envelopes, tasty tasting envelopes," Ed pleads.

  "You have no sense of adventure, I’ll bet there are millions in contraband in that warehouse," Hanks says, looking disgusted.

  "Learn when to leave it alone Hank, just leave it alone. I have a bad feeling about this job." Ed pleads. "You have a bad feeling about everything" Hanks complains.

  "No, just crazy Russians that look like they've killed 500 people with fake drooping moustaches who have us delivering plain white envelopes that taste like fried chicken to the Electric Company. Do you not see that there is something wrong with this picture?" Ed asks.

  "Not really, it all says opportunity to me," Hanks squeaks.

  "I have a bad feeling about this, a very bad feeling. I'm hungry hand me another one of those envelopes," Ed complains.

  Chapter 49 Beneizen Brewster sat on a small cushion in the lotus position, meditating. He was of medium height with a bald shaven head, round faced with clear blue eyes, trim, not muscular, but had a small round Buddha tummy. His tropical home sat back around 1000 feet from the water. It was of simple design. A large floor on pillars above the sand and a roof over the open platform, His eyes were wide open and he was looking out through the jungle. He could hear the parrots and morning insects chattering in the rain forest canopy above and below. His house was something special for someone living on one of the most remote island groups on the planet. Tanimbar Islands, also called Timur Laut, are a group of about 65 islands in the Maluku province of Indonesia. The principal island had arguably the best beaches on earth. It was ringed by beautiful palm trees and had a very dense rain forest in the interior. Beneizen had built his small home right into the edge of dense jungle. He had one small area where he could gaze out onto a beautiful emerald lagoon. His house was something of a curious desig
n. He had laid down ten wooden pilings around thirty-five feet in length, and then built a platform on top of them which rose eight feet above the ground. The floor was made from local hardwoods polished to a perfect sheen. The pilings continued up through the floor and supported the roof, a local design made from thatched palm leaves. There were no rooms; it was a clear open space, with a bed with mosquito netting, a few chairs, and a primitive cooking area. Beneizen meditated with the rising of the sun each morning. He felt that there was a special energy that could only be perceived at the moment of the sun’s first arising. A tropical breeze swept across him as he allowed a small smile to curl at the sides of his mouth. A monkey jumped from a tree and came and sat in his lap. He quietly stroked the monkey’s head, but continued to stay centered in the middle of his body.

  The local natives were good natured and appreciated Beneizen living among them. One of the natives led a small boy with a large bandage on his leg quietly up the circular stairs slowly approaching Beneizen from behind, being very careful not to disturb his meditation. Both the grandfather and the small boy sat next to him waiting motionless until he was finished. He liked people joining him in his morning collection exercise. He loved the simplicity of these essential people who lived on the island. They lived simple, happy lives; it was the way he originally envisioned life here eons ago. Now here he was on the small planet third from the sun, and he had to fix it. The imbalances it suffered could influence the solar system and in turn the entire universe and even the galaxy and it was his responsibility to return it to a proper order. He took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled and turned to look at the old man and small boy.

  “I hope we did not disturb you,” said the old man. “Not at all, please, let me look at the young man's leg.” said Beneizen in a low quiet voice. Beneizen gently and with great care removes the bandages from the child’s leg exposing a massive, oozing abscess. The monkey screams and runs up into a nearby tree. “My leg is so bad it scares even the monkeys,” the boy says.

  “Let's see what we can do for your leg,” he replies. Beneizen examines the wound; gets up and goes over to a nearby table saying to the old man, “Place the boy on the table and I will dress the wound, he really needs oral antibiotics, but I don’t have any right now.” Beneizen washes and cleans the wound, then dresses it with antibiotic cream and re-bandages it, saying, “I want you to take the child each day to the emerald pool, take off his bandages and let his leg stay in the water for at least an hour before you come and see me. The fish there will eat the poison away from the wound. ” He looks at the young man lying on the table; he feels his head and looks concerned. “Is he going to get better?” the old man asks. “Yes, but I still need to get him oral antibiotics. I have friends coming; they will bring what he needs.” Beneizen again turns to the young man and strokes his forehead gently. This has an extreme relaxing effect on the boy. Beneizen says softly, “When you soak in the waters of the emerald pool, you must allow the fish to touch you, even to bite you. They will not hurt you, they will help by eating the poison that is harming you, and do you understand?” “Yes, but keep stroking my head, I feel more well when you do it,” the child says.

  Beneizen turns to the old man and says, “You must understand that any wound here in the jungle is dangerous even a wound the size of a pin head. See that any and all wounds are brought to me, so I can treat them before they become a big problem like your grandson’s, understand?

  “Yes,” says the old man.

  “Good!” Beneizen says.

  After they leave, the rain starts to fall gently. Beneizen swipes his hand in front of him and walls form around the house. They appear one by one. They even have windows with glass panes. His companion, the chief’s daughter is not surprised by this. She goes into the cooking area and walls form around her, complete with a door and pictures on the walls. Kalactin houses have walls that are whatever you want them to be. You can walk through them or they can be solid. Beneizen goes to a far wall, raises his hand and the entire wall becomes a 3-dimensional monitor. Beneizen can control actions anywhere in the universe simply calling up visualization and reaching in and changing what he wishes to change. He could look in on anything or anyone anywhere. This was more than a monitor; it was a portal into a time-space continuum. Then he reached in, Sam appeared before him and he said to him, "You appear hard to kill."

  "You know about these recent events and Charles?" Sam asks.

  "Yes give him what he wants. Make him a Klacknel. In time he will understand how he has condemned himself," Beneizen adds and continues, "I have thrown myself on the mercy of my own people. They understand and tell me I will get a new mate. When a Kalactin dies the surviving mate is paired with a mate from another Kalacktin who has also lost a mate. I miss my home planet. This house and living here on this island in Indonesia has brought me some temporary peace. I want my children to know where they came from and here is the perfect place for their final transformation."

  Sam replies remorsefully, "I'm sorry I failed you. I failed my first wife and our son, Juan. I have always had remorse for not having raised Juan. It's hard to face such transgressions."

  "I love you Sam and always remember, a saint is just a sinner who kept trying," Beneizen says and continues...

  Chapter 50 Charles was again in front of his beloved computers in his vault. He was really happiest when he was here, away from people; he could somehow shut out any problems. His wife had pushed him into a political career. If he had been left to his own devices, Charles would never have left his vault, and that was exactly what was slowly happening. He didn’t have to go anywhere. He opened a package of chocolate chip cookies and started placing one after another into his mouth. He was feeding the hole. Eating relaxed the extreme pain he felt in his chest. He knew the day was coming soon when he would have his new body. He longed to be a robot. Being a machine meant release from the truth of what he was and the remorse from things he had done. He would finally be free of the pangs of conscience. He peered at the screen and said to it, “Chase you think you’ve disappeared with your spare parts bitch, but I will find you. I will find the blocking frequency that you are using, and overcome it… you can be sure of that.”

  A special communications signal began flashing in red on his computer screen. It was a link connected directly to the President. The red signal had never appeared before and Charles just looked up and stared at it. He really didn’t want to answer it, but slowly his hand reached over and touched the screen. “Yes,” he said.

  The President appeared on the screen seemingly very agitated and said, “Charles, I was just informed that the FBI has a complete Guard implant, both the spinal implant and chip assembly. They took it off the Guard that was driving the limo.”

  “Calm down, the one I used to kill Kathryn and Robert?” Charles asked proudly.

  The President replies,“Yes, Kathryn and Robert were somehow able to jump out of the car before it went over the cliff. They're messed up but alive. It was all over the news, boy are you out of the loop! Getting back to the problem at hand, they want me to do something about it, something on my own, they want a full investigation.”

  “So, do something, get it away from them; tell them you want it given to the CIA,” Charles says.

  “They’ve already left with it,” the President says. “Who left with it and what did they say they’re going to do with it?” Charles asks.

  “The FBI and I didn’t ask. Kathryn called Trip from the wreck!” the President replied.

  “You didn’t ask, are you insane? You’re the President,” Charles says and continues; “Get it back!” “I’ll be right over,” Charles says and hangs up angrily.

  To himself, Charles says, “I’m not an expert Guard programmer, Beneizen was the best at that, he was a wonderful person.” He slams his hand into the wall and really hurts himself. "He was a wonderful person. I really screwed up, I’ve got real problems. They're both alive, how did they know? Beneizen it had to be you. Co
me and talk to me you coward!” Charles begins to pace around his vault wailing, “Doris where are you?” as he begins to remember...

  Charles is a young man again. He's slim and handsome. He is sitting with Beneizen and Doris on top of Half Dome in Yosemite National Park. Their legs dangle off the rocks.

  Doris clings to Charles's arm and observes, "It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen in my life. It's pure magic,"

  "No the real magic is you," Charles says to Doris. "No the real magic is watching the both of you,” Beneizen says.

  And then the vision disappears and Charles is again alone in his vault sobbing. Suddenly, through his tears, Beneizen appears in front of him. "So, are you gloating at my misery?" Charles asks.

  "No Charles, I feel great compassion for you. Don't go through with this procedure. You still have a chance for redemption."

  "No Beneizen, there is no chance for me. There is no redemption. I sense the momentum of my fate,” Charles says.

  "Listen to me Charles," Beneizen pleads.

  "No, no, I hear another path calling me," Charles returns sadly.

  Chapter 51 Juan slowly awakened very groggy to find himself lying on the floor of his Washington apartment. His first instinct was to move, but he knew they would see and just put him out again or worse. Tom and Harry were in the kitchen eating and talking. “I like this Spanish food, it’s got some fat in it and tastes like something, you know?” Tom says. “Juan has some great eats here; I think we should kill him now,” Harry says.