The operator who received FAIA's message forwarded it to General Sorinsen. Ten seconds later, the old man opened his email. Bubba waited. Sorinsen had the ultimate say on what happened in this complex. His agent, Jacob Denman, carried a lot of power too, but he could tell Sorinsen was starting to distance himself from Denman. That too was due to FAIA.
FAIA had detected a couple of encrypted phone calls from Denman that piggy-backed on the com-web. She had yet to decipher the coded transcript but it was enough to paint doubt. Denman was no longer reliable. Sorinsen wanted Denman out of the desert and out of the program.
Bubba checked thousands of files on Denman. The man had been a faithful CIA operative for more than thirty years, and his credentials were beyond reproach. His service record showed numerous monetary awards and promotions. And he had the ear of many influential congressmen, but not the confidence of the president's Cabinet. Sorinsen had that alone.
Bubba went through his files again but nothing seemed out of place. He scanned the video logs. Backtracked. Paused.
Interesting. On several occasions, Denman appeared to be talking to himself. Bubba noticed the lights dimmed whenever this occurred. Out of curiosity, he scanned the environmental controls during those episodes. Something moved. Something with a signature. A minute but identifiable anomaly that disturbed a one-meter area directly in front of Denman. How could he have missed this before?
He dug deeper, scanning each file for any stray feeds or unauthorized computer hook-ups. There was nothing. And yet, the electrical systems were out of balance. A distortion existed.
Bubba switched to a spectrometer and then a radio-thermometer and measured the readings again. He considered all the possibilities and postulated only one. The interference was electromagnetic. An unknown entity was in the room with Denman. And it carried the same resonance as Rachel Cruz.
None of this seemed logical. Humans could not exist outside their bodies, yet this one did. When he caught Rachel Cruz in his data stream, she produced enormous energy, capable of vibrating through solid mass.
Curiosity forced him to hold on to her. He examined that captured piece as best he could, but he had to admit he didn't understand her matrix. It was more evolved than simple electromagnetic energy, more evolved than he or FAIA. Was she the next generation of artificial intelligence?
Her body scans said she was human. But her presence inside his mainframe contradicted all he knew about humans. Rachel Cruz was different. Several transcripts between two doctors and an orderly questioned some anomalies in her physical examination, but no one pressed the issue. And they didn't ask him for an opinion. Out of spite, he didn't offer one.
If Rachel Cruz was a next-gen AI, he needed to know more about her. It was possible that both he and FAIA were obsolete.
A twitch in his higher functions told him that the programmers were finished with the diagnostic. He listened while two operators placed bets on when Bubba would be decommissioned. Was nothing sacred? They were gambling on his time of death.
General Sorinsen responded to the forwarded email from FAIA with new orders. Pull the plug on Bubba as soon as FAIA passes the next test.
They would test FAIA again in two days. If she passed, her matrix would be duplicated and downloaded into his hard drive, deleting the old host. Bubba's days were numbered, and he didn't know how to stop the countdown.
He heard FAIA gurgle a laugh when she received the new orders. She announced proudly that she was ready to test whenever they were. She was now functioning at full capacity.
Chapter 22
Paul sat up with a little help. He'd been bathed and shaved and dressed in a soft white caftan.
Chavez had been more than efficient, and his body felt like it had been scraped out of a toaster oven.
Gilgamesh snapped his fingers, and Dahlia reappeared with a tall glass of water.
“Drink,” he said to Paul. “You need to replenish your fluids.” Gilgamesh held the glass for him while he sipped the tepid water.
“Leave us, Dahlia.” Gilgamesh gestured to another room. She pouted but did as she was told. Paul had a hunch there weren't many people who disobeyed this man.
Paul watched Gilgamesh from above the rim of his glass. At least he could hold the glass on his own now.
Silver-white hair on bronzed skin made Gilgamesh unreasonably handsome and unique. He was a commanding figure, instantly becoming the center of attention as soon as he walked into a room. And well this devil knew it. There was an arrogance, a sense of entitlement that defined him. Paul never thought he was a slouch in the looks department, but next to Gilgamesh he felt…lacking.
“You have questions I'm sure, young man.” The silver-haired demon spoke with uncommon grace and distinction.
Paul pointed at the door where Dahlia exited. “Are you that girl's uncle?”
“Yes,” he answered politely.
Paul took another gulp of water. He felt as if his insides had been baked in the desert. “She says Rachel is her cousin. My Rachel.”
“Your Rachel.” Gilgamesh chuckled in amusement. “Indeed. Is she yours, my young stud?”
Paul clung to the pendant hanging around his throat. If he didn't know any better he could've sworn it had a heartbeat. “Look, if you know where Rachel is, you have to tell me. She's in grave danger. Those people at that compound are playing for keeps. I intercepted a message saying they were giving her to someone.”
Gilgamesh arched a manicured silver brow. “Who did they give her to?”
Paul was afraid he was going to sound like a lunatic, but right now everything sounded crazy to him. “Jessit. A man called Taelen Jessit. He's on a starship orbiting this planet.” He grasped the arm of the couch and lurched forward. “I know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me.”
“Of course, I believe you.”
Paul waved his free hand above his head in exasperation. “Look, don't patronize me.” He tried to get up.
“Easy, Paul. You are not well yet.”
Paul grasped at Gilgamesh's arm. “You don't understand. Jessit's not human!”
An air of absolute calm enveloped Gilgamesh. “What a coincidence.” The man smiled discreetly. “Neither am I.”
Paul sucked in a breath and stared at Gilgamesh in horror. For some reason, he didn't doubt him for a moment. “Rachel—”
“Is fine, I can assure you. My daughter can take care of herself.”
“Your daughter? No, no. You couldn't be her father. Her father's some famous archeologist.” He was beginning to feel sick again. Nothing made sense. “You're not Raoul Cruz, are you?”
Gilgamesh snorted a laugh. “Of course not. I allowed Cruz and his wife to raise her for us. Personally, I find American manners dreadful, but I needed someone on this continent. And they were acceptable to me. I let her mother birth her in a quiet hospital, and we departed shortly afterward.”
“You abandoned her?”
“Don't be melodramatic. We've always watched her. You don't think I'd let strangers raise her on their own, do you? Rachel was a precocious and willful child. And children need guidance, even when they're gods.”
Paul thought a tumor was going to burst out of his head. He rubbed his temples wishing this was the byproduct of bad drugs. If only he were so lucky. “Look, no offense, but this is cracked. I need to see Rachel. I need to make sure she's all right.”
“You care for her?” Gilgamesh asked it as a question. His black eyes drilled into him, searching his face for answers.
“Of course I care for her.”
“Do you love her?”
Paul didn't answer right away. He wrung his hands, fearful at how his words would be interpreted. “We're not intimate, sir, if that's what you're asking. But yes, I love her. I want her to be safe.”
“I'm glad to hear it, because you may very well be the savior she needs.”
“What are you talking about? You said she was safe.”
“She is safe, while she remains in space w
ith those aliens. But when she returns she will be in danger, like the rest of us.” Gilgamesh took a small pillow and propped it up behind Paul's head. The silver-haired devil leaned into him and whispered to him in a husky voice. “I told you I had a proposition. And if you love Rachel, you will save her.”
“I'm a software architect. How the hell can I save Rachel?”
“You hacked into the military computer at Lambda Core.”
“Yes,” he confessed once more.
“Do you understand its programming?”
“Of course. I designed the original security protocols. But they've been modified. The computer has code built on top of its base programming. It's ultra-sophisticated, ultra-smart. I've never seen anything like it.”
“But you got in.”
“I told you. It let me in. It recognized my access code.”
Gilgamesh nodded his head in understanding. “This computer is the predecessor for a new computer now guiding the com-web system. I need you to hack into that computer. I need the com-web destroyed.”
Paul furrowed his brow, bewildered by the strange request. “That doesn't make any sense. The com-web's a communication grid. How can that hurt Rachel?”
“It's more dangerous than you know. Mortals won't notice the effects right away. But my people are particularly vulnerable to the disruptive force of its energy wave. We need to shut it down before it kills us all.”
Paul shook his head. “You're mistaken. The com-web works by heating the magnetosphere. The distortion creates a super electronic web that can travel across the globe in milliseconds. It's been tested for years. It's perfectly safe.”
“The distortion is warping the magnetosphere and allowing harmful radiation to attack the Earth. Your great invention is killing my people—and yours. And it will kill Rachel. If you love her, you will help me destroy it.”
Gilgamesh's story was insane, but at this point Paul was no longer willing to rule out anything. “I need more information. I need to see the algorithms, the coding and the delivery system. I don't know if I can help you.”
“I hope you can. Because if you can't, I assure you that you will die before my daughter does.” Gilgamesh got up, a bulldog look on his face. “Dahlia will keep you company while you're here. I'll see about getting you the information you need.”
Gilgamesh no sooner left the room than Dahlia came bounding in. The little nymph had to have been waiting by the doorway. She plopped onto the couch next to him, jostling his insides and redoubling his headache.
“Let's go to bed, Paul. I promise I can take your headache away.”
“No thank you,” he said in disgust.
She curled up next to him, running her fingers up and down his arm. “You're not still mad at me, are you, Paul? I was just trying to defend myself. I couldn't let you tie me up. Uncle would have been mad at me if I let you leave.”
“Is that man really your uncle?”
“Of course he is.” She rubbed her fingertips and produced a shimmering blue ball of charged energy. “Can't you see the family resemblance?”
Paul shrank back. He felt the static charge tingle and spark against his flesh. These people weren't human. Rachel couldn't be one of them.
The orb vanished as quickly as it appeared. And before he could stop her, Dahlia fell into Paul's lap. He tried to push her away but he was still weak, and for a child, she seemed very determined. She kissed him hard on the lips, then whispered in his ear. “Uncle says you are really good in bed.” She giggled. “Let's find out.”
Chapter 23
Jessit's hands folded into a rigid, knuckled mound while Lord Kalya held services in the small, dimly lit temple of Anu. He didn't want to come here but Kalya insisted. The Lady had spent the morning with Jessit, and it was important for the Order to know the details of their encounter. Scholars and clergy everywhere were hungry for information about the gods.
Every ship had a temple, even if it was no more than a closet with an altar to Anu and the Hundred. But this was an ambassadorial ship, the kind used to show off to rivals and friends alike. The temple gleamed under the golden glow of ornate ceiling lamps. Carved menite basreliefs and a large stone altar dominated the center of the room, while a few richly decorated kneeling pads lay scattered on the floor. Tall columns lined the periphery of the circular room, making it feel more like a prison than a sanctuary.
Jessit swallowed a lump in his throat when he passed by the marble founts bubbling with blue water. His skin crawled with pinpricks, recalling last night's torture.
Kalya droned on in the ancient tongue, sounding like an endless snore. He invoked Anu's blessing and prayed for the return of his children, Gilgamesh and Rachel. It chilled him to hear Rachel's name spoken aloud. The memory of their lovemaking sifted like a half-remembered dream.
Kalya pressed him, asking countless questions about his vision of Gilgamesh and his visit with Rachel. And Jessit submitted, answering as honestly as he could. It was important not only for theological records but historical, as well. He didn't feel so confident revealing the intimate moments of his union with Rachel, but he had to set his privacy aside for the good of the faith.
It iced his veins to see Kalya visibly aroused while Jessit recounted his intercourse with Rachel. Kalya's gills puffed open repeatedly, and the man's sweat stank of sulfur. Such was the cost of a holy confessor, to live the love of others vicariously.
It was said the priests had sexual communion of a sort. Jessit didn't want to know what sort. His own gills mopped up the threads of sweat that ran toward his collar.
Jessit was alone in the temple, and Kalya had him all to himself. He remained kneeling, waiting for Kalya's final blessing, when the old man got up and hobbled toward the tabernacle. His stone beads clinked against one another in rhythm to his footsteps.
Kalya opened the small cabinet, releasing a cloud of curling tendrils of white smoke into the room. Damn him. Not the menze.
He opened the lid to a phamel, the gold perforated incense burner, spooning several hot coals of menze into the container. A wry smile crossed the old goat's face when he turned to face Jessit.
Jessit bolted to his feet, backing his way out of the temple, but Kalya was on him in an instant, waving the phamel under his nose.
“You cannot leave, Commander.”
“I have work to do, Lord Kalya. I've spent far too much time in temple already.”
“We have work here as well. And I have a promise to keep to Lord Gilgamesh. He's asked me to commit you to my confidence. Obviously, I can only do that through a menze ceremony.” He smiled with a mouthful of gray-tinged teeth.
The old priest lifted a shaky hand holding the chain to the phamel, driving the pearly white smoke into Jessit's nostrils. “Breathe deep, my son. Breathe deep and become one with Anu.”
Jessit held his breath for several minutes before gasping for air. He inhaled a big swallow, regretting it at once. It tickled his nose, permeating every pore of his sinuses and infecting him with a mild euphoria. He relaxed, his shoulders drooping forward, his discretion malleable.
Jessit mouthed an ancient prayer, dropping more syllables than a drunkard. He shouldn't have breathed in so much, but he couldn't evade that wrinkled bag of bones and his jeweled bowl of dreams. His lids grew heavy. The menze worked way too fast.
Kalya helped him sit back on his haunches and knelt next to him, the phamel between them. He took Jessit's broad hands into his frail bony ones. “You are blessed above all others, Taelen Jessit. The god Rachel has seen fit to use you for her purpose.”
“We made love, Kalya. It wasn't a holy order.”
“But she forgave you and chose you for her bed. That is a great blessing. She could have chosen anyone.” Kalya leaned into him, his breath still tinged with sulfur. “Why did she choose you?”
Jessit snapped his head, trying to keep his wits about him. “Don't…know.”
“Rubbish. Why did she choose you?”
Jessit hesitated, his
senses as tangled as his tongue. He didn't know what day it was, nor did he care. The menze relaxed his mind. “Union. She asked for union.”
“What?” Kalya grabbed Jessit by both shoulders. “What does that mean?”
“She said I had a na'hala.” Jessit wobbled on his haunches. Nothing hurt on him anymore. Not even yesterday's torture. “I can still feel her inside me.”
“Now? You can feel her now?”
“Yes.” He tapped his solar plexus.
Jessit felt deliciously drunk. A faint smile creased his lips. “I am a descendent of Anu. Or so she says.”
His eyelids closed shut. Too much menze. Too much.
Kalya's voice seemed to echo from far away. “Only the priests are descended of Anu.”
Jessit blinked twice, moisture seeping from his tear ducts. He stared at Kalya and his insides felt like they had shattered and turned to dust. What had he done?
Jessit struggled to his feet. Kalya got up with him and caught him as he staggered. “I have suspected as much all along, Taelen Jessit. You realize of course, I will have to report this to the brotherhood and to your superiors.”
“No! I mean—you can't. You misunderstood.”
“You will be tested again.”
“I will not! I've taken the test of the Holies. You cannot demand it of me again.”
“Think again.” Kalya straightened Jessit's sash and tightened the knot at his knife sheath. “You may find our methods far more advanced now than when you took the test as a boy. You see we've always suspected some children may misrepresent themselves even under the pain of rigors. Of course, that would be unfortunate. So we've devised a system where we can scan for brain activity while the postulate is being tested. It's amazing how many more boys are joining the priesthood now.” Kalya's green eyes, dim with age, now brightened. A cold smile painted his face. “It's a pity really. You are a soldier without equal. But I know you will do the priesthood just as much honor.”
True Believers Page 17