Heni Hani and the Magic Pendant: Part 1 (Heni Hani and the fears of the unknown)

by Peter Ness

  ‘Roger that,’ Robin’s response squelched out from the Walkie-Talkie. ‘Ye lads are almost onto one now!’ Robin yelled. ‘It’s right above ye!’ He looked through his binoculars. This one appeared different. Above them, on the top of the mesa, a small hovering ball of light, danced about on steroids in the night sky.

  Kirin and Fred looked around in the pitch black. Back to back they rotated, edging around in a full circle. But, they saw nothing.

  ‘Boring—. Why’d I agree to this?’ Fred wondered to himself, and then spoke into his Walkie-Talkie. ‘Roger that. What do you mean, nearly onto one? We see nothing. Nothing at all! It is pitch black over here! We can’t even see each other,’ Fred growled into the hand held radio. ‘Over!’

  Just then, the moon waned behind the sleepy clouds. Fred pointed his torchlight towards the side of Kirin’s face. Dragging his hand up to cut out the glare Kirin looked away sharply. Stumbling away from Fred he caught his boot on a loose rock, using his arms to steady himself.

  ‘Careful where you step, there are snakes all over the place,’ Fred warned.

  ‘We see several small balls of light hovering at about shoulder height, just to yer right.’ Robin waited a few seconds. ‘Can ye see them now?’ he asked.

  ‘Roger that — but — see what?’ said the voice at the other end. ‘You’re just looking at reflections of car lights. Oops! Watch out for the trees and shrubs, and the creek up ahead. Yes, Kirin, that’s the one.’ Splat!

  ‘Thanks for telling me. It’s full of water,’ Kirin replied, stepping out of a small puddle and shaking the water off his boot in the darkness. ‘It must have rained recently.’

  ‘The lights — they’re right on top of ye now!’ Robin insisted.

  ‘The lights are just above your left shoulder now. They’re right on top of you!’ One of the male students spoke into a different Walkie-Talkie. His fragmented voice, almost one of panic, came over the radio in a mumbled static.

  Kirin turned slightly to his left and jerked back, a little surprised.

  ‘What are you doing here Small Elk?’ he hissed softly under his breath at the small bubble of light. ‘I don’t need protecting from these people!’ The small orb of light darted up and down above the mesa, and then sideways.

  ‘What in god’s name is that?’ Fred exclaimed, alarmed. ‘Yeah, I was asking the same question. Why are we here? But, there isn’t anywhere to run now, is there?’

  Kirin and Fred both ducked as the small bubble of light shot off over their shoulders and whistled past into the night. A small shrub on the opposite side of the creek bounced back and forth in the darkness, brushed aside by the orb. A bird squawked, fluttering into the air with fright. It flapped off into the night sky. It wasn’t hanging around here!

  The ball of light shot high up into the air now, then its light went out. All that remained was the faint outline of a bubble-entity with the face of a small girl with dark hair peering down at Little Hawk. Only, he wasn’t so little now.

  Kirin and Fred stood for a minute in complete, dark, and almost an eerie, silence.

  ‘Well. I have no idea what we just saw, but they’re sure gone now,’ Fred concluded. ‘Robin was right. Now that was worth coming for.’

  Kirin just grimaced, shaking his head in silence. Following Fred back towards the jeep, Kirin shone his torchlight at the ground, saying nothing. Fred got there first, tossing his torch and Walkie-Talkie onto the front seat. After that, they sat waiting in the jeep for hours. Nothing happened. They spoke little. As one dozed off, the other nudged him awake. The stars continued migrating ever so slowly across the sky as the earth rotated. Eventually, the sun poked its pink nose up above the horizon. The morning rays of light flooded over the plain in all their morning glory.

  The jeep’s radio squelched. As if on cue, the birds in the nearby shrubs flapped into the air, chirping and chattering amongst each other like a myriad of noisy alarm clocks.

  ‘Ye can come in now and have some breakfast,’ Robin said. ‘The lads are preparing something warm for you now. It looks edible—. Just a tick—. I’ll find out.’ A loud slurping sound crackled over the static. ‘Yummy. It amn’t too bad, neither.’

  Kirin turned the ignition key. The starter motor whirled. The engine spluttered to life then purred softly. They drove in silence back to the small erected camp site at walking pace. The jeep bounced over the rocky terrain, heaving them about. Towing a trail of fine dust the jeep pulled up near the other vehicles. Both men clambered noisily out. Walking across to the glowing campfire they warmed their shivering hands with its heat.

  ‘Would you like a cup of hot coffee? We also have some warm soup?’ said the female student, yawning. This Kirin guy seemed cool, she wanted to talk. Behind them the other students packed up the equipment, chatting excitedly amongst themselves.

  ‘We’ll take what we have back to the university and analyze it. First though, we need to trundle back out there — and take some — thingamewatzit measurements with these new-fangled geophysical gadget doofer-lackys,’ Robin explained, making the process sound much more scientific than it was. He held up a large, round, measuring tape in one hand and a Geiger counter in the other. Beaming broadly, he chuckled.

  Kirin yawned. Stretching out his hands into the warm glowing fire now, he listened to the chatty female student, who offered him a hot cup of soup. Meanwhile, Fred took a hot coffee between his shivering hands from another student. The cup melted his frozen fingers. Robin Grady and the other two students jumped into the jeep and tore noisily, bouncing around, metal vibrating and clattering out into the desert. The dust blew up a hurricane behind them.

  ‘Ah! That’s better.’ Fred zipped up his jacket, took a sip from the cup then walked over to his vehicle, searching inside for a pair of warm gloves. ‘Surely, I’ve got a pair hidden somewhere? The morning air is past chilly.’ He placed his cup on the bonnet, and then zipped open a duffle bag. Zip! Prying a notepad out of his leg pocket Fred opened it, reading from what appeared to be a short list of candidates. Taking a pen out of another pocket he crossed off several names. ‘Ah’! There they are.’ Reaching down the side of the seat he drew out a pair of gloves, tucking them firmly into a pocket.

  Sliding the notebook back into his other pocket now, Fred tucked the pen neatly above his right ear. Then taking out a dossier from an open bag, he opened it up and flipped the page. His eyes scanned through the files. A number of pages and photographs later, Fred’s eyes focused on a photo of Kirin attached to the top of right of the page. Glancing down, he read the rather scant background information below.

  ‘We have almost nothing on the man—,’ Fred mused, reading the various notes.

  ‘Age: huh? — it’s blacked out—. Now why would they do that?

  ‘Birth date: blacked out — again—.

  ‘Nationality: American — that figures—.

  ‘Blood type: A+—.

  ‘Sex: Male—. As if that isn’t half obvious!

  ‘Current employer: Blue-Sky Mining. Hmm, okay.

  ‘Occupation: Senior Exploration Geologist. Now that might prove useful.’

  As Fred flipped through the pages of the dossier the lines across his forehead grew. The rest of the file was classified, almost completely inked out. He found a few dates and the odd sentence.

  ‘January 1865, perhaps that’s an error? Huh? Here’s a brief reference attributed to — Abraham Lincoln? “A friend is one who has the same enemies.”’

  Just above that a comment in different hand writing dated July 1862 spoke about Indian abductions of children and briefly stated one such incident. Then Fred noted another date, 1867.

  ‘”We need to do something to stop the pointless slaughter of women and children,”’ a guy named Andrew Johnson had penned, ‘”perhaps it would help if we were to stop killing the Indians—?”’ Following that entry was just black ink-out. He turned the page. More black ink-out.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure what these comments have to do with anythi
ng. What? There’s more?’

  FBI information about a JFK briefing was inked out except for the words: ‘”The details of what he told us scared most of us to death. What concerned Jack the most was what remained unsaid.”

  ‘It could mean anything. Who gives a rat’s—. This is like reading a blank slate and it doesn’t make any sense. It’s like he doesn’t even exist. He has no family. If he disappears it seems that no-one really cares. At any rate—, Kirin comes highly recommended by the NSA, the Pentagon and by various mining companies. He’s exactly what we’re looking for,’ Fred mumbled, glancing across towards Kirin who was sunning himself by the heat of the fire. Flicking the page Fred motioned to Kirin, with a flick of his hand. Fred said nothing, but Kirin responded, turning his head sharply as if he were reading Fred’s mind. Fred shuffled on his feet, a little unsettled.

  ‘Kirin, come over here and take a walk with me,’ Fred called. ‘We need to talk.’

  Kirin slowly placed the soup cup down neatly beneath the seat of his chair.

  Standing now, he ambled over to Fred, hands in his jacket pockets. As Kirin approached, Fred snapped the folder shut, carefully placing it back into his bag. Zipping it up now he turned to face Kirin. Opening his shoulders, he leant back against the vehicle, showing Kirin the palms of his hands. He planned to earn Kirin’s trust. Fred then looked Kirin squarely in the eyes.

  ‘I have a proposition for you Kirin. One that I won’t let you refuse,’ he spoke in a low husky voice, hoping that Kirin would at least hear him out before rejecting him outright. ‘Have you ever been to Australia before?’ he asked, trying hard to read Kirin’s elusive body language.

  ‘Australia? No, I hate deserts. They seem to follow me around this god-forsaken planet.’ Kirin’s hand lifted to his ear then halted as he measured Fred up, dropping it back into his pocket more relaxed. His eyes stared back at Fred, squinting slightly as they reflected the morning sun. ‘Okay. Tell me more. I’m all ears.’

  ‘So, I presume that Robin has shown you the Sanskrit tablets already?’ Fred asked, starting to pull his dark gloves on.

  ‘Not really,’ Kirin replied, following Fred back to the tent. They went inside. Robin passed Fred the canvas bag.

  ‘Ah. I see yer face light up Kirin,’ Robin smiled. ‘Go on take a look see. What do ye make of them?’

  ‘Well, this first tablet speaks of a magical necklace buried with the body of a priest near a circle of stones. That’s helpful. It could be anywhere. The second tablet speaks about an alien artifact hidden in cave somewhere in Persia. Darn! The bottom section of the tile, which has all the key information, is missing.’ He stopped, looking first at Robin and then at Fred. ‘So, what did this Fargo chap have to say?’

  ‘He said much the same thing, but he thinks the first location refers to a Megalithic structure of some kind,’ Fred replied, ‘like a Stonehenge.’

  ‘Sanscrit is from India. And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there are two minor problems with that,’ Kirin said playing with his earlobe.

  ‘And, what are they?’ Fred asked, a scowl developing.

  ‘Other than the age? Well. Firstly, there are dozens of Megalithic structures. Most continents have at least one. But, and here’s the good news,’ Kirin explained, ‘there are several Stonehenge-like Megalithic structures in India. There’s an obvious one at Muduma village in Telangana, and others at Junapani. I should know — I’ve been there. Plus, there is a 5,000 B.C. site near Karahunj in Southern Armenia: Zorats Karer.[1] I guess the Indian Telangana Stonehenge is a good place to start with, though. And, the age of these implies technology transfer between various ethnic groups from the UK to Persia, to India and beyond; the designs are often very similar.’

  ‘And, what’s the second issue?’ Fred Thurman queried, arms crossed defensively.

  ‘These tablets — it’s all bullshit,’ Kirin said, staring into Fred’s eyes. He waved his hand at the tablets, and then pointed to specific locations. ‘This information here, here and here has been added, so it’s probably just a scam. And those markings there are not even Sanskrit. Are you sure you never found the tablets in Disneyland?’ Kirin scoffed.

  Fred glanced at Robin and raised his eyebrows. Then, he smiled broadly.

  ‘Good! Well done! You passed the test,’ Fred shook Kirin’s hand vigorously. ‘Welcome to the team. These aren’t the original tablets; and yes, they’ve been doctored. I had to know whether you were the genuine thing or not.’

  ‘So, I guess ye want me to head over there and check it out?’ Robin asked. ‘I have a friend, Dr. Ravi Shrivastava, who works at the University of Deli.’

  ‘Yes, Robin. We can discuss that later. But, that’s not why I wanted to chat with Kirin. The NSA and MUFON have both asked us to try to tie in some UFO sightings with radar records in Australia. And Blue Sky Mining kindly offered to help, but the timing is a bit off. It won’t be until early in the New Year. We need a front man, and as an exploration geologist it looks like you’re it. But, first, I need you in Antarctica.’

  #

  Two months later, US McMurdo Base, Antarctic: November, 1968

  A group of five, comprised of three men and two women, huddled over a poorly lit map inside the US military’s McMurdo Base in Antarctica.

  ‘This is the location where we found it,’ Major Tom Fargo tapped at the map. ‘We’re here, on this side of this land mass.’

  Kirin peered over Fred Thurman’s shoulder from his vantage point on the other side of the table and grunted. Then he took a sip on his coffee. He glanced across at the athletic-looking Tom Fargo, noting the short brown hair, well-cropped eyebrows, close shave and immaculate dress-sense. Tom flashed a look up at Kirin, and then away. Kirin scanned the large dark brown eyes of Lieutenant Melanie Jones, an American Naval biologist, nodding at her. She smiled back. And then he rotated towards the pale blue eyes of the much tinier, tanned youthful face of Master Sergeant Nancy Briggs, a chemist.

  ‘Any questions—?’ Tom’s brown smiling eyes took their time to move from person to person. Nancy blushed as Tom winked at her, and looked away fidgeting. Finally, Tom’s eyes moved across to Kirin. Tom grinned. Kirin’s eyes fell to the scar on the side of Tom’s neck. Instinctively, Tom’s grin evaporated, his hand slid up to cover it, and then he turned searching the room.

  ‘Do you have any photos, or any geophysics?’ Kirin asked.

  ‘Yes. We do. Such as—?’ Tom queried, turning back now, his palms facing towards Kirin. ‘What do you need to see?’

  ‘Such as any magnetics, gravity, or radiation readings,’ Kirin said. ‘Or—, any aerial photos. Whatever you have, we all want to see.’

  ‘Yes, that’d be good,’ the dark face of Lieutenant Melanie Jones nodded in approval.

  ‘Hey, Goto! Where’d you put all those photos and the geophysics maps?’ Tom called to the adjoining room. ‘Kirin wants to see them.’

  ‘Does he now?’ A short puny American in baggy greens stuck his head around the door. ‘So, he has clearance, does he?’ Fred Thurman and Tom Fargo both nodded. ‘Okay then, I’ll bring them in.’

  Kirin rotated his head and eyed Goto off. The man’s scalp was nearly visible through his wafer-thin hair. Goto adjusted the few long strands of thin hair which wiped across his head like a bar-code. Then, he moved away returning shortly with a smoke dangling out the corner of his mouth. Goto now held a metal cookie box in one hand, and had several rolled maps stuffed under an armpit. He strode with carefully directed strides into the room, across to the table and slid the metal box across to Fred. Then Goto took one step backwards, stood next to Tom with his legs apart, and blew smoke rings across the map into Kirin’s face.

  ‘Here,’ Goto passed the rolls across to Fred. Furrowing his brows, Kirin coughed and moved back. Then he took another sip on his coffee.

  ‘Well, Goto’s certainly not military, but he’s from some national security agency. And, he has an ego. NSA for sure,’ Kirin thought to himself, flashing a quick look at
Tom, who raised his eyebrows. ‘Ah. But, I’m starting to like this Tom Fargo fellow. We share many of the same ideals.’

  Fred Thurman laid out a series of photos on the table, and then unrolled a larger geophysics map. Clearing his throat he spoke in his husky Boston American accent.

  ‘So,’ he pointed at several photos. ‘You can see that the object is buried some thirty feet below the surface. The engineers calculated the depth from the magnetic anomaly. It’s a beauty.’

  ‘It appears to be covered in clear, almost transparent ice containing the odd rock and ice boulder or fragment,’ Tom offered up. ‘You can just make out the circular dark shape of the object in the photos.’

  ‘So, it was hot when it hit the ice, just not hot enough to vaporize it?’ Kirin said rhetorically. ‘And, the speed and angle of impact were quite low, from this direction. The skid mark is partially preserved below the ice. The object seems to have skipped across the snow then dug in creating an oblique impact crater. Bounce — bounce — bounce — here, here and here in the large aerial photos. Then, Plop!’

  ‘Wow! I can see why Fred wanted you here,’ Nancy spat out wide eyed, impressed. She glanced across at Tom for approval. He nodded.

  ‘So, Kirin, are you suggesting the alien craft slammed into the snow, melting it, forming a puddle above it, which subsequently froze over?’ Tom queried, scratching at his temple.

  ‘Yes. But, it may just be a meteorite,’ Kirin replied. ‘Or — both, but you can consider me a sceptic for now.’

  ‘You want more proof then?’ Goto asked. ‘See here? The object is cylindrical in shape, with a flange-like shape on its periphery,’ Goto pointed, in turn, at two of the photos. ‘Plus, if you look at the magnetic signature,’ he opened out a large roll. ‘It outlines a shape not unlike some of our more modern military planes currently being developed at Area 51. But that’s need to know.’

  ‘I’m still not convinced,’ Kirin replied, heading to top up his coffee. ‘I still say that everything you’ve shown us so far could be explained away by a meteorite. Have you dug it up already?’ He glanced back over his shoulder.