Prophecy (26 page)

Every agent in the room automatically drew his weapon the second the blue lights from the hyperspatial transports appeared. When the lights dissipated, an eerie silence settled over the room, finally broken by a stunned voice that said, “Holy Mother of God.”

Before them were two very large, structurally humanoid and undeniably alien, beings. All the extraterrestrial movies combined Wearily all the alien sightings and sworn-to abductions by seemingly responsible individuals Wearily could not have prepared them for this close encounter. They stood frozen in disbelief, fear and awe.

The one closest to Winters was the larger of the two, topping his height of six foot two by ten inches. What skin could be seen—face, neck, hands—was the color of his grandfather’s old roll top desk, lovingly polished to this lustrous shade of mahogany. In an attempt to stabilize his wildly beating heart by forcing himself to adapt the unemotional observation of a trained professional, Winters noted its powerfully developed musculature, instinctively surmising it was a male.

He would have been more alarmed if it were not for the obvious delight on Mariah’s face.

The other alien was cinnamon colored, three inches shorter than its colleague and only slightly less powerfully built. It was staring at Mariah, the same eagerness and exhilaration mirrored on its face. It dragged its eyes away reluctantly, staring at the twelve-sided figure on the table. Its eyes narrowed in thought.

Female? Gabriel Winters wasn’t quite as sure in this assessment.

Seeing a movement in his peripheral vision, his eyes swung back to the dark one who had placed its hands on its silver belt and was drawing in a deep breath as if sampling the air. The gesture caused its chest to expand and its chin to raise, both normal occurrences.

Unfortunately, it triggered a reflex in his agents. Just prior to this, they were shifting the direction of their weapons between the two aliens. Now all of them were trained unwaveringly on the dark one.

Ton Re’Sateron removed his long, thin fingers from the metallic belt around his waist and rested his hands on his hips, unaware of the perceived arrogance of this gesture following the chest expansion movement. The agents’ bodies tightened defensively, adrenaline pumping in their veins. In a swift motion, the dark skinned one reached out with his four fingered hand toward the nearest man. It was more than the terrified agent could handle. With a concussive blast, the gun discharged … and the bullet hit the alien dead center in the chest.

Sateron was propelled backward a few steps by the force of the bullet. However, he was still standing when the smoke from the gun dispersed.

All eyes zeroed in on his azure blue jumpsuit where the bullet had hit. Fascinated, they watched a dark spot begin to lighten then heard the rustle of fabric, like the garment was readjusting after the impact.

The self-regulating garment did more than just adjust for atmospheric variances in maintaining body temperature: it was an extremely thin, flexible alloy that prevented Sateron’s body from being penetrated by most objects.

In his most pedantic manner, Sateron said, “My self-regulating garment analyzed the composite metals of your projectile then assimilated them. It concluded that, as a method of elimination, your weapon is unsophisticated. It has dismissed both the weapon and the projectile as inconsequential.”

Ton Re’Sateron’s eyes fastened on the man who fired the shot. In a voice filled with resignation, he said, “I merely wanted to see this weapon. Such is the disheartening nature of Homo sapiens who seek to destroy that which they do not understand, even if it be their own kind. Unfortunately this primitive, uncontrollable rage will brand you as undesirables in the universe.”

If Sateron had broken out in a chorus of show tunes, no one would have been more astonished. The voice that rumbled deep in his chest was melodious, his pronunciation precise albeit stilted. It was his benign reaction to the incident that caused weak-kneed relief to flood the room.

Sateron turned. Winters found himself the object of its attention.

He stared into the dark one’s eyes, the eyeballs like the color of marigolds, the pupils black, elliptical, and nearly pencil thin, the irises a muted silver. With a cold chill suddenly seizing him, Winters stared at the canted sockets and deep ridges that extended beyond Sateron’s eyes.

And then Sateron smiled. Gabriel Winters gaped at the slightly pointed teeth gleaming so whitely against the dark skin. A fresh spurt of fear heated the pit of his stomach.

For millennia, humans had given face, form, and name to their atavistic fear of divine retribution and eternal punishment. His worst childhood nightmares of the devil now stood before him, in the flesh.

“I presume I address the one in command.”

For the first time in his life, Gabriel Winters was at a loss for words. “I’m ... I mean, I am ... yes...”

Sateron stared down at him. “Are you incapable of coherent speech?” His brow furrowed slightly, adding to the demonic illusion. “Has your government given command to one unable to articulate?”

The implied ridicule, and Mariah’s muffled snort, did it. Winters finally found his voice, blurting out the first thing that popped into his mind.

“Of course I can talk. Your appearance caught me off guard, to say the least, and I just didn’t expect you to say what you did.”

All of a sudden Ton Re’Aleris, forgotten in the drama of the discharged weapon and the current dialogue, shook her head, a look of warning tinged with resignation on her face. In a soft baritone, she said, “Sateron, I do not think this is the time...”

But Aleris was too late. Sateron had spent too many hours dissecting human culture, fascinated with recurrent movie themes of aliens invading Earth. Those on Izorach were frequently subjected to his booming laughter as he enjoyed the ridiculous way humans viewed life on other planets. And it was their bad luck that he picked up phrases from these movies, using them if the slightest opportunity arose.

Sateron was no more than two feet from Gabriel Winters. Leaning forward, his face now mere inches away, he said with a smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes, “What did you expect me to say, ‘Take me to your leader’?”

That did it for Mariah. Nearly doubled over, she howled hysterically. Al-Ibrahim grinned hugely as his face contorted in an effort to keep from joining her. The other agents didn’t know what to do, but they appeared to be in various stages of suppressed laughter. Without conscious thought, they all holstered their revolvers.

Gabriel Winters was not used to being the butt end of a joke. He locked eyes with the grinning alien and said sourly, “I’m sure you can appreciate the situation we were in at your melodramatic entrance and your subsequent usage of the English language.
That’s
what I meant.”

All humor gone, Sateron assumed the role of scientist and educator. “Actually, your statement is incorrect. I do not speak ‘English’. When first we discovered life in this solar system, we introduced many dialects from our star system to test glottal articulation. Humans were able to assimilate several. Whatyou speak is a commingled form of Grisek, high-speak from my home planet; Yoreshed, most popular dialect of mid-speak; and Ju’nedha, low-speak of the serving class. There is also some unintelligible garble from those who come from other planets and try to learn our mid-speak.

“We are most intrigued, however, as we never introduced Ju’nedha. We therefore conclude that your usage, albeit distorted and harsh to our ears, must have been genetically assimilated.” His eyes scanned the room, his gaze finally resting on Mariah.

“This is but one of the many amazing mysteries that enshrouds your planet. It is also the reason my colleague and I have spent thousands of years collecting data and conducting research.”

Thousands of years collecting data. And conducting research. Winters felt like he was in a bad dream. Were all those unbelievable accounts of alien abductions true?

“Hardly.” All eyes immediately shifted to Aleris who made the cryptic comment. “Your morbid fantasies concerning alien abductions are products of unenlightened minds and unscientific data. Your unenlightened attitude about aliens probing you internally is both insulting and pathetically narcissistic.

“Tissue samples of all species on this planet were gathered thousands of years in the past. Since hominoids reproduce at an exceedingly slow rate, your DNA code has not mutated enough for us to squander more time than it takes to gather a few cells once every five hundred years which we match against our base line information. We do, however, gather varietal vegetation and the occasional hemiptera, which you refer to as bugs, for they reproduce and mutate at a much more vigorous rate.”

Aleris now focused all her attention on Mariah. “We are interested in this one human, the Hevru female here so named Mariah Carpenter. We believe she alone has the ability to gain entry into the Permanent Data Storage Unit. We speculate it will provide crucial information concerning the deficient evolution of our species.

“We have come here to request permission to join her when she enters the device.”

Suddenly Aleris’ eyes whipped back to face the data storage device on the table. Her eyes widened in remembrance ... and Mariah found herself swept into the flow of excitement that passed between the two Anorasians. In the next instant, she became caught up in their memory.

They stood on a mountain peak next to a sleek space vehicle that balanced precisely on the uneven terrain. Across from them, on a similar peak, was a man kneeling on a rocky ledge, his head bowed over his clasped hands. Mariah heard Aleris’ voice in her head.
We stand on
Ho’rehabit
, the northern peak of
Jahavla Kitorin
. Across, the Hevru male kneels on
Jahavla Monsea
.

That name: Hevru. What does it mean? Is it your way of saying ‘Hebrew
?’

Yes, your pronunciation is in
Yoreshed
. It means ‘Those Who Pass From One Place To Another’
.

Mariah nodded, her focus now on the opposite peak.
Jahavla Monsea
. Where had she heard that name? Before she had time to run through her history bank and identify this mountain peak, she found herself engulfed by the blue light from the hyperspatial transports.

And now she stood with the two Anorasians before the old man. He rose from his knees to face them, his demeanor calm and watchful. He was dressed in a sweat stained, tattered, homespun tunic over threadbare trousers in the same condition. Leather sandals were strapped to his bruised and sun-scorched feet. Knowing how the CIA agents had reacted to these two only moments before—and they having been born into a more enlightened period of time—this man should have been petrified. Yet he stood patiently, waiting to be addressed.

You are in grave turmoil, Aleris said to the man
.

He nodded, his white beard bobbing rhythmically. His sorrowful thoughts came to Mariah as he gazed into Aleris’ eyes
.

My people followed me out of bondage to this place, but no longer believe that the Lord God is with us to guide us to the land promised. I fear they will turn back to the false gods of their oppressors. Tell me, am I so honored to be in the presence of
the Lord’s messengers
, or were the tyrants correct
?

I am Ton Re’Aleris, no deity, but a living creature like yourself. We have watched you, were in fact with you when you fled your oppressors. We aided your passage through the vast waters; it was not a supernatural act. We hid our spacecraft behind cloud coverage, and created sufficient air disturbance to cause the water to bank on each side, exposing the earth beneath it
.
We have returned just now and heard your supplication for laws and rules to govern those under your protection
.

With that, Aleris slid her fingers several inches down the front section of her garment against her chest. Mariah’s gaze locked onto the insignia, trying to remember where she’d seen it before.

An opening appeared in Aleris’ garment, revealing something similar to a pocket. She extracted a thin rolled tube, eight inches long, banded at both ends. When she slipped the bands off, a document unrolled, hanging straight from the rod to which it was attached.

On this parchment are fifteen regulations that govern our lives in our star system. Some may not apply to your people, nor fit in with your culture, but some may be of use when you translate them to fit your race. It is so named ‘Decilloq
.’

She handed the scroll to the old man. He held it reverently as he read it. A joyous smile wreathed his face and he hugged the parchment to his breast.

I thank you, Ton Re’Aleris. I pray this will be the answer my people seek
.

With another flash of light, Mariah and the Anorasians were back on
Ho’rehabit
. The old man was kneeling once again, this time his face wreathed in joy. Sateron entered the transport vehicle and, just as Aleris made to follow, something stopped her. She looked back at the
Jahavla Monsea
.

And then Mariah remembered:
Jahavla Monsea;
Jabal Musa, Arabic for Mountain of Moses. Mariah’s eyes widened in shock as she watched through Aleris’ eyes.

The old one rose and walked slowly around, devouring the words written on the scroll. He came to an outcropping of
rocks and banged his shins against the largest one. Aleris narrowed her eyes, the better to focus her vision on him.

Staring thoughtfully at the rock for a moment, the old one rolled up the parchment and laid it on the ground several feet away. The rock he tripped on appeared damaged. Through Aleris’ exceptional vision, Mariah could see a deep fissure that split it almost in two. With some well- placed kicks of his heel, the old man finally caused the rock to separate completely.

He bent, lifting out the object that had been encased in the rock.

When he held it at arms' length, Mariah gasped. It was the twelve-sided figure the
Kana Gidrol
had taken from the Ark and placed in her hands! The man lifted the device high in the air, a beatific smile on his face, perceiving this to be another gift from God.

The vision ended and they were back in the CIA laboratory in Monterey, California. Another layer of brick had been delivered for her structure. Another mystery solved.

Mariah looked into the eyes of the one who identified herself psychically as Ton Re’Aleris. Was there any doubt as to the direction of her continued mutations? She glanced at the alien’s hands, although she really didn’t need further corroboration. Her own thumb was now only half an inch shorter than her index finger and her pinky was approximately two-thirds of an inch long. Soon her pinky would disappear and the remaining four fingers would be nearly the same length, no different than the four digits on Aleris’ hands.

Was this the mortar for her brick building? She received the word
Anorasian
from the dark skinned one who smiled delightedly, identifying himself as Ton Re’Sateron.

Anorasian. Was this her destiny? Was this what she was mutating into?