The Day of the Nefilim (9 page)

“Oh, Jesus. Have him questioned. Get everything he knows,” the Secretary-General sniffed, and turned away towards the Council chambers, where the two Nefilim were waiting.

A pair of guards led Thead through the labyrinth of corridors.

“I hope they know what they’re doing,” Thead said to the stone-faced soldier next to him.

The guard said nothing.

* * *

SEVERAL THOUSAND MILES AWAY, Bark, Reina and Bryce stood at the top of a sandhill, looking up into the sky. Bark had just told them that the ship was moored above them.

“Where?” Bryce and Reina both asked, squinting into the sky, seeing nothing.

“Just above these trees,” Bark replied, feeling better now that they were above ground. He pointed to a group of pines on a small plateau of rock.

Bryce and Reina looked up beyond the tops of the trees, but there was nothing to see except a glimmer of light in the atmosphere, which might have been something. Or not.

Bark reached out and held onto something. “Like this,” he said, and swung himself upwards. He began climbing, supported by nothing. A few feet above the ground, he started to flicker, then disappeared.

“No shit!” Bryce went to the spot where Bark had been standing and felt around in the air.

His hands encountered something that swayed under his touch. It startled him for a moment, feeling something that he couldn’t see, but he soon deduced from Bark’s actions and the texture of what he could feel that it was nothing more sinister than a rope ladder. He took a firm grip on one of the rungs and swung himself up.

“It’s OK,” he said to Reina, before he disappeared. She watched in silence for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and followed.

As they climbed, the ladder gradually became visible. By the time Bark disappeared over the side of the ship, Bryce could see the dark underside of its hull. He looked down at Reina. They both shrugged their shoulders and continued.

Bark was waiting on the deck. He took Reina by the arm and helped her over the railing.

“Welcome… and what do we have here?”

The Senator was climbing up the ladder behind Reina, grumbling to himself and to anyone who cared to listen. The group’s failure at finding Sahrin was still bothering him, and his experience with invisibility, temporary though it was, had not helped his temper. He communicated his feelings on both matters to Bark. At length.

“I suppose you were there when the Nefilim were revived,” Bark sighed when the Senator finally finished. “You would have to agree, wouldn’t you, that our options at the time were limited?”

The Senator reluctantly grumbled something approaching agreement, and reached into his pouch for a bindoo leaf. He sat down heavily on one of the ceramic converters near the base of the main mast.

“I’m Senator… oh, never mind,” he said to Bryce and Reina, who were looking confused. “And you two are locals. You must have had an interesting day.” The bindoo was already painting a glaze over his eyes.

“We sure have.” They nodded agreement, but their attention was already turning to the ship.

Whatever its position might be in the pantheon of space-going vessels, the ship was a mess. It had been added to relentlessly over the ages, with cabins and decks and masts attached at random, so that they protruded in all directions. It was a floating maze. What little of the original deck that was left was littered with furniture and effects, as if the crew were accustomed to living outdoors. The contents of the hold were bursting from the hatches. Some of the crates had been opened, and their contents gone through.

“Mmm... ok... this is a relaxed looking place,” said Reina.

“Well, we are relaxed about most things,” replied Bark. He looked over the rail, half expecting to find that they had been followed. Satisfied that they hadn’t, he turned back to his guests.

“As you might have guessed, we’re not from your world. Some might call us aliens, but actually we’re more what you might call distant relatives.”

“Relatives?”

“Well, as you can see, there’s no physical difference between us. We are just from a different place, and slightly better traveled as well, that would be right, wouldn’t it, Senator?”

The Senator hummed happily in agreement. “Oh yes, we get around, all right.” He offered Bryce a strip of Bindoo. Bryce took it and started chewing.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Reina asked Bark. “Why all the excavations and drama with the soldiers? And what were those creatures, the ones you call Nefilim? Whatever’s going on, it must be serious if people are getting iced.”

Bark weighed his options for a few seconds. “Why don’t you come with us? In fact, you should come with us. Yes. I could use the help, as you can see…” He gestured towards the Senator, who had retreated into a world of his own. He was nicely relaxed, adding to his notebook of speeches that would never be given.

“I can’t sail the ship on my own, and I’ll explain on the way.”

Reina thought about the vegetable deliveries she was supposed to make the following day. She couldn’t see how there was much contest.

“Sure. How long will we be?”

“What do you mean?” asked Bark, releasing the anchor and gesturing to her to help him wind it in.

What the hell
. Reina began winding and forgot to reply.

* * *

IN THE DEPTHS OF THE MOUNT WEATHER COMPLEX, Thead’s interview had gone well. They had gone now, leaving him alone in a room containing nothing but a table, a few chairs, and a camera that stared unblinkingly down at him.

He had told them everything he knew and, not wanting to leave any room for doubt, a few things he didn’t as well. They had listened intently and asked questions as he described the ship, the crew and their travels. He told them how they had been guided to Earth by the map. They had shown great interest as Thead told them how the ship sailed through time as well as space.

When they had finished, they took their notes and their recorder, and told him nothing. A guard brought him something to drink. It was hot, and tasted bitter and sweet at the same time. It made Thead’s head rush. He liked it, of course.

He waited patiently, idly wondering about what had hap-pened to the others, when the door opened and a pair of guards walked in.

“You’re in luck, freak. He wants to see you.”

“You don’t want to know what the other option was,” the other one added. “Now move it.”

They led Thead through long and identical corridors until they reached an elevator. A few seconds later they emerged into a foyer more plush than the bare functionality that Thead had seen so far. They stopped in front of a secretary, who spoke briefly into a headset and then nodded at the guards.

Through a heavy hardwood door, Thead found himself in the presence of the Secretary-General, the President of Europe, the General, and a few others whose jobs seemed to consist of hovering.

“Please sit down, Mister Thead.” The Secretary-General nodded towards a seat in front of his desk.

Thead sat.

“Your story is an impressive one.” The Secretary-General tapped the recorder sitting on the desk in front of him. “You are either mad or a liar – and about to get a bullet in the back of your head in either case – or you are a young man with some interesting career prospects. What do you think?” He sat back in his seat, fat rippling, and waited for an answer.

Thead’s heart raced at the idea that the white lies he had used to decorate his stories might be found out. “Everything I’ve told your men is just as it is. I have much experience.”

“That may be so. Do you know who I am?”

“Not really, I must admit,” replied Thead. “Every place in the universe, planets and otherwise, has its own way of doing things. But I assume that you are a person with authority. And that your opinion matters.”

The President of Europe sniggered. He was thin, with a long face and slight, shifting eyes that could never hope to conceal his sycophantic nature. “Oh, ze Secretary-General’s opeenion matters, all right.”

“Yes, thank you, President Veal,” the Secretary-General interrupted. “Why don’t you pour us all a drink, Helmut.”

The President went to a cabinet at the side of the room and started sorting through bottles.

“President Veal is a trusted ally of mine, and I very much value his assistance in keeping the various autonomous regions of Europe in line. But you don’t need to know that, Mister Thead. All you need to know is that I am the Secretary-General of the United Nations, and therefore what I say goes. Conditional upon the approval of the Security Council, of course.” He looked in the President’s direction and both men smiled.

“Of course, Secretary-General,” said Thead. “Order is a necessary component in any society. This is something that I’ve found to be true in every place I’ve visited,” he lied.

“Have you now? Well, you can leave the sociology to us.” The Secretary-General took the glass that Veal was offering him.

Thead picked up the drink that had been put in front of him. He sipped the dark amber liquid and felt a burning taste in his mouth, which he liked instantly. His pleasure increased when the warm sensation extended to his stomach.

“We’ve gathered from what you said to the officers downstairs that you do indeed seem to know something about our new friends. Some of it supports what we already know. The rest, if it is true, is interesting indeed. Such information, of course, is welcome at any time, but especially so now, given the… well, innovative nature of our relationship with the Nefilim.” The Secretary-General paused to adjust his bulk in his chair. “We’ve decided to put you on probation. Let’s see how you go. I’ll be watching, of course.”

Which was what Thead had been waiting to hear. That, or something equally reassuring.

“Of course, gentlemen.” Thead made sure he got in some subservient eye contact with President Veal as well as the Secretary-General. “You can rely on me, Secretary-General. Don’t worry.”

The Secretary-General laughed. “Oh, I’m not worried. Now, you can accompany the General on a little mission he has to undertake. He will explain all the details to you. I’m not really a details person, Thead. I’m more inclined towards the big picture. The grand strategy, if you like. History. I’ll look forward to seeing you again. One way or the other. You can go now. The General will show you the way.”

The General stepped towards the door. “Come with me,” he said flatly, not bothering to look in Thead’s direction.

They took some elevators and walked in deliberate silence along more featureless corridors until they came to a large room with no windows. There was a whiteboard on one wall, and benches arranged in rows. On the benches sat thirty to forty serious and fit-looking young men and women in full battle dress, waiting for something to happen.

The General went to the front of the room and started talking.

They were going to a place that the UN had only just found out about, and they needed to be ready for anything. They had learned of its existence from the two Nefilim who had spent the last few hours with the Security Council. It hadn’t been scouted, and no one knew what to expect. The place was some kind of navigation or communication center, and the Nefilim wanted to be taken there. They said it was important.

These soldiers were the General’s special boys and girls, which was why he was telling them everything. Totally reliable, totally conditioned, they were his pride and joy, his Praetorian Guard. They fought like hell and he could rely on them in any situation.

Thead suspected that he knew the place that the General was talking about.

It had been common practice, for as long as the history of the universe had been recorded, for there to be on every planet a place that could be used as a way station. A cross between a first aid post and a command center, it contained facilities for navigation and communication, as well as a place of refuge for weary or endangered travelers. In a variable universe, the Pilots’ Stations were beacons of stability.

It wasn’t surprising that the Nefilim knew about the station, even though they almost certainly hadn’t built it. As for the fact that they knew where it was; that was interesting as well, but if they had maintained some sort of presence on this planet for a long time, Thead thought, it was logical that they should know what went on here.

The General had started talking logistics. The talk got technical, and Thead’s mind drifted forward, to a panorama of possible futures that was somehow simultaneously dark and glittering. He didn’t understand any of the talk, and there was not much point in trying. He let it continue, unattended by the profound depth of his understanding.

The briefing finished, and the soldiers collected their equipment and filed out of the room. Thead followed them to one of the landing pads.

Five sleek black helicopters sat in a row, facing the dark interior of the volcano. They were stylish machines, Thead thought, the way they were slung close to the ground, with their sinuous black curves, and the tasteful, rhythmic arrangement of their rows of cannons and lasers.

“What’s down there?” Thead asked the soldier next to him. He pointed towards the edge of the landing pad, where it gave way to the darkness of the pit.

“No one who goes down there comes back,” the soldier replied. “Only bad people ever see the bottom of the pit,” he laughed. A couple of soldiers standing nearby joined in.

The flight crews were waiting beside the helicopters. Like their machines, they wore no markings or insignia, just plain black. Thead looked around at the soldiers and saw that they too had no markings on their uniforms.

The General came up to him. “You travel with me. I want to keep an eye on you. Let me down, and you’re in trouble. Here.” He handed Thead a pistol. “We may as well see if you know how to handle one of these.”

Thead took the gun out of its holster and weighed it in his hand, enjoying the feel of its solidity and the immediate sense of purpose that it gave him. He’d never had much to do with weapons, but if it would help his career as an intellectual and a scientist, he would happily acquaint himself with whatever hardware was necessary. He strapped the holster around his waist.