Danaerea

Posts Tagged ‘ancient civilization’

The empathic Link that had always connected him to his family had been severed when the Shelter’s Seal was closed two days ago. The Seal itself wasn’t any barrier to the Link. Nothing could affect the n’es’tahh connection which flowed between everyone on Yannoneth. Nothing, that is, except a restriction of the g’ru’tnok energy. The Council had made it clear that they would need every iota of that energy to protect the Shelter from the Bombardment. No other uses, no matter how small the drain, would be permitted until they survived the crisis. If they did. Survival was by no means certain, even buried this far below the surface; even with the energies of every Councilor and Proficient focused on reinforcing the Shelter’s structure.

Afterward, the n’es’tahh would be restored. Only… what would be the point, he wondered? When the Bombardment passed over Yannoneth there would be nothing and no one left on the surface. The very air of the planet would be stripped away. The land would be so thoroughly devastated that it would be as though his people had never inhabited it. Indeed, it would be as though no life at all had ever existed on it.

The damn Danaereans! They had lost control of the Disintegration of the ancient home world weeks ago. The orderly crumbling of the birthplace of both races had become a catastrophic rending that would launch inconceivably massive chunks of debris in every direction. It would ravage every other planet in the solar system. Including this one. Given the relative positions of each world in their orbits, especially this one.

Damn them, he thought again. Had it been deliberate? Their way of taking revenge on his people? Yannoneth had simply wanted to be free. Couldn’t the Danaereans have let go while they were on the far side of the sun instead of while the two worlds were virtually next door to each other? Why couldn’t they simply have gone into oblivion and left Yannoneth whole? What had his people done to deserve this?

He knew the answer. They all did. And he was ashamed.

Sitting on the edge of the small bunk he’d been assigned, he opened the single carry bag that he’d been allowed to bring with him. Reaching inside, he gently pulled out the one thing that he considered of value. The bottle was still slightly dusty from long years in the family cellar.

He held it close to his nose and inhaled. Not to try to detect the bouquet of the wine sealed inside, but to breathe again the air of a place that would very shortly cease to exist so utterly that it was impossible for him to conceive of it.

The dust, of course, wasn’t very representative of the Eoneth Highlands where he’d learned to make wine at his father’s knee. But his genetic memory filled in the details. The d’na’tnek, written into his very DNA, allowed him to reach back millennia through the generations of his ancestors, recalling their lives almost as if they were his own. He remembered when the soil was turned to plant the first vines; the celebration of the one thousandth harvest; the day this very bottle had been laid in the cellar. He smiled wistfully at a stray linked incident – the embarrassment of an ancient ancestor who, enjoying the fruit of the vine a little too liberally, had attempted to seduce a neighbour’s daughter. Not entirely unsuccessfully as it turned out. If the girl hadn’t eventually become his several times great grandmother, after all, the memory wouldn’t be part of him now.

He lovingly held the bottle as the tears started. He longed to walk the Highlands again. He knew that his parents were there at this moment. He might not be Linked to them, but he knew what they were doing. It had been planned from the moment they knew that the Bombardment was inevitable. His father would be opening the very finest vintages, his mother preparing the most sumptuous of meals. They had always loved to entertain. Their reputation as the most gracious of hosts was unparalleled, which was quite an accomplishment in a culture like his.

The entire community had chosen to gather there one last time.

Suddenly, the Shelter shuddered. The bottle slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor. It was one of the deep reds his parents loved so much.

Fitting.

What if -

• you were the chosen champion of an ancient race, genetically engineered for their purposes?
• that purpose was to prevent the aliens who had destroyed their world from taking over the human race?
• you had spent most of your life totally unaware of any of this?

What if -

• to help you, this ancient race had given you two “mentors” who existed only in your head …
  
• and, the memories of every single one of your ancestors …
  
• and, the ability to use the energy of the Earth itself, giving you “super” powers?

This is the situation Richard Redmond, archaeologist, finds himself in when three strangers show up on a remote dig site, destroy his camp, kill his assistants, and attempt to kidnap him. Who can he trust? Who should he believe? How does he learn to use his new-found abilities? What secrets will the memories of his ancestors reveal? Richard has to find a way to make sense of an impossible situation. Before it kills him.
 

What if -

all of the gods and goddesses of myth; all of the legends of Atlantis, Mu and other ancient civilizations; all of the stories of psychic powers and superheroes; all of the whispers of secret societies and global conspiracies

– what if they were not only true, but had a single origin?

- Danaerea

• Revelation – Richard Redmond (read it or subsrcibe to the podcast) 
• Danaerean Prologue – (find out how it all came to be)

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OBSERVATION RESUMES

When Richard didn’t immediately respond, two other men, holding what were obviously weapons, though they were unfamiliar to Richard, stepped out of the shadows at the edge of the camp. Where the man who had spoken was well over six feet and muscular, with a swarthy complexion, these two were considerably shorter, stocky rather than muscular, and so pale that Richard wondered how they managed to stand the Central American sun. All three were dressed in clothing that was pretty standard for the jungle, with the odd exception that it seemed to glisten for some reason, almost as if there were metallic threads in the material. The two armed men levelled their weapons in Richard’s direction but the first man held up his hand and they relaxed into an at-ease posture.

As Richard continued to hesitate, the woman’s voice came again. It sounded like she was whispering in his ear. “Stall him Richard. We have an idea.”

When a situation is beyond insane, there are really only two choices – go looking for the rubber room, or accept things as they are and try to make sense of them later. Richard opted for the latter. He stepped out from behind the debris that had concealed him, still holding his gun. “What the hell do you want?” he demanded angrily. “Who the hell are you?”

When the two men flanking the speaker saw the gun, they began to bring their own weapons to bear, but the speaker again stopped them, and laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a projectile weapon; a .45 if I’m not mistaken. What harm do you think it could do?”

He addressed Richard directly again. “Please Richard. Let’s not waste time on pretence shall we? We both know that there’s no point in that between such as you and I.”

“You and I? What the hell are you talking about? How do you know my name? Where are my people?” Richard was still pointing the gun at the man who was speaking. He started to move toward the body on the ground. He could see that it wasn’t Jaimie, but one of the labourers they’d hired to help with the digging. He could also see that the man was obviously dead. He stopped, and the other man spoke again.

“Why do you insist on continuing this farce Richard? You must have sensed who I am by now, what I am. We are equals you and I. And these two are of no consequence. They are only human. However, they swear allegiance to my Lady. There is no need to conceal your true nature here. Let us speak freely, as befits two who serve the Yannoneth.”

Richard had no clue what the guy was talking about. True nature? Who were the Yannoneth? He seemed to think Richard was part of some gang. Again, the woman whispered invisibly into his ear. “Just keep him talking Richard. We’re almost ready. Time for explanations later. We promise, okay? The less Carlos – that’s the talkative one’s name – knows about you, the better.” She seemed to fade away again, with a last “Keep him talking” wafting back like a rustle in the wind.

“Carlos” spoke again. “Your discovery of the d’na’nish,” and at the mention of the name, he bowed deferentially in the direction of the artefact, “was quite an accomplishment, Richard. Not even my Lady knew where it was. She had come to believe that all memory of it had been lost from the d’na’tnek. Obviously there was a genealogical offshoot that was not recorded.”

Gibberish, Richard thought. He decided to try to shake the other’s composure while stalling for whatever his disembodied friends were doing. “A danish? You couldn’t come up with a better name than that, Carlos? It was you and your buddies who planted it here I take it? Looks like a bad prop from a cheesy sci-fi flick.”

Carlos looked troubled for just a second, glanced toward the artefact, looked back at Richard and laughed. “Very good, Richard. I am not easily caught off guard. But we both know the d’na’nish is genuine. I can feel its power even in this state. And you made a second mistake.”

“Which was?”

“My name, of course. You used my name. There was no way for you to know that unless you are the same as I. Now, shall we dispense…” His voice seemed to deepen, slow; then it trailed off entirely. He and his two companions stopped moving. So did everything around them. The trees stopped rustling in the wind. The fire burning in the ruined tent seemed to be nailed to the air. All sound ceased. Richard gaped.

“The jeep, Richard. Get into the jeep.” The woman’s voice was urgent, demanding. “Make it snappy. We can only keep you accelerated for a few seconds. And as soon as you start the jeep, you’re back in objective time.”

“I…” was all Richard could choke out, staring at the world around him, a world that had suddenly become a still picture.

“Please, Richard.” It was the man’s voice. “Much depends on your survival. You must hurry. The world has not stopped; we have compressed time for you. Carlos will realize quickly what has happened. He may be able to counter our action, although I did not sense that he has that skill. Once you have escaped, we will have time to help you to understand. For now, as Alea Chantal says, the jeep must be our goal.”

Not being able to think of any alternative action, Richard ran to the jeep, jumped in, and turned the key. As soon as the engine roared to life, so did the rest of the world. As Richard slammed the jeep into gear and gunned the engine, he spared a glance over his shoulder. The two armed men were preparing to fire on Richard but for the third time Carlos stopped them. He pointed at the truck on the other side of the compound and the two men ran to it while Carlos moved toward the artefact.

That was all the time Richard could spare in looking backward. He manoeuvred the jeep onto the trail that had been hacked through the jungle between the camp and the river landing. If he could get enough of a lead on Carlos, he might be able to get to the landing, get the barge untied, and get far enough from shore that they couldn’t reach him. Since Carlos seemed determined not to kill him that just might be enough for him to get away.

He drove as fast as he dared on the treacherous track. That it wasn’t fast enough became evident as a bolt of some kind of energy streamed past the jeep and scorched a tree just ahead of him. Richard yelled and glanced behind.

Carlos sat in the middle of the truck seat, holding a bag that, Richard assumed, must contain the artefact. One of his companions was driving the truck while the other leaned out of the passenger side and aimed his weapon. Richard thought Carlos must have changed his mind about killing him until he realized they weren’t actually aiming at him but at the trees ahead. They were trying to block the trail. The bouncing of the truck made any attempt at an accurate shot a wild chance at best, but sooner or later they were bound to get lucky.

Richard turned back to the front, considering his options while trying to go faster without wrecking the jeep. There was a sharp turn up ahead where the trail ran along a cliff. If his pursuers weren’t as familiar with the trail as he was, they might not be aware how close it was. He might be able to make it at this speed, but he was pretty sure that the heavier truck wouldn’t. If he was lucky, they’d skid off the path and go over the cliff. At the very least, maybe he could slow them down; give himself more of a lead to get to the landing.

Richard deliberately slowed down for a few seconds to let the truck gain on him as he approached the cliff. Then he gunned the engine in the hope that his pursuers would do the same in order not to lose the distance they’d closed. He wanted them going as fast as possible. When he got to the turn he geared down, spun the steering wheel left, and then floored it. The jeep roared, the wheels spun, dirt and gravel spewed in all directions. Richard held his breath and hung on. The edge of the cliff was sickeningly close, but the jeep stayed on the road.

Once he was safely around the turn, he let off on the gas and looked back to see how the truck had fared. He had been right – the heavier vehicle hadn’t been able to take the turn the way the jeep had. It had overshot the road. But it hadn’t crashed into the jungle below. It hadn’t crashed at all. It was just hanging there, in mid-air, about ten feet beyond the trail. Carlos was gripping the dash, the bag holding the artefact still on his lap, a look of intense concentration on his face.

Richard couldn’t believe his eyes. He just stared, transfixed by the sight. That was his undoing.

The jeep, still moving, hit a rock in the trail, bounced to the right. Richard whipped around, attempted to regain control. It was too late.

The last thing he saw was a mass of green and brown jungle coming up to meet him as the jeep plunged over the edge.

OBSERVATION PAUSED BY REQUEST

Enquiry Response: Regarding the Member’s comment on Richard’s surprise at the vehicular levitation. Although humanity does utilize both ground and air transport, the principles involved are purely mechanical. There is no utilization of the Energy which the Danaereans named g’ru’tnok. I realize that the Setback may be causing discontinuity. Please make every effort to experience this Observation in linear time to avoid confusion.

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