Posts Tagged ‘secret society’
Richard Redmond – Revelation Part Nine
OBSERVATION RESUMES
When they reached the hotel, Richard tipped the cabbie generously and entered the lobby. When the doorman stepped in front of him, Richard resisted the temptation to test the powers he supposedly now had. Instead, he asked for the concierge who, recognizing Richard as a five star guest, personally showed him to one of the hotel’s best suites. Richard asked for a razor, and to have the hotel’s personal shopper sent to his room in an hour.
As soon as he was alone, he poured himself a stiff drink. After downing it in a single swallow, he picked up the phone to call Nadine. Given the time difference, she’d most likely be at the university so he called her private line there. It rang through to voicemail. So did her cell. Richard couldn’t think of anything he could say in a one-minute message that would make the least bit of sense. He was going to call the university switchboard and have her paged, but decided he’d shower first. After all, as far as his wife knew, he was still in the middle of the Central American jungle. It wasn’t like she’d be worried about him.
Going into the bathroom, he started the water in the shower, stripped down and stepped in. He leaned both hands against the wall and just let the hot, steamy water run over him for a few minutes. He was just beginning to feel something close to normal again when he heard a giggle behind him. Turning, Richard saw Alea Chantal, as naked as he was, standing provocatively in the corner. “Hey,” he exclaimed, suppressing the urge to cover himself with his hands.
Alea Chantal laughed, moved toward him. At which point Richard realized that even though she might be naked, she wasn’t wet. “Very good, Richard,” she said. “I’m simply taking advantage of the mist in the air and the way your eye processes light to create an image of myself.” Then she glanced down, smiling broadly. “But thank you for the compliment.” Richard blushed. A disembodied throat-clearing from Sarsoneth broke the moment, and Alea Chantal continued. “We promised to begin to answer your questions, Richard. When you finish your shower, grab that second drink you wanted and meet us in the grove.” She disappeared.
“Meet you in the grove,” Richard repeated. “How the hell do I do that?”
Alea Chantal’s face reappeared. “Same as before, silly. Only this time, you don’t have to wait for Faloneth to knock you out. Just make yourself comfortable and we’ll do the rest.” She blinked out again.
Richard soaped up, scrubbed down and rinsed off. Stepping out of the shower, he towelled himself dry and put on the hotel-provided bathrobe. As he returned to the suite’s living room, there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find the personal shopper, who he invited in. It only took a few minutes for her to take his measurements and to make a list of the clothes and personal articles Richard wanted. He also asked her to book him on the first available flight back to the US.
After she left, Richard went back to the bar and opened the fridge. There was a decent selection of beer from a number of British and European brewers. He reached for a German brand. “Don’t be ridiculous,” Alea Chantal’s voice complained. “We’re in London. It’s got to be a Guinness.”
Richard picked up the black and gold can. “You do know Guinness is Irish, right?” When Alea Chantal didn’t answer, he shrugged and popped the can open. After taking a swallow, he picked up the phone and tried calling Nadine again, and again got no answer. He still didn’t want to worry her by leaving a message with a London telephone number. Instead, he called Thomas Jackson, his colleague and best friend. Jackson didn’t answer either, but Richard left him the number at the hotel and asked him to call as soon as he could. Richard knew his friend well enough to know that he’d be more curious than worried. Then he walked to the sofa and made himself comfortable. He was just about to ask what to do next when the room faded out and the now-familiar grove took its place.
“Welcome back, Richard,” Alea Chantal said cheerily. Richard noticed that she was holding what seemed to be his can of beer. She saw the direction of his glance. “What? A girl can’t enjoy a good beverage?” she protested. Taking a long pull at the Guinness, she added. “God that tastes good. Not that I don’t appreciate the scotch you usually drink Richard, but there’s just nothin’ like a good stout f’r a gal raised in the pubs, y’know?” She took another swallow, belched; looked sheepish.
“Indeed. The sophistication of your palate is beyond question, my dear. Not to mention that you are French, not English.” Richard turned toward the second voice and saw Sarsoneth for the first time. The man was considerably older than Alea Chantal. She appeared to be in her early twenties. Richard would have guessed Sarsoneth was at least sixty. He was dressed in some sort of loose-fitting robe or toga or something but from what Richard could tell, he appeared to be in excellent physical condition. The most striking thing about him however, was his height. At six foot one, Richard wasn’t accustomed to having to look up to meet someone’s gaze. Sarsoneth, however, had at least six inches on him.
“In the days when we first arrived,” Sarsoneth said, picking up on Richard’s unspoken thought, “the difference was even more striking.”
“I knew it,” Richard exclaimed. “You’re aliens.”
Alea Chantal placed a hand on her hip, struck a pose, and protested, “Not me bud. I am all girl.” After a brief pause, she added, “He’s the bug-eyed monster.”
Sarsoneth sat on a boulder, gave Alea Chantal a long-suffering look, and sighed. Addressing Richard, he said, “Although ‘alien’ would be technically correct in my case, Richard, both Alea Chantal and I, at least the original, living versions of us, are, or were, your ancestors.”
Richard looked from one to the other. “You’re ghosts?”
“More like memories, Richard,” Alea Chantal chipped in. “Very, very vivid memories.”
Richard picked up a stone, threw it into the lake, watched the ripples spread out. “Pretty damn solid memories; especially since I’ve never been to this place before in my life.”
“Not only your memories, Richard; our memories as well. Indeed, the memories of all of your ancestors are available to you. Everything that happened to each of your forebears up to the moment that they passed their genetic material on to the next generation is part of what my people call the d’na’tnek.”
Richard thought about that for a few minutes. He knew a little bit about the theory that memory could be passed from one generation to another just like physical traits such as red hair or a talent for math. “What about lifting the jeep, and fixing my arm? How does that work?”
“As with the ability to access the d’na’tnek,” Sarsoneth replied,” there comes a point in the evolution of a race when they begin to be able to manipulate the power generated by the planet itself. Humanity is reaching that point. It is Awakening.”
Richard had an idea. “Okay, so you’re saying that all the stories about faith healers, or people who had visions, or witches, or whatever … they were all really some kind of mutants?”
Alea Chantal laughed. “Awakening, Richard. Or evolving, if you’d prefer a human term. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but you need to understand what’s going on and where you fit in first.”
“When my people came to Earth, Richard,” Sarsoneth continued, “we were the last, shattered remnants of a once-proud race. Too proud. Our arrogance had led us to turn on each other to our utter destruction. Even the truce that allowed a few of us to reach your planet lasted barely long enough to complete the journey.”
The grove faded out momentarily and Richard saw what was obviously a spaceship descending toward a broad plain. When it had settled to the ground, doors opened and scores of men and women – four hundred and fifty nine, a memory whispered to him – emerged from the ship. Some gathered in the meadow around the landing site while others immediately took to the air and scattered. The scene faded.
“That was over ten thousand years ago, Richard. While those of my faction, the Ethicals, sought to aid mankind’s development, those like Faloneth, the Disaffected, sought only to dominate and control. Though there are only a few left, they still do. They must be stopped before humanity fully Awakens.”
Richard considered. “What about your group? The Ethicals?”
Alea Chantal jumped in before Sarsoneth could answer. “They’re no better, Richard. Their methods are different but they want the same thing.”
“Which is?” Richard asked.
“To control humanity’s Awakening. It’s the only chance they have of rebuilding their race; by using us.”
“How many Ethicals are there? Which side is winning?”
“There are only a handful of either,” replied Alea Chantal. We’re not sure how many. But even one is too many Richard. ”
Remembering what Faloneth had been able to do to, Richard tended to agree. Still ….
He’d been leaning against a tree during most of the discussion. Now he pushed himself off. “It seems like you’ve been at each other’s throats for a long time. Humanity’s still here and the bad guys are dying off. I think I’ll just leave you all to it, and go back to my life. If one of you could just point me at my hotel room, I’ll be on my way.”
Sarsoneth started to say something about destiny and responsibility, but Alea Chantal stepped closer to Richard and put her hand on his arm. “Richard, Faloneth killed Nadine.”
Richard spun toward Alea Chantal in shock when the phone rang and he found himself back on the sofa. Dazedly, he noticed that the can of Guinness was empty.
OBSERVATION PAUSED BY REQUEST
Enquiry Response: The Member is correct. The Sarsoneth Construct is deliberately withholding information from Richard. That it is capable of such action is without precedent. One of the tasks of this Panel is to determine if this is a characteristic to be nurtured, or if it signifies an aberration requiring sterilization.
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Richard Redmond – Revelation Part Eight
OBSERVATION RESUMES
Richard continued to stare at the famous clock tower in the distance. It was named for the huge bell inside it – Big Ben. “How did we get here? How long did Faloneth keep me unconscious? Weeks??”
Sarsoneth ignored the questions, pragmatic as always. “You are not yet safe, Richard. We must leave this area immediately.”
Richard seemed rooted to the spot. “We were in Central America. We were in the jungle. What day is it?”
“Richard.” Alea Chantal was uncharacteristically gentle. “You were only out for a couple of hours. Distance doesn’t mean much to anyone who can use the g’ru’tnok. Hail a cab, Richard. Have it take you to the Hilton, the Islington one. Remember? You stayed there during that conference on Aztec building techniques last year.”
It was a plan; something to do; to get him off dead center. Richard needed that. He flagged down a passing cab, climbed in the back when it stopped and gave the driver his destination. He collapsed back into the seat.
The cabbie didn’t pull out or start the meter. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, buddy,” he said, “but you don’t exactly look like Hilton’s kind of people. You even got enough for the cab fare?”
Richard pulled himself over in the seat so he could look in the cab’s rear view mirror. God, he was a mess. Belatedly, he thought about what he’d been through since this all started. Grubbin’ around a Mayan temple was the least of it. The mad race down a jungle trail. The crash. Crawling back up to the road. Everything that had happened since he first saw Faloneth, which had apparently included crossing an ocean.
Richard managed a wry smile. How could everything be so absurd one minute and so …normal… the next? Of course this guy thought he was gonna stiff him for the fare. He looked like he’d been sleeping on the street for six months. It was a wonder he’d even stopped. Richard reached into his pocket; was almost surprised to find that his wallet was still there. He pulled out a platinum-colored credit card, held it up so the cab driver could see it. “They’ll be happy to have me back. I’m a big tipper.” The cabbie smiled broadly, put the car in gear and pulled onto the street.
After a couple of failed attempts to engage his passenger in small talk, the cabbie gave up and left him alone. For his part, Richard was satisfied to simply stare out the window. After a few minutes, he spoke silently to Sarsoneth and Alea Chantal. “So what keeps that psychotic bitch from coming after me when she wakes up? If she can cross an ocean in a couple of hours, getting across town doesn’t seem like much of an obstacle.”
Sarsoneth answered. “I believe that we were successful in disguising our action as a trap set by one of her rivals. Which means that she will continue to think that you are merely the latest in an exceedingly long line of similar experiments. Her psychosis will not allow her to believe that she cannot duplicate that experiment. So, while she will not hesitate to act on an opportunity to recapture you, neither will she make it a priority. I anticipate that we have months, perhaps years, before we need face her again.”
Which doesn’t mean we’re in the clear,” began Alea Chantal. “For one thing, Faloneth isn’t the only Yannoneth. We need…”
Richard interrupted her. “I need to talk to Nadine. And a drink. And a bath. And a drink. In that order.”
“Richard…,” began Alea Chantal, but she was again interrupted, this time by Sarsoneth.
“Very well, Richard. We are your mentors, not your controllers.”
Richard could sense that Alea Chantal wasn’t happy with that. There was something she wanted to tell him right now. He didn’t care. He couldn’t take one more thing. Not right now. After a moment, she seemed to realize that as well.
The rest of the trip to the hotel was completed in silence, both in the cab and in his head.
OBSERVATION PAUSED BY REQUEST
Enquiry Response: For additional background on the psychology of the aberrant Yannoneth, I suggest Members search under genus Danaerean, subgenus Yannoneth, category Disaffected. Also, refer to Genetic Engineering, subtopic Ethical Imperative.
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Richard Redmond – Revelation Part Six
OBSERVATION RESUMES
Richard was back in the grove overlooking the lake. He leapt up from his seated position by the tree. “Alea Chantal! Sarsoneth! Where the hell are you?”
“Right here Richard.” Alea Chantal stepped into view from a shadowy spot beside a cluster of birch trees a few feet away.
“That bitch is crazier than I thought I was. She’s got a thing on my head that’s gonna suck my brain out or something. We’ve got to do something.”
Alea Chantal’s smile was barely a flicker across her face. “No more denial eh, Richard? Meeting a Disaffected will do that to you. As to ‘doing something’, we’re trying Richard. It isn’t easy. If you were in full control of the g’ru’tnok you’d at least be on an equal footing in regards to abilities. You can do everything she can do. Unfortunately, she still has a few millennia on you in terms of practice.”
“Did you say ‘millennia’?” Richard asked.
“Yeah, millennia; and for a Disaffected Yannoneth, every second of that time is filled with delusions of grandeur and plotting to take over the world.” Alea Chantal rolled her eyes. “Did you get that bit about being ‘the most powerful Yannoneth’? Every single one of them makes that claim.” She made a rude noise. “I bet even Sarsoneth could have beat her, back in the day.”
“Your confidence in me is touching, my dear,” came Sarsoneth’s voice, although his tone, as flat as ever, didn’t seem touched. “However, I must remind you, again, that we have limited time. I am finding it difficult to deflect the probe that Faloneth is using on Richard. We must continue to act with dispatch.”
“I agree,” Richard said. “I want to get as far away from that nutjob as possible. So how do I get control of this g’ru’tnok, whatever it is? Is it in the lab? What’s it look like? Is it like that d’na’whatever that Jaimie found in the temple? I didn’t see anything like that.”
“You didn’t spend much time looking either,” Alea Chantal noted, drolly. “Once you got a look at Faloneth, your eyes were pretty much glued there.”
She didn’t bother waiting for Richard to reply. “G’ru’tnok isn’t an object. It’s the energy that permeates the entire planet. It’s in and around everything.”
Richard’s scepticism kicked in. “New Age gobbledegook,” he snorted.
Alea Chantal shrugged. “Have it your way. This is all just a dream.” She began to fade out.
“Wait. Point taken. I’m trying, okay? So how does this g’ru’tnok help us? What am I supposed to do with it?”
Alea Chantal regained solidity. “You can do anything with it. With enough practice. That’s the problem. You should have had years to learn to how to manipulate it. Decades. Time to hone your skill before you ever faced a Yannoneth one on one.”
Richard pressed. “Okay, so that was Plan A and it’s out the window. What’s Plan B? You and Sarsoneth did pretty good back in the jungle, with my arm and the jeep and Carlos and all that. Why can’t we do the same thing now? I’ll empty my mind, let you drive, or possess me, or whatever the right term is. Let’s just get that thing off my head while I’ve still got a brain in my skull.”
“Faloneth is not sucking out your brain Richard,” Alea Chantal replied. “As to what we did in the jungle, that was a cakewalk compared to this. We only had Carlos to deal with. You saw how easily Faloneth kept him immobilized in the lab while she was dealing with you. He wasn’t even an afterthought.
“Whatever we do will have to be swift and it’ll have to be brutal. We won’t get a second chance. You can’t just ‘let us drive’. The d’na’tnek doesn’t work that way. Even with the unique engineering the Twelve gave you, what we’ve already done was almost impossible.”
“‘Engineering’?” Richard asked suspiciously. “Hang on. Faloneth wanted to know who ‘created’ me. Who are the Twelve? What the hell does that mean, ‘engineering’?”
Alea Chantal was uncharacteristically contrite. “I’m sorry, Richard. As Sarsoneth is fond of reminding, I sometimes have trouble focusing on the task at hand. Once we get out of this, we’ll explain it all. Just as we’ve promised. For now, just think of the Twelve as the good guys and the Yannoneth as the bad guys. Given what Faloneth is trying to do that shouldn’t be too hard, should it?”
Richard couldn’t argue with that. For now. “So we’re back to the original question. How do I escape?”
Sarsoneth spoke up. “I believe I may have the answer to that. If a feedback loop can be created in the crystalline structure of the d’ha’taan, it should overload. If we act at the exact moment that Faloneth is placing it on Richard’s forehead, while she is still in physical contact with it, we should be able to direct the overload through Faloneth’s nervous system, rendering her unconscious.”
Alea Chantal was enthusiastic. “She won’t know what hit her. Can you make it look as though it overloaded naturally? Or at least as a result of some mental trap set up by the Yannoneth that she thinks created Richard?”
“The latter would be more appropriate. This is, in fact, a technique that was used by the Disaffected themselves during the Shelter War. Faloneth will find it quite plausible that a rival would set such a trap in Richard’s mind. When she recovers.”
“Not enough energy to kill her, I suppose?”
“Unfortunately, that is correct.”
Richard was thinking about something else. “What happens if you don’t time it right?”
“Should Faloneth remove her hand before the overload is initiated, you would most likely be killed,” Sarsoneth replied matter-of-factly.
“Don’t be a woos, Richard,” Alea Chantal chimed in. “A quick-fried brain is better than the slow dissection Faloneth has planned for you any day.”
Richard didn’t have any reply to that so he ignored it. “So once she’s knocked out what do I do? Ask my good pal Carlos to unlock my cuffs and show me the door?”
Alea Chantal laughed. “Glad to see you’re getting your sense of humor back, Richard. No, silly, once Faloneth is out of the picture, that’s when we do what we did in the jungle. You focus on each of the restraints and we get busy.”
“And Carlos? The guards?”
“The discharge from the d’ha’taan will affect all minds for some distance, Richard.” Sarsoneth said. “It is only because Faloneth is Yannoneth that she must be in contact with it. In fact, the discharge may permanently damage anyone else in the room.”
“The hell with them. They killed at least one of the members of my team, maybe all of them. If they’re following this psycho bitch, they take their chances.”
“Indeed,” replied Sarsoneth. “Faloneth is removing the d’ha’taan, Richard. She must use it again for our plan to succeed.”
Everything faded again.
OBSERVATION PAUSED BY REQUEST
Enquiry Response: To the Member’s point: both human and Danaerean terminology is being used due to the unusual intermingling of the two cultures.
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Richard Redmond – Revelation Part Five
OBSERVATION RESUMES
As Richard regained his senses, he realized that he was seated in a chair of some kind. When he tried to raise his hand to his head, he discovered that his wrists were locked to the chair’s arms. A tentative movement of his legs confirmed that his ankles were similarly restrained.
Acting on Alea Chantal and Sarsoneth’s directions, he began to visually survey the room. He hadn’t gotten much past identifying it as a laboratory of some kind, however, before he was distracted by a voice. The woman he’d seen on the trail in Central America stepped into view. “Well, Richard, you led us a bit of a chase.” She looked to Richard’s left and added, “More of a chase than I had anticipated.”
Richard turned his head to follow her gaze, saw Carlos standing in the corner of the room. He seemed unnaturally rigid, and his expression made it clear he was in considerable pain. Richard wasn’t particularly sympathetic. “Hey buddy,” he said fliply. “I’d offer to shake hands but, well, I’m kinda tied up.” He looked back at the woman, decided to play dumb. Which still wasn’t all that far from the truth anyway. “Listen lady, your stooge over there got what you wanted. I don’t like people who vandalize ruins, but what’s done is done. I hope you make a bundle on the black market for that trinket. If you’ll just let me go, I promise I’ll be on my way and we’ll forget the whole thing, okay?”
The woman laughed. “Even were I a mere human fool like Carlos, I would not be taken in by such a patently false statement. Would you not seek justice for your murdered friends? Redress for the … trinket as you call it that you have lost? Besides Richard, although the d’na’nish is indeed a great prize, and I thank you for leading me to it, it does indeed pale almost to a ‘trinket’ beside you. No Richard, we shall not be parting company any time soon. So you need not continue your pretence at innocence. It is pointless.”
“Damn it lady,” Richard yelled. “Like I told that asshole in the corner, this is no pretence. Who the hell do you think I am? I’m no prize. I’m an archaeologist, trying to dig up some old ruins in the middle of the jungle. I’m not rich. No one is going to pay a ransom for me.”
She ignored his outburst, other than to say, “Ransom. An amusing idea.” She looked at him clinically, put a hand to his jaw, turning his head from side to side. “Not Malineth’s work. He doesn’t have the skill to blend the physical aspects so well. He always ended up with deformed limbs or some similar shortcoming.” She smiled at Richard. “I assume that you were not born with scaled arms, nor grew horns and a tail when you reached puberty?” At Richard’s blank stare she laughed. “No, I did not think so. Definitely not Malineth then; although he did create some interesting hybrids. You have no doubt seen representations of Anubis. Although I preferred Horus myself. I am partial to birds.” She seemed to be considering.
“Hashipaleth perhaps? She was always quite clever at unlocking the psychic elements. No doubt, one of hers would have been able to misdirect a weak mind like Carlos’.” She let of Richard, stepped back. “Well, enough speculation.” Her gaze fixed on Richard’s eyes. They seemed hypnotic. “Who created you Richard? Who is your Lord or Lady? Who do you obey?”
For a moment, Richard felt like he was getting lost in those eyes. Then he seemed to break free of whatever she was trying to do, and answered defiantly. “Created me? Mr. and Mrs. Redmond created me. After a rather rambunctious New Year’s Eve party as I recall the story. The only lady I listen to is my wife; and I wish the hell I’d ‘obeyed’ her and not come on this damn dig.”
The woman ignored his defiance, continued to lock gazes with him a few moments longer. Then she turned away scowling. “Amazing. Your will is strong Richard. It is almost Yannoneth in magnitude. I have never encountered a human, engineered or otherwise, who could resist me for even a moment. Perhaps I was a trifle harsh with Carlos after all.” She flicked a glance at the corner where her flunky still stood motionless. He immediately gasped and sank to the ground, as if released from some sort of paralysis.
When she turned back to Richard, he could see that she was holding something in her hand that be a crystal of some sort. “This device will make you more …amenable … to my requests Richard. You should be flattered; never before has there been need to use it on a human. It can, however, have unpleasant side effects. Permanent ones. I would prefer to have my answers without damaging you. So I ask you one more time – who do you serve?”
Richard shook his head, struggled against his restraints. “I told you damn it, I don’t serve anyone. I’m an archaeologist. I dig in the dirt. That’s all.”
The woman shook her head. “I am sorry Richard. We both know that is not the truth. You are much too powerful. I need to know how that power was created, and by whom. I need to make it mine.”
“Make it yours? Why? Who the hell are you?”
“I am Faloneth, the most powerful of the Yannoneth. I must have the secret of your genesis because it will aid me in achieving my destiny.”
“What destiny would that be?” Richard asked.
She looked at him contemptuously. “Why to rule of course. To be worshipped. To hold the life, and death, of everyone and everything in my hand.” And with that she reached out and placed the crystal on Richard’s forehead.
This was getting tedious he thought, as he felt consciousness slipping away again.
OBSERVATION PAUSED BY REQUEST
Enquiry Response: The Member is correct; sentience capable of utilizing Energy should not be capable of the megalomania evident in Faloneth’s statement. This aberration is a result of the Setback.
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Richard Redmond – Revelation Part Four
OBSERVATION RESUMES
When Richard came to, he was sitting on a wooded hill overlooking a mountain lake, with his back resting against a pine tree. He could smell the tree sap, and the scent of wildflowers that he could see dotting the slope down to the water was heavy in the air. A bird sang in a tree and he tilted his head upward, looking for it.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? Peaceful.” Richard snapped his head around toward the voice and for the first time saw Alea Chantal. She was beautiful. Long golden hair worn loosely around her shoulders; athletic but “well rounded” as his dad used to say; dressed in clothes that reminded Richard of those French Renaissance period pieces that Nadine loved, with full skirt and frilly bodice. Not too tall; Richard doubted that she’d come close to his six foot one.
Alea Chantal laughed. Not sarcastically. She curtsied. “Why thank you, good sir. ‘Tis a comely description of me that ye’ve offered and I most graciously accept it. You did not, however, answer the question. Isn’t this one of the most peaceful places you’ve ever been?” For emphasis, she made a sweeping gesture that took in the woods, the lake, and the mountain rising in the background; extended it into a pirouette than made her skirt billow out and her hair fly. She ended where she’d started, arms wrapped around herself and facing Richard.
He looked at Alea Chantal, then at the view. He sighed. Then he stood up, walking toward her. “Yes, it’s beautiful; and peaceful. It’s also completely impossible. What’s going on? Who are you? Where am I? How did I get here? A minute ago I was in Central America. This …” Richard stopped.
Alea Chantal finished his sentence. “… is France. Or at least, it’s a part of France that I knew. Once upon a time.” She sighed. “Richard, there’s so much that you need to know, and not much time to tell you. You weren’t supposed to Awaken this way. It was the d’na’nish of course. It attracted the attention of one of the Yannoneth. We don’t know which one yet. It was that woman of course. Once they homed in on what you call the artefact, it was inevitable that they’d get wind of you.”
Richard held up a hand. “Stop. Just stop. You’re not making any sense. If I’m not delirious, and I still think that’s the most likely explanation, then how the hell did I get … here?” He gestured at their surroundings.
Alea Chantal’s annoyance flared up again and was evident in her reply. “You’re not delirious Richard. You really do need to let go of that whole denial thing. There’s …”
The voice of Sarsoneth, seemingly coming from the trees overhead, broke in. “Alea Chantal. He knows. You know that he does. Let him come to acceptance in his own way.”
Alea Chantal locked gazes with Richard for a moment, seemed to find something that satisfied her. “Well. Alright then. I guess I’ve been cooped up with this Ethical (she made a motion with her head toward the trees that Richard took to indicate that she meant Sarsoneth) so long that I’ve lost the knack for subtlety. It’s not their strong suit you know.”
Listening to this byplay, Richard realized that Sarsoneth was right. He did know that whatever was happening was real. He didn’t know how or why yet, but he was damned well going to find out. Richard was used to being in control of whatever situation he was in. This sense of being carried along like a cork in a flood didn’t sit well. He spoke up. “What’s an Ethical?”
Alea Chantal made a rude noise. “The most irritating, annoying, frustrating, self-righteous…”
Sarsoneth again interrupted her. “Alea Chantal’s opinion notwithstanding, Richard, I would suggest that we have more pressing matters to deal with. You are not as safe as the appearance of this place would seem to indicate.”
“… and they interrupt a lot too,” Alea Chantal concluded. “However, he’s right. This place isn’t what it seems. You asked how you got from Central America to France, Richard. Well, the truth is you didn’t. We’re not sure where you are. You’ve been unconscious since you first spotted that Yannoneth bitch. This place, and for that matter Sarsoneth and I, are inside your head. Always have been.”
Richard stared at her. Then he walked over to a tree, tore off some bark and shook it at Alea Chantal. “Make up your damn mind. I just accepted I wasn’t delusional. Now you tell me it’s all in my head? No way. This,” and he shook the bark again, “is not my imagination.”
Alea Chantal sighed. “I’m sorry, Richard. It’s not easy to explain. But you really are in terrible danger, and we really do want to help.” She took a deep breath. “We’re in the d’na’tnek. What you might think of as genetic memory. Every memory of every ancestor in your family tree is stored here, scattered throughout the DNA that makes you who you are.”
“This doesn’t feel like a memory,” Richard countered stubbornly.
“No, the d’na’tnek is much more, and we’re using it in a way that I’m not sure even the Twelve would recognize.”
“Who?” Richard asked.
“Alea Chantal,” Sarsoneth’s cautioning voice interjected.
“I know, I know. Richard, we’ll answer all of your questions. Later. I promise. Right now, we need to get you away from the Yannoneth. To do that, we need your help. She’s going to bring you around in a few minutes. We need you to observe as much as you can. You are our eyes and ears remember. Then, when you lose consciousness again, we can bring you back here and decide what to do.”
“Why don’t you just use your magical powers like you did last time?” Richard asked.
Alea Chantal smiled ruefully at the sarcasm in his voice. “First, they’re not ‘our’ powers, Richard, they’re yours. Second, at the moment we’re kind of hiding out here while you, to all appearances, are lying peacefully in a cell or a box or something, no doubt snoring like every man I ever met. We do know that your body is not under any physical duress.
“Richard, it’s absolutely essential that Yannoneth bitch doesn’t suspect that either Sarsoneth or I exist. If that were to happen, everything the Twelve have been working toward for millennia would be undone. Humanity’s future would be over.”
Richard was going to say something about being overdramatic when everything started to fade, starting with the mountain and moving inward to where he and Alea Chantal were standing. She reached a hand out toward him as she took on a ghost-like transparency.
Sarsoneth’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. “Remember Richard. Observe everything. Reveal nothing. The Yannoneth must not discover your true nature or that we exist.”
OBSERVATION PAUSED BY REQUEST
Enquiry Response: Regarding the Member’s comment on Sarsoneth and Alea Chantal. Yes, I am aware that fully self-aware mental constructs are not standard operating procedure within genetic memory. This was identified in the Observation filed under the title Danaerean Prologue, which I have previously recommended for Concurrent review.
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Richard Redmond – Revelation Part Three
OBSERVATION RESUMES
When Richard regained consciousness, he was a bit surprised to find himself still alive. Then he tried to sit up and discovered two things; that he was pinned under the overturned wreck of the jeep; and that his left arm was broken. At least, the direction it was pointing seemed to indicate that it was broken. So did the end of bone sticking out halfway between his shoulder and elbow. But there was no pain. Not from the arm, not from the weight of the jeep pinning him down. Shock?
“As if,” came the woman’s voice. What had the man’s voice called her? Alea Chantal.
“Give the man a gold star. Now that we’ve been introduced, I suppose you’ll be asking for my phone number.”
The man’s voice broke in. “We do not have time for your sarcasm, Alea Chantal. The danger is far from over. Carlos and the f’pa’tahm will not be delayed long by our misdirection.”
“There’s always time for sarcasm, Sarsoneth.” Then she sighed. “Oh, all right. Richard, the reason you aren’t feeling any pain is because we’re blocking it. The reason you aren’t dead is because we were able, just barely, to cushion the impact of the crash. The reason that Carlos and the boys aren’t here already is because we were able to plant an idea in their heads that you’re actually still careening down the trail ahead of them. Surprised that last worked actually. Carlos isn’t nearly as powerful as he thinks he is. But they’ll be back.”
“Richard,” said the voice Alea Chantal had identified as Sarsoneth, “it would be of assistance if you would concentrate on your arm for a moment. We have never before attempted to manipulate your physical form this directly or on such a macroscopic level.”
Richard, who felt like he’d been on a runaway train since he’d spoken to Jaimie in the temple, didn’t even try to argue. He looked at the unnatural angle his arm made with his shoulder and had to make a real effort to keep from being sick to his stomach. That feeling increased as he watched the ragged end of protruding bone slowly recede back into his flesh. The arm inched around until it was back in what looked like a normal position. The wound made by the broken bone closed over and disappeared except for the dried blood that covered the adjoining skin.
Sarsoneth spoke again. “Now the jeep Richard.”
“You can fix the jeep too?”
“Oh God,” from Alea Chantal. Her tone made it clear that, if Richard could have seen her, she would have been rolling her eyes. “No Richard, we can’t fix the jeep. But we can get you out from under it. Would that be good enough?”
When Richard grunted assent, she added “Okay, so focus on where it’s laying on you. Same deal as the arm, it helps us manipulate the g’ru’tnok.”
Richard didn’t ask what g’ru’tnok was. At this point he’d have been willing to call it magic and be done with it. Except that he kept getting that odd sense of familiarity. As if the answers were all in a book he’d read years ago, if he could just remember what it was. Instead of trying, he looked at the jeep where it rested on his legs. He was slightly surprised that his legs weren’t crushed. He wasn’t at all surprised when the jeep began to lift into the air. After all, he’d just seen a floating truck.
“Alright, Richard, slide out from underneath. We don’t want to attract any more attention to your abilities than we already have by hurling a two ton jeep into the jungle.”
My abilities? Richard wondered vaguely what abilities she was talking about, but he pulled himself out from under jeep as directed just the same. It immediately crashed back to the ground.
Richard got unsteadily to his feet. He examined himself all over, especially the no-longer-broken arm. There was no trace of the wound, no pain; the arm worked fine, as did his legs. It made no sense. And yet…
“Bear with us for yet a little longer, Richard. I realize how difficult this is to comprehend. However, the danger remains grave. We must ensure your safety before we indulge in idle conversation.” Idle conversation? Sarsoneth, whoever and wherever he was, appeared to have a penchant for understatement.
That, as inconsequential as it was, seemed to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. Richard shook his head. He’d had enough. “This is ridiculous. No, scratch that. It’s insane.” He looked up the steep embankment where the jeep had torn a ragged path down from the trail. Obviously, he told himself, it was the jungle that had broken his fall. The drop here wasn’t nearly as precipitous as it was where he’d hoped to send the truck over. And his arm, and being trapped under the jeep, he rationalized, were hallucinations. He’d been delirious when he came to and only imagined them. As to the voices …
“Yeah, what about those voices, Richard?” Alea Chantal’s voice sounded amused. In a sarcastic way.
“Shut up!” Richard hissed. “You’re a hallucination too, damn it.” He started to climb back up to the trail.
“Richard, you must avoid the road. As we told you, Carlos and the f’pa’tahm will not be long deceived. They will return to find you.”
Richard clamped his jaws shut and continued to grimly work his way up the embankment without answering. Alea Chantal added, “Listen to Sarsoneth, you lunkhead. We worked like hell to keep you out of their hands, broke a dozen taboos the Twelve put on us. You’re going to ruin everything.”
“I said shut up,” Richard grated out between clenched teeth. He completed the climb without further interruption. He looked around cautiously from the edge of the jungle and, seeing nothing, emerged onto the trail.
Peering down the rutted track in the direction of the landing, Richard didn’t see any activity at all. Maybe whoever had been after him had decided to keep going. After all, they had the artefact. Damn treasure hunters. Richard had just about convinced himself that there was nothing more to it than that – treasure hunters after the loot from a new archaeological dig. They were always dangerous. Add delirium from his luckily non-fatal crash and you had a perfectly logical explanation for everything from floating trucks to disembodied voices. He turned back up the trail to return to the camp to try to help the dig team.
And ran smack dab back into insanity.
Standing about a hundred yards up the trail was a woman, studying him. Richard stared. He could see no vehicle. She was alone , and she wasn’t dressed for the jungle. In fact, Richard wasn’t sure what she was dressed for. Some sort of close fitting evening gown by the look of it. Another damn hallucination. Then she smiled.
Richard heard Alea Chantal mutter “Aww, crap.”
And then he passed out.
OBSERVATION PAUSED BY REQUEST
Enquiry Response: Denial is a common coping mechanism among developing sentient species and is in no way peculiar to humanity nor is it indicative of substandard development. For Members desiring further corroboration, a search of the Universal Repository will yield ample similar references.
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Richard Redmond – Revelation Part Two
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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Richard Redmond – Revelation Part One
OBSERVATION BEGINS
SUBJECT – Richard Redmond
FILED BY – Gerry – Danaerean Observer
As is customary, this Observation will be delivered in narrative form to accommodate members who are not visually equipped.
At the point this Observation begins, its subject, Richard Redmond, is not yet aware of the pivotal role he will play in the development of the System I Observe. For members who have not, as requested, reviewed the previously filed Danaerean Prologue, you may find it expedient to Diverge a portion of Awareness so that you can review that Observation concurrent with this. Definitions, references, and cultural context can be accessed in the Universal Repository using the primary search terms Danaerea, Yannoneth, or Humanity.
The few lights strung around the central chamber of the temple were powered by an electrical cable snaking along the passageway and out to the generator in the jungle camp. The illumination they provided was dim and they flickered frequently. The flashlight that Richard had with him would probably have done a better job of lighting the room but he had turned it off an hour ago. He was just standing, trying to get a better sense of how the room would have looked to the ancient Mayans who built it.
“Communing with the spirits” was how he half-jokingly described the process to his students when he was lecturing at the university. Truth was… he wasn’t exactly sure what it was that he did. He just knew that, if he spent enough time immersing himself in the atmosphere of a ruin like this, he often came away with insights that others missed.
“Oh, please,” a woman’s voice came faintly, dripping sarcasm.
Richard whirled around, startled. He thought that Jaimie, his dig boss, must have followed him into the temple. She was the only woman on the expedition. He waited, peering back up the passageway, but no one appeared. Probably just an echo from someone talking near the entrance, Richard thought. Sound did funny things in a place like this.
He returned his attention to the relief carvings and murals on the chamber walls. Three thousand years of accumulated dirt and cobwebs couldn’t obscure the central focus of the place. A single object appeared in every scene. It had a central, basketball-shaped body of gold crowned by a red gemstone and supported by three wooden legs equidistantly spaced to form a tripod. Not that Richard had to depend on the murals for a description. They had the artefact itself. Until yesterday, when he’d had it removed to the camp, it had rested on the altar he was leaning against right now.
“Too bad you hadn’t left it where it was, bright boy.” Richard jumped at this second whisper, grabbing his flashlight and shining it into the corner of the chamber where it seemed the comment had come from.
“Professor Redmond? Are you okay?” Richard spun around toward the entrance to find Jaimie staring at him, a concerned look on her face.
“Were you talking to someone just now?” Richard asked.
“No one, Professor. I’m alone.” When Richard didn’t say anything more, she went on. “I thought you’d want to know the results of my tests on the artefact.”
Richard shrugged off the strange incident. Hearing things. Better be careful, he thought to himself. Next thing you know, I’ll be believing that the poor bastards who were likely sacrificed here are haunting the place. Getting creeped-out was a hazard of the profession. Aloud, he simply said “Good. Thanks. Yeah. What did you find out?”
“Well, the red crystal on the top is exactly what you thought it was – the biggest ruby I’ve ever seen. But the design on the setting doesn’t match anything in the Mayan database. At least not the limited database we have in the laptops. I still can’t get the satellite phone working so I haven’t been able to access the university’s computers. Ted’s still working on the uplink.”
Richard frowned. The glitch in the satellite phones seriously curtailed the amount of analysis they could do onsite. Not to mention it meant that he couldn’t talk to Nadine. Today of all days. Trying to put the disappointment out of his mind, he said, “Well, the carvings make it pretty clear that it was central to some sort of sacred ceremony. It was probably part of a funeral ritual.”
“Or birth,” suggested Jaimie. “There seem to be depictions of both.”
“Yeah,” muttered Richard, looking from one carving to another. He waited; he knew his assistant well enough to know when she was holding back. When Jaimie continued to hesitate, he prompted her. “And …?”
Jaimie looked unhappy. “I’m sorry, Professor. I must have contaminated the sample somehow. The analysis of the gold globe is screwy. It came back only ten percent gold. The rest is steel – an alloy of some kind – the field equipment we have here couldn’t even identify some of the elements. I don’t know what happened. I’m rerunning the test right now.”
Richard smiled sympathetically. “Happens sometimes, Jaimie. Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Suddenly though, he felt absolutely certain that there was nothing wrong with the sample. Or the results. He dismissed the feeling as ridiculous, remarking instead, “I’m more disappointed that the satellite phone is still down. I’d hoped to talk to Nadine today.”
“Oh?”
Richard idly traced the outline of the artefact in the altar’s dust with his finger, not quite touching the marks so as not to disturb anything. “She’s being honoured for her latest work tomorrow. Black tie affair, rubber chicken and all. I was supposed to be there.”
Jaimie looked as though she wished something would come out of the shadows and drag her away. Richard and Nadine Redmond’s devotion to each other was one of the classic love stories on campus. “Professor, I’m so sorry; you’re only here because of me. I shouldn’t have asked you to come early. This could have waited.”
Richard shook his head. “No, you did the right thing. This is an absolutely incredible find, Jaimie. As soon as I saw the pictures I knew I had to come. This chamber, and that artefact, whatever it is, don’t fit into any of our accepted theories about the Mayan Pre-Classic period.” He looked at the altar again. Something was tickling the back of his mind.
“He he, that’s me,” came the whisper a third time.
Redmond looked sharply at Jaimie. “What?”
“I said, ‘I’m going to go back and take another crack at that analyzer.’ And I’ll talk to Ted. We’ll find a way to make that phone work if we have to run two tin cans and a string across the entire continent.” When Richard just nodded absently, Jaimie turned back to the entrance and left.
After she was gone, Richard turned again to the spot where the artefact had rested. Why was he so certain that Jaimie’s analysis wasn’t contaminated? The ancient Maya couldn’t make steel; that was ridiculous. Of course there was an error in the results. The simplest explanation was usually the right one. Still… His finger continued to trace the pattern in the dust; a pattern that, even though he’d never seen it before, seemed totally familiar. This was way beyond the hunches and feelings he’d had in the past. In fact, he realized he’d had the damnedest sense of déjà vu ever since he’d arrived.
“Well, duh.” No longer a whisper, the voice was clearly coming from somewhere in the chamber.
Richard whirled around, grabbed the flashlight and shone it into the dark corners of the room. “All right, that’s it. Who’s there? Show yourself.” Richard drew the revolver he was wearing, pointed it vaguely into the gloom.
The woman’s voice sounded irritated. “We don’t have time for this. I told you we should have acted when we first realized what they’d found. Now we’re in a hell of a mess.” She spoke with an accent that Richard couldn’t quite place.
He started moving cautiously around the room, looking for the woman’s hiding place. “Damn it, I said show yourself.”
A second voice, male and equally unseen, responded, speaking dispassionately, “Richard, this is not the way in which things were intended to be revealed to you. Unfortunately, your removal of the d’na’nish from its shielded vault has precipitated something of a crisis. You must trust us and allow explanations to be deferred until later. Otherwise, the probability is high that you are going to die in the next few minutes.” This dire pronouncement was delivered in a tone so devoid of emotion that the speaker seemed as though he might be commenting on the weather or some inconsequential bit of trivia.
“Is that some kind of threat?” Richard demanded. “Because if it is…” Richard stopped speaking as he heard the sounds of a skirmish, including weapons fire, coming down the passageway from the camp. The string of lights suddenly went out. He immediately started to run back up to the entrance, shining the flashlight ahead of him. When he got close to the end of the passage, caution returned. He turned off the light and ducked low to use some fallen stones as cover. What he saw when he peered cautiously around the debris sickened him. The camp was a shambles. The neat piles of supplies had been knocked over; the tents were collapsed. One was burning, probably from a lantern overturned inside. He could see at least one person on the ground, unmoving, although he couldn’t tell for sure if they were dead or alive.
Then someone called him by name. It wasn’t one of the voices he had heard in the temple. Nor was it disembodied. Quite the opposite; he could see clearly who it belonged to. The man was standing in the middle of the destroyed camp, beside the table with the artefact which, surprisingly, had not been overturned. Something in the way the man moved cautiously around the thing gave Richard the feeling that he held it in great reverence. Or maybe fear.
“Come on out and join our little party, Richard. Don’t be shy. It is, after all, thanks to you that we’re all here.”
OBSERVATION PAUSED BY REQUEST
Enquiry Response: Regarding the Member’s comment on death. At the time of this Observation humanity is experiencing a period of shortened lifespan. As Members will be aware, this is done to facilitate rapid evolutionary development and will be maintained until Awakening is achieved.
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Freedom
Sometimes Freedom carries a high price. And the stakes could not have been higher than they were during the struggle for the Shelter.
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Prologue
OBSERVATION BEGINS
SUBJECT – Danaerean System Overview
FILED BY – Gerry – Danaerean Observer
Note: report compiled from third party sources. Editing will be ongoing.
What is Danaerea? (pronounced dan – air – ee – uh) And what is the hidden history of the universe?
Danaerea was the first world in the solar system I Observe on which life took hold. The Danaereans thought of it poetically as the Sprouting of the Seed.
As with any seed, Life didn’t simply appear in full bloom. It needed time to grow. A great deal of time. The Seed became a few simple cells; which became a few simple organisms; which became complex organisms; which became intelligent organisms. And intelligent organisms eventually became sentient organisms.
As the Danaereans evolved, they explored. The more they learned, the more in awe they were of the diversity that had sprung from the simplicity of their origins. Understanding the unity in this diversity was the key to understanding the concept that, aeons later, humanity would come to call Gaia.
Gaia – to comprehend the world and everything in it as a single interconnected and interdependent organism.
The Danaereans believed that for Gaia to exist there must also exist an underlying influence that encouraged it. In due course they identified that influence. They called it g’ru’tnok.
There is no equivalent human word. G’ru’tnok is energy. It’s relationship. It’s life. G’ru’tnok permeated Danaerea. Every atom, every molecule. Every rock, tree and animal. Every Danaerean.
As they became conscious of the awesome potential of g’ru’tnok, the Danaereans were transformed. Abilities that, when first encountered, humans would attribute to gods were theirs. To heal, to move mountains, to soar among the clouds, to travel between one place and another in the space of a thought; these things became as child’s play. Death itself came only after millennia of life, and usually at a time of their choosing. And no one was a stranger to another, for even their thoughts could be shared.
And more than their thoughts. Their experiences, their knowledge, the very record of their days. This was held within the cells of their being, in the d’na’tnek. We might think of it as genetic memory, inherited by generation from generation. Through the d’na’tnek, every Danaerean knew his or her ancestors intimately. They were literally of one flesh.
The d’na’tnek was like a living library. The knowledge of past generations could be used by the living as though they had experienced it themselves. The mistakes of one generation were seldom repeated by the next.
As a result, the world of Danaerea was paradise; the society of Danaerea utopia; the people of Danaerea filled with wisdom and grace.
When the Danaereans had achieved the harmony of Gaia they looked outward.
They knew that the g’ru’tnok was generated through the interaction of their world and its single great moon. It was to that interaction that they owed their existence.
Few other worlds were so favored. They had either no moon, and therefore no g’ru’tnok, or too many, with conflicting orbits that disrupted the flow of the nurturing force. In either circumstance barrenness was the result.
There were two exceptions.
Earth also had a single moon. When the Danaereans visited Earth it seemed like a younger version of home. Life was abundant, although not yet self aware. The Danaereans determined to watch over their cousins and to welcome them when the time came that they should reach the Awakening of their own Gaia.
Yannoneth, whose course lay between Earth and Danaerea, was circled by only two smaller companions. Although their energy was far less than that of Danaerea or Earth, still the two did not entirely cancel each other out. They had generated sufficient g’ru’tnok to entice the Seed to Sprout.
Yannoneth’s g’ru’tnok was not, however, the pure energy that flowed through Danaerea and Earth. It was stunted, twisted. And so too was the Life that it had spawned. Yannoneth was a world of violence, of anger. There was no place here for Sentience.
It distressed the Danaereans to experience Yannoneth’s pain. So they invoked the n’es’tehk, the gestalt of minds through which the knowledge of all living Danaereans and the d’na’tnek of their ancestors came together as one. They reached consensus – Yannoneth would be rehabilitated.
G’ru’tnok from Danaerea was channeled to Yannoneth to enhance and bring order to the planet’s own undisciplined energy. A colony was established. The Danaerean colonists would guide Yannoneth to Gaia. The work would span aeons. Even for the Danaereans, many generations would pass before Yannoneth’s transformation was complete.
And while they had been changing Yannoneth, the planet had in its own turn been changing them.
The colonists gradually ceased to think of themselves as Danaerean in any sense. They became, in whole measure, Yannoneth. And within them, there existed an element of the untamed, a spirit of the wild that was not content to exist at the end of a leash.
The Yannoneth came to consider the g’ru’tnok that flowed from Danaerea, though it was freely given, as just such a leash.
The Yannoneth knew that there was only one way to slip that leash. Their world must generate g’ru’tnok in greater measure. And there was only one way, one very dangerous way, to do that. The moons of Yannoneth must be aligned, their orbits harmonized.
There was irony in that there was only one source of power great enough to accomplish such a feat. Danaerea’s g’ru’tnok.
The Yannoneth knew that the Danaereans would never agree to such a taxing of Danaerean energy, even temporarily. It was a plan that had been considered when the rehabilitation of Yannoneth was undertaken. It had been discarded; the possibility of wounding the Gaia of Danaerea had been deemed too great.
The Yannoneth did not care. Their obsession with independence took precedence over reason.
They would take what they needed. If Danaerea was affected, it would recover. And if not, what of that? The Yannoneth wanted to be free; they needed to be free. Nothing else mattered.
They acted.
For a moment, for two, it seemed as though they might succeed. G’ru’tnok flowed; the moons began to bend toward new courses. But the need was too great, the drain on the Gaia of Danaerea too overwhelming. Danaerea’s great moon staggered. It hesitated ever so slightly, slowed so very little.
And began to fall.
It would take time, but for a people who thought in terms of millennia, that time would be painfully short. The result was already certain. All too soon, the paradise that was Danaerea would be no more; it had been betrayed by those it cherished most.
Yet, there were no recriminations on Danaerea. No remorse. That was not in their nature.
Once again, they invoked the n’es’tehk; they deliberated; consensus was reached.
Twelve were chosen. Into these Twelve was entrusted the d’na’tnek of all of Danaerea. The knowledge of uncountable ages, the memories of an entire race, poured into these few living vessels. Then the Twelve were sent to Earth, with a twofold geas. First, protect Earth from the Bombardment that would rain throughout the solar system when Danaerea died. Second, bestow the d’na’tnek of Danaerea onto humanity once it had reached its own Awakening to Gaia.
When the Twelve were safely departed, the entire Danaerean race bent itself to one last task. They would concentrate all of their incredible abilities on mitigating the havoc that would result as their descending moon tore Danaerea apart.
The stories of those final days are epic in themselves. The last noble acts of an ancient noble race. As the time grew shorter, a trail of rubble appeared and lengthened behind Danaerea, rubble released one piece at a time under control of the sheer will of the Danaereans. That trail remains still, forever a memorial to their existence and to their courage.
Eventually however, the time came when the g’ru’tnok failed; when the struggle was concluded with a violence that defies description. On that day, the universe became a little less.
From Earth, the Twelve felt the passing of the Gaia of Danaerea. They mourned. Then they redoubled their efforts. They knew what was coming.
Through the power of Earth’s g’ru’tnok they shielded us from the Bombardment. To those who would one day claim the name humanity, staring upward to the heavens without understanding, this time of thunder and light was pure inexplicable terror.
When the Bombardment had passed, the Twelve entered a’sa’mlek, the hibernation. They knew that humanity’s Awakening would be long in coming. We were young. And they would not interfere with our maturing.
They would wait.
The Yannoneth fared differently.
Their action had sealed the fate of not only Danaerea, but their own world as well. The flow of g’ru’tnok from Danaerea had ceased when its moon had begun to fall. Their own moons’ orbits had not been changed. Yannoneth’s g’ru’tnok alone would not be sufficient to deflect the Bombardment. When Danaerea died, Yannoneth would die as well.
But the Yannoneth did not want to die. They too invoked n’es’tehk. And they too emerged with a plan.
There were caverns deep beneath the surface of Yannoneth. They would build a Shelter, a place where ten thousand might escape the consequences of their own actions.
The Shelter was barely completed as the Bombardment began. The Ten Thousand entered. Millions more did not.
The Destruction of Yannoneth was as complete as it was brutal. The Bombardment left no part of the surface intact. The atmosphere was ripped away. The ground buckled. The seas boiled.
The Sheltered could do nothing to prevent the cataclysm above; Yannoneth’s g’ru’tnok could not create the shield that the Twelve had invoked around Earth. It was barely sufficient for the Sheltered to protect their one tiny bubble of life.
But protect it they did. When the Bombardment finally subsided, the Shelter remained. The Yannoneth survived.
While the Twelve waited and the humans evolved, the Yannoneth reflected. They knew that they alone were responsible for the destruction of two worlds. But they did not understand why.
With the clarity of hindsight, they knew that the interconnectedness of Gaia should have made it impossible for them to act in a way that endangered either Yannoneth or Danaerea. How had they so deluded themselves?
Entire new disciplines of study were created in order to pursue the question. When at last the Sheltered understood, the reason was impossible to deny and even more impossible to accept.
It was Yannoneth itself which had betrayed them. The planet’s energy, though intertwined with that of Danaerea, had not been wholly benign. In creating the Yannoneth Gaia, they had not simply tamed the wild Yannoneth biosphere. An element of its primeval violence had also been instilled in those who had come to call it home. The Yannoneth were more primitive, more aggressive, than the original Danaerean colonists.
The Sheltered could not accept this of themselves. They looked for solutions. They found only one.
The Ethical Imperative.
The Ethical Imperative required nothing less than the manipulation of Yannoneth genetic structure. They would implant a modified gene into their genetic makeup in order to reclaim the moral certainty that they had lost.
And yet again the Yannoneth would be betrayed by their own arrogance.
They had failed utterly to appreciate the power of Yannoneth’s primordial energy. The artificial EI gene simply could not counter aeons of evolution. Given enough stimulus, it was rejected by its host, taking with it the last vestiges of moral intuition. The result was a Yannoneth motivated entirely by psychopathic self interest.
These Disaffected Yannoneth cared only for their own self-gratification, their own individual supremacy. They would employ any means to achieve that end.
Strong emotion was the trigger for crossing what became known as the EI Threshold. The Yannoneth realized that they must control their emotions or succumb to racial insanity. A new philosophy came into being, centered on emotional detachment and the rigorous application of logic. Those who followed this discipline became known as the Ethicals.
The unquenchable ambition of the Disaffected eventually led to civil war in the Shelter. A war in which the Ethicals incurred as many defections as they did casualties. For how could one maintain emotional detachment during such a conflict? Many crossed the EI Threshold, and became forever the enemy.
The Disaffected however, by their very nature, were incapable of cooperation, even with each other. The ultimate individualists, they were unable to work together for long.
In the end, it was that which defeated them. The Ethical Yannoneth prevailed. But it was victory at a terrible price. Only a few hundred of the Sheltered remained.
It was clear to the survivors that neither the Ethical Imperative nor their philosophical discipline of detachment would shield them from the corrupting influence of Yannoneth’s g’ru’tnok.
There was only one course open to them.
They would go to Earth.
Humanity had not yet achieved Gaia when the Yannoneth arrived. Indeed, we were still primitive bands of nomads competing with other predators for survival.
For the Disaffected, nothing could have been more ideal. Here, they were free to engage in the ultimate realization of their megalomaniacal desire to be worshipped. With the power of Earth’s g’ru’tnok flowing through them, they became gods among men. They dispensed life and death on a whim. Their least thought, their most selfish desire, was irresistible. The myths and legends of gods and demons, and the ancient ruins of their monuments, still bear witness to the cavorting of the Disaffected Yannoneth among us.
The Ethicals remained aloof. They could not allow themselves to become involved with humanity in ways that might invoke emotional attachment. To do so was to risk the EI Threshold. The stories of wandering teachers and beings who brought wisdom to primitive peoples attest to the indelible impression of their presence.
Regardless of how the Yannoneth chose to interact with humanity, there was one purpose that united them. For their race to continue, there must be new generations. The d’na’tnek must be passed on.
The Disaffected refused to mate amongst themselves. They would not relinquish control to another in even such a necessary way.
The Ethicals would not mate at all. To them, bequeathing the flawed EI gene to future generations was unconscionable.
Each by their own tortured trail of reason concluded that humanity must therefore become the vessel for the rebirth of the Yannoneth.
Without the Awakening however, human genetic makeup was inadequate to the task. Our DNA could not retain the intact d’na’tnek of even one Yannoneth.
The Disaffected resolved this by mating with multiple partners; sometimes establishing harems and communes to facilitate the process. Fertility cults sprang up around their efforts. They kept detailed genealogical records, tracking which elements of the d’na’tnek had been passed to whom so that they could eventually, when humanity was ready, recombine those elements and recreate the whole.
The Ethicals, with their eternally flawed logic, turned to the genetic engineering practices that had created their predicament in the first place. They manipulated the genes of pairs of human beings in an attempt to force human evolution without also passing on the EI gene. They intended to create humanity in their own image, but without their artificial sense of good and evil.
The world is rife with tales of demigods and heroes whose abilities were borne of the attempts of the Ethical and the Disaffected to make humanity their surrogate hosts.
The Twelve of Danaerea were aware of the arrival of the Yannoneth, although they themselves remained concealed. Outnumbered and by now incredibly ancient even by the measure of Danaerea, they could not directly oppose the Yannoneth’s actions on earth. Nor would they have been willing to simply destroy those who were, in some sense, still their children. But neither could they allow humanity to be reduced to mere breeding vessels for a Yannoneth rebirth.
The Twelve reached out. Ever so subtly, they influenced the Yannoneth. They reinforced the revulsion the Disaffected felt for mating with each other. They disrupted the Ethicals’ genetic manipulation. They prevented the Yannoneth d’na’tnek which had already entered human genetic structure from being reinforced between generations; eventually it would be eliminated.
The process, in true Danaerean fashion, would take time. Its outcome, however, was certain. As centuries passed, the Yannoneth dwindled in number. The d’na’tnek that had been implanted in humanity became increasingly attenuated. Our evolutionary path would soon become our own once again.
Our story might end there.
Except…
A few of the Yannoneth remain. Snippets of Yannoneth d’na’tnek, here and there, still rests dormant in the genes of a handful of humans.
And the Awakening is beginning.
Facing the imminent failure of their geas, the Twelve undertook an action which was previously inconceivable.
They themselves changed us.
Not everyone. Not everywhere. Just a few. A few who were on the very precipice of Awakening in their own right. The Twelve “encouraged” them, ever so gently.
There are not many, and not all are aware of who and what they are. They must discover that for themselves.
With one exception. His is a critical role. On his shoulders rests the fate of humanity, and the success or failure of the geas of the Twelve.
The remaining Yannoneth, those who serve them, and those who unwittingly carry fragments of their d’na’tnek; must be found. They must not interfere with the coming of humanity’s Gaia, with our Awakening.
The time is now. These stories are theirs, and ours.
Observation will continue.
REPORT ends.
