Area 51: The Legend (7 page)

” ‘Half-breeds’?” Donnchadh repeated. Her face had gone even paler, if that were possible.

“Half-human, half-Airlia,” Jobb said. “There are royal consorts. Something no one other than the highest ranking of the corrupted know about. Human women who are taken as part of the tribute. Taken deep below the temple, where the Airlia live in their tunnels. And they are never seen again.”

“I know of such,” Donnchadh said sharply, earning her a surprised look from Gwalcmai.

“They are raised down there,” Jobb said. “By a special cadre of high priests. Men whose tongues have been cut out so they can never speak of the dark things they are a part of.” He fell silent, reluctant to speak further.

“Tell us what else you have learned,” Donnchadh said, changing the subject.

“As you told me so many years ago, they are not Gods,” Jobb finally said. “They are demons. They take their own offspring from the human consorts and put them in the black tubes. Then, once a month, they go down there and open the tubes. And drink the blood of these half-breeds. For pleasure.” He tapped his chest. “The high priests lie. They are programmed to lie. I wish sometimes I had been programmed. So I could deny the truth of what I have seen and heard, to myself, never mind the people we preach to and control for these creatures.” Jobb laughed, the bitter edge indicating no humor. “Even the Airlia are beginning to believe their own lies.”

Donnchadh leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“They believe they are Gods. Why shouldn’t they? They’ve been doing it for long enough. Who has challenged them? Who
can
challenge them?”

A long silence followed.

“Other Gods,” Donnchadh finally whispered, her body stiffening as a surge of excitement coursed through it.

“What?” Gwalcmai turned toward her.

“Other Gods can challenge them,” Donnchadh said with more confidence in her voice.

“What other Gods?” Jobb demanded.

“The Airlia here are just a few of a larger group,” Donnchadh said. “They are an outpost. Outposts have to report in, right?” she asked of Gwalcmai, the military expert.

Gwalcmai shrugged. “One would assume so. It would be normal operating procedure.”

“And if an outpost doesn’t report?” Donnchadh pressed.

“You send someone to find out why,” Gwalcmai said.

“And we know how they communicate,” Donnchadh said.

“That’s your area of expertise,” Gwalcmai said.

“We saw the deep-space transmitter array coming here,” Donnchadh said. “But that’s only the transmitter. The message has to originate from here. This planet. From the Master Guardian.” She turned to Jobb, who had been following their brief conversation without comprehension. “You were taken to the red pyramid—the Master Guardian—to be conditioned to be a high priest, correct?”

Jobb nodded.

“Where is it?” she asked.

“Inside the holiest place in the temple,” Jobb said. “The inner sanctum, high up in the holy spire.”

“And the sword that controls it?” Donnchadh pressed.

“Excalibur?” Jobb asked.

“Is that what it is called here?” Donnchadh asked. “Yes, Excalibur.”

“It is set in the crystal stone in front of the red pyramid,” Jobb said.

“They are very confident,” Donnchadh murmured. “Can you get us there?”

“When do you wish to go?” Jobb asked.

“Tonight.”

Donnchadh gave a silver chain to Gwalcmai as Jobb led them into the temple. “Wear this just in case,” she whispered to him. He took it from her and strapped it around his head. She took another from out of her cloak and put it around her own head.

They wore the yellow robes of the favored—those who contributed greatly to the upkeep of the temple. This, and being guided by a high-ranking priest, allowed them to pass the Guides who manned all the entryways into the temple. After all, high priests were above suspicion, just as the Guides were.

Donnchadh had to admit to herself that she was impressed as they made their way into the temple. The one on her home world had been destroyed during the first year of the Revolution, leveled by multiple nuclear explosions that had also eventually devastated half the surface of the planet with radioactive fallout. The weapons had been sneaked in underneath the Airlia shield that protected the island via an undersea tunnel that took over twelve years to build. Their detonation had been the first act of outright rebellion.

Donnchadh and Gwalcmai knew this world was far away from any outright attempt to use force against the Airlia, so they had decided on a different course of action. Tonight would bring the initiation of that plan.

They made their way up into the temple tower. It was almost deserted so late at night. The Airlia, Donnchadh knew, had a fondness for living underground. Whether that was something inherent in their species or a defensive measure, she didn’t know. Jobb had confirmed that the Airlia lived in tunnels deep under the palace and rarely came to the surface or to the temple anymore. They were so confident in the imprinting of the Master Guardian on the high priests and Guides that they felt the temple was most secure.

The three walked up a long spiral ramp that wound along the interior wall of the tower. It took over an hour to get near the top, where the Master Guardian computer was secreted. The entire journey was made in silence, and after getting past the guards at the bottom of the ramp, they saw no one. Jobb was able to use the medallion around his neck to open a large set of doors that blocked the ramp at the top. The doors swung wide, revealing a large, cone-shaped room. On a black platform in the center was a red pyramid, fifteen feet high. Its surface glowed, pulsing with power.

Gwalcmai put out an arm, abruptly stopping Donnchadh from stepping forward. She then immediately saw what she had missed in her excitement over seeing the Master Guardian. The black platform was attached to the three-foot-high ledge that ran around the interior of the space by only a single walkway on the far side. If she had taken that extra step, she would have fallen into an opening that went down the tower as far as the eye could see.

Donnchadh led the way around the ledge. When she reached the walkway, she paused. Halfway across the ledge was a crystal, three feet high. Set in it was a sword, its pommel extending up. From what they had learned on their own planet, she knew that the sword was the power control for the Master Guardian. Donnchadh walked forward and put her hand on the pommel of the sword, fingers curling around the metal.

“What are you doing?” Gwalcmai hissed as he came to her side, clamping his own hand over hers.

Donnchadh didn’t respond, her eyes glued to the glowing surface of the computer. With one hand she checked the silver chain around her head that would keep the alien computer from overwhelming her mind.

“If you turn it off, they will come,” Gwalcmai said. “We cannot defeat them. They will kill us and turn it back on.”

Donnchadh knew the truth of his words, but still did not let go. The sword was the key. She knew that. The key to the Master Guardian, which was the heart of the Airlia’s power. She allowed Gwalcmai to lift her hand off the sword. “I don’t see the sheath,” she said. “Putting the sword in the sheath turns off the master.”

Gwalcmai kept his hand on hers, watching her carefully.

“I’m all right,” she reassured him. She moved around the crystal. As she got closer to the Master Guardian, she slowed. The air felt as if it were changing from gas to liquid, pressing against her, absorbing her. Her hand reached out for the pulsing red surface, even as her upper body leaned away, her head going back, instinctively avoiding the alien device. She knew she had no choice. She was the lone scientist on this planet and it was her responsibility.

Like a solar flare, a glow came out of the computer and encompassed her hand. She tried to draw it back but was unable to do so. The glow enveloped her body. Donnchadh went rigid, a series of “visions” flashing through her brain. Planets. Great space battles between Airlia mothership/Talon fleets and Swarm Battle Cores. Other alien species, some of them warring with the Airlia, some as allies and trading partners. Things she couldn’t comprehend in the millisecond she “saw” them.

Even with the chain, it took all her willpower to gain a measure of control over the link. She had studied the data on the guardians prior to departing her planet, although she had never made contact with one before. She had a good understanding of how they functioned but the reality was almost overwhelming.

Almost.

Donnchadh felt Gwalcmai’s hand on her back, his presence giving her the strength to stop the runaway visions. Since he too had the silver chain around his head and wasn’t directly touching the alien computer, he wasn’t affected by the guardian. Donnchadh focused on communications. She”saw” the array on Mars that they had passed on their way to Earth. A green crystal was in the center of the massive dish. That was the transmitter.

But the messages originated here and were sent to a guardian computer on Mars to be transmitted. The same exact message each time. Just a code, which indicated this particular outpost. No details. And all that came back from the Airlia Empire was a simple acknowledgment. Donnchadh searched the logs. The same acknowledgment time after time. No new orders. No updates. Ever since this outpost had been established.

Donnchadh thought about that, then realized that the Airlia were afraid of the messages being intercepted. The message system was simple and functional. And Donnchadh knew enough about computers to set up a self-sustaining loop by which the messages were sent to the guardian on Mars and returned with an indication they had been sent—and acknowledged—when in fact they had not been.

Then she checked on something—how long it took a message to reach the Airlia command center and how long it would take a ship to travel to Earth from wherever that was located.

She then looked in a direction that scientists from her own planets had gone—examining the master plan for the development of the humans on the planet. There was a set schedule depending on population spread and Empire need. The humans away from Atlantis were to be allowed to breed and at the same time given the rudiments of civilization to allow more and more to be sustained by less and less land.

At the same time, two things were to be insinuated into society: a common bond and divisiveness. The first was to be done through the concept of God and religion. The second through national and ethnic differences.

For the first, the Airlia would use the promise of eternal life. A real promise, given the potential of the Grail, but one they would shroud in the concept of various Gods and dogma surrounding each.

For the latter, the Airlia introduced slight ethnic differences into the human gene pool—skin color, facial characteristics, and other overall minor aberrations. Warfare among the various human segments was to be encouraged. Population was to be allowed to grow up to certain levels, at which time the herd would be culled via disease and warfare.

Right now, this outpost was at Level One—the human population had been thinly spread over the arable land and was growing in numbers. Strong control was maintained at the Airlia headquarters on Atlantis, but outside of there, little influence was being exerted.

Level Two was estimated to be implemented sometime in the next several hundred years upon authorization from the Airlia Empire.

When she was done, Donnchadh had difficulty breaking her contact with the Master Guardian. She tried to pull her hand back, but the field kept her in place. She was able to shift her eyes enough to catch Gwalcmai’s attention. With one hard tug, he pulled her away from the alien computer.

“Finished?”

Donnchadh could only nod. They quickly retraced their steps, heading down the winding ramp. Donnchadh half expected an alarm to be raised, fearful that somehow the Master Guardian had alerted the Airlia, but nothing happened. They made it out of the temple and back to Jobb’s small house.

“And what now?” Jobb asked as soon as they were inside.

“Now we wait,” Donnchadh said.

“How long?” Jobb asked.

Donnchadh exchanged a knowing glance with Gwalcmai. They knew how long it had taken them to journey tothis planet on board the mothership. They both knew it would probably be many, many years before the Airlia reacted to the lack of contact from Earth. More than Jobb’s lifetime, that was certain.

“I don’t know how long,” Donnchadh said.

“You are going back to wherever it is you came from?” Jobb sat down on his bed.

“Yes,” Donnchadh said.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Watch. Write down what you learn. We will come back here someday.”

Jobb stared at the two of them. “I will not see the end of the Airlia, will I?”

Donnchadh sighed. “No. You won’t. It will be a long time.”

“But I have helped?”

“Greatly,” Donnchadh acknowledged.

“Then I am done,” Jobb said. He gestured toward Gwalcmai. “Finish me.”

Gwalcmai shook his head. “It is not our way.”

“I can’t live like this anymore,” Jobb said. Without another word he drew the ceremonial dagger from the belt around his robe and slashed the blade along his forearm from wrist to elbow. Such was his determination that he was then able to switch the dagger to the hand with the cut arm and do the same to his other arm. Donnchadh belatedly tried to stem the bleeding, but Gwalcmai put an arm out, stopping her.

“It’s his choice.” Gwalcmai pushed her toward the door as Jobb slumped down on his cot, blood soaking the blankets and dripping onto the floor, his eyes closed. “There are worse things than death,” Gwalcmai said.

THE
PAST
, 10,000 B.C.

Darkness. Donnchadh woke to absolute darkness. She lifted her right arm and found that the movement was restricted by bands wrapped around it. She managed to get it in front of her face, the back of it lightly striking against something above her, and saw nothing. She pushed upward with both hands and realized she was in a tight, enclosed space.

Her heart rate accelerated along with her breathing. She reached out to the sides and hit cold metal. She blinked in the darkness, not even sure her eyelids were working, as she perceived no difference with them open or shut. Her mind wasn’t working right. She tried to recall where she was, when she had lain down to sleep, but couldn’t.