“Outnumbered, they were either destroyed or escaped underground, to live in the web of caverns that stretches around the planet. There, they found that they were not alone.”
“We, the freaks, had sought safety in the caves long before that. Our… peculiarities… meant, and still do mean, that we are safer away from the gaze of humanity. On those occasions when we have been seen by the surface dwellers, we have provided the basis for their myths, legends, and horror stories. Contact with humans usually doesn’t go well for us, so we have made a habit of keeping to ourselves. For the same reason, the Nefilim that have been living with us, for many thousands of years now, have adopted our liking for privacy. They have become part of us. They have become mutants as well, if you like.”
Obirin took over.
“Among the Nefilim scientists and others who came here secretly when the photon belt was discovered – and among the population on Marduk itself – there have been those who sympathize with the inhabitants of the underworld, both Nefilim and mutant. I am one of those.”
“We see no real benefit for anyone, Nefilim or otherwise, in reviving the old order. We abhor the old barbarisms. We should be striving to evolve beyond our history, not attempting to restore it. The old Nefilim empire was merciless in maintaining its control over its subjects, and there was much suffering and cruelty. Even among our own, the suppression of dissent was ruthless.
“It was a good thing that their influence declined, and their empire retreated to this, their home star system. It was a better thing when the human rebellion ended their control of Earth. But as a race, we have never liked the idea of losing what we hold to be our own. The Nefilim state seeks to re-establish its old empire, and it intends to start with Earth.
“They plan to take advantage of the confusion wrought by the photon belt. As the planets pass through it, anything that requires an electric current to operate will cease functioning. Motors, computers, everything with a circuit, will all fall silent. And there will no doubt be other, unexpected effects. The consequences for human civilization will be devastating, of course. And permanent.”
“I’ve seen technology and how it works for some of the races we’ve encountered in our travels,” said Sahrin. “I can imagine how things could fall apart if that happened.”
“They will,” said the one with no head, who was now standing waist-deep in the water.
“But won’t the Nefilim technology be affected in the same way?” asked Sahrin. “If it happens to the humans, why won’t it happen to the Nefilim?”
“That is central to the Nefilim plan,” Obirin answered. “Nefilim technology does not rely on electromagnetism as humanity understands it. We use an energy grid that can be created on any planet. Each one has its own character, but by setting it up and finding its nodes of power and manipulating them, it can be controlled, and used for our own ends. The first task of the awakened Nefilim that you saw in the caves was to reactivate that grid. It won’t work perfectly to start with, as so many years have passed, and the geometry will have changed, but they will work quickly to overcome the problems, and it will be functioning soon. We are assuming that they will want to put the grid online either during the three days of the photon belt phenomenon, or immediately afterwards.”
“When they do, with the human energy systems inoperative because of the belt, they plan to exert total control over the human population. And, eventually, the underworld areas as well.”
“And you obviously want to stop them,” Sahrin said. “How you plan to do that?”
Obirin and the headless one both started to answer her, but they stopped as the ostrich woman suddenly stirred, flapping her wings in agitation.
“The crystals will be arriving soon. They want us to return,” she said.
“We’d better get back then,” said the headless one, and they set off along the beach towards the meeting room.
“Now you’ll see what we plan to do,” Obirin said as they walked. “In short, we plan to disrupt their grid, and replace it with our own.”
They had just arrived back in the meeting room when a creature with the head of a rat and fur streaked with patches of scales came running in from the street. It was in a state of panic, speaking through desperate gasps. “…from the outside… flying… they’re killing everyone…” It gagged and collapsed face down on the floor. There was a gaping wound in its back. It shuddered once, then lay still.
The sound of engines became audible. Not loud – more like something metallic that whispered. It was a low whirring sound that grew out of nowhere. As the mutant with the chiseled skin came running though the door, holding the dwarf Nefilim woman under one arm and an old army pack under the other, the black profile of a helicopter appeared in the sky, visible through the doorway above the tops of the surrounding buildings.
Machine guns fired insistently. There were lasers as well, their ruby-colored rays sweeping the ground like stilts below circus performers. The firing was indiscriminate. Pieces flew off buildings as they were torn apart by bullets or sliced open by lasers.
A red helicopter paused in front of the building and a laser beam sliced down through the wall and the ceiling, setting it on fire. It passed in front of Sahrin, cutting the mutant with four arms and no eyes in half. Sahrin stumbled backwards into the arms of the creature with a hole in its torso. It took hold of her arm. “Come! We have to get away!”
There was pandemonium everywhere. More mutants came screaming through the door, chased by a hail of machine gun bullets. One of them died in the doorway, its head split open like a melon.
“To the water…!”
“Along the beach…!”
“The basement…!”
There were bodies everywhere. The dwarf Nefilim woman had been hit. She was trying to stand up, but her body was broken. A creature with skin covered with patterns that moved like oil on water lay dead below a collapsed beam, its body seared by laser burns.
Obirin took hold of Sahrin and pulled her out of the room, onto the slope that led down to the water. The survivors had gathered in the shelter of one side of the building. The helicopter at the front was moving down the street away from them. Something exploded into flames several houses away. There was screaming, and the sound of more firing.
The mutant with chiseled skin was with them. He opened the army pack that he was carrying and tipped its contents onto the ground. There were a dozen crystals, all different colors, each the size of a closed fist.
“We don’t have much time. You all know where you have to go. Take these…” He handed the crystals one by one to the mutants gathered around him. As each took a crystal they left, running in either direction along the backs of the buildings.
Smoke from burning buildings and flesh was everywhere.
“Come with me,” Obirin said to Sahrin as he took a crystal.
“I’ll go anywhere, as long as it’s away from here.”
“Down towards the water. We have to go north.” Obirin started off down the slope, towards the beach they had walked peacefully along just a few minutes ago.
They were just clear of the shelter of the buildings when a helicopter came screaming over the burning rooftops. It was on them even as they turned to see it. The helicopter’s machine gunner didn’t see them until it had almost passed over them. They saw him yell into his headset and swing his gun around as the helicopter turned.
‘
Back!’
thought Obirin.
They started running. They were almost at the top of the slope when the gunner found his mark and opened fire. Bullets struck the ground all around them, kicking up clouds of dirt. Obirin staggered and fell to the ground, liquid pouring from a wound in his side. The crystal he had been carrying fell out of his hand and landed at Sahrin’s feet. She picked it up and leaned over him.
The Nefilim was dying. “The crystal is your concern now,” he gasped, choking as more of the liquid flowed from his mouth.
‘One of the others will tell you what to do. Go…’
Sahrin hesitated, not sure what to do, until the helicopter came back into view and started firing again. She ran back through the building, and kept going, out into the street. She ran towards the center of the town, to the market square, not sure what she was doing. Every second building seemed to be on fire, and the smoke and the confusion made it hard for her to see where she was going.
She reached the square. Dead and wounded lay everywhere. The stalls were in ruins, but a few of the buildings had been spared, and were still intact.
Sahrin felt a hand on her shoulder. She whirled around. It was the mutant with the two dwarfs in its belly.
“Where’s Obirin?”
“Dead. He was hit.” Holding it out in a shaking hand, she showed the mutant the crystal.
“Oh. Then you’d better come with me.”
They passed the market stall that she had paused at on their way to the meeting. It had been demolished. The belt of grenades was lying on the ground amongst the debris. She picked it up and slung it over her shoulder.
Two helicopters appeared above them, firing indiscriminately. Sahrin looked up. The helicopters were only thirty feet above them, and descending. They were going to land.
There was so much to shoot at that Sahrin and the mutant hadn’t been noticed. They moved out of the way. The helicopters were still ten feet from the ground when Sahrin swore. In the one that was going to land further away from them, she saw Thead, sitting beside the pilot. He was leaning out of the window, firing a pistol and laughing.
Something about the image made perfect sense. “You piece of shit!” she yelled, not caring that Thead wouldn’t be able to hear her. She took one of the grenades from the belt and pulled the pin. She couldn’t reach the second helicopter, although she would have dearly loved to, but the first one was close enough.
Her aim made perfect by cold rage, the grenade sailed with unerring accuracy towards the helicopter. Some of the soldiers who were gathered near its side door preparing to disembark saw it coming. Their eyes, visible through the slits of their masks, opened wide as they watched the small gray object arcing towards them. The helicopter exploded in a ball of yellow and orange fire, sending pieces of metal, plastic, and flesh flying.
Sahrin let out a long scream and started to move forward, taking another grenade from the belt. She was going to get Thead.
The mutant grabbed her by the arm and spun her around. “Don’t waste yourself,” he said urgently, his face only inches from hers. Without waiting for her to reply, he pulled her away.
The second helicopter landed. Soldiers jumped out of it, and began spreading out across the square.
“Quickly! This way.”
“Where are we going?” Sahrin yelled above the sound of gunshots and screaming.
The mutant ran into a building. He led Sahrin to a door beneath a staircase and opened it. They descended rough stone steps into darkness. There was a heavy thud above them as the building was hit.
They reached the bottom of the steps and set out along a corridor that twisted and turned, then finally straightened out as it descended deeper underground. The mutant had taken a torch from his pack. The walls were dark and cold, and dripping with moisture.
“Are we under the water?” she asked, not sure whether she had spoken the question or merely thought it.
“Yes, we are beneath the water,” came the reply. “We can find safety on the shore. There is an opening onto the surface there.”
They walked in silence, the water from the ocean dripping from the rocks above them.
* * *
TOMMY, ONETHIAN, and Corporal Ortega, who was from Guatemala but would never go back there, had discovered that they shared a peculiar brand of ideology-free anarchism.
Bark, Reina or any of the others would have dismissed it as not giving a stuff, but to the three of them who had been holding their apolitical congress in the lounge bar of the Red Lion Hotel in Barker’s Mill, and who had eased its proceedings with liberal application of alcohol, such an uncharitable view of their manifesto was unproductive, unwarranted, and totally beside the point.
“The leaders are all stuffed mate,” Tommy was saying to Ortega. “If they gave a shit, they wouldn’t have let that gas or whatever it was knock over all your mates, would they? That General of yours sounds like a right asshole.”
“They most certainly would not have,” Onethian agreed, nodding in a deceptively sober fashion. He was shitfaced. “And you’re right, the General
is
a prick.”
Prick
and
General
were both new words for Onethian, and he was trying them out.
Onethian was intensely literal, Tommy and Ortega had found. He liked to state facts, and little else. He didn’t volunteer much, and they had yet to hear him ask a question. Some might have found him a little flat, but his new friends were having no problem with that side of his personality. Regardless of anything else, he liked beer, had learned how to play pool, and tended to agree with them. For someone who wasn’t from this planet, Onethian was a top bloke.
Ortega came from a part of the world where the practice of openly asking questions had been all but bred out of the population by decades of repressive regimes, death squads and UN peacekeepers. To him, there was nothing unusual about Onethian’s periods of silence interspersed with short, unadorned statements.
There was a question confronting them that they had not yet discussed; the matter of what they were going to do. They had spent the last few days doing nothing but drink, play pool, and eat fast food. Onethian and Ortega had been staying at Tommy’s house, where he had introduced Onethian to fried food, and both of them to the powerful combination of beer and satellite TV.
It was Ortega who raised the subject. Not so much on his own account, but more because of what he had heard the other two saying. Onethian, who had an obvious stake in what was going on because of his crew mates, seemed to know something, and Tommy, of course, had friends who were in the thick of it somewhere. If they were still alive.