Anaz-Voohri (5 page)

 
“Watch your tongue, shaman! Such language could cost your life.”

The shaman rose to hover at Kavak’s level and stared into her eyes, an open challenge and an insult. His glare hardened, and he spoke stiff-jawed. “The ancestors can see your black heart, Exalted Leader. You are a traitor to your own race. We were human once, these people are our people.”

 
“Nonsense!"
Kavak couldn’t tolerate such an affront, even from a religious leader, especially in front of the medical staff. The shaman had gone too far.

Crossing his fingers in a curse, the shaman rose even higher than Kavak. “May the gods curse your military campaign and ridicule your reputation!" He uncrossed his fingers and gloated.

The phase weapon hidden under the flap of Kavak’s gown flew to her hand. Without hesitation, she fired.

Under the lethal beam, the shaman writhed and dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap. A surprised expression froze his face, even in death.

A collective gasp told Kavak the medical staff had witnessed the confrontation. Good. She returned the weapon to its hidden pocket. “May his stupid sacrifice serve as an example to you
all.
No one questions my authority with impunity, not even a shaman. Now get back to work. We don’t have the luxury of time.”

The soft sound of a mournful flute filtered into the surgical dome and grew in intensity. Furious, Kavak turned toward the shaman. How could he still be alive? But the sight she beheld sent static up her brain circuits. It couldn’t be!

Although the shaman’s body lay crumpled on the floor, his likeness rose and hovered, playing the infernal flute as if to goad Kavak. The shaman’s ethereal body approached the table of the dead girl. As he touched the sheet, the child’s form floated out of her body, complete with hair and earthly clothes.

Kavak looked for any sign of trickery but saw none. Could this really happen? Was she hallucinating? No. The medical staff, too, stared at the two apparitions in awe.

The little girl smiled at the shaman. As he offered his hand, the child took it. The sound of the flute still permeated the air although the shaman’s spirit didn’t play anymore. Slowly, the two figures ascended to the top of the dome then disappeared through the ceiling.

The sound of the flute stopped, leaving an uneasy silence in the surgical dome.

 
“Cool!" said an enthusiastic voice, that of a human child.

Kavak turned about to face the source of the sound and saw one of the girls, Ashley, sitting up on her operating table. Fully conscious, she showed no fear, only wonderment at what she’d just witnessed.

 
“Why isn’t this child sedated?" Kavak seethed with barely restrained rage.

 
“She received the same dosage as the others,” the chief surgeon protested. “She must be more resilient.”

 
“I hope that’s good news. Take care of it.”

An attendant touched a few petroglyphs on the console at the head of the girl’s bed. Ashley’s eyes closed as she relaxed back onto the table.

Kavak turned to the chief surgeon. “Make sure this doesn’t happen again. We don’t want them to have any memories of their sojourn here.”

 
“Of course, Exalted Leader.
There will be none.”

 
“One more thing."
Kavak paused and the surgeons and attendants stopped to stare at her. “Not a word of what happened here must get out of this room, understood?”

As the medical staff remained silent, Kavak glared at them one by one in a threatening manner. To leave no doubt as to what would happen if anyone blabbered, she added, “Whoever says one word about this won’t live long enough to regret it.”

 
“You can count on our silence, Exalted Leader,” the chief surgeon sniveled.

Kavak certainly hoped so and left the surgical dome without a backward glance. She dreaded the implications of this incident. If this were known, the concept of humans having souls could have momentous repercussions on how the Anaz-voohri people viewed her strategy. The leaders of the religious cast would use it as a pretext to reinforce their position and maybe even attempt a coup against Kavak. In these troubled days, Kavak couldn’t afford a mutiny.

On the way back to her quarters, she tried to comprehend the deeper ramifications of what she had witnessed, but she didn’t have the luxury of pondering spiritual values. Kavak had a job to do, and whether or not humans had a soul, whether anyone had a soul at all, didn’t matter in the end. For the survival of her race, Earth had to be purged. That’s all she needed to know.

Chapter Four

Berkeley
Campus – spring 2005

Trying to empty his mind of the never-ending search for his sister, Zack straightened his Karate uniform as he entered the Berkeley Martial Arts Dojo. In the vast empty room, amber rays of sunset blazed on the light parquet through the cathedral windows. Several rows of chairs lined the central square. Zack had come early on purpose, to find peace and quiet before the big event. Tonight, in front of an audience, he would take his black belt test.

His bare feet made no sound to break the serenity of the place. He bowed to the front wall where heavy branches of silk cherry blossoms framed a vertical banner. In fluid calligraphy, the Japanese ideogram on the fabric spelled
Kokoro
, which meant heart, but also courage.

Too anxious to sit and meditate as he sometimes did before class, Zack struck the first pose of the first kata and focused on the ritual movements meant to imitate a succession of attacks and counterattacks. He controlled his breathing, aiming for perfect form, infusing strength into his arms and legs, maintaining balance, in absolute control of his mind and body. Only the sound of his breath and the purchase of his toes on the hard floor intruded on the silence.

As he checked his posture in the wall mirrors, Zack hardly recognized his reflection. Who was this warrior he had become? Fierce, determined, dangerous. Something in his aqua-blue eyes had taken a hard edge. In almost two years, Zack had gone from a normal teenager to an investigator, driven to solve the mystery of his sister’s abduction. In the process, he’d lost much of his former innocence and realized that despite his many supporters on the web, he was alone in his fight, like a warrior of old, facing new challenges each day. Zack knew he could rely on no one but himself.

Martial arts didn’t belong in his curriculum, but his sister’s abduction had changed Zack’s outlook on life. He realized how ethereal freedom, life, even health could be. He didn’t take anything for granted anymore. Zack had sworn he’d fight to keep and protect what he held dear. And for that he must become stronger mentally, physically and psychically. Somehow he knew the day would come when he would face the monster who took away his baby sister. When that time came, he wanted to be ready.

The familiar tug of his sister’s call in his mind broke his concentration. Zack stopped in mid movement. “Ashley?”

I’m scared, Zack. They know I’ve been talking to you since I’ve been here. They want to fix me. Please, Zack, come get me! I want to go home.

The tenuous connection severed before he could respond. Zack’s heart beat wildly. What could he do? How could he help? He imagined how the nine year-old would look now and blinked back tears of frustration. He let out a low growl. For the past two years, he’d communicated at length with Ashley every day. This contact was cut short? Why? She’d never sounded so scared. The thought that irreversible physical harm could come to her at the hands of these degenerate beings was too much to bear.

Heading back toward the shower rooms as students and spectators started to trickle into the dojo, Zack returned to his locker. Out of his pack he took a black spiral notebook and a pen, checked the wall clock then dated the entry with the precise time. His pen shook as he scribbled the short message Ashley had given him, as accurately as he could remember it. Although he doubted this one would help find her, it was the most desperate. Besides, if the aliens knew of their extended regular mind contacts, this might very well be the last.

Zack was writing a book about the abduction. All the details he’d learned from his daily psychic contacts with Ashley mattered. Over the years, he’d spent many hours linked to his sister’s mind, observing, studying the Anaz-voohri. He knew much about her captors, probably too much. If they suspected how much he knew, would they come after him, too? Zack secretly hoped they would show up soon. They were his only link to Ashley.

Zack’s best friend, Lobo, rushed into the locker room, out of breath, his long black hair falling like a curtain on each side of his coppery face. “Dude, the website crashed again!" Lobo dropped his pack on the wooden bench and braced his foot to remove his Nikes.

“You sure?"
Zack couldn’t believe it would happen again so soon. “It’s nine times in six months!”

“I know. But this time, it’s really cool." Stripped to his boxers, Lobo waved his fingers in a descending movement, like a hula girl imitating the rain. “Green and black rain runs all over the screen, like it’s dissolving the data. It’s awesome!"

”Crap."
Zack refrained from using the F-word. Not because of the dojo rule. He didn’t believe in rules anymore. But he’d learned in Martial Arts that using vile language demonstrated lack of self-control.
“The Feds again?”

“Looks like it." Lobo pulled his white uniform out of his locker and slipped on the pants. “We have all the firewalls money can't even buy, and this kind of virus is not your garden variety. It’s not just a prank, it’s amazing." Lobo grabbed his white jacket.
“Has to be the Feds.”

“Good thing we back up all our files." Zack remembered the first time it happened. It had taken two weeks to repair the damage.

“No shit." Lobo tied the brown belt around his slim hips. “Just when we almost reached a million hits, too. The counter will go back to zero again.
Bummer."
He gathered his slick hair into a pony tail with a rubber band and winked. “Good luck on your black belt test, dude. First time I see someone try it after only two years. The master sure likes you a lot."

“It’s just that I train hard." Zack thought of skipping the test to go repair his website. What did he care about a black belt?

But this represented the perfect opportunity for Zack to test himself under pressure. Could he control his nerves and empty his mind to perform flawlessly, knowing his sister was in distress, the website crashed, and the Feds were after him again?

“I’ll rush home right after the test, care to join me?" Zack chuckled. “We could be up all night debugging this thing, eating Chinese takeout.”

“Sweet."
Lobo smiled then sighed. “We really sound like geeks.”

“Dude, we are geeks, the masters of virus attack recovery." Zack laughed nervously. “We don’t have girlfriends, and we have a website about alien abductions. How geeky is that?" Zack regretted the no girlfriend part, but although he had opportunities, his all consuming mission didn’t allow for leisure time.

“What about your anthropology paper?" Planting his legs apart, Lobo crossed his arms on his chest like a chief of his tribe passing judgment. “Isn’t it due tomorrow?”

Zack thought about that.
“First things first.
Not everything is about nice initials after your name.”

Lobo shrugged. “You’re such an amazing student the teacher might give you the grade anyway." Throwing his arms up in the air, he turned away. “Whatever, dude, it’s your life.”

Zack forced a smile.
“Right."
There didn’t seem to be a career out there for him, except finding his sister. He slapped Lobo’s back. “Let’s go kick some butt."

The two friends entered the dojo and mixed with the other students in the center of the room. The chairs had filled up and it became difficult to ignore the audience. The master’s assistant walked to the front and began to conduct stretching exercises while the dojo master conferred with two other eminent Japanese teachers invited to judge the test. After the warm up, the old masters took their seats in the first row alongside the delineated area.

The rest of the session passed in a blur. While waiting his turn, Zack emptied his mind of any thought. When the time came, he focused on the movements, the target, the action rather than the man.

As if he watched his own performance from outside his body, Zack marveled at the strength manifested even before the plank snapped around his extended foot, before the bricks crumbled under the blade of his hand. Each time, the appropriate yell liberated his energy at the crucial moment, directing his will against the target. Amazing what the power of the mind could do on solid matter, how will and intention could intensify the force of a blow.

At the end of the session, the judges deliberated,
then
the old teacher called the names of the three students who passed the test out of five. Zack was among them. He’d succeeded at his own test of concentration. The rank meant nothing to him, but it mattered to his teacher. When the old master called Zack’s name to receive his black belt and certificate, Zack saw the pride in the old man’s eyes. So, out of respect and gratitude for the knowledge imparted, Zack accepted his reward graciously.