Centurion's Rise (26 page)

Gallono calmly fastened
a rope tie to gather his tunic at the waist.  He much preferred the simple clothing of the commoners to the cumbersome toga he had to endure while in Rome.  Satisfied he was now ready to exit the Nexus chamber and begin his journey to Israel to assist Tonwen in his mission, Gallono activated a work station to make sure the exit doors were clear for his unseen departure.

Gallono knew it was a waste of time. 
In over two thousand years of stepping out of the Nexus chamber none of the crew had ever encountered anyone blocking their exit, but there were protocols to step through.  Hastelloy insisted both the vault door and the tunnel exit point be checked to ensure no one gained access to the Nexus chamber. 

He pulled up a camera view showing the vault door.  Predictably no one was there so he moved on
to view the tunnel exit point.  Gallono mentally checking the protocol list off and barely paid the display any mind when a sudden movement on the image of the treasure room drew his undivided attention.

  All but three bags of gold were gone, and two men wearing white skirts and carrying curved swords of the Egyptian army were working to remove the rest.
  Losing the gold was unimportant to Gallono, but the fact that Cleopatra’s soldiers were very close to discovering the Nexus chamber threw him into high alert.

Gallono immediately sprung into action.  He armed himself with a short knife, slung a short bow over his shoulder and attached a quiver with a dozen arrows to his waist.  He then opened the vault door just wide enough for him to slip through before the
stout barrier closed tight behind him.  He ran down the ramp and continued the hastened pace for thirty minutes until he found himself at the top of the exit ladder catching his breath before opening the lid to the treasure room.

He felt quite certain the thieves would no longer be in the chamber above since they only had three more bags to carry out.  While still panting, Gallono took a moment to debate the wisdom of opening the hidden door.  What did it matter if the gold was taken?  As long at the hidden door leading
to the Nexus chamber was not discovered everything was still fine.  Then he considered the nature of these humans.

The soldiers
just stumbled upon a lucrative enterprise.  They would be back periodically to make other withdrawals from the treasure room.  Frequent visitors to the village and specifically that chamber posed an unacceptable risk that needed to be neutralized.

With h
is mind made up, Gallono placed the blade of his knife in his mouth and depressed the release lever.  Without a sound the exit hatch opened into the barren treasure room.  Gallono bolted the rest of the way up the ladder and encountered his first adversary.

An Egyptian soldier on his way out the chamber door had Gallono’s blade drawn across his throat from behind without a sound.  He quietly eased the body to the ground and then closed the exit hatch behind him.

Gallono climbed his way up another ladder and found himself in a four foot by four foot outhouse with the seat bench removed to gain access to the treasure chamber below.  He cracked the door open just enough to bring the main courtyard of the village into view.

Three soldiers sat on
horseback in the center with a mountain of treasure around them and Chieftain Badari on his knees before them.  Off to the side a couple hundred villagers were held captive in a nearby cattle pen with a dozen guards standing watch with swords drawn.

Gallono observed there were no missile weapons present
on the soldiers which would be their undoing.  He drew three arrows from his quiver and jabbed two into the ground while notching the third.  He nudged the door open with his shoulder and let loose his arrow.  He notched and fired the other two and was at a full sprint toward the mounted soldiers when he saw two of them fall from their mounts with an arrow protruding from their throats.  The third slumped over with an arrow in his chest.

Taking full advantage of
the surprise element, Gallono leapt onto a recently vacated horse, notched another arrow and opened fire on the soldiers guarding the penned up villagers.  Four dropped with mortal wounds before the remaining eight recognized the danger and took cover.

D
ozens of brave males among the penned in villagers took the improved odds as their cue to take action.  Four soldiers were overtaken almost instantly by a mob of angry fists.  The remaining four began running away in random zigzag patterns to throw off Gallono’s expert aim.  Realizing the difficulty and growing distance, Gallono spurred his mount into a full gallop and ran the remaining soldiers down without difficulty.

With the battle won Gallono returned to the village center to find Chieftain Badari
dragging the lone soldier who remained alive with an arrow protruding from the right side of his chest to his feet. 

“There is no measure to the amount of pain you will endure over the coming days you grubby little viper.”
  To accentuate his threat Badari jammed the palm of his hand straight down on the protruding arrow shaft drawing an agonizing cry from the captive.

It was only then that Gallono realized how bloody and bruis
ed the chieftain was around his face and upper body.  The fact that the man could even stand was a testament to the rage he bore his captive.  Clearly the torture employed on Badari to reveal the treasure room was extreme and demanded retribution.

“
If you tell us what we want to know,” Gallono added from atop his horse, “then a mercifully quick death will be granted.”

Badari dropped his prisoner to the ground and squared off against Gallono as he came down from his mount.  “Who are you to dictate terms here?
  I am chieftain, my word is law.”

“My family owns your village and protects those within it,” Gallono answered and then shook Badari’s hand with only his index, middle and ring fingers extended.  With the validity of Gallono’s claim verified with the handshake Badari reluctantly stood aside to allow his master access to the prisoner.

“Who sent you,” Gallono began while raising the captive to his knees.  A sharp backhanded slap reminded the prisoner who was in charge and prompted an answer.

“The Queen.”

“Why?  Are you just looking for gold or something else?” Gallono prodded.

The soldier looked ready to be defiant, but having a knife blade brought within a few millimeters of his left eye loosened his tongue once more. “We have orders to look for anything out of the ordinary.”

“Like what?”

“Miraculous stories, hidden chambers, large blue orbs resting on top of a silver box.  Crazy things the Queen and Caesar insisted their god ordered them to find.  The gold was just an added bonus for us to take,” the soldier admitted.

“
Not in my house and not under my watch,” Gallono whispered softly and then slit the captive’s throat to deliver the quick death he promised and then turned to address Badari.  “Round up the bodies and stage them a few miles from here with a bag of gold among them.  Make it look like they turned on each other over the coin.  Just make sure the bag of gold is large enough to warrant a fight, but small enough not to encourage a follow-up visit.”

“What if
others do come back?” Badari asked.

Gallono cracked a sideways smile at the question.  He realized for the first time in decades he felt useful to their mission on this planet.  “I have sworn to protect this village and every
one within it, so I will remain here indefinitely until others in my family return.  Now, let’s have a look at those cuts and bruises on your face shall we.  I have something that will heal them right up.”

Mark felt his
mind floating in between consciousness and a weightless dream filled with muffled, unintelligible sounds.  The odd sensation was interrupted by the faint smell of ammonia in his nostrils.  The irritating scent soon infested his lungs and seemed to force every oxygen molecule from his chest.  His body reflexively gasped for breath which immediately snapped him fully awake.

Mark’s eyes focused on a balding older man with glasses crouching in front of him as he pulled away smelling salts from beneath Mark’s nose.  He tried in vain to blow the vile scent of cat urine from his nose but to no avail.  He then attempted to use his hands but found them bound to the chair he sat upon.  He next attempted to spring to his feet, but discovered his legs were also anchored to the chair.  In the final analysis, the only part of Mark’s body still mobile was his head.

Mark heard a commotion from behind him and careened his neck for a better look.  A metal cage stretched from one wall of the narrow room to the other and housed his partner Frank along with a man and woman he recognized from their file pictures as Professor Russell and his, surprisingly-lovely-in-a-tomboy-sort-of-way, research assistant Alex.

“He’s awake,” Mark heard and immediately brought his head back around to face his captor.  The old man stepped aside to reveal the individual he knew as NASA flight director Alfred Kranz leering at him with pride and satisfaction.  He stepped forward and snatched the lucky baseball cap off Mark’s head and placed it solemnly on his own and basked in the feel of victory for a moment before looking back down at his captive.

“I appreciate you coming all this way to return my most valued possession,” Dr. Kranz mocked.

Mark nodded his head in agreement and blew a chuckle through his still recovering nostril
s.  “Don’t mention it.  If that is all then my friends and I will be going.”

Alfred let loose a laugh that bordered between amusement and psychosis.  “You must have me confused with a fisherman.  Catch and release isn’t the game we’re playing here today.”

“You’ve got to love those fishermen though,” Mark insisted.  “They struggle to land a big fish and then turn around and release him.  That way they can capture the same fish again once he’s grown bigger, stronger, and wiser.  It ultimately leads to a more satisfying victory, don’t you think?”

“Wrong sport I’m afraid,” Alfred said while still chuckling.  “You need to think of me as a big game hunter.  I’ve trapped my ferocious bear, and you’re not going anywhere.  Besides, you’ve grown big enough, strong enough, and wise enough to warrant keeping I think.”

“Lucky me,” Mark sighed.  He looked past Alfred for a moment toward his companion.  “I presume you are the missing ESA director.  You’ve got a lot of people concerned for your well-being; you might want to give them a call.”

“In due time,” Dr Andre replied.

“Tell you what.  If all this is about keeping Secretary General Hass’ little side business selling antiquities on the black market going, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”

“Ah, that’s how you got him to cooperate,”
Dr. Kranz reasoned.  “You blackmailed him -  very nice.”

“Glad you approve,” Mark responded so dry it made the desert seem like a rice pa
ddy.  “When venturing into the unknown I like to be prepared for anything and everything.”

Alfred let loose another bout of laughter.  “At the moment you’re my captive, so how’s that mantra working out for you?”

Mark forced an angry stare into his eyes while his mind was completely content with the situation.  The moment he realized the chamber door couldn’t be forced open he knew his capture was the next logical step.  He was prepared for it, in fact, he counted on it.

He glanced around the room with his eyes and failed to locate any sharp, medieval instruments.  Nor did he detect electrodes hooked to his genitals; in fact, he was still fully clothed including the armored vest.  If anything, the circumstances of his captivity and pending interrogation were better than he could have hoped, this interrogation would rely on verbal techniques. 

Dr. Kranz would talk in circles and ask questions multiple times in order to pounce on any inconsistencies.  Combined with sleep deprivation, this method almost always got useful intelligence, even from the most aware and disciplined mind.  It was only a matter of time. 

The trouble is
, properly administering an interrogation is very tricky.  It is a delicate orchestration of environment, questioning, and sleep deprivation to wear the subject down until exhaustion broke his will to resist.  Mental fatigue worked both ways though, as did the flow of information.  If the interrogator didn’t know his business well enough he could easily wind up conferring more information to the subject than the handler got in return.  Mark respected Alfred’s abilities, but he had serious doubts the man was up to this.  Mark’s gamble on his capture and opportunity for reverse interrogation looked like it would pay out handsomely.

Dr. Kranz simply looked down at Mark in quiet contemplation.  The silence was meant to intimidate, but was poorly done.  Mark pounced on the silence as an opportunity to dictate the direction of conversation.  “What about my men?  You’ll get nothing but meaningless innuendo, half truths, and bald
-faced lies out of me until I know the condition of my men.”

“Well would you look at this,” Dr. Kranz asked of the silent chamber.  “The man who embodies the most ruthless tenets of Machiavelli suddenly cares about others.  Could this be, or is it simply an act of gamesmanship to assert control over the situation by forcing me to do your bidding; thereby establishing the subtle notion that I am subservient to you?” 

“Think on it however you like.  Until I know the fate of my men, you’ll get nothing even remotely truthful from me.”

“I’d expect to hear nothing but lies whether your conditions were met or not,” Dr. Kranz replied.  “But since you asked so politely . . .”

He gestured for Dr. Andre to spin around a nearby chair to reveal a flat screen monitor leaning against the backrest.  The image showed Mark’s men lying on the floor outside the vault door.  He immediately spotted their chests rising and lowering with shallow breaths to verify their vitality. 

The image was far less interesting than the display device itself.  It was paper thin, had no wires to a power source, and looked to be flexible as a rubber band.  The NSA had equipment the general public wouldn’t get a sniff at for twenty years, yet he’d never seen anything like it.  The technology built into that display screen was light years beyond anything he knew to exist.  The same could be said for the armored door, paralysis weapon, and seamless three mile long tunne
l leading to the chamber.  

“There is just enough oxygen allowed into
that room to keep your men alive,” Dr. Kranz instructed, “but little else.  They’ll come to with a nasty headache, but otherwise no worse for wear.  Anything else on your mind before we begin?  Another thinly veiled power play perhaps?”

Oh this was just too easy Mark thought.  This amateur was actually prompting his captive to lead the questioning.  “Now that you mention it, you can tell me how you and I are carrying on this post
-mortem conversation.  I watched Alfred Kranz die back at NASA headquarters and yet here we are carrying on like nothing happened.”

“Bah,” Dr. Kranz howled, and then walked over to his partner
who was holding out a flat palm.  He reached into his back right pants pocket to retrieve his wallet.  Without a word, he removed a twenty dollar bill and placed it in the older man’s expecting hand. 

“I was certain a half hour would pass before you got around to any questions of substance,” Dr. Kranz said on his way back.  “I hate losing, especially when it’s on account of you.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Mark responded flatly.

  Alfred’s amused smile flattened as well.  “You of all people on this planet should know what you’re dealing with here.”

“What makes me so special?” he asked.  Answer a question with a question, that’s how a reverse interrogation worked.  Give virtually nothing, and make them phrase the questions so it revealed something useful.

“Alien technology is how I am still among the living,” Alfred boomed.  “You believe me right? That’s what you wanted to hear, right?  We know your clandestine branch of the NSA is obsessed with the idea that aliens are on this planet intent on doing harm so you simply must believe me.” 

Mark pursed his lips and forced all the doubt he could summon into his furrowed brow in an effort to mask his true feelings on the matter.  “Alright Alfred, I’ll bite.  How did this magnificent alien technology of yours bring you back from the dead?”

The hardened lines of Alfred’s face visibly softened just before giving his reply.  He obviously liked where things were headed.  “Did you know, the moment a person dies, their body weight decreases by twenty one grams, or roughly one twentieth of a pound?”

“Actually I did,” Mark responded.  “Some superstitious fools attribute the weight loss to the person’s soul leaving their body.  Those possessing a rational brain know it’s the trace gas elements released from the lungs once the muscles relax in a cadaver.  What of it?”

Alfred perf
ormed a patronizing golf clap.  “Look at the big brain on you.  Your stock just went up a few points.  By your tenor I see you subscribe to the latter explanation, but would it surprise you to learn that the truth actually lies somewhere in the middle.  Scientists have captured and measured those trace gases.  It turns out they only account for sixteen of the twenty one grams.” 

Dr. Kranz opened his arms wide to the room.  “Since you seem to know so much, would
you care to enlighten us on what makes up the rest?”

Mark rotated his head to the side and
delivered a wide-eyed look of disbelief.  The absurdity of it made him burst out laughing to the point tears began rolling down his cheeks. 

“Are you really going there?” Mark finally managed.  “You’re really going to tell me you died, your five gram life force escaped and was put into the body I see before me now?  You need help, do you know that?  My brother’s a psychiatrist so I know the signs.  If you let us go, I’ll dial him straight away and get you on the road to recovery.  Deal?”

  Alfred casually pulled out his wallet once more, withdrew another twenty dollar bill and with a stern face placed it on Mark’s lap.  “No deal, but I’ll bet you do make that call to your brother the instant you leave this chamber.”

What did his brother have to do with anything Mark thought for a moment before refocusing his mental faculties to the current conversation, “So who are these aliens that gave you this magnificent technology.  What’s it called, the reanimator?”

“We call it the Nexus,” Alfred snapped, “And it effectively creates immortality for the users.”

“So who are these magnanimous beings who granted you immortality, and why did they do you such a big favor?” Mark mocked.

“The Nexus can restore a life force to any shape of body, even one that looks human,” Alfred answered and paused to allow the full implication of his response to sink in.  While doing so, he leveled an icy stare that sent shivers down Mark’s spine. “We arrived on this planet in ancient Egypt, and have aided in the development of mankind ever since.   Is this all starting to sound familiar to you yet?  Perhaps jogging memories about a patient your brother is treating as we speak?”

Mark’s stomach must have punctured a hole in the chair on its way out his rectum to the floor.  His worst fears about the situation were confirmed and the implications nearly caused him to vomit. He suddenly lurched forward with all his might against his restraints to choke the life out of his captor.  To no avail however, the bindings holding him in place were there to stay.

“Would you care to make that phone call?” Dr. Kranz whimsically asked as he snatched the twenty dollar bill off Mark’s lap, considering his wager well won.