Project Ouroboros (16 page)

— You have five minutes; your assistant will stay with us. — Security at the entrance stopped Gabriel, who looked much more organic in a suit than Aleph.

— Wait for me here — a young man with a deadpan went to a nearby table for prisoners under the watchful eye of security guards and cameras. There was meeting room was no one else.

Aleph went to three tortured prisoners of rather strange appearance, who looked at the blond dumbfounded, unable to believe that he was in front of them. They had never seen Aleph, did not know why he was there, but immediately realized that it was him they had been waiting for all this time, and should listen to him no matter what he said.

— So, — the young man sat down in front of them. — We only have five minutes,  five cameras are watching us, there are also two guards, and my assistant, he is a Lamashtu as well. And in those five minutes, I have to tell you how we will get you out of here.

All three nodded.

— I think you know that I am Aleph.

— Beth, — said the dark-haired guy. He had a scar on his cheek and under his shirt at the throat a lot of small cuts could be seen. Some of them were rather fresh. When he shook hands with Aleph, the young man saw that his hands were in small cuts and scratches too.

— So, you are the second. — Aleph nodded.

— Mary — said the middle-aged woman with a haggard face, dark hair streaked with gray, and jet-black eyes.

— Ratriks — the third Lamashtu said, a young, very thin blonde woman with strict facial features and bright green, almost yellow eyes, as she shook hands with Aleph.

— So... — The young man adjusted his bangs (he already had this stupid habit every five minutes to tuck his bangs behind his ears), — when I say three — follow me, slowly, and do not panic. Pretend that nothing is happening. Gabriel promised to set things right.

— Five minutes are almost out! — Shouted one of the guards from the end of the hall.

— So — Aleph shrugged. — One, two, three!

There were two quiet claps. There was no certainty that everything would go as it should, but the young man noticed that monitors of the cameras were turned off.

Aleph grinned to himself. Thank you, El'Athar.

Three Lamashtu followed him to the door, where they were waited for by Gabriel with a pass in his hands. Both guards were neatly stacked against the wall.

— We are no longer expected in New India — a Tibetan smiled broadly.

They went out with the help of the pass, left the building and got into Gabriel's car. He took everyone to the airport.

— You did not knock them senseless, huh? — Aleph's voice sounded upset, but it kindled hope.

— Was it necessary to knock them senseless? — You could say that Gabriel was surprised. — You said to get rid of them, I did.

The young man looked in the rear view window. They were already followed by several police cars.

— We have killed the guards, they have the right to shoot! — One of Lamashtu, Beth, panicked.

— Don't you believe me? — Aleph's voice was cold.

— We do — he lowered his head.

— So, everything will be just fine.

Gabriel was an excellent driver. He maneuvered easily around corners, almost without reducing the speed. Police was far behind.

— So, we're at the finish line, everybody get ready!

They ran from the car into the airport crowd. Passport control was symbolic, the data on the ticket and the passport wasn't always checked, but suspicious people were checked carefully enough.

Aleph and his team made their way through the turn on the flight. He only wished that El'Athar's friends didn't disappoint them then. They caught up with the police, trying to get to pass through the queue to the flight, but people kept coming and coming, not likely to move aside for the rushing into battle police.

— Aleph Getterbørgen! Nam Tso! — The officer let the boy and Lamashtu through the queue without checking any documents, or even tickets. — I will try to detain them!

The crowd roared with displeasure until the passport control officers tried as quickly as possible to check the tickets. Before take-off there was very little time left and there were a lot of willing to be on the plane.

— Move aside at once! — Shouted the policeman from the crowd — I'm from the police and criminals are on board of the aircraft!

No one moved.

A police officer pulled out a gun and fired into the air.

Someone screamed, some children cried, but overall the crowd fell silent. Passport control continued working. People passed just by their tickets.

— Do you have documents authorizing delay of the flight? — the officer asked the policeman, not letting him pass.

— Are you here, just all stupid?! — He just roared with anger.

— We have no right! — The girl administrator ran to protect her employee.

The policeman pushed the officer aside and ran to the plane, followed by his fellow policemen who were trying all this time to get closer through the crowd.

— Call security!

Aleph was sitting in his seat, counting the last minutes before take-off. All were already in place, the engine was turned on, when the young man saw a few policemen who were followed by security of the airport of Mumbai. They quarrelled and fought, but continued to run to the plane, waving their arms.

The plane picked up speed.

All was well. That time.

Thank you,  El'Athar.

The whole house was dark except for a small window in the basement which implied the fact that the building was not empty. In the last couple of days El'Athar practically lived there. Archives. He had read everything that was connected with "Enki", project "Merkhaba" and the Order of Ophites. But there were so many things ... There was even a folder marked "Mr Daath", only there was almost nothing in it. The only document said that Mr Daath financed the project Ouroboros.

Was this Mr Daath a human? — Absolutely not.

Who is he, what do you think? — I'm not sure. But I think it is a project.

What do you mean? — Mr Daath is a position, not a person. The head of "Elohim", whoever he may be. One is always replaced by the other, who can take this place. And so on without an end.

Maybe "Elohim" has always been, even before people have discovered space, built the first colony? — And perhaps much earlier.

And the others? Mr Geburah, Netsach, Keter, and all the rest? — At this point I do not understand anything. Perhaps they are also projects. But I've seen them.

And the voice, the voices were the same? — No, I think they were different. At least, none of them seemed familiar to me.

And what about faces? — I have not seen their faces. They were like ethereal.

So, maybe? ... Maybe they exist only in your head? In the minds of those who are aware of "Elohim"? — What about phone calls. Everyone have heard them.

Are you sure? — No...

It was interesting. So much that the leg hurt less, he was hungry again and wanted to work. And that was the main thing.

A knock on the door.

— Who's there? Aleph?..

Silence.

A long time ago...

Colony "Alexandria" was one of the poorest in the galaxy Alpha Centauri. It was built in a hurry, not very well placed — too far from the sun. Cold and dark. It was built one of the last, for those who did not have money for a better place.

Many died from tuberculosis, which returned alongside other diseases that mankind has long prevailed. Leprosy was a curse of sector D. All who were able to leave had already left, but in the last few years, they did not let anyone leave, even those with money and connections.

Alexandria... From its windows the view was so beautiful that one would inadvertently forget about all the troubles that occurred there: a black sky, dotted with billions of stars, the cold sun, colouring the clouds turquoise. The planet was grey and dead, and only a huge colony of black steel towered over it.

Special Forces NDF-234 were approaching Alexandria. Landing clearance was received. Fifty young men in black uniforms with guns in their hands. Within the system they were called supervisors, they should look that no one escaped. They did not hide their faces did not wear body armour because they knew — none of these unarmed men should live. Another fifty wore special suits of biological protection with flamethrowers in their hands. They were called the executioners as they did most of the dirty work. There were cleaners, a small detachment of fifteen men who carried out disinfection of premises. They sprayed a special substance on the premises, which burned all living things, and by the reaction with oxygen, was converted into steam and passed through ventilation.

Typically, these units cleaned the overcrowded prisons in the colonies, where prisoners rot alive from the diseases. To get in prison was easy enough just by disagreeing with the existing order, but rarely someone went out of it. Many who once got in jail for stealing apples, were back there again and again until they fell under the bullets of NDF units.

You had to have nerves of steel and be full of thugs to kill every day. But even for that special forces there was a special assignment then.

— Well, guys, prepare for landing! The guards, put on your masks if you do not want to get sick from tuberculosis, no one will treat you! — The commander of the special forces stood at the entrance. He differed from the rest by the red stripes on the uniform so that he could always be found in his crowd. — First, go! One by one!

Soon he heard the first shots.

— Ten people to each sector! — The commander gave orders one after another: — Look everywhere, dammit!

Military in black uniforms scattered across the sectors. Sometimes shouts were heard, but mostly only shots and crashing. They were looking for any hiding places where you could take cover or hide the children. They broke into the apartments and crushed all the cabinets and drawers.

— Is there anyone else in the hospital, Lit? — Shouted he to the other.

— No, I haven't found anyone! Has someone already? been to the orphanage unit?

— Jack is there, he has promised to walk through the cellars.

— Great! Then that's it here.

Someone laughed, someone lamented that he did not have time for breakfast, someone wandered in search of hiding places with the children, but no one thought, why they still did it.

Jack Getterbørgen knew the system of cellars in the colonies of that type perfectly. At home, in Jericho, he often hid here from all the world. Most often, Jack did not think about what he was doing there, but in moments of doubt a picture of joyless childhood appeared before his eyes, and these thoughts were dissolved, as if they never existed.

What are you doing here, Jack? — I am looking for homeless, who, like me, have lived here almost in the dark.

Are you looking for yourself? — No.

Do you feel sorry for yourself? — No.

You do feel sorry for yourself. — Like that I feel better.

Killing children? — Yes.

You're disgusting. — This is my revenge.

Jack looked around. This basement was much greater than in Jericho, and therefore, the search could take quite a lot of time, but the chances of finding someone grew. Young man's eyes saw fine in the gloom, and he could distinguish all the electrical wires inside the weave translucent plastic pipes. He also saw that there were rats. How they got in the colony — hardly anyone knew, it became immediately clear how the diseases appeared. Apparently, it was clear only to Jack, if people here did not do anything for decades. Maybe they just did not want to...

From a distance he heard a rustle, then the echoes of laughter. Hence, there was still someone there. Jack went forward with confidence, knowing that none of them would hide. Yet no one could.

Someone ran. He was the only one. Not to worry, this child would be the last caught, and you could come back.

Stamping of feet.

Clear voice, for a moment, seemed familiar.

There was a dead end, he was not going anywhere.

— Hey, where are you going? There's no way out! — Jack decided that it could stop the runaway for a moment.

He froze.

Jack approached. His hand trembled. A ten-year boy in shabby clothes, which was likely given by the shelter, which was already unsuitable for him stood in front of him. But the stern gaze of his bright eyes and tightly pursed lips spoke of the determination. And then Jack lowered his weapon, he paused and grimaced in horror. It was him ten years old! It was him, for sure!

Well, Jack, there you go. — I do not understand.

You do not even know who he is and why he is so much like you. — Is this a dream?

No. This is your reality. What will you do?

A shot rang out.

Jack lowered his weapon and walked upstairs to rest.

Probably, the thing was that all homeless were alike. And they looked like Jack as well. But now the young man was ready to swear that he saw an exact copy of himself. It was scary.

— Carefully go over the cellar, everything is swarming with rats. — Jack reported to the cleaners and climbed onto the balcony of the second floor, where he could clearly see all the open space at the bottom. It was convenient to shoot.

Soon the guards finished the preparatory part of the job. They stood as security, around the perimeter of the building and carefully watched so that no one escaped. When such attempts occurred, the fugitives were shot like rabbits in the hunt.

Jack put the vacuum headphones and stared into space. He did not want to see and hear everything that was happening in the residential sector. It got hot from flamethrowers. A little more and he would leave this place.

I think I've had enough...

Years later El'Athar knew that this was an experimental colony, and they were not ill with tuberculosis. Actually, like Jericho. If he had not had time to escape, the same fate was waiting for him. Being killed or slow death.

He did not know from how his parents died.

El'Athar was not interested in justice. He was interested in truth. And now, it was the time for it to come. Soon it would be over...