True Believers (8 page)

The conference hall bristled with angry words and bitter accusations when Jacob Denman slipped in like a shadow. The compound had never been compromised before. Denman felt certain their secrets were safe and Paul Domino was as good as dead—at least he would be after Denman was through with him.

Denman put Colonel Chavez on the hunt. No one escaped the little Mexican for long. He was sharper than a barracuda and infinitely more relentless. For the time being that would have to appease General Sorinsen. Until Bubba passed his diagnostics, they had to deal with matters on their own.

Domino hadn't just tapped into a computer hard drive; he'd stumbled into next-generation technology. His fingerprints were all over the artificial intelligence of Big Bubba. It recorded all his keystrokes and every site he visited. The AI imprinted this information and shared it with FAIA, its baby sister. What Denman didn't understand was why Bubba had let Domino in.

It was one more nail in Bubba's coffin. FAIA would take over soon. And that little AI didn't trust anyone.

The general population only knew FAIA as the com-web. They didn't know her real name or what it stood for. Focused Access Intra-viral Arsenal. Com-web was built with tax dollars as the ultimate communications device. But that was only for show. Further tests proved she could do so much more.

That's when she became classified. Her web didn't only connect people worldwide. It manipulated the magnetosphere, theoretically creating an electromagnetic shield. Theoretically. The simulations had been successful, but the live tests had yet to reach the desired results.

Domino's misdeeds forced them to scrub the next trial. Until they knew Bubba was secure, they'd have to keep the AI siblings separated. FAIA was too important to risk infection.

When Paul Domino escaped, he had scrambled their codes enough to force a complete reboot. It would take hours to get back online and days to retrieve garbled information. General Sorinsen mother-fucked every man present. Lambda Core had been compromised. Someone was going to pay with his career.

“How the hell does an outsider reconfigure the most sophisticated computer system in the world? Where were the firewalls? Where were the goddamned safeties?”

Nearly a dozen uniforms answered at once, all of them sounding like whining cats. Denman scowled at them in disgust. The fools buried themselves with their excuses.

“He scrambled the codes, sir, but he didn't take anything,” one ruddy-faced colonel explained.

“How do you know?” Sorinsen thundered back. “We didn't even know he hacked in until a few minutes ago.”

“The securities held, sir,” another colonel added. “He could view the files but nothing was downloaded, nothing printed. There's no history of it.”

Denman didn't want to mention that any man who could hack into a super-secret computer system would have no problem tampering with the histories—or at least try. Domino would have gotten clean away if Bubba hadn't kept a duplicate history to share with FAIA. A redundancy protocol in case of a computer meltdown.

Denman strolled around the room while a dozen voices fought for Sorinsen's attention. Jack Chavez, the lowest-ranking officer present, sat silently in the background. Denman nodded to him, assuring him that Sorinsen's rage would pass. The old man had to bluster after what happened. Half the men in the room would likely be transferred—or worse—before the week was out.

“Chavez!” Sorinsen barked. “You're head of compound security. How the hell did this happen?”

Denman drifted past Sorinsen at that very moment and whispered into his ear. “Eakins handles computer security, doesn't he?”

Sorinsen's eyes flashed at Eakins. Denman pressed closer to Sorinsen's ear. “Don't worry about Domino. He won't survive the desert. But computer security has been tainted through sheer negligence.”

The general grumbled at Denman below earshot of the other officers. “Domino wouldn't have gotten to a terminal if you had eliminated him when I ordered you to.”

Denman emptied his face of any expression and spoke with quiet confidence. “He was still useful, sir.”

“Well, he's not useful now, is he?” Sorinsen stared at the sweating faces of his staff. He pummeled his fist on the table, shaking coffee cups and men alike. “Get out! All of you. Find Domino. And fix my goddamn computer, or I swear I'll bust every single one of you to sergeant.”

The men scrambled out, a few trying to get through the door at once. Denman lingered at Sorinsen's side, signaling to Chavez to wait for him outside. Right now he needed to talk to the old man.

Sorinsen gagged on a cough, wiping his mouth with a checked handkerchief that he kept stuffed in a breast pocket. He pulled a bottle of pills out of his desk drawer and shook out two tablets, popping them to the back of his tongue. Denman poured him some water.

“I should have listened to my own counsel, Jacob. You've been pencil-pushing too long. I knew Domino was a threat.”

“But until now, we didn't know what kind of threat.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” He wiped his mouth again and folded the thin square of cloth into quarters. “He could've sabotaged our entire operation.”

“But he didn't.” Denman pulled a chair closer to Sorinsen and sat down. “I think he was trying to get to the girl. For whatever reason he didn't make it. That leads me to believe that he'll attempt a rescue.”

Sorinsen scoffed. “To what end? He still can't get out. Can he?”

“I've got maintenance engineers going over the compound's blueprints. If there's a way out, we'll get there before he does.”

“And the girl?”

“Jessit wants her. It would be in our best interest to give her to him.”

“I don't like it. Surely, we can find him someone else. Someone who works for us. Someone we can control.”

“That would be preferable, but Jessit was adamant. He asked that she be gifted to him in payment for his
inconvenience.
That's a common request on their world. To refuse it would be seen as impolite.”

Denman waited while the old man wadded his handkerchief and mopped the sweat off his forehead. Yelling with only one lung must have been hard work. He poured a fresh glass of water for Sorinsen.

“And what if she misbehaves? I don't need an inter-planetary incident on my hands.” Sorinsen wheezed, his chest rattling like a paper bag.

“I'll see that she understands her obligations, sir. We can't afford to alienate our guests now. We're too close to the prize. We've learned to spot the radiation signature even before the Alturians can. If we do have unwelcome guests on Earth, we'll find them first.”

“Not just find them, Jacob. Eliminate them,” he rasped. “The president wants them all gone. Now that we know we're not alone in this universe we need to protect ourselves, before we end up under somebody's boot heel.”

“All we have to do is keep the Alturians distracted, and for that Dr. Cruz will play into our hands nicely. As for our phantom aliens…” He handed Sorinsen two small devices that fit in the palm of his hand. “We've identified the radiation signature with pinpoint accuracy. Whatever they are, they appear as electromagnetic energy with a very specific wavelength. These little toys will keep them under our control.”

Sorinsen picked up one of the devices. It looked like a pedometer, but with four needle-like prongs on its back side. “What is it?”

“You wanted us to build you a god-killer. That's it. If we find these people, all we have to do is impale them with this thing along any set of cluster nerves. It's a loop conductor that can fry them alive the moment they try to use their energy.”

“You're assuming they're flesh and blood.”

Denman leaned into the old man and whispered conspiratorially. “I've shadowed the Alturians from day one. Their historical texts state that these
gods
walked among them in physical bodies. I'm certain they're just like us, only they've found some stealth technology that keeps them invisible. All we have to do is pinpoint their whereabouts.”

Sorinsen looked pleased.

Despite what the Alturians believed, these gods were mortal, and if they had physical bodies, they could be caught and killed.

The old general picked up the other machine. “What does this do?”

“Your remote, sir. Press the green button, and it will order Bubba to activate the planted device with a surge of electricity.”

General Sorinsen grunted like an old bear. “If we can even trust Bubba anymore.”

Denman smiled slyly and pointed to the other button. “That's what the red button is for. That activates FAIA and the entire grid. She can funnel the energy from the magnetosphere to any point on Earth. Bubba can only torture the wearer with an electrical charge.” He picked up the little device and rolled it between his fingers. “But FAIA can kill with nearly unlimited power. All she needs is a target.”

“And all we've picked up so far are echoes. We're no closer to finding these pariahs than Jessit. We need a body to go with that radiation signature.”

“We're close, General. Very close. We located multiple signatures in the desert and they were on the move. Something was out there, following Jessit and the girl.”

The general nodded more to himself, slapping both hands on the conference table. “Put the girl in a dress and give her to Jessit with my compliments. Then find me these
gods.
We need to get to them before the Alturians do.”

***

Jack Chavez waited for Denman outside Sorinsen's office. When Denman stepped out of the conference room, they didn't acknowledge each other openly. Chavez simply fell into step with him, sidling up next to him like a prowling cat. His dark hooded eyes, veiled in perpetual shadow, didn't give away much.

Denman examined his manicure, never once glancing at Chavez. “What did you find out?”

“The girl is clean, sir. No criminal record, no inconsistencies.”

Denman's eyes narrowed into thin slits. “Why is it you don't sound convinced?”

Chavez grunted, scrunching his shoulders forward as if he were shaking off a coat. “I don't know. Maybe she's too clean. It's just a hunch I have.”

Denman scanned the corridor and motioned Chavez toward his office. He locked the door behind them after they entered. “Talk to me.”

Chavez pulled out a tattered little notebook. Denman sheltered a grin. His security chief preferred paper to electronics.

“She was adopted at three days old. Her
Jane Doe
mother gave birth in a small town hospital then literally disappeared into thin air. One minute she was nursing her baby, the next she was gone. Every single security camera in the hospital malfunctioned at once.” He showed him a photocopy of the
Sedona Express.
“It made the papers.”

“Who adopted her?”

“An archeologist and his wife. Raoul and Rubia Cruz,” he said, rolling his
R
s. “They're clean too.”

“You sound disappointed.”

Chavez shrugged. “A pretty girl like that…I expected to find a lot of boyfriends, maybe a little drug use. But it's like she's lived in a convent her whole life. No social life. No longtime friends. She doesn't even drink. I've got nothing suspicious.”

“Which is exactly why you are suspicious.” Denman sat down, feeling equally annoyed at Rachel's unremarkable life. “Who does she work for?”

“The University of Cairo is funding her expeditions. She's been working the Egyptian pyramids since graduate school, but when they found the cave drawings, they flew her here special.”

“The cave drawings. Jessit found them interesting too.” Denman's thoughts drifted.
Did that mean something?
Jessit had studied the symbols as if he could read them and ordered every inch of the petroglyph scanned and recorded.

“Get that inscription translated. I think it odd that an alien looking for gods and an archeologist from a foreign university are finding the same things worthy of note.” He rose smoothly even though it hurt. He couldn't afford to look weak. “Perhaps it's time I had a little chat with Dr. Cruz.” Denman wrinkled his brow at Chavez. “Contact me if you find anything unusual, no matter how minor.”

“Affirmative. I'm on it.”

Chavez fingered a tiny crucifix attached inconspicuously to his silver wristwatch. Catholic, Denman noted. A very special kind of Catholic. His barracuda was on a witch hunt.

Jessit winced when El'asai, the
Malyan's
staff physician, flushed his wounds with a light acidic spray. This was the easy part. They'd put him in the hole next. Never mind that it was a clear glass tube, it always felt like a rat hole when El'asai released the slurry of ketzels. The black oily worms were champion at cleaning out necrotic flesh. He only wished they weren't quite so unpleasant.

The finger-sized parasites deposited a green slime of antiseptic in their wake, medicating open sores and delivering a powerful pain reliever directly into the blood system. Perhaps he was wrong to criticize Rachel's plant medicine. In retrospect, the ketzels were far more dreadful.

Rachel.
He should have insisted that she return with him, but it was too soon. He didn't yet understand what he'd seen in that cave, but he knew it was real. And somehow Rachel was connected to it.

Everything about her baffled him. Part of him felt as if he knew her intimately yet at the same time, she was a riddle with no answer. He would gladly volunteer to solve her mystery, and that in itself perplexed him. He had never felt that way about any woman.

She'd be safe with Denman for now. It would give him time to think, and time to lie to the Americans—and to his own staff.

His aide, Senit, walked into the med bay at that moment. It reminded him that he had lied even to his best friend.

Senit grimaced as El'asai transferred an oily black mass of ketzels to a long narrow cylinder. He packed them in tight and put the cylinder in a machine that moved them to the top of Jessit's enclosure.

“Stand perfectly still, sir.” El'asai instructed.

Jessit closed his eyes and heard the glass tube seal behind him. He placed his legs shoulder-width apart and shuddered when the first few dozen worms dribbled down his head and naked body. Their larval bodies clung to Jessit with suction-like hooves, compressing and releasing while they hungrily searched for the most damaged (and delectable) tissue. Jessit hoped there were no serious wounds near his genitals. He didn't like the slurping sounds they made as they sucked each wound clean.

Their nibbling was ticklish and otherwise harmless, but it was difficult to get past all those ravenous mouths feasting on his flesh. Soon even that preoccupation would fade away, eased by a wave of pain suppressors left by their saliva. Jessit sighed inaudibly, trying to keep his mouth closed while several worms gorged themselves on a wound on his cheek. His toes squished between a layer of ketzels still working their way up his body.

He wiped the parasites off his cheek wound before opening his mouth. “How long do I have to stay here, El'asai?”

“The ketzels are efficient, but slow, my lord. I could shorten the duration but you'd have to return for numerous visits.”

Jessit grunted his displeasure. “No. Let's get this over with.” He wiped an oily beast off an eyebrow. “Senit, do you have a report?”

“It can wait, sir.”

Jessit arched a stony brow and scowled, but the effect was short lived when a ketzel dropped on his lip and tried to squirm its way in. Jessit spat it out, brushing away any other worms near his face. “Report!”

Senit froze for a moment, nodding sheepishly. “Our linguists have translated the stone glyph. It was like the other one we found, praising the sons of Anu.” Senit folded his hands in contemplation. “It appears our scientists were right. Anu and his followers did come to Earth.”

“Do we have a confirmed age on the carving?”

“Yes, sir. It's quite recent. Analysts think it's no more than two-thousand Earth-years old.”

Jessit pushed his hands against the moist walls of his glass enclosure, his breath fogging the area in front of him. “Two thousand years? Is that all? There's a good chance Anu may still be here.”

“That's what Lord Kalya says. The priest thinks we should conduct a purification ceremony on Earth, since
Uash'l
has already begun. He is asking you to allow a select contingent of true believers to participate in the ceremony.”

Jessit smirked at him. “I guess that leaves you out, eh, Senit?”

Senit never broke his stride. “Heretics have their uses, my lord. You'll need me to get you home when you're all too drunk from the
menze
to walk upright. We wouldn't want the Terrans to see you in that condition.”

“The Terrans. They're far too accommodating for my comfort. They're as parasitic as these ketzels.”

“They've been most gracious with our requests to explore their canyons.” Senit spoke with rehearsed patience. They'd had this conversation before.

“And in return we've found a dozen tracking and listening devices on our clothes and equipment. I'm not impressed with their hospitality.”

“That's because you think like a soldier. I nursed on the teat of political maneuvering. What they're doing is harmless and ineffective. We've found all their toys. They have nothing.”

Jessit winced when several worms sucked greedily at a particularly deep wound. El'asai noticed right away and rushed to the glass wall. “Would you like to take a break, sir?”

Jessit shook his head. “No. Let the little bloodsuckers finish. I don't want to have to visit this place again.” He ground his teeth as more ketzels dug into the wound. He hoped they wouldn't make it a permanent residence. “Senit,” he said, his voice more strained than before. “Ask Terran Command if we can use the last cave we visited for a celebration of Uash'l. Tell them it's a private ceremony. And take Kalya with you. They might take the request more seriously if we send a high priest.”

“Understood.” Senit recorded an audio-mem to himself with Jessit's instructions, then turned off the recording equipment before speaking again. “A word in private, sir?” Senit turned to El'asai and tilted his head toward an exit, a silent order for him to retreat.

El'asai hesitated at first, glancing down at Jessit's stats once more. “I have to get some fresh ketzels. Excuse me for a moment.”

When the door closed behind him, Senit drew nearer to Jessit's glass cage. “We picked up new intelligence on the communication hubs dotting this continent.”

“Is it online yet?” It remained Jessit's most pressing concern.

“It appears so, but our analysts don't think the Terrans have worked out all the defects. They keep powering it down. Either they can't maintain the grid, or they're still experimenting. Either way, Tactical thinks we should proceed with extreme prejudice.”

Jessit hardened his gaze. “Do we know if it's a weapon?”

“We're not sure. It seems to have defensive capabilities. Scans indicate that it can warp the planet's magnetosphere. If that's true, it may prove a significant obstacle to us. Under a deep enough shield, neither our sensors nor our energy weapons would be able to penetrate the planet's surface.”

Jessit grew quiet while he gauged the larger ramifications. His open orders were to find the gods, but the Emperor had charged him with secret orders, as well.

Humans had not yet developed faster than light technology, but they were getting close. Such a society could be dangerous and volatile, yet priceless as an emerging economy for the Planetary Union. The Emperor wanted Earth in his pocket. And if that wasn't possible, it would be up to Jessit to take the planet by force. An armada stood by less than fifteen light-years away.

War. That was the only reason he'd been chosen to lead this delegation. On his authority alone he could plunge an entire planet into battle. Three years ago when they'd approached the American government, Earth looked ripe for the plucking. Without a single world government, the Alturians could pick and choose whom to befriend on the planet. But this global web had changed that. Even if the planet was not united under one leader, they were connected. That was an inconvenience. And a planetary shield could prove a serious threat.

“If they can warp the magnetosphere it could put a large portion of the population at risk for stellar radiation.” Jessit's foggy enclosure made everything look like ghosts in a haze. Perhaps
he
was the ghost. He felt like one, apart from even his own kind.

Senit steepled his fingers, his face blank of expression. “What better way to reduce an unwanted or unwilling population?”

Jessit flicked off a worm sucking its way down to his crotch. “Have we found the central computer for the array?”

“Not yet. But our analysts are pretty sure it's in the United States. We've targeted several possible locations supported by heavy security.”

Jessit folded his arms and stared into space. “If I were a secret installation with the ability to kill billions, I think I'd be in a very nondescript location, somewhere without a lot of obvious security.”

“It could be anywhere then.”

Jessit glanced down at the bundle of his shredded clothes lying on the floor. “Or it could be right in front of us. Get the permission we need to hold our ceremony, and tell Intelligence to stop looking at the high-profile compounds. Look for the ones that aren't supposed to exist. Like Lambda Core.”

He was brushing off the worms as fast as he could when El'asai tiptoed back in. “If you'll stand still, sir, I can flush them away with an alkali shower.”

Jessit heard a warning bell go off in his tube and scrunched his eyelids closed. Within moments, a heady rush of water gushed from several showerheads and washed him clean of the slimy parasites, their little bodies flushed away to waiting drains.

Jessit breathed a sigh of relief, letting the warm water splash against his body. The Terrans had upped the ante whether they realized it or not. He had to secure the planet before the grid became fully operational. They had to find the com-web's core. And he had to get Rachel off the planet surface. They'd not yet responded to his request that she be gifted to him.

He stepped out of the glass enclosure and toweled himself dry. Healed or not, he was going to make sure the Terrans granted his petition.

Rachel was coming back with him, one way or another.