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[Return to Table of Contents | Ancient Arrow Contents | Chapter Five]
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An Excerpt from The Shifting Models of Existence, Decoded from Chamber 2 |
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"I agree," Branson nodded. Neruda smiled back appreciatively and remained silent. His presentation had gone exceptionally well. The directors were attentive and completely reasonable in their line of questions. Neruda was careful not to induce or sway, but to simply report the team’s findings. He was well aware that the directors were unforgiving when they smelled persuasive tactics. "So what're our next steps?" Ortmann asked. "We need to do a complete restoration and excavation of the site, which'll probably take about seven to ten days," Neruda answered. "So we'll need to setup a perimeter security system and an excavation campsite." "And what's the status of McGavin's shadow agent?" Ortmann asked, turning to Evans. Fifteen stirred to action at the sound of McGavin's name. "His name is Donavin McAlester," he interjected. "He'll be joining us Monday. Interestingly, McGavin suggested that he report to Evans, but I thought to comply with any suggestion made by McGavin would be foolhardy. So I'd like him to report to Li-Ching since McGavin complains about our communication." "Who's heading the Ancient Arrow project then?" Ortmann asked. "I'm sorry," Fifteen said apologetically, "I thought I had made that clear. Jamisson will lead the project. Given his fine work to date, I thought it was only fitting that he be permitted to lead the project to its conclusion." He paused for a moment and looked around the table. "Is everyone okay with that?" Heads nodded silently in affirmation of Fifteen's rhetorical question. Neruda kept his head still, but his dark eyes darted furtively to read the response from the directors. It was unanimous. "Back to McAlester," Fifteen continued, "I'd like all of us to treat him with utmost care. There's no doubt as to his agenda, which is to find out why we secured this artifact without alerting the SPL. In other words, what are we trying to hide." "How long will he be here?" Evans asked. "That depends," Fifteen replied. He looked up briefly and rubbed the back of his neck. "If we can convince him that the information we leak to him is legitimate, he'll be gone within a month. If not, probably two, maybe three, months." "Let's make it one," Evans remarked to a roomful of nods. "Agreed," Fifteen said. "Are there any other questions before we break?" Neruda's heart began to pound, and he could feel his mouth turn cotton dry in a matter of seconds. He caught Fifteen's eye. "Did you have something else, Jamisson?" Fifteen asked politely. "I guess... I think it would be a good idea..." Neruda paused and gathered himself as best he could. "Samantha has some interesting observations that I think the Labyrinth Group should at least be aware of. I'm not saying these are factual observations - clearly they're not. But they're interesting -" "Just tell us," Fifteen interrupted, "and stop worrying about how any of us may react. We'll assume whatever you tell us is speculation and we'll leave it at that. So, what is it?" "Samantha had several encounters with the homing device," he began. "In one of these, she had a vision of the planet covered in gridlines and there were at least three, maybe four additional areas that were possible ETC sites." "You're saying that Samantha saw an image of multiple sites?" Fifteen asked. "And that these images were transmitted to her from the artifact?" Neruda thought Fifteen's eyes brightened and looked more intense. "That's what she's told me." "But the homing device is destroyed," Whitman remarked. "How would we get verification of multiple sites?" Fifteen went to his desk and paged his assistant. "Yes, sir," came the smooth, pleasant voice. "Please find Samantha Folten and have her come to my office at her earliest possible convenience." "Certainly, sir." Neruda's stomach struggled to remain calm. "Well, let's see what we can learn from Samantha," Fifteen said as he shuffled back to his chair. "No disrespect to you, Jamisson, but the vision is Samantha's and we should talk with her directly. Wouldn't you agree?" "Of course," Neruda said hesitantly. "It's just that I haven't requested her permission to speak about these matters -" "I'm sure Samantha will understand," Fifteen replied casually. He turned his head to Branson. "She's SL-Five, correct?" "Yes." "Poor girl," Fifteen said smiling, his head downcast to his empty cup of tea. "Let's be on our best behavior and make her feel completely comfortable." "Are we leaving her on this project?" Evans asked. "What would you recommend?" Fifteen replied. "Her contributions were significant. I'd leave her on the project. She's got something I haven't seen before in our other RVs." "And what's that?" Ortmann asked. "I'm not sure I can put it into words," Evans said thinking hard. "She just seems to surrender to the situation and somehow wrests more information from it than anyone else." "I'd agree," Neruda said. "Her ability to develop a psychic rapport with the homing device may allow her to more easily communicate with the other technology artifacts found at the site." Fifteen leaned back in his chair. His eyes were closed for a few moments while silence overtook the room. "It looks like this meeting will go another twenty minutes or so, if anyone needs a break, this would be a good time to take it." No one made a move to leave. After a timid knock on the door, Samantha poked her head in hesitantly. "You asked for me, sir?" "Yes," said Fifteen getting awkwardly to his feet. "Please come in and join us." He motioned to an empty chair next to Neruda. "Jamisson was just providing us with an excellent overview of your recent trip to the Ancient Arrow site..." He paused, deep in thought. "Do you want anything to drink before we get started? Some tea perhaps?" Samantha looked quickly at the table and nodded. Fifteen poured the teapot and handed an intricate, ivory-colored china cup to Samantha, steam billowing from its surface. "Thank you," she said, the tremble in her hand betraying her nervousness at being in the same room with the directors. "A remarkable trip, Samantha. The entire team deserves our highest recognition for its ingenuity and resourcefulness." The directors all nodded in agreement. "Thank you, sir." Samantha was wearing a green, cotton blouse with a white floral pattern, which was tucked inside faded blue jeans. Her red hair was tied back in a long, braided ponytail. Her eyes held a mixture of apprehension and wonder. "Jamisson was kind enough to comment on some of the experiences you had with the artifact. He felt we should know about them because of his respect for your insights and abilities. Anyway, I was hoping you'd do us the honor of explaining, in whatever way you're most comfortable, what you saw and what you think it means. We'd be very grateful to you if you wouldn't mind." Fifteen paused looking around the table signifying that he spoke for everyone in the room. Then he returned his gaze to Samantha. "Okay?" "Okay... Yes, of course..." Samantha stuttered unsure of how to proceed. "Fine then," Fifteen replied, his voice smooth and controlled. "We'll just listen. Take as long as you like." Samantha took a quick sip of tea hoping to dissolve the cotton wool that had suddenly filled her mouth. She stole a quick glance at Neruda, who smiled in support. "I'm not sure what you already know, and I don't want to be redundant and waste your time -" "Jamisson mentioned that you'd seen an image of earth encircled with gridlines that seemed to indicate that there may be multiple ETC sites. Why don't you start there," Fifteen suggested. Samantha closed her eyes and took a breath. "I can see it clearly," she said, her eyes opening in slow motion. "I'd been getting RePlay ready... everyone had left to look for Neruda, and I was trying to communicate with the artifact. RePlay was cycling through to Alpha... and the next thing I remember was... was seeing three geometric shapes like doors floating in space. Moments later the middle shape displayed an image of earth, which was surrounded in gridlines like filaments of light, and at the intersection of these lines - in certain areas - there were glowing dots." She paused, closing her eyes again. "I sensed three of these glowing dots... they were like markers. Somehow I just knew they signified areas where there were additional time capsules or artifacts. I remember only seeing one clearly... the one in New Mexico. The others weren't distinct, but I'd say there were three, perhaps four in total." "Can you specify the general location of the other sites?" Branson asked. "I think South America, Africa, maybe Eastern Europe," Samantha said slowly. "I'm not sure. For some reason, my focus was on New Mexico." "Did you see the entire globe, Samantha?" Fifteen asked. "No, I don't think so," she replied. "It seemed that only four continents were visible... North and South America, Africa, and Europe," she closed her eyes again. "Did you get a sense that each of the markings on the grid signified another time capsule?" Fifteen asked. "That was my sense." "And did you get a feeling that there were more on the other side of the globe?" "Perhaps... but I don't remember thinking anything about it," she said softly, almost in a whisper. "Was RePlay on during this session?" Ortmann asked. "Yes, but it didn't capture anything," Samantha replied. "I had forgotten to adjust the capture sensitivity because I had an image almost instantly and assumed that RePlay was adjusted properly." "So nothing was recorded?" Fifteen asked. "No." "Why don't you tell us about some of the other images you saw?" Fifteen suggested. Samantha cleared her throat and took another sip of tea. "During this same episode, I saw an image of what looked like a tall, bearded human-like man. His eyes were certainly unique, but in all other respects, he could have passed on the street as human." "What was so strange about his eyes?" Fifteen asked. "They were a mixture of strange colors, and they were very large. Very piercing." "Did you communicate with this being?" "Yes." "Tell us about it," Fifteen said. "This being told me that they were the geneticists who developed our DNA. They were trying to trigger something within our DNA that would enable us to withstand a shift of some kind - a genetic shift. And that this was all necessary because we needed to defend our planet -" "From what?" Fifteen almost shouted, sitting up in his chair. Samantha became tentative. "From an alien race." The room became chillingly quiet. Samantha wanted to take another sip of tea, but was afraid she might spill it if she did. Her hands were visibly shaking. "You might want to mention why you think the time capsule and its discovery was an orchestrated event," Neruda ventured, hoping to steer her comments to a new subject. Samantha turned to Neruda aware that he was under some pressure to justify her presence in the meeting. "As you've probably already considered," she began, "the artifact was very selective. It probed both of us," she turned to Neruda again, "down to our molecular structure... or at least it felt like it. "It was like this artifact had been programmed to assess our motives and establish our suitability for the discovery. Fortunately, it decided in our favor... though I'm not sure why." She flashed a quick smile that betrayed her nervousness. "I kept feeling, and still do, even now, that this time capsule isn't exactly the right description of what we've discovered. It's much larger than that, and its creators have encoded its true purpose behind the glyphs, the art, the artifacts... behind everything. These are gestures, not the real substance of what they're trying to communicate." "Gestures?" Fifteen repeated. "I mean they're like facades," Samantha quickly returned realizing the cryptic nature of her statement. "I don't think we'll be successful in decoding anything here, I think they have a whole different meaning." "And what do you feel that is?" Fifteen asked. "My sense is that the artifacts, including the optical disc - if that's what it is - will prove impossible to probe, just like the first artifact. The paintings won't reveal anything significant. And the glyphs will be impossible to decode." "And the reason you think they did this is?" Fifteen asked. "Because there's something in the process of trying to understand these artifacts that's more important than what they are or what they do. That's the only thing that makes sense to me." "Well, you're right about one thing," Fifteen said, "they've chosen to be cryptic for reasons that aren't obvious." He stood to his feet and poured more tea for Samantha before she could refuse. She looked genuinely surprised that he'd serve her. "Samantha, you've been very helpful, and we appreciate your candor. Is there any reason why you believe the artifact chose you in the way that it did?" "How do you mean, sir?" "It seems to me that you were its primary contact. And yet there're no RePlay tapes or seeming effort on your part to make contact with it. In other words, it seems to have selected you. Why do you think?" "I assume because of my psychic abilities -" "That's all?" he asked in a friendly tone. "I think so." "But how do you feel?" Samantha paused, editing her words before they were spoken. Her eyes searched the ceiling as if she were looking for help. "I never had a chance to really use RePlay. It contacted me before I had an opportunity... it... maybe it didn't want anyone else to see these images." "What do you feel's the purpose of the ETC?" Fifteen asked, watching her intensely as if he were reading her body and mind simultaneously. "It's something to do with genetics," Samantha said with sudden conviction. "It's something important and it's something that impacts a large number of people." "Why a large number of people?" Branson asked. Samantha looked directly at her supervisor, her green eyes intense and alive. "Why else would they be so careful about who they selected to discover the site?" Silence filled the room. No one said anything for several seconds as if reviewing his or her thoughts in light of what Samantha had just said. Fifteen poured himself another cup of tea. "Is there anything else that you can think of that might be valuable for us to know?" Samantha shook her head. "No, I don't think so." Neruda cleared his throat. "Their name?" "Oh, yes," Samantha said, "They referred to themselves as the WingMakers." Again, silence filled the room. Fifteen tapped his fingers on the table. "The WingMakers..." He let the words dangle in the air, and then looked at Samantha. "What do you think it means?" "I don't know, sir," Samantha replied, looking a bit surprised that he'd ask her opinion. "Jamisson?" "It actually sounds familiar to me, but I don't know why." "Have we done a search?" Fifteen asked. Neruda shook his head slowly and looked down at his hands. "My thoughts have been on the optical disc and excavation team. Sorry." Fifteen pulled out his console from underneath the table and hit a few keys. He typed in the word WINGMAKERS with blazing speed and clicked search. Moments later he shook his head and pushed the console back to its position beneath the table. "Nothing in our database or the net." Fifteen resumed his tapping on the table. "Jamisson, you have a memory as perfect as anyone I know, how could you have a familiarity with this name and not be able to place it?" "Maybe it was stored in his subconscious by the artifact," Samantha said, answering on his behalf. "Hmmm" Fifteen said, nodding slowly. "Nothing else?" Samantha looked to Neruda quickly and then shook her head. "No, sir." "Well, we're very appreciative for your time and information, Samantha. You may return to your work. Thank you." Fifteen motioned to the door as he finished his sentence and watched as she left the room hurriedly. Fifteen stood and removed his cardigan sweater and carefully secured it to the back of his chair, and then sat down with cautious grace. "Do you believe her?" Li-Ching asked. "I believe she's being honest," Fifteen replied, dodging the question slightly. "We're talking about an encounter with what could possibly be an authentic representative of the Central Race." "You mean because of the reference that they're allegedly the creators of our DNA that they're from the Central Race?" Whitman asked. "That and the fact that they've deposited a structure within our planet that looks more sophisticated than anything we've ever seen before - by a considerable margin I might add. "I'd like to have our Corteum counterparts made aware of this discovery," Fifteen said, turning to Whitman. "Full disclosure?" "Yes, they're more knowledgeable about the mythology of the Central Race than we are, maybe they can detect something in all of this that corroborates or debunks what we've heard and seen here today." Fifteen turned to Branson. "I'd like her to have a promotion. Okay?" "SL-Six?" "SL-Seven," Fifteen said. "We need her loyalty strengthened. She's very good. I like her... but she has a weakness in her loyalties. She's loyal to her heart, more than to our ideals and mission. What I find interesting is that she's also afraid of her potential disloyalty, and this'll make her more prone to compensate in unsavory ways. Make it retroactive to the first of the month." "Done." "Now," Fifteen said, turning to the full group with his teacup in hand, "I'd like to hear your thoughts, theories, and opinions." The sound of shifting bodies in leather chairs filled the room. Neruda spoke first. "Whoever they are, they seem to know about the 2011 prophecy. That alone gives some credibility to Samantha's story." "If Samantha's facts are straight, saying that we need to defend earth from aliens doesn't necessarily mean they're talking about the 2011 invasion prophecy," Ortmann said. Li-Ching stirred in her chair. "Perhaps an RV session would be in order." "On the WingMakers?" Evans asked. "Why not?" she replied. "I'll leave it to Neruda to decide RV protocols for the project," Fifteen announced. "But let's not jump to any conclusions about the identity of the WingMakers, and let's be certain to keep all RV sessions at levels one or two. I don't want any more contact with this race than is absolutely necessary. Agreed?" Heads nodded obediently to his question. "What else?" Fifteen queried. "If she's right about the wide-ranging importance of this discovery," Li-Ching offered, "then we'll have internal pressure to release this finding to the outside. The implication is that security will need to be tightened and personnel more carefully screened. I'd suggest we limit access to the Ancient Arrow file to LG members." "Done. Except I want Samantha to continue on this project," Fifteen said. "She'll be allowed into the surrogate file, but not the LG version." Fifteen took a long sip of tea and swallowed with exuberance. "Whitman, I know you'd like this project under your supervision, but we just don't have a dynamic understanding of this species and its intentions right now to justify TTP leadership. However, I'd like you to supervise all surrogate database management and file creation, including all LAN / WAN knowledge links. Okay?" "Yes, I understand completely," Whitman replied with no surprise in his voice. "What else?" Fifteen summoned. "You must have more to offer than security issues." Ortmann cleared his throat. "Now that we're in a mode to recover an additional twenty-two artifacts of unknown origin, value, and function, wouldn't it make sense to re-evaluate our security measures with Professor Stevens and the students?" "What are you suggesting?" Evans asked. "The value of this project, at least in my mind, has gone up by a factor of ten with the discovery of this ETC site. For all we know, this is the technological equivalent of BST... hell, it could be BST. Who knows? All I'm saying is that we should ensure its secrecy, and we have three loose ends in New Mexico that could create problems for us." "What are you suggesting?" Evans asked again, hoping to force Ortmann to be specific. "I know we've placed our best security fence around these people, but there're variables that even our best technologies can't control." "So what do you want us to do?" Evans asked, his frustration starting to show. "I think an accident cover should be executed for each of the three - I'd leave the specifics to you." Fifteen had been listening intently, sipping his tea. "Leonard, it sounds like you want to be rid of these risks, but by doing away with them wouldn't we also create more risks? Remember McGavin's recent allegations?" "If I may add," Evans said, "I think the students represent more risk than Stevens. In the case of Stevens, the worst that he can do is already done, and we'll manage the fallout. I'm not worried. The students are another issue altogether." "How so?" Fifteen asked. "So far they've cooperated," Evans answered. "But only because of Stevens' influence. And that seems to be increasingly shaky because of his recent interaction with McGavin's goons. I'd say they could blow if they get any reinforcement from Stevens." "So why not take the students out?" asked Li-Ching. "I can handle all of the communication issues with a two-day window." "The advantage of an accident cover with the students," Evans continued, "is that it would send a good message to Stevens. It also provides us with leverage downstream if we plant subtle evidence of his involvement in their deaths." Fifteen set his teacup down and closed his eyes; bored or tired, no one could tell. "Can you two have some specific recommendations on my desk by eighteen hundred hours?" he paused only for a quick breath, emphasizing the rhetorical nature of his question. "I'd like a minimum of three scenarios, priority ordered, and I'd like the most probable implications defined. Oh, one more thing. We're not in the business of killing people just for the sake of security - for this project or any other. Am I clear?" Li-Ching and Evans confirmed their understanding with a silent nod. Everyone else just stared. "I'll authorize exceptions only as a last resort, and only if it clearly compromises our broader agenda. I'm quite certain of one thing; security on this project won't be our problem. Our problem will be loyalty." He turned to Neruda as he finished his words. "Please have the excavation team list assembled tomorrow by twelve hundred hours in my office. And I'd like Evans included. Work with Whitaker and Ortmann to choose the rest. Okay?" "Yes, that'd be fine, sir." "Very well," Fifteen said standing up. "I assume there's no other questions or comments for now. Thanks once again to Jamisson for a brilliant report, and pass our comments on to the team. They all deserve our praise for an outstanding job." Neruda fumbled with his presentation materials while everyone filed out of Fifteen's office, including Li-Ching. The sound of the door closing startled Neruda as he snapped the buckles on his briefcase. "I talked with Jeremy this morning," Fifteen said, walking to his desk with an occasional grimace. "He was pleasantly surprised to hear about your discoveries in New Mexico. I told him I wanted you to lead this project to conclusion. I also told him I wanted you to be promoted to SL-Thirteen." He paused with a warm smile. "If that's okay with you, of course?" Neruda could only manage to nod, flustered by the sudden honor. "We'll wait for the official status change until Jeremy returns from holiday, but I'll inform the other directors this afternoon of your acceptance. Evans will have a new password to you later this morning. Okay?" "Yes... whatever you think is best," Neruda managed to blurt out. "One last thing, Jamisson. What I said earlier about loyalty... I'd like you to keep Samantha involved with this project, but watch her carefully. We have too much at stake with this project to let her, or anyone else, lose sight of our mission objectives." "I agree, and I will, sir," Neruda said. "I mean I'll keep an eye on her." "Good. I know you'll do your best," Fifteen said. "If you don't mind my asking," Neruda said, "what did Jeremy say?" "About your promotion?" "Yes." "Something about you being too young to be an SL-Thirteen. I think he said something about him being fifty-two when he attained that lofty height," Fifteen said with a wink. "But he was all too happy to agree with my suggestion, and you know Jeremy, if he hadn't, he would've said so." Neruda smiled and nodded in agreement. His supervisor was definitely as independent as he was brilliant. He was the one director that could and would stand up to Fifteen if he genuinely disagreed with him. "Thank you for your confidence in me," Neruda said as he started for the door. "I truly appreciate it." "You're very welcome." Neruda left Fifteen's office with a strange sense that the warning about Samantha had also been meant for him. But despite that intuitive sense, he was buoyant about his promotion. He only wished he had someone other than his staff that he could tell.
The ACIO laboratory was washed in halogen light from an array of floodlights that hung from the ceiling. Inside each fixture was a miniature closed circuit video camera. The lights were strategically positioned so that every square centimeter of the laboratory was observable, a reality that always irked Neruda. Pattern Grid Detection Systems were established in each camera's electronic eye that was able to distinguish an anomalous activity and alert security. It was why Neruda had to contact Security to enter the lab after 8pm. The lab was sequestered under the tightest security fence that the ACIO had. Under the best of circumstances it took too long to get in, but tonight, Neruda was losing his patience because Security wasn't answering its phone. After the third try, he decided to give up. He took the laboratory elevator, which was the only way to enter the lab. The security fence could detect Body Prints and determine the associated security clearance. There were no retina scans or security cards. As the doors of the elevator opened onto the sixteenth floor, which housed the mammoth lab, Neruda was beginning to question whether he should try and make one more phone call. He decided against it. He was SL-13. Screw it, he concluded. The outer perimeter door opened without hesitation so he walked through with similar confidence. Fifteen was a patron of the arts, and had virtually demanded that paintings and sculpture grace every wall and unused nook of the lab. It was a stimulating contrast to see original Gauguin's, Kandinsky's, and Miro's as companions to the world's most advanced technologies. At eleven at night the hallways on the periphery of the lab were quiet. Neruda walked to the main door and it opened with the hushed sound of air-compressed hydraulics. The door itself was fireproof, bulletproof, bombproof, and impervious to lock picking of even the most sophisticated kind. Neruda walked briskly through a brightly lit anteroom. He was restless to talk with Andrews and see the results from the initial probes of the artifact found in the 23rd chamber. Another door awaited him down a short hallway that held the bathrooms and access to the lunchroom. "Dr. Neruda," a voice sounded in the hallway directly overhead via the PA system, "we have no record of a permission request to visit the lab after hours. Please verify." Neruda stopped in frustration and gestured impolitely to the speaker in the ceiling. "I tried calling you guys three times only fifteen minutes ago. No one answered the phone. Is there a problem?" "No problem, sir," the voice replied. "Just verifying entries for the record. Have a good night, sir." "You, too," Neruda said with a sigh of frustration. He hated the meddlesome nature of security. Again Neruda was greeted by the sound of an automatic door opening at his approach. A camera scanned the entrance to the lab, but wasn't visible. Neruda couldn't tell where it was hidden, but he knew he was on tape, though he suspected no one was watching. He entered the Computer Analysis Laboratory (CAL), which was the largest of the rooms off the main lab. CAL was known as home to the ACIO's most powerful computer system ZEMI, which had been developed collaboratively between the ACIO scientific core and the Corteum, an extraterrestrial race that had a secretive technology transfer program with the ACIO for the past 27 years. The ZEMI processors were approximately 400 times more powerful than the best supercomputers on earth. Its operating system was custom-fitted to four individuals, each with security clearances of ten or more. These four operators were the exclusive users of ZEMI, and even Fifteen had to rely upon one of these individuals to interface with ZEMI if he chose to use it. "Hey," Andrews said. "How're things?" "Could be better," Andrews replied, fumbling with some papers. "I could be sitting at home watching Golden Eyes, drowning in margaritas, and eating some exotic pizza with red peppers flown in from Chile." "Sounds boring in comparison," Neruda commented. "Shit, I can't get anything from this report," Andrews complained. He turned to a monitor panel in front of him. On the screen was the image of a man in his late fifties sitting in a high-back leather chair. The monitor was the only means of communicating with the ZEMI operators, who were isolated in special control rooms that shielded them from electromagnetic frequencies and psychic disruptions. "David, could you try something a little unconventional?" "What do you have in mind?" the face on the monitor asked. "Try varying the angle of the read laser in a random sequence and simultaneously vary the spin rates." "What're you looking for?" "A fucking access point! We need to find the angle and speed correlation. It's out of our standard range. So we need to expand our range. Can you do it?" "Just give me the parameters," the face said. "Every conceivable angle and spin rate outside of our standard range," Andrews said. "Is that specific enough?" "No." "Can you calculate the parameters then?" "Yes." "How long will it take?" "They're on the monitor now," the face said glibly. "I mean how long will it take for the random tests?" "Do you want angle and spin rate correlations to be exhaustively or randomly tested?" "Exhaustively. Is there any other way?" "Test cycle requirements?" "This first round, let's try two seconds." "It'll take at least two hours," the face said. "Okay, let's get going," Andrews commanded. "I'm tired." The man on the monitor panel closed his eyes. Seven thin, glass filaments ran to a black colored headband that went from the back, center part of his neck, to the center of his forehead just above the bridge of his nose. He was completely bald, one of the sacrifices the operators of ZEMI had to make. The headband was called a Neural Bolometer, which translated the radiant energy of the operator's brain activity to the command structure of ZEMI's operating system - effectively hard-wiring him to ZEMI's computing power through thought and visualization. "So nothing to report?" Neruda asked, hoping to stir something out of Andrews. "Zippo." "I like the approach you're taking," Neruda said. "It's completely logical, oddly enough." He stopped and smiled. "I'm sure something will turn up in the test data." "I'm not," Andrews shrugged. "Why the doom and gloom?" "If it's an optical disc, and they wanted us to read it, you'd think they'd have made it more similar to our standards." "Remember this thing was left behind a thousand years ago, a bit before -" "Shit, I know that," Andrews whined. "But I'm tired of these damn artifacts being so impregnable to our probes. I can't help but think they're wasting our time simply because they can." "We've only had one day in the lab with this thing. Remember it took you three days to make the breakthrough on the homing device. Give yourself another day or two. It'll sing. You'll see." Andrews hit the com button again. "David, can you do me a favor?" "Yeah?" "When you get the results on round one, if they turn up negative, try cycle times of ten seconds. When that's completed, let's add a third variable, laser diameter. Vary it at the smallest possible increments and the widest possible range. Okay?" "Got it." Andrews switched the button to its off position, and turned to face Neruda. "I'm going home. I can still catch the last half of the movie if I leave now." "Me, too," Neruda replied. "You like James Bond, too?" "No, I mean I'm going home to sleep." "Oh," Andrews managed to say. "Sorry I'm in such a foul mood, boss. I'm just frustrated that this thing is so fucking closemouthed." "Go home and relax," Neruda encouraged. "It'll open its mouth soon enough, and when it does, you'll be among the first to hear it sing." "I hope you're right, but I have this nagging feeling that this fucker isn't gonna sing anytime soon." "We'll see," Neruda said. "I'll walk out with you."
Fifteen studied the report that Li-Ching and Evans had put on his desk three hours earlier. The track lighting was dimmed, and the mood in his office subdued. He and Li-Ching were alone. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyelids. "You know what bothers me about this?" He said, holding up the report. "Yes," she replied. "You have too soft a heart for your own good." "Perhaps. Or perhaps yours is too hard," Fifteen said with a whisper. "Octavio, I can assure you that both Evans and I are convinced this is the right thing to do. We're not anxious to take the lives of two youth, but these kids are potentially unstable, and in light of our ETC discovery, we think it's only prudent. There's too much at stake now." "You don't have to sermonize to me," Fifteen said. "I know how serious the situation is." He put the report down, stared at his hands on the desk, and sighed deeply in resignation. "Maybe you're right and we should eliminate our risks, but then Stevens has already alerted the NSA. If these kids end up dead, McGavin will assume the worst." "So what if he does?" Li-Ching replied. "He won't be able to prove anything." "And what proof do we have that these kids are risks?" Fifteen asked, his voice sounded irritated. "Because it's not clear from your report." "First of all, Stevens has protected the students' identity. He hasn't told the NSA how he came by the artifact. But we know the students know that Stevens has gone to the NSA. We're not sure if they know any details of what he told them, but we've got to assume he's told them something." "And for this we should have them killed?" Fifteen asked. "If Stevens wants these kids to remain anonymous to the NSA, he's protecting them for some reason. Octavio, they're just a loose end that could haunt us later. Why not make sure we don't have to deal with that risk." "Both of you feel strongly about this?" "Yes," she replied without hesitation. He looked directly at Li-Ching, his eyes intensely scrutinizing her face. "If we do nothing, how does it hurt us?" "What if these kids go to the NSA, courtesy of Stevens, and show them where they discovered the artifact? Don't you think McGavin would have his team snooping around the ETC site? It's a risk we shouldn't take. All McGavin knows is that we've dispatched some reconnaissance to New Mexico. He doesn't know where. We made sure that the NSA satellites were out of range when our missions made ground." Li-Ching adjusted her tone. "If we sanitize the situation, we can ensure the site remains our secret." Fifteen sighed in resignation. "Okay, but I don't want to hear anything more about this, unless there's a problem. Okay?" "Understood." Fifteen's third extension light signaled a caller. "You know who this is," Fifteen said with an air of dread. Fifteen flicked on his speakerphone. "Yes?" "Hello, Octavio," McGavin said. "I was hoping you'd still be at your office." "As you know, I practically live here -" "I'm on your speakerphone, aren't I?" "Yes, you are." "Are you alone?" McGavin asked, suspicion showing in his voice. "I'm just trying to keep my hands free so I can make some tea. Okay?" "Where's my RePlay tape? I was expecting it yesterday." "Oh, I wasn't aware of a proposed delivery time." "I just want the tape. When can you send it?" "Tomorrow." "When tomorrow?" "Tomorrow afternoon." "Please overnight it. I want to review this ASAP. Understood?" "Anything else?" "No, that's all." "By the way," Fifteen said, "when you spoke with this professor... I think his name was Stevens... about the artifact he recovered, did he say anything about where he found it or how he obtained it?" "You don't know?" "No." "According to the good professor, an anonymous source sent it to him." "In the mail?" "No, it was delivered by messenger, I think," McGavin said. "Why?" "One of our current theories we're working on is that the object is a homing device. It'd be helpful to know where it was found. It could prove useful." "Well, if this anonymous source turns up, the good professor is supposed to contact us. If he does, we'll find out what we can." "Thanks." "Other than that," McGavin said, "any success in probing the damn thing?" "No, but we're still trying." "Good. Well, I've got to run," McGavin said. "I look forward to seeing the RePlay tapes. Oh, and you do remember that Donavin starts tomorrow. You'll be gentle with him I presume -" "Of course. Of course." "Good. How's the tea by the way?" "What?" "The tea," McGavin said. "You said earlier that you were making tea -" "It's just fine. Just fine. I'll let you go, Darius, I know you've got to run. Have a good weekend." "Thanks. You, too." Fifteen waited to hear the dial tone before he pushed the speaker button off. "Thoughts?" "He's a jerk," Li-Ching replied. "Anything more I could say would be superfluous." "Actually, I was referring to his story about the anonymous source." "It corroborates that Stevens is protecting the students." "Yes," Fifteen said, "but it also suggests that our professor is telling two different stories. He told us that the students were the source of the discovery. He told McGavin that an anonymous source delivered it to him." "So he's trying to test whether McGavin would accept his different story," Li-Ching interjected. "If his story was accepted by McGavin, then he knows that we - posing as the NSA - the people who took the artifact, weren't affiliated with the NSA." "Exactly," Fifteen nodded. "He's a clever man," Li-Ching observed. "But this whole line of reasoning assumes McGavin is telling us the truth. That's not easy to accept." "Perhaps not," Fifteen replied. "But I'm sure of one thing, we need to do something about these two students." He picked up the report off his desk and opened it to page four. "Why didn't we do memory restructures on each of them when we discovered this thing?" "You know the answer," Li-Ching replied calmly. "We didn't think this was anything more than an isolated artifact - possibly a hoax. We didn't think it warranted extreme measures. Besides, our hush documents work ninety-eight percent of the time." Fifteen scanned the report and turned to the last page of the document and signed his name. "Use scenario two. Alert Branson and keep this out of RV. I don't want Samantha to know about this." "I understand," Li-Ching said. "Are you ready for a back rub?" "I think I'm going to make some phone calls and check on the Code Frensel project before I turn in. Thanks anyway." "What's wrong?" Li-Ching asked, concern showing on her face. "There are days when I think our mission objectives collide with morality so violently that every atom in my body recoils from the impact. This is one of those days." He rose from his desk. "I think I'll have that cup of tea now. Damn, that McGavin." Li-Ching left his office in a diluted state of exuberance. She was elated that she had been able to convince Fifteen how to handle the students, but she was also disturbed by his lack of enthusiasm. His eyes seemed so tired and his mood so solemn. She thought about staying, but Fifteen almost ushered her out of his office, assuring her that he was fine. All she could do, as she walked down the hallway, was to wonder why his eyes glistened so clearly in the dimness of his office.
"I hear that I'm not on the excavation team," Emily stated, her voice betraying mild indignation. Neruda looked up from his papers. He looked tired. It was too early, at least for him, and he was still waiting for the caffeine to kick in. "Sorry, but I just thought your insights would be more valuable here than in the field," he replied casually. "And what's more important here?" Emily asked. "We have reams of new data that's being generated from the optical disc. I just thought you and Andrews should stay here and concentrate on that." "Is Samantha or Collin going?" "Samantha's going, but Collin's staying behind pretty much for the same reasons you and Andrews are." Emily tried to sound unperturbed at the news of Samantha's appointment on the excavation team. "So how long will you be gone?" "I think two days will be sufficient to excavate the artifacts from the site and pack them for shipment. We'll send a restoration team a few days later and then do final photography of the chamber paintings in about a week." "Are you staying that whole period?" Neruda glanced at his watch; he was already late for his meeting with Andrews. The ZEMI data was in, and he was anxious to see it. "No, I'll shuttle back and forth depending on what's happening with the optical disc and if we can open it." "What's your impression? Can we open it?" "I'm supposed to meet Andrews," Neruda replied, looking at his watch again, "about ten minutes ago." "Mind if I tag along?" she asked. "Not at all." The two walked to the laboratory elevator talking nonchalantly about the preparations for the excavation. Emily offered to help in any way she could. When they arrived at the Computer Analysis Laboratory, Andrews was flipping through a stack of computer printouts from the overnight testing. "I still haven't seen anything that would indicate an access point or any hint of a data stream that could be transmitted in any conventional means at our disposal. They've buttoned this up as tightly as the damn homing device." "I'm updating Fifteen at 0900 hours," Neruda said. "Are you telling me there's nothing to go on?" "Fuck, I don't see anything," Andrews complained. "I've been in here for two hours checking and cross-checking the data records. The access points for the index tracks are encrypted in something ZEMI hasn't seen before. David left the following message this morning at five o'clock, just a few minutes before I got here." Andrews turned on the message screen, where the face of David, the ZEMI operator, began to materialize like a photograph in a processing tray. He hit the Play button and the face lurched into animation. "Hi, Andrews. I just completed the tests per your specifications. It took us a little longer than I thought, mostly because the disc's in stealth mode. At least to our technology. I tried everything within our technical specs and your parameters, and nothing's been effective. Sorry. "You might take a look at the ten-second cycle time tests. Reference number, nineteen-zero-five, looks interesting. At least it stands out as producing a resonance to the disc itself. We used criteria of .00475 centimeter laser diameter and 1.45-% pitch angle. Every other test showed absolutely nothing. And I mean nothing. "Incidentally, when I say resonance, look at the way the disc's vibratory rate increases. The molecular scans show a speed increase of nearly five hundred forty-two percent. It's really quite unusual. According to ZEMI, the laser is somehow inciting the molecular change, but the data trail dead-ends before ZEMI can lock in on the causative factors. "The only thing we're certain of is that cycle time and pitch angle aren't the relevant variables. It's the laser beam's diameter as it penetrates the index track that seems to be the key. Ordinarily, I'd say this is a quirk of the alloy this thing's made of, which, incidentally, we still don't have a fix on. But this thing is very sensitive to focused light energy, and it may be intentional. With the right focus of light it awakens something at a molecular level within the disc. "To us, this is the only interesting finding, other than the fact that no access point can be found from which data can be retrieved. "If the diameter of the laser is the key variable to eliciting the resonance of the disc, we recommend that you test different wave lengths and beam intensities using the same diameter. Let us know if you'd like us to run these tests. Hope this information is helpful. I'll be back in around sixteen hundred hours. If you have any further requests for probe testing, we can look at it again then. Per Whitaker's request, I've cleared my schedule to concentrate on this. Bye for now." Andrews flicked his knuckle on the pale-colored Stop button, punching the message screen back into blackness. "I love the way he says 'us' and 'we'. I mean it's fucking eerie how married these operators are to ZEMI. I wonder if the four of them ever get into cat fights about who's on more intimate terms with the horseshit computer." Neruda couldn't contain his laughter and Emily quickly followed like an echo. "Have you had a chance to do any further analysis of his comments about the light resonance of the disc?" Neruda asked, still chuckling in his throat. "No, do you think it's that interesting?" "Not really, but it's all we got." Emily sat down next to Andrews, picked up a stack of data records from the overnight tests, and flipped to the summary page. She seemed disinterested in the conversation between Neruda and Andrews. "Here's my problem," Andrews said. "Even if the laser, focused at a certain diameter, incites a resonance within the disc itself, how does that move us one fucking micron closer to accessing the data on the disc?" "I don't know," Neruda replied, "but as I've said before, this may not be a data disc as we think of data discs. So let's not be tied to our definitions. Let's just explore anything that looks unusual with a completely open mind as to how this thing might work. Make no assumptions that it'll behave according to our preconceptions. Okay?" "Got it," Andrews replied. Emily looked up from her reading. "Can I make a suggestion?" "Of course," Neruda replied. "Isn't it possible that the other artifacts might play a role in accessing this thing?" "It's possible." "And if it's possible, then doesn't it make sense that one of those artifacts could be the key... in other words it emits the signature light beam that activates the disc?" "It's also possible," Andrews interjected, "that the other artifacts hold the data and this thing is just a fucking impostor." "Unfortunately I'm not finding much that I can use for my briefing with Fifteen," Neruda lamented. "Endless possibilities won't exactly engender confidence... let's take David's recommendation to heart." Neruda turned to Andrews. "Can you set up the testing criteria and parameters before David gets in?" Andrews nodded. "The only thing I'd add to his recommendation," Neruda continued, "is that we should also test whether ZEMI can tune the resonance up or down, once it's incited. In other words, can ZEMI affect the resonance and alter it independent of the laser." "Good idea, boss," Andrews said. "That way we could manipulate the resonance and test an endless variety of activation sequences and access points - assuming resonance is the key." Neruda exchanged a few more words with Andrews and Emily and then excused himself to prepare for his briefing with Fifteen. For some reason, he couldn't help but feel confident that the access was just a day or two from being discovered. He also couldn't help feeling that it might not be data that was stored on the disc.
Robert didn't even feel the tiny injection as the miniature tranquilizer dart found the back of his neck. He immediately fell asleep, as did his girlfriend, Linda, her unbuttoned shirt falling open to reveal her bra. The TV's black-and-white flicker of Casablanca was the room's only source of light. A few empty beer bottles stood guard on the coffee table over a near-empty bowl of popcorn. Two figures dressed in black body suits slipped out of the shadows behind the couch, each carrying a black cloth sack. The taller figure deposited the two sleeping bodies in front of the apartment door, placing them strategically on the floor. The students looked like actors being positioned for a crime scene. The darts were carefully removed from their necks. One of the figures pulled a gun from his bag and attached a silencer. He aimed at the chest area of Robert and squeezed two rounds into his chest - one hitting his heart, the other purposely off target. He did the same thing to Linda from a different angle. They checked the bodies again. No pulse. In less than five minutes, the apartment was methodically and silently trashed by the two black-clothed figures. Books and clothing were strewn on the floor, and a planter was deftly tipped over. One of the figures removed a leather pouch with four glass vials, and placed their contents in specific locations throughout the apartment. There was a clear purpose to the random trail of hair, fabric, dirt, and chewing tobacco. The figures turned the television off and dragged it closer to a nearby window. The VCR was unplugged and placed at an odd angle on top of the television, its wires dangling in front of the TV screen. The shorter of the two figures opened a window and skillfully broke its glass with hardly a sound. A laptop computer and some jewelry were placed inside one of the cloth sacks and lowered to the ground just outside the apartment window. The position of the broken glass was assembled just below the window on the cream-colored carpeting by the two figures as if they were constructing a jigsaw puzzle. One of the figures climbed out the window and collected the bag of stolen goods, walking cautiously to a parked car. The other stayed behind like a sentry scanning the outside neighborhood for any signs of activity. The figure silently slipped into the car and settled into the driver's seat. He removed his mask and body suit to reveal normal street clothes that did little to soften his hard, chiseled face and close-cropped, military style haircut. Taking a small transmitter from his shirt pocket, he whispered, "Everything clear?" "Everything's a go on this end," his partner responded, also in a whisper, climbing out the window. "You have twenty seconds," the driver said. "Go!" The black-hooded figure placed a strange looking box on the window ledge. His thumb landed hard on a small, silver button, which he pushed four times in rapid succession. Four loud, piercing gunshots echoed through the neighborhood. Seconds later, the black figure hurled himself into the waiting car, which sped away to the sound of tires screeching and loose gravel flying. Lights in the apartment building came on as residents peeked through curtains and blinds. After several blocks, the car lights snapped on as it climbed up a freeway onramp disappearing into Albuquerque's starlit night. * * * * Neruda knocked softly on the closed door. It was ten minutes after nine. He was late, but the briefing report took longer than he expected, mostly because he was trying to invent some reasonable hypothesis that would satisfy Fifteen. Early in his career with the AICO, Neruda had learned the hard way about the consequences of inadequate preparation when presenting to Fifteen. No one could pick apart presentations better than Fifteen if he sensed poor preparation was at the heart of a feeble presentation. "Come on in, Jamisson," Fifteen said through the heavy metal doors. Neruda opened the door, but stopped short of crossing the threshold. A stranger was inside, and he hesitated as to whether he should continue. "If you'd like, I can wait outside until you're finished." "Nonsense," Fifteen exclaimed. "I want you to meet someone who'll be working with us for a week or so." His arms motioned Neruda inside. "Donavin McAlester, I'd like you to meet our Senior Project Analyst, Jamisson Neruda." As the two men shook hands, Neruda asked, "I'm sorry, but have we met before?" "Not that I can recall," Donavin replied. "But then my memory for faces isn't that good. Do you have any Seal or NSA work in your background?" "No, afraid not. I just have a familiarity with your face I guess. Oh, well. Welcome to our little laboratory." "I haven't seen everything yet, but little isn't exactly the word I'd use to describe this place," Donavin smiled disarmingly. "Until last Wednesday, I'd never even heard of this unit. And now, I think I understand why." He looked around Fifteen's office with wonderment showing in his eyes. Fifteen cleared his throat. "Donavin's here as an attaché from the SPL - he's essentially here to spy on us," Fifteen flashed a mischievous, but friendly smile. Donavin looked at his shoes in embarrassment. "It's not spying. I'm simply here for a few weeks to observe and make recommendations to our respective organizations on how we can better cooperate and communicate." "Is this something you do with the NSA on a regular basis?" Neruda asked. "Not exactly on a regular basis," Donavin explained, "but often enough to keep me busy." Neruda turned to Fifteen with a questioning look. "Would you like to reschedule our briefing meeting for later this morning?" "No," he replied, shaking his head. "Li-Ching will be taking Donavin on a little tour of our facility in a few minutes. I just wanted you two to meet since Donavin's expressed a strong interest in the Ancient Arrow project. Since you're leading the project, you'll have some contact with him from time-to-time." Donavin went to his briefcase and retrieved a file folder, which he opened to a document. "Actually, I prepared something of a questionnaire for you," he handed the papers to Neruda. "It's just a few questions about the project and how you'd like to communicate with the SPL in reference to working hypotheses, project briefs, plan modifications, and the like. I'd really appreciate your help if you could take a look at the questions and return it in the next few days... maybe Wednesday if that would work with your schedule." Neruda looked up from the papers as Donavin stopped. His forehead was furrowed and his eyes slightly squinted. "Can I get back to you on that? My week looks pretty busy right now. And by the way, I counted twenty-seven questions." He paused briefly. "A few questions isn't exactly how I'd describe this." He held up the papers and smiled. "Touché," Donavin said, smiling back. "I'm sure that Jamisson will do his best to comply," Fifteen offered. "We'll all do our best to make you feel comfortable and welcome here." Li-Ching entered Fifteen's office in a splash of color and energy. Her straight black hair was untethered by her usual assortment of hairpins and barrettes. "Are you ready for your tour?" "...Yes," Donavin said, obviously uneasy with her striking beauty. "Okay, then, follow me... assuming you're done here," Li-Ching said turning to Fifteen for confirmation. "We're done for now," Fifteen nodded. "We'll see you later for lunch, then. Have a great tour." "Nice to meet you," Neruda offered as he shook Donavin's hand. "Likewise," Donavin replied. "Bye for now." Li-Ching gestured for him to walk in front of her and she turned to look back at Fifteen, disgust showing on her face, the kind a child might show to a parent for having to walk the dog. Neruda thought the door closed a little louder than normal, perhaps another sign of her dissatisfaction with having to baby-sit the SPL spy. "It's clean," Fifteen said as he sat down at his desk. "He came in squeaky clean. No bugs, somewhat to my surprise." "So what's the disposition of this guy relative to the Ancient Arrow project? Do I give him access to anything?" "He's already been assigned an SL-Two access code. Treat him accordingly. He knows nothing about the Ancient Arrow project except that we have an artifact that was recovered from Professor Stevens." "Did you see this questionnaire?" Fifteen smiled. "No, but he's obviously taking his job too seriously." "What about the artifact?" "How do you mean?" Fifteen asked. "If the one thing Donavin knows about the Ancient Arrow project is that we have an artifact, we don't exactly have it anymore. Other than a burned out shell, the artifact is gone, vaporized." "We gave him a file that included three-sixty photos in three light spectrums," Fifteen said. "So he knows what the artifact looked like. Our cover is that the artifact destroyed itself under a UV scan and the shell is what's left of it. We'll show him the shell and convince him that the artifact and the whole project is a dead-end." "Don't you think McGavin will want to launch his own investigation?" Neruda asked. "What's left of the artifact is not very similar to original pictures he's seen." "Of course he will," Fifteen said. "But that was inevitable anyway. The fact that the artifact destroyed itself plays perfectly to our hand. The only nuance we can't control is whether McGavin will believe our story or if he'll assume we destroyed the artifact purposely." "What about the RePlay tape?" "It's being sent this afternoon," Fifteen replied. "Has Donavin seen it yet?" "No. I was thinking that you'd show it to him tomorrow and maybe orally answer his little questionnaire. It'll save you the time to write formal responses." "Okay, I can do that." "Good. Now tell me about our latest problem child from M51." Fifteen asked. "We've discovered a way to get into the structure at a molecular level, by using a specific diameter laser beam. We've incited a resonance - a significant resonance. It may be that these artifacts are like shape shifters. Molecularly, the substance that they're made out of reconfigures itself when stimulated by specific light frequencies." Fifteen leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. He was staring at the ceiling as he often did. "What's the resonant beam's diameter?" ".00475," replied Neruda. "And the light frequency?" "UV seven-eighty-four." "I assume you'll be trying a broad range of frequencies?" "It's all in place for tests this afternoon when David returns," Neruda said. "You think this object may transform in a similar way as the homing device?" "Yes, I think it's possible." "Tell David to have video on all tests - three frequencies, multiple angles... shit, he'll need some help. Have Whitaker assign a team to get that set up this morning. Okay?" "Understood." Fifteen looked at his watch. "I'm going to be in the sunroom the rest of the morning with our friends from Berne. I'll continue to think about probable testing paths and I'll find you should anything else occur to me, but for now I have to run. Anything else of an urgent nature?" Neruda handed Fifteen a couple of documents. "Here's a progress report on the optical disc, aside from the resonance beam, nothing too exciting. Also, you'll find my excavation team list, role definitions, project strategy, and preliminary supply list. You can look at these at your leisure." "Thanks," Fifteen said. "I'll do that later this afternoon. Anything else then?" "No, that's it," Neruda replied. Neruda wished he could join Fifteen in the sunroom. Of all the rooms in the complex, the sunroom was his favorite. It consisted of an array of floor to ceiling windows in an octagonal shaped structure that was two stories above the ground. It looked a little like an airport control tower. A private elevator, just outside Fifteen's office, took passengers directly to the sunroom. It was the only way to access it. "Hope your meeting goes well," Neruda said. "Thanks, I'm sure it will. They need us a lot more than we need them. It always makes for good odds. Stop up later if you can," Fifteen offered. "I'll be there for at least another two hours." "Okay. Thanks." Fifteen turned to his assistant who was sitting attentively at a reception area opposite the elevator. "Just send our guests up when they arrive. If they're more than ten minutes late, make them wait an equivalent time in the Signatory Room." "Very well, sir," the assistant replied. The elevator door opened, and Fifteen disappeared into the dark, rosewood interior. Neruda knew that he wouldn't have the time to join Fifteen. He also knew the meeting was with the Nereus Syndicate, one of the most powerful organizations in the world. Neruda had developed their encryption algorithms when he had first started with the ACIO. He knew them well, and was all too glad to let Fifteen handle the meeting. |
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[Return to Table of Contents | Ancient Arrow Contents | Chapter Five]
11/05/02