‘My God…’
Jacob wipes tears from his glazed-over eyes. ‘I was drowning in her sulfuric maelstrom, ranting and raging and screaming as if caught in a swirling pool of lava, then suddenly I was in an oasis of calm. Somehow Mick had reached in and saved me, pulling me to safety. I could still feel the Abomination clawing at my back, tempting me to look at her. And even though I had just escaped her Hell, it was all I could do to keep myself from turning again.
‘My father pulled me into his arms and held me, whispering that I am the true Hunahpu, the Nephilim messiah, and that he would be there for me when I needed him.’
Dominique wipes a tear. ‘How did he look?’
‘Weary. And then he faded back into the white light.’
Warning bells sound, snapping Jacob to attention. ‘Computer, report.’
WARPED SPACE DETECTED, COURSE TWO-ZERO-THREE MARK SIX. TIME TO INTERCEPT: FOUR MINUTES, TWENTY SECONDS.
‘Origin of warped space?’
GRAVITATIONAL RIPPLE.
‘The wormhole?’ Dominique asks.
Jacob nods. ‘Computer, plot and execute intercept course.’
She follows Jacob forward into the control room.
‘Computer, activate forward screen.’
A three-dimensional image of space appears on the wall before them. Located in the upper right hand corner of the screen, growing in size as it travels from east to west, is the frightening scarlet-ringed aperture of the wormhole.
Jacob stares at the object. ‘I think you’d better strap in.’
Dominique climbs into one of the pilot chairs, which instantly conforms to her physique. The mouth of the vortex appears before them, radiating like a swirling, orange-red alien moon.
ACTIVATING EXOTIC-MATTER BEACONS.
The image of the scarlet orifice blurs as the negative energy field of the starship’s exotic-matter force field carves an invisible path before them.
Jacob pulls himself into his command chair as the wormhole’s mouth grows to occupy the entire forward screen. ‘Hold on!’
The sleek starship crosses the wormhole’s threshold, the cosmic tunnel’s intense gravitational forces instantly sucking the vessel down its throat, propelling it through its conduit.
Dominique’s arms are suctioned to her chair, the intense gravitational turbulence shaking the vessel hard enough to loosen her back teeth. She bites down, her eyes barely able to focus on the forward screen.
They are rocketing through an iridescent sky-blue funnel, rimmed by a strange bloodred hue. At the very center of the image is a black dot… growing larger… larger And suddenly they are flung free, hurtling through space into an unrecognizable sector of the Galaxy.
Before them-an alien silvery-red planet.
Dominique whispers. ‘ Xibalba…’
Jacob nods. ‘Computer, reactivate main engines. Plot a course for the larger of the two moons.’
PROBES HAVE BEEN LAUNCHED FROM THE LUNAR SURFACE, APPROACHING GRAVITY RIPPLE.
‘Activate aft screen.’
The image of space changes. Appearing on-screen-the wormhole’s exit, bathed in emerald green. Moving into position along the perimeter of the orifice are hundreds of school-bus-sized probes, each emitting a luminescent blue beacon.
Dominique stares at the image on screen. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Someone’s stabilizing the wormhole, preventing its gravitational field from collapsing.’
‘The Guardian?’
‘Let’s hope. Computer, establish orbit around the planet’s larger moon. Prepare an escape pod to take us to the lunar surface.’
37
The twenty-seven-foot escape pod circles the lunar base, then descends to what appears to be a docking berth.
Jacob clutches his head, his eyes squeezed shut.
‘Jake, what’s wrong?’
‘Voices… so many voices… probing my mind telepathically-’
A written message appears across the pod’s main viewing screen.
WELCOME HOME.
The pod touches down with a hiss. Alien hydraulics rotate the vessel into position.
Without warning, the entire landing pad and escape pod plummet hundreds of feet below the surface.
Dominique grips her seat, her stomach jumping with the sudden descent, then they are slowing, braking on a cushion of air.
The pod’s outer hatch yawns open, revealing a massive subterranean facility.
Standing before them in absolute silence are hundreds of humanoids, seven feet tall, all possessing silky white hair, bright azure-blue eyes, and elongated skulls.
Jacob and his mother are escorted down a long corridor to a private chamber. Waiting for them inside are three Guardian elders. Two are males, possessing white hair and matching silky beards. The female’s hair is also snow white, her luminescent eyes holding a maternal quality. All three are wearing skintight biopneumatic bodysuits, entwined with biochemical capillary-like vessels pulsating with energy.
The older of the two males, dressed in a black bodysuit, speaks aloud, solely for Dominique’s benefit.
‘I represent First Clan.’
The women, wearing gray, states, ‘I represent Second Clan.’
The younger male, in a white jumpsuit, steps forward. ‘I represent Third Clan. It is an honor to meet you, First-Mother, though your presence was not anticipated.’
‘Who are you?’
The younger male holds up two fingers. Balanced on each fingertip is a dime-sized, paper-thin device. ‘These are bionetic implants. All you wish to know will be downloaded.’
Before Dominique can object, the younger male touches the device to her left temple – inhaling her consciousness into darkness.
Where is Immanuel?
He refused to join me.
Illogical. He was programmed to be here.
The Hunahpu gene remained dormant for too long. He possessed free will.
You cannot succeed without him.
My father will assist me.
Your father is lost.
Dominique forces open a heavy eye.
She is lying on a free-floating couch, the room spinning in her head. The three bizarre-looking humanoids are standing before Jacob, their eyes closed as they communicate with him telepathically.
‘Speak out loud!’
They turn slowly to face her, their glowing eyes now open.
‘Who are-’ As her lips purse to form the words of her first question, a wave of information instantaneously washes over her mind.
The Guardian… survivors of an Earth holocaust… destined for Mars Colony… twelve spaceships diverted through wormhole… arrived on Xibalba as Homo sapiens… evolved into transhumans through retrotransposon manipulation…
Dominique grips the sides of her head where the neural implants have been embedded.
‘Stop,’ Jacob protests, ‘you’re overwhelming her.’
The female transhuman blinks, causing the neural transmission to cease.
Jacob kneels by his mother’s side. ‘Are you all right?’
Dominique nods.
‘We will communicate aloud,’ the female commands.
‘I want to see Mick. Take me to him.’
‘One Hunahpu is long gone,’ the elder male coldly states. ‘Our concern now is for the Nephilim. ’
Dominique stands. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Michael Gabriel failed,’ voices the younger male.
‘You don’t know even where he is, do you?’
‘We know,’ the elder male retorts.
‘No… you’re lying, in fact, your whole brotherhood is one big lie! This lunar outpost, the Balam… none of it’s yours, you only inherited the technology, you don’t really understand it. You’re like a bunch of children operating a television. You can program it and adjust the volume, but you don’t know the first thing about how it really works, do you?’
Jacob looks at the Guardian elders and smiles. ‘My mother may not be Hunahpu, but don’t underestimate her, or her bond to my father. Tell her everything.’