Baila XXI raised his holy rod over the tarjis’ heads, and they immediately fell to the pavement, their heads bowed into the dust.
“Antyrans, soldiers of light!” he boomed over the prostrated crowd. “Antyra’s age is coming to an end! Sacrifice yourself for Zhan like Beramis once did, and you will rise to the heavens before the second rain of fire! Someday, you’ll be a part of Him!”
He jerked his arms toward the sky in a spasmodic gesture to show them the wall of fire, and the electrified crowd jumped to their feet with delirious quivering. They immediately began to chant Zhan’s name—at first whispered, then louder and louder, till their murmurs became a deafening shout. The pilgrims’ orations rolled over Alixxor with the force of a thousand thunders. Everyone on the streets—tarjis, initiates—and even some bystanders joined them. Then, suddenly, silence fell over the town. In a tiny dent in the wall of the Roch-Alixxor Mountains, just left of the lofty Eger Peak, a skittish morning ray started to dance. The dawn had begun!
Far from the Karajoo feast, a Shindam spaceship—the same that several days ago had taken off from Antyra II, loaded with crates holding the strange discovery unearthed in Sigarion—landed in utmost secrecy on a military spaceport in western Alixxor, taking advantage of the last vanishing shadows of the quasi-night. A column of armored chameleons with their camouflage activated rushed on the tarmac, surrounding it. The troops jumped into the ship and quickly unloaded a bunch of black boxes. As soon as they finished loading the precious cargo in their chameleons, they drove swiftly to a nearby secret base.
***
Gill couldn’t find a good reason why he kept staring at the three stars. They didn’t have anything special, hanging like that in a black sky littered with millions and millions of other lights just like them. And yet, he was spying them through a lens. He knew all too well what was about to happen: the lights would start to move. At first slowly, then faster and faster, they would run away from the motionless sky and hide in the darkest corner, colder and deeper than any other one. He eagerly craved to see them closer. He was about to fulfill his wish because he was falling toward them, through them, with roaring terror.
He didn’t make it to the destination, being awakened rather brutally from the tentacles of this strange dream by an annoying ringing. It was an incoming call on his holophone. Damn! Now he remembered all too well the three little square stars—because on the last few nights, the sticky nightmare had haunted his sleep, filling him with anxiety. Had he been superstitious, he surely would have interpreted it as a bad omen—after all, he was one of Zhan’s traitors. Tonight, I’m going to dream it through the end, if only Tadeo will leave me alone, he promised to himself.
Even though his full name was Gillabrian, the Antyran tradition dictated that his friends only used the first letters, “Gill,” while his enemies, if he had any, would use the last ones—namely, Abrian. No one called him Abrian—at least not yet—since he was just a secluded archivist hidden behind his archaeological interests, trying hard to avoid stepping on anyone’s tail. Although he had no doubts that if he managed to crawl higher on the rigid hierarchy of the Archivists Tower, lots of archivists would call him Abrian behind his back. It would be inevitable.
He was living in the crowded outskirts of the capital city, Alixxor, far enough from Karajoo’s noises—but not far enough from Tadeo’s long arm. After grudgingly greeting the hologram of his boss, he dressed as fast as he could and abandoned his tempting nest to face the morning chill.
He didn’t usually have to wake up so early because his work started at more decent hours, but Tadeoibiisi’s voice didn’t allow him any doubts that something serious had happened. His boss asked him to drive with utmost speed on one of the western magneto-bypasses. According to the instructions, he was to park the magneto-jet in a vertical parking lot and meet a security crew to bring him to a secret base in one of their chameleon sky-jets.
He stopped for a moment, trying to get used to the darkness inside the underground base. It might have gone faster if he could manage to keep his eyes open, but despite his goodwill (to be honest, not a great deal of it), the treacherous darkness lured him to shut them again immediately.
A dim light revealed a long corridor vaulted with greenish stone tiles descending gently into the earth’s bowels. A few steps away, he spotted several silhouettes, the unmistakable one belonging to Tadeoibiisi—his boss—a head taller than the others.
“Gill! Sorry I woke you up, but you have to see what we just brought in. Very important stuff. And, above all, very damn secret,” said Tadeo with a somber intonation.
Gill approached the group and briefly greeted them with his fist pressed to his left breast, according to the custom.
“They’re going to work with us,” Tadeo said, then started the introductions. “I believe you already know our colleagues from the Archivists Tower: prime archivist Krinandrin, archivist Armondengava, and his assistant, Ernonhafir. The others are from the Security Tower. They’ll help us with the examinations as part of the team.” He didn’t say their names. Most likely, he didn’t know them, either. “My assistant, Alala, has gone to the Security Tower, but she’ll join us later. Should have been here already, but it looks like she’ll be late.”
Of all the names, Gill only knew Alala. With the others, he barely exchanged a casual greeting when he stumbled into them in the dark corridors of the Archivists Tower.
Alala was a beautiful Antyran, one of the few pleasant faces in an institution packed with old male researchers, invariably owning some large desks full of boring holograms of their fat, androgynous nephews; ancient rolls; and drawings stained by sardac juice.
He had few opportunities to talk with her—mostly when he was looking for Tadeo—but even though she always looked friendly and cheerful, he never managed to smell her. Usually, it took him little time to figure out what kind of Antyran he was dealing with, but Alala was a different story. She had something special—mysterious and cold—in her eyes, which didn’t bode well with the friendly mask worn on the outside. And instead of minding his own business, he felt attracted to her like an innocent licant9 by a tekal seed, anxious to peer behind the wall she raised between her and the rest of the world. Maybe this was his chance to finally get know her better…
“Let’s go,” shouted Tadeo and waved his right hand to ask them to follow him. “Alala knows where to find us. We don’t have to wait for her.”
“I figured it has to be something big since you awoke me so awfully early, but what the heck are we doing here?” mumbled Gill in a low voice, trying to make himself heard only by Tadeo’s ear holes. “Did you visit… one of the vitrified cities?” he quivered, haunted by a gloomy feeling.
“You’ll see!” his boss said, smiling. “A bit more than that. We found something buried on Antyra II.”
“Oh, come on! You can’t dig things on that planet! There’s no history there,” Gill exclaimed, incredulous, forgetting to control the pitch of his voice. “We barely colonized it!”
“You’re right. There’s no Antyran history,” Tadeo said with a smile.
“Then what the—”
An imposing soldier appeared from a dark gallery, blocking their way.
“And who’s this one?” the voice whipped in Gill’s general direction while the soldier’s eyes stung him as if he was perfectly able to read his darkest secrets right through his skull.
“He’s one of my assistants, our best researcher of comparative anatomy!”
Tadeo had this talent of “slightly” exaggerating things, especially when he talked with profanes. Truth was, comparative anatomy was Gill’s specialty—but still, the “best researcher” was a bit of a stretch.