“The mothership for the truth,” Turcotte repeated. He felt a surge of irritation. Too many games. And he had a feeling now that he was more of a pawn than he’d ever imagined. Aspasia’s Shadow could be lying to him just to unsettle things. It wouldn’t be the first time the creature had tried such tactics.
“Now it is you who are lying,” Aspasia’s Shadow said, obviously thinking along the same lines. “You would not make such a trade. My comments got your mind working and you thought to manipulate me with a lie, but you are so unused to doing so, it is almost laughable.” Aspasia’s Shadow took a step closer. “You don’t even know your own truth, soldier,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” Turcotte demanded.
“You’ve learned Duncan isn’t who she appears to be, correct?” “Yes.” “Neither are you.”
“You’ve said that already. Then tell me who I am.”
Aspasia’s Shadow shook his head. “That is not my place. You’ve done well, you and your Russian friend. You’ve saved your world. For the moment. In fact, you would be lucky if Artad does get to Mars and sends his message and brings the Airlia back here in force. They would rule once more, but they would also protect you from the Swarm and other enemies among the stars. The lesser of two evils.”
Turcotte was holding at bay the swirl of questions and thoughts he had regarding what Aspasia’s Shadow had just said, trying to focus on the larger issue. “You said the Swarm wasn’t a threat because they couldn’t communicate.”
“Not yet. But think. Think hard. Artad is going to Mars. Where do you think the Swarm trapped here will want to go also? If it gets a message out to one of its fleets, your planet is doomed. A most terrible fate. I have memories from Aspasia of worlds that the Swarm harvested. Another reason I would really like to leave.”
Yakov finally spoke. “We should not be listening to him, my friend. He fills our heads with lies to confuse us. It is a tactic as old as any.”
Turcotte was uncertain what to do. He knew he could not allow Aspasia’s Shadow to have the mothership. He also knew they had to get after Artad. He had to assume the missing Talon was going to rendezvous with the alien, and then head toward Mars — the clock was ticking.
“Perhaps we can make an alliance,” Aspasia’s Shadow suggested.
Yakov stepped up next to Turcotte. “We should not be listening to him.” “A paranoid Russian,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “How refreshing.”
“What kind of alliance?” Turcotte asked.
“I will help you stop Artad and destroy the array on Mars.” “How?” Turcotte demanded.
Aspasia’s Shadow pointed down. “With the mothership. We will destroy him and those on Mars. Destroy the array. This planetary system will be isolated once more. Then I will depart on the mothership. I will not activate the interstellar drive for one hundred Earth years. By then I will be far enough away from your solar system that if the Swarm picks it up, they will not be able to track it back here.”
Yakov’s voice indicated he believed none of what Aspasia’s Shadow said. “You’d wait a hundred years?”
“I have waited thousands of years to partake of the Grail,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “And now I am immortal. A hundred years is nothing. Also there are deep sleep pods in this ship. For me it will be as if no time has passed at all.”
“We should not do this,” Yakov said.
“The array is not complete,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “Nearly, but not quite done. Do you think you can stop Artad by yourself? You think you can outfly his Talon, outfight him, when it is his technology?”
“Someone destroyed the Swarm craft in 1908,” Turcotte said. “Luck,” Aspasia’s Shadow said.
“I doubt it,” Turcotte shot back. “Who did it?” “It is not important.”
“I think it is very important,” Turcotte disagreed, “because I think it was a human, using a weapon he or she invented. Something we achieved on our own, without interference from aliens.”
“I will give you the Grail and the stone,” Aspasia’s Shadow said, ignoring Turcotte. “You can be immortal.”
Turcotte shook his head. “Why do you think immortality would be such a blessing? The planet is already overpopulated. If we extend the gift of immortality to everyone, it would be an ecological disaster. We would destroy ourselves with overpopulation. There are more humans alive now than have lived throughout history — it’s the worst possible time for immortality to rear its head. We’d deplete the world of natural resources within twenty years. And if we don’t extend it to everyone, there would be war unlike anything this world has ever seen between those who have it and those who don’t.”
Aspasia’s Shadow spread his arms wide. “That is not my problem. You can keep the Grail and its gift a secret. Share it with a select few. You are very good at secrets. It will give you tremendous power. You will be like a god — immortal and with the power to grant the same to others. I’ve seen all the major religions on this planet flourish and many have that at the core. The promise of eternal life.”
“And how many of them were the Airlia or their minions like you involved in forming?” Turcotte demanded.
Aspasia’s Shadow smiled slyly. “A few perhaps. Humans are very gullible. Especially when you offer them a way around that which they fear. And you do fear death, don’t you?”
Turcotte ignored the last comment. “Which makes me wonder why the Airlia brought the Grail here in the first place. Was it just to be a symbol? Or was it to be used sometime? And if so, when? And who would be given the gift?”
“All very good questions,” Aspasia’s Shadow said. “And the answers?”
“Not my province,” Aspasia’s Shadow answered. “Wrong answer,” Turcotte said as he pulled the trigger.
The round hit Aspasia’s Shadow in the right leg, knocking him off his feet.
“What are you doing?” Aspasia’s Shadow shouted, his hands trying to stem the flow of blood.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Turcotte advanced, weapon aimed. “Immortality might not be all it’s cracked up to be.”
Aspasia’s Shadow staggered to his feet. “You are making a huge mistake.”
“Bye,” Turcotte said as he pulled the trigger again. The round hit Aspasia’s Shadow right between the eyes, flipping him backward, a pool of blood spreading beneath his head.
CHAPTER 6: THE PRESENT
Tanks led the way along the dirt road, passing between the rows of destroyed statues that had once marked the ceremonial path to Qian-Ling. Each statue represented one of the foreign ambassadors who had attended the funeral procession of the first emperor, Shi Huangdi, who had ruled from nearby Xian.
The stone was scorched and all the statues were missing their heads. The former had happened when the current Chinese government had detonated a nuclear bomb in an attempt to destroy the mountain-tomb and what it held, prior to joining sides with Artad. The latter had occurred when vandals had desecrated and stolen what they could reach in ancient times.
Beyond the statues, as the road wound its way higher, lay the mountain that was called Qian-Ling. It rose three thousand feet above the countryside and even the most casual observer could tell from the evenly rounded sides that it was not a natural formation. It had been known as the largest tomb in the world, even bigger than the Great Pyramid of Giza.