Allan Ashinoff - The Vostok Revelation

“Awaken,” Xi said, his voice amplified by design, echoed throughout his bedchamber. The dark haired child, nearly of age to join his stable of slaves, was visibly awed. The lavender curtains autonomously shifted, natural light flooded the bedchamber, to reveal an overview of the endless ocean in every direction.

Xi watched the face of the young slave at his bedside, as eight soft, petite hands began snaking across his legs, stomach and chest. The child’s eyes widened as the sheet covering his midsection shifted lower, slipping below his navel. Indifferent to the girl the slaves grinning salaciously, their eyes pleading, begging their master for permission to prove their value.

Burdened by emotion, it would be easy to indulge himself with the eager women occupying his bed. He could, should he choose, include the child in a morning orgy. Still…

“Get out.”

Instantly, the nude women stopped caressing their master, rose from his bed, bowed and silently padded from his chamber.

Xi swung his legs off the side of the bed and sat up, completely exposing himself to the young girl. He reached out and rubbed his backhand downward across her cheek until his palm rest against her shoulder. Amusement filled him as the terrified girl, unlucky enough to be chosen as a messenger by one of his craven advisor’s, struggled to keep her breath. He had no desire to see her budding breasts nor to consume her virginity, but it was deliciously entertaining to watch one of his slaves struggle to maintain composure when confronted with absolute uncertainty.

He removed his hand from her shoulder and pulled the sheet across his lap, “What is it child? Who sent you?”

It took several seconds before the girl could find her words, “Master Portus has sent me, SurAjan. Master Portus sends word of news from Vasundhara.”

A grin spread across his face. He stood up, the sheet fall to the floor, and he placed one hand on either of the girl’s shoulders.

“What is your name, child? How old are you?”

“Li Na Haung, Master. I am thirteen, Master.”

“Look at my face young Li Na Haung.”

The girls face rose, her almond eyes were closed.

“Open your eyes.”

Slowly her eyes opened, they were green.

“You have beautiful green eyes,” Xi reached behind the girls head and untied her pony tail. He used both hands to fan out her hair in front and behind her shoulders. The girl stared at him, struggling to remain stoic to honor her family.

“There will come a day in the future Li Na Haung, when you will be brought to this chamber. Today, go back to your master and let him know that the Emperor will expect him in approximately two hours, after I have bathed.”

Relieved, the young girl bowed and hurried away.

Ka’Na Portus pressed his nose to marble floor of the Emperors meeting chamber. His master, sitting high on his throne, had left him in this uncomfortable position for more than thirty minutes.

“Advisor Portus, you sent a messenger.”

Still kneeling Ka’Na lifted his face from the marble floor and straightened his back, “Yes, my Emperor. A message has been received from a beacon on Vasundhara.

The Emperors face was expressionless, but inside his heart beat faster at the news. All of what the Ancients had predicted had happened. All they had planned several millennia before his first existence had executed perfectly. The virAsana, the sentinel, dormant in its fortified bunker, survived Anatarnahs and, having received its activation signal after so many attempts, deployed its locator’s, who in turn sent out their seekers to find, recover and recombine the bindu that had been protectively scattered across the Vasundrara’s solitary land mass. The bindu, parsed subatomic particles, were the key components to reestablishing communication between Mangal and Vasundhara, were now in place.

The Emperor looked down at the man who, in another life, had once been his colleague and best friend. Ka’Na then, as now, was brilliant in the field of synthetic automation and the manipulation of matter on an atomic, molecular, and supramolecular scale. It was that dual expertise in these crucial fields which kept his sattva, his digital essence, in the fleet data store when so many others had been purged to ensure the fruition of Xi’s vision.

Pleased, the Warlord Bharata stepped out of saMsarNa vault and began his walk to the council chamber. The blueprint of every living creature and plant on the planet, including the two billion human beings chosen by the council to populate Mengal, the planet chosen by the Ancients as the new home for humankind, had been altered to conform with the warlords plan; it now included himself and all of his followers and omitted anyone not of specific use to his plan and anyone who could weaken his legitimacy to rule humanity on its new homeworld.

No man, especially one hunted by council degree, should be able to walk into the Crystal Palace, stroll its halls, enter into its most sensitive area without contest. I now have unsupervised access to the most complex and highly encrypted data-hive ever created. After all I have become, after all I have done to show them the error of their way, they still maintain a guard of service reliant on technology rather than a guard of security reliant upon people of cunning, determination and force.

“Stand fast, you should not be here,” said a weathered voice from behind the warlord. “Who are you?”

Instantly recognizing the voice, Xi turned to face a friend, “Re’Na Tan. Do you not recognize me, old timer? We who have chatted so many times in these very halls over the years.”

“Councilman Bharata? I did not recognize you. It has been such a long time since…” The old man’s face showed concern as his right hand rose toward his right ear to activate his com-link but stopped when Xi’s gaze steeled, his hand came to rest on the sword hilt hanging from a loop on his right hip. Nervously Re’Na Tan lowered his hand, “ Your hair is much longer than when I saw you last. You also have a beard and..you… you look… blue?”

“Ah yes,” Xi grinned, “Its the disruptor. I didn’t want to be seen by the electronic eyes.”

“Disruptor?” Re’Na Tan stammered, checked himself and then continued, “Councilman Bharata, it is with regret that I… that I must detain you. I must bring you before the council.”

“I understand, my old friend. You are a man of duty and honor. I would expect nothing less from you.”

In an instant the Warlord of Vasundhara, in a single fluid motion, pulled the sword from the loop on his belt and separated Re’Na Tans head from his body.

Xi Bharata crouched, grabbed Re’Na’s head by its hair, and hoisted to look it in the eyes. “My apologies old friend, there is no time to explain. We will see each other again soon. I haven’t forsaken you, your wife or your two sons and their families.”

The warlord stood, the blood from the severed head turned black as it passed through the disruptor field and came to rest on his slacks and sandals.

This should make them shit themselves, he smiled as he began to marching toward the council meeting chamber, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. One last meeting with Ka’Na, to taunt him, and to keep all eyes focused on me until its too late to reverse what I have done.

November 2239. 0330. Washington Township. Executive Parker’s Private Residence.

Dennis Parker awoke to the ring of his telephone, an analog relic that worked just fine in their proprietary network and couldn’t be traced. Before the sleep could clear from his mind the irritatingly jubilant voice of Jerry Warncke assaulted his senses.