The Omega Device (The Ha-Shan Chronicles Book 1) (34 page)

“So Omega needs to maintain secrecy?”

“Yeah, makes sense doesn't it? A secret organization with powerful, well-planted roots. Any exposure beyond what's necessary risks them being weeded-out.” Maggie relaxed on the bench to think. Thorne interrupted her before she sank too deep, “Why'd you want to know? I mean, if you don't mind me asking.”

She thought of She-La, “I guess I was just worried about people I care about.”

“Well, unless Black ordered a clean-up in Oakton, I'm sure they're fine.”

He tried to reassure her with a smile, but it fell short. She was grateful for it nonetheless. His eyes sank back to his laptop and she wondered at Omega's leadership.

Black had been the only one confirmed, but it seemed clear someone was pulling his strings. Even Thorne believed it. If the leadership feared being uprooted, then they had a weakness. Unfortunately, exposing Omega was pointless without more information on Black's handlers.

Her thoughts became broken at that recognition, and she sank deeper into the mechanical background to drift in and out of sleep. Neither had breadth nor width over the other. So it remained until she was suddenly jostled back to reality by Thorne.

He stood over her with a grin, her mind quick to regain its footing. He was undeniably excited.

“I did it, Maggie!” He rushed off to shake the others awake, “Russell. Steph. I did it!”

Russell jerked upright, banged his head against a beam for the cot above. He swore, mumbled angrily. Reese, shoved Thorne away with a habitual, slow phrase, “Fuck off, Thorne.”

“Steph, I—” Reese growled. “Oh fuck it. C'mon guys, I'll show you.”

Russell rubbed his forehead and scooted from beneath the bed. Maggie rose for Reese's side, knelt beside her to whisper her name.

“Reese. Reese, wake up.” She spoke quietly, a mischievous smile on her face. She placed a finger under Reese's nose, tickled the center of her top lip. “Reeeese.”

She swatted unconsciously at the finger. It quickened. Reese swatted, growled. She shoved Maggie back without thought. Maggie yelped and Reese's eyes snapped open.

“Oh shit.” She sat up. “Maggie? Are you alright?”

Maggie doubled over, grunted between laughs, “My own fault. Oh fuck, that hurts.”

“Are you
alright?
” Reese repeated helplessly.

It took Maggie a moment to contain her fit, “That was
so
worth it. Thorne's got something.”

She helped Maggie to her feet, “Are you sure you're alright?”

“I'm fine.” She fought to stand, “But help me over there anyhow.”

Reese lifted her onto a shoulder, helped her hobble to the bench.

Thorne sat with the computer in his lap, “Okay. First you have to understand what I've been doing. I ran a quick word-find through the Chinese translations for words like weapon, location, device, legacy, etcetera. A hundred or more references came up. Luckily, we were right.” He became animated as he explained, “Each volume's a different interpretation, or version, of the original Cuneiform. Many references
do
repeat and are updated over time. The most recent Chinese however, has a passage that's never been expounded upon.”

“What's it say?” Maggie asked, intrigued.

Thorne's fingers flew over the keyboard. He began to read,
“I believe my predecessors sensed the site was as once revered among common men as it is among our Order… no evidence can be found in its current state, but I believe its location has been hinted.”
 

“Kind of cryptic,” Russell said.

“It's the Reverberant's thought process,” Thorne said. “He was taking notes, considering what had already been discovered. His next entry reads:
“My suspicions have been confirmed. By referencing old texts with the original, I have deduced the suspected African connection as the others had. This “land of pale Negroes” bears resemblance to northern Africa. The pale Negroes are most probably men of the Northern land whose skin is much fairer than those of their southern brothers.”
 

Thorne's fingers bounced over the keys once more.

“The next excerpt confirms the suspicions of the previous reference;
The “Land of the pale Negroes” bordering the Mediterranean Sea, must have once been within the lands of the ancient Pharaohs…. In this land, they have buried a marvel in seeking to bury all of those whom came before them.”
 

“The lands of the Pharaohs?” Russell asked, his mind mulling over a mental image of a world map. “Near Egypt and the Mediterranean? Libya or somewhere near it.”

“So, we're headed to the right place at least,” Reese mused pointedly.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Thorne replied. “Most of the other references seemed to place the site at multiple points across the world. Some even referred to “
the Southern edge of the world, in a land of frozen water.
” Antarctica. I don't know about you guys, but that's a bit further than I'm willing to venture.”

“So you know where it is?” Reese asked. He nodded. “Then get on with it.”

“Right. The next excerpts are compiled from all the volumes, but expound heavily on where the site is within Libya: “
Three possible places… only one apart from the rest… The site at which a Native Son gave wealth.”
Native Son's capitalized, now here's where the Cuneiform takes over;
“Its secrets,
buried
from “God-man's” aggressors—
back to the Reverberants;
“In the land of the Native Son… no doubt it holds the secrets of their legacy… Alas, only a man with proper knowledge could use such information to find its final location. Of this, I am certain I do not possess.”
 

“The Native Son?” Reese asked. “What the hell's that mean?”

Thorne smiled, “Only a man with the proper knowledge could decode it.” The smile widened. “I did a search of an encyclopedic database I have on a back-up drive. It covers all of human history and then-some. Point is, the Native Son was a Roman emperor. Septimius Severus ruled from 193 to 211 AD, and was referred to as the Native Son for his love and commitment to his home-town,
Leptis Magna
in Libya
. He spent a lot of time and money trying to stabilize the city until an economic depression strangled his funds. If the
journals are right, the Native Son was a  Protectorate sympathizer.” He looked to Maggie, “One of those high-profile people Omega can't touch.”

Maggie nodded, mused aloud, “So, if he was part of the Protectorate,
and
knew the weapon's location, at some point he'd have helped bury it.”

Russell agreed, “Makes sense. Use your power and wealth to protect it.”

“It isn't really affirming anything though,” Reese interjected.

Thorne sighed, “Alright, you want concrete?”

“That
would
be helpful,” she said sarcastically.

“Okay then,” Thorne said, looking between them. “Sometime before this it's suspected Omega first arose. Then, in 203, on no occasion and in a drastically depressed economy, Severus suddenly builds a massive monument that mirrors one in the Roman forum. Now check this, the monument
bears his name.”

Maggie was confounded, “It
could
be ego.”

“Maybe,” Reese said, catching on. “Or—”

“It was a ploy,” Russell said, crossing his arms. “He wanted everyone to
think
his ego drew the plans, but really he built it to hide the weapon. It's not a stretch to think he helped people believe that.”

“And any rumors or real info would've died out since,” Maggie added.

“But why wouldn't the Reverberants have kept some clear record of it?” Reese asked.

“To help the process,” Russell said.

Thorne agreed, “That's what I'm thinking. If the Reverberant volumes are all that's left, then massive sections of history are missing. It accounts for several
thousand
years. Why
not
keep the weapon hidden by destroying the few possible places it might be referenced?”

Maggie considered the likelihood of the explanation, “It would make sense why some Reverberants wouldn't know the weapon's location and their volumes still exist. If the Cuneiform's the only one that would point to it, keeping the language contained to the Keepers was all they needed.”

“So, what, someone might have the missing volumes?” Reese asked.

Thorne shook his head, “No, I doubt it. It's almost as if the books reach critical mass on a certain topic, and then it disappears. Certain volumes contain information that in earlier ones is more apt to have been correct, but in later volumes is convoluted and back at square-one.”

Maggie's brow furrowed, “How's that possible?”

“Someone's controlling the flow of information,” Russell said.

Thorne pointed a finger at him, “Bingo. Either the Protectorate's doing it, or Omega's consistently had spies managing to steal the information for generations. I'm guessing the former, because they've had their thumbs too far up their asses otherwise. Either way, there's a lot more going on with both sides than we know of. The history that's been lost could might even contain the emergence of Omega, which even
they
aren't entirely sure of anymore.”

Maggie shook her head, “Unbelievable.”

Russell agreed, “Yeah, but now we have an edge. The clock's ticking for everyone, and we've got level-ground. We need to move fast to take out the weapon, and they need to move fast to stop us. Omega won't need to exist after the weapon's destroyed.”

Reese nodded along, “The only question's how they'll strike?”

Thorne suddenly checked his watch with a fearful expression. “Shit! Guys, we've got a
big
problem.”

“What?” Maggie asked.

He lifted the laptop to show the screen, across it a large dialog box read: “
SAT-LINK ESTABLISHED: OMEGA DATA TRANSMITTING.”
 

30.

Hail Mary

October 8
th
 

1:00 PM

Between China and Libya.

Flight time remaining: 3.5 hours

Russell paced along the bunks. Reese leaned against a wall, her hand at her chin. Maggie sat beside Thorne while his fingers flew. Strings of code overtook his laptop's screen. If he could jam the up-link between West and Black, they might delay any further reports until they landed. If they didn't, their time-table ended prematurely.

Thorne's expertise could only go so far and Black's paranoia easily overshadowed it. The up-link's encryption was astronomically complex, but Thorne had to try. If he didn't, everything since leaving Lhasa could be for nothing.

“Is it going to work?” Reese asked. “
Thorne!”
 

“It'll only work if you shut up and let me do it!” He spat. He muttered under his breath, “Even then prob'ly not.”

They waited, silent, on edge.

After a moment Thorne stopped. “Done.”

“Will it work?” Maggie asked.

“I don't know.”

“You
don't know
?” Reese accosted.

“There's no way to tell.”

Reese huffed, pulled a pistol from her side. She checked the breech, chambered a round, then pushed past Russell.

“Reese? Reese!” Maggie shouted, hobbling after her toward the cockpit.

Reese was silent, possessed. She planted each step with unshakable confidence, her knuckles white on the pistol. She threw open the cockpit door, stepped to its center.

The comm-officer spoke into his headset, “Reason for diversion? Say again, Control?”

The pilot pressed his headset to listen, looked sideways to the comm-officer, “Desertion? What the hell's that mean?”

Reese raised the pistol to the comm-officer's head, “Continue current course.”

The comm-officer stiffened. The pilot's eyes widened, “Are you nuts? Do you have—”

“Two Egyptian F-16's loaded for bear, launched from Cairo. ETA thirty minutes from departure,” Reese replied, fingering the trigger. “Continue current course.”

“If you know what they'll send, then you know we—”

Reese jabbed the barrel into the back of the comm-officer's head. He tensed up, clenched his eyes shut.

“Reese, what the hell are you—”

“You know the stakes. It's us or them.”

The pilot eyed her and the gun. “Sir?” The co-pilot asked.

Reese's upper-lip trembled with disgust. The pilot caught it, “You won't kill him.”

She looked between the three men, her eye twitched. “You're right.”

She fired three rounds through the back of the pilot's chair. Blood sprayed the instrument panel and windscreen. Maggie was frozen. She watched the pilot slump sideways, hang limp by his four-point belt.

Reese stepped beside the co-pilot, “You've been promoted.”

“Or-orders?”

“Continue current course heading.”

“A-and the Egyptians?” He asked, sweat beading on his upper-lip.

“Ready the countermeasures,” Reese ordered, swiveling on-heel.

Maggie followed her out mechanically. She snapped from her trance, shoved Reese sideways at the top of the stairs.

“What the
fuck
is wrong with you?”

Reese took the hit in stride, “Do we have a problem?”

Maggie turned away for a moment, whipped back with surprising speed, and slammed her right fist into Reese's face. Her left hand grabbed Reese by the throat, held her back against the railing with a strength that surprised them both. Maggie shook from the pain in her side, Reese sensed it.

“Why?”

Reese reddened, “If you want to survive, accept that
they're the enemy
.”

Maggie growled, slammed Reese backward. She fell free, gasped for air. Maggie stormed down the stairs. Russell and Thorne watched, their faces mixed with evasion and knowing.

“What are we going to do about the F-16's?”

“Thorne can help with them.”

“What's going on?” Russell asked.

“Did it work?” Thorne asked.

“No,” Maggie replied.

“Cairo's just launched two F-16's to intercept and force us down or take us out,” Reese said. She looked to Thorne. “The jam failed, which means we need the cyber-warfare program.”