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fits in with nature instead of opposing it. Survival of
the fittest."
Brigid scrutinized the creature again. "You really
think things like that can remove all of humanity,
conduct a globicide? No matter how depopulated the
world is right now, the introduction of a new pred-
atory species still seems inefficient. They might be
tough, but they're still mortal. You'll have losses, and
it doesn't appear they can reproduce in the conven-
tional fashion."
Lakesh spoke up. "The Battle Class breed has sen-
sory organs reduced and shielded. Their minds are
controlled by means of communications filaments
grown by the electromagnetic energy of the brain it-
self. Their skin is very tough, and the pores can be
closed autonomically to prevent the introduction of
bacteria or toxins. Almost all of their orifices can be
sealed at will. Their eyes are equipped with a pro-
tective outer lens with adjustable transparency that
keeps the eyeball moist. The skeleton is streamlined,
and all of the internal organs simplified. In the stage
of the metamorphosis you observe in this subject, the
lower abdomen and pelvic girdle have been modified
so that the genitals are withdrawn into the body for
protection. So, yes, they can reproduce convention-
ally."
Field Marshal Thrush chuckled. "Once we get
around to breeding females, of course."
"For vicious predators," Grant said, "this one
seems fairly well-behaved."
"That's because his organic trigger is switched
off," Lakesh replied.
"What happens when it's on?"
"Their systems are flooded with vast amounts of
adrenaline, testosterone and other hormones. They
undergo a feral 'flight or fight' reflex, which is shifted
toward aggression and hostility."
Brigid studied the creature's fang-filled jaws.
"You've obviously designed it to be a carnivore."
Thrush nodded. "Aren't all predators? And don't
all predators eat what they kill?"
Grant and Brigid swung their heads toward him
sharply, faces registering repugnance. "They're can-
nibals?" Grant demanded.
"Cannibals devour their own kind. Humanity is
not their own kind, though of course they have hu-
man genes. That is where the vicious killer-instincts
come from."
"How do you plan to introduce your predators into
human environments?" Brigid asked. "Just turn
them loose in a wild, disorganized horde on com-
munities?' ,
"Wild, perhaps. Disorganized, not at all. Have you
ever heard of the Wild Hunt?"
Brigid started, eyes going wide. "A pagan ritual,
probably dating back to prehistoric times. Cerunnos,
the Homed God, represented the hunt, the killing of
prey and the winter months. The Wild Hunt was per-
formed every year in his honor and ranged far and
wide. People who were criminals or unproductive
were the designated prey. They were hunted down,
killed and allegedly eaten in a ceremony.
"Cernunnos himself often led the hunt. Some texts
describe him as half animal, but most of the time he
manifested himself as a Man In Black."
She eyed him speculatively. "You're not claiming
you're Cernunnos, a pagan deity, are you?"
"As I said, I've made so many claims in so many
faces they tend to slip my mind. Have you seen
enough here?"
Not waiting for a response, Thrush flicked the tog-
gle switch to the down position, and the wall portal
closed again. Brigid wasn't done with the topic. "I
suppose it's conceivable you're the basis of Cernun-
nos, since you can travel through the hyperdimen-
sions as easily we walk through a room. It's equally
possible you formed the foundation of many myths
and legends as control mechanisms for the human
race. The Battle Class breed is the latest in a long
line of control mechanisms, isn't it?"
"Anything is possible, Miss Baptiste." Thrush
motioned to them with the blaster. "If not in one
universe, then certainly in another."
Grant stood his ground, eyes seething with hatred.
"Maybe so," he grated, "but you seem to have the
same agenda in every one of them."
"The way I approach that agenda varies as to cir-
cumstance."
"Who gives you your marching orders?" Grant
demanded. "The Archon Directorate?"
"As I indicated, everything is variable depending
on the circumstance."
"Let's talk about these circumstances," Brigid
challenged. "The Archons definitely figured into
World War n on this casement as on our own. How
did that involvement with the Nazis come about?"
"Start moving, please," Thrush said politely.
"And I'll explain a bit of it to you."
Reluctantly, they obeyed his order, Grant pushing
Lakesh's wheelchair ahead of him. Thrush walked
behind them and spoke in a calm, uninflected voice.
"As on your casement-on all of them that I have
visited-the Nazi Party in and of itself was nothing
more than a red herring, a public-relations front to
hide the workings of an ancient secret society with
links to Asia, whose symbol was the reversed swas-
tika. Even the most fanatically patriotic German
would not have been able to stomach what the Thule
and Vril societies were up to, or what deeds Hitler
performed in their service.
"Hitler, as well as the men who became his inner
circle of advisers, were initiated into this secret lodge.
Rituals were common, and some of them revolved
around a fragment of a mystical black stone. They
used it to affect and alter outcomes of events."
"Alternate event horizons," Brigid murmured.
"Just so. As you have no doubt learned about the
stone, the Trapezohedron is a discrete quanta packet
that interacts and interfaces with the basic units of
reality."
Grant threw a scowl over his shoulder. "What the
hell are basic units of reality?"
"Essentially," Thrush replied, "any action that
triggers a reaction. In essence, their rituals with the
facet of the Trapezohedron opened a door and some-
thing came in."
"The Archons," Grant said matter-of-factly.
"No," Thrush replied, "not on this casement or
your own. An emissary arrived first, one that easily
moved among the decision makers, observing and as-
similating knowledge, extrapolating and recommend-
ing whether an alliance would prove profitable." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]