CHAPTER 15
Aquarius could barely hear the alien’s speech over the roaring in his ears.
“Dear disciples, I must leave thee for a short, as I must journey to another world. Fear not, though, for I shall return, more powerful than before. In my absence, you shall go forth and spread the gospel of God, and to those who won’t believe…
” It paused and hissed. “Eliminate them, for they are our enemies and, so long as they live, they will deny you entry to Heaven where you belong.”
It sickened how the gathered people began to cheer. They’d seen and heard the entire confrontation between the Kukakk and Ishtar yet still chose to believe its lies. Would continue to kill.
With a wide grin, the Kukakk strode up the gangplank, pausing only to kick Ishtar’s lifeless body aside. It boarded the ship, and within minutes, the vessel took off.
Took off to Mars without Ishtar.
To a planet ripe with more of the gemstones.
Unlimited power for the Kukakk to destroy Earth.
Not if Aquarius got there first.
He spun on his heel and headed for the door.
“Wait,” Aries called out.
“I’m too angry right now to talk to you,” Aquarius spat, wrenching open the door.
“I get it.”
“Do you?” Aquarius spun with his fists clenched. “You knew she planned a suicide mission.”
“She’d hoped the alien would take her hostage to pilot the ship.”
“Hoped? Bullshit. She well knew there was a high probability that fucker would kill her, as did you, yet neither of you thought fit to tell me.”
“She asked me not to.” A faint rebuttal that came with the downturn of Aries’ lips.
“Because I would have told her the plan was insane.”
“Hence why she asked me to keep it secret. She thought the risk was worth it.”
“Let me guess, she planned to fly it to Mars, where she would have a slim opportunity to detonate the bomb and kill the alien far from Earth.”
“That was the idea, yes.”
“Well, that fucking failed, didn’t it? Now Ishtar is dead, and that alien fuck is on its way to Mars, where the mother lode of gemstones exists.”
“They won’t do it much good.”
“How do you figure?”
“Aware of the possibility she might perish, Ishtar sabotaged the flier. Soon as it lands on Mars, it’s going to self-destruct. The alien won’t have a way to return.”
“You do realize the Kukakk is crafty enough to build another.”
“According to Ishtar, there isn’t anything left on Mars that it could really use.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he growled. “Those nanobots it’s fond of don’t require much material. The citadel might be empty of furnishings and machines in its rooms, however, the wiring in that place, the systems that keep it running, are still available.”
“Oh.” Aries frowned. “She didn’t mention that. Could she have programmed the bomb to auto detonate?”
“Even if she did, the chances of it doing shit are small, seeing as how it’s locked a gazillion levels underground.” He scrubbed at his hair. “I have to go.”
“Where?”
“Mars of course.”
“To do what?”
“Finish what Ishtar started. Set off the bomb and kill it.”
Aries pinched his lips. “I guess if I order you to stay, you’ll—”
“Tell you to fuck off? Yes.”
“You’re talking about going on a suicide mission.”
“I’m aware. Just like Ishtar was, and the worst part is, she did it to save me because of that damned prophecy.”
“I didn’t realize you’d gotten so close.”
“It happened quickly.” So quickly he still was coming to grips with his feelings. Feelings he’d not had a chance to truly explore or divulge. And now he’d never have the chance.
“I’m sorry, brother.” True chagrin filled Aries’ tone.
“So am I.” He cleared his throat. “In case I don’t survive, it’s been an honor serving with you.”
“I’ll accompany you.”
“No. The prophecy said this was a task for the water bearer. Besides, you have a daughter and wife to protect. Not to mention you’ll have to find a way to defuse the mess that fucker started.”
“Might have to put on those leather pants after all and crack a few heads.” Aries sighed.
“May the Astraeus be with us both.” Aquarius held out his hand, but Aries dragged him into a hug, his voice choked as he said, “Love you, brother.”
“Ditto.” A word he could barely squeeze out for the tightness in his throat.
Aquarius headed to his office for a last peek at the bomb and how it functioned.
It seemed fairly simple. Get it within a clear view of the Kukakk, click a button in a remote, and bam.
Good energy would radiate outward, smack into the evil version, and the pair would then mutually self-destruct.
Easy. The hard part? Getting inside the basement chamber with the bomb.
It had been keyed to open for Ishtar. While he could have fetched her body from the field where she’d been killed, he had a better idea.
After all, she’d left behind a clone. A clone that gave him hope, not just because it would have the handprint signature to open the locked chamber, but maybe, just maybe, Ishtar could be resurrected.
She’d never mentioned how her consciousness ended up waking the next version of herself.
Did it happen upon death? Or did she have to trigger something to start the process?
Had that been part of her plan? The part she left out when relaying it to Aries?
The fist gripping his heart loosened a bit, but his urgency to get going increased.
He called out to Nimrod. “Hey, I’m gonna need a new travel pack.
Clothes and food only this time please.” As an afterthought, he added, “And a gun.” Because if he killed the Kukakk’s body on Mars, it might end up truly trapped, a ball of light zipping around looking for a host. Only it wouldn’t find any that would be useful.
He doubted the river snakes would be able to build it a nanobot using their tails or fins and those sleeping had their genes modified so it couldn’t take hold.
A knapsack appeared, bulging and slightly heavy, along with a holster holding his favorite revolver. Nimrod also added a rifle. Smart.
He loaded himself up and hit the stairs, glancing upward, saying, “Take me to the penthouse.”
Nothing happened.
“Uh, Nimrod, I could use a lift to Ishtar’s room.”
Nada.
“Please, dude, I need to get to the Mars portal.”
But unlike the other times when Ishtar asked, the stairs remained long and winding.
Perhaps Nimrod was busy. He began trudging.
Step after step. Moving ever upwards. Floor after floor, most of them blocked from his view.
The monotonous repetition made the trek even longer so he tried to distract himself doing math.
Each flight of about thirty or more steps took about ten to fifteen seconds to ascend, because he chose to go at a steady pace rather than gassing himself racing.
He could climb eighty to a hundred and twenty steps per minute, at least four hundred and eight an hour.
Tower had approximately twelve thousand steps.
If he could maintain his current pace, it would take him around twenty-fours, give or take.
He began lagging within the first hour.
While fit, anyone who climbed stairs knew how taxing it could be on the body. By the thirtieth floor, he needed a break. He paused on a landing that had a single door, bronze with carvings. It tempted him to open, and the very fact it distracted had him snatching his hand away from the knob.
He continued upward, wishing the various levels had numbers so he could see how far he’d gone—and how much remained.
No one had ever actually counted all the levels and stairs.
He should have asked Ishtar since the Martians built it.
What he did know? He had to move faster or by the time he reached the penthouse, he’d have no time to prepare for the Kukakk’s arrival on Mars.
At that point, he still assumed he could actually make the ascent.
As the hours passed, and the muscles in his legs knotted, it seemed less and less likely.
At the fourteen-hour mark, he collapsed. Spasms in his thighs, splints in his calves, and pure exhaustion took him down.
“Nimrod. Please,” he called out for the millionth time. “Help me.”
A warm cocoon enveloped him. Finally. He sighed and closed his eyes as it zoomed him—to his apartment door.
He blinked at it in disbelief.
No.
No.
No!
He glared at his door before pivoting to eye the stairs. “You’re a fucking dick,” he grumbled, and he began climbing again.
Ten flights before Nimrod zoomed him back down.
His next attempt he managed five.
His third try? He only had the choice of going down.
Nimrod apparently had decided he wasn’t going to Mars.
And so Aquarius did what any self-respecting warrior would do when stymied for a mission.
He sulked.
And ate.
And drank beer.
Sure, he could have been more productive, giving his brothers a hand tracking and countering the militant groups hunting out the non-Alien-Jesus believers. But instead, he pulled a Leo and wallowed in his misery.
Ishtar was gone.
The Kukakk would be arriving at Mars in the next day or so.
The clone he’d been counting on would probably be the first thing the alien destroyed.
The bomb would be dismantled and stripped of its gems and the whole thing repurposed.
Hell, what was to stop the fucker from finding the portal that would bring it to Tower? Assuming it could use it. Maybe it couldn’t. After all, the Astraeus powered them, and the two beings weren’t compatible. But did blindness still apply when the fucker possessed a human body?
Didn’t matter. Earth was fucked.
On the morning of the third day, as he lay in his gross bed, unbathed, covered in Cheeto dust, his jaw an unshaven scraggly mess, a warm nudge had him muttering, “Fuck off, Nimrod. I’m not talking to you.”
Tower didn’t take no for an answer and dumped him onto the floor.
He rose to his feet and lasered the ceiling with his gaze. “Leave me alone.”
Nimrod did not leave him alone. Nimrod used a fist of air to shove him in the direction of the bathroom.