Search for Rue
JADAN’S APARTMENT
She and Jadan concluded a one-hour conversation. She made the waal-baal finals, and her practice schedule compounds the problem. Numerous appearances on The Broadcast Sports are time consuming. A regular guest on the news, and several talk shows she dislikes the attention. People hound her for interviews, autographs, and pictures.
Jadan kicks back in his favorite chair and puts his feet on the ottoman. His thoughts switch to Rue. She stays in the back of his mind haunting him for his insensitivity. I wish I could turn back the clock to the day. He begins to rehash the possibilities of her disappearance, but a gentle tapping coming from his door breaks his concentration. He goes to answer and touches the screen. Relo is standing in the hall. “Come in my friend.”
He puts his finger in front of his lips signaling Jadan. They walk in silence into the apartment, and he pulls a gadget from his backpack and points toward a table. He pushes a button, and a green light appears. “Okay,” he says. “We can talk now.”
“About what?” he asks pointing at the unfamiliar appliance.
“This is an updated version of Rue’s jamming tool. I am not sure, if your apartment’s bugged or not—why take chances. He pulls another electronic mechanism from the backpack. “Let’s sweep the apartment and determine if someone’s put a listening apparatus in here.” A few minutes later, a light begins to flash on the appliance, and more bars show on the screen The tiny bulb glows a steady red when pointed at a table. Relo tips the lamp and attached to the bottom, is a small object. He points the ‘Bug Detector’ and pushes another button. A sizzling electrical sound comes from the piece of equipment, and the light goes out.
A thorough scan is completed, and no other apparatuses activate the detector.” Relo grins and puts the bug zapper on a table near the center of the room. “Oh yes, this is yours, and I’ll explain its operation before I leave.”
Jadan walks over to the lamp, flips it, and stands looking at the charred mechanism on the bottom in disbelief. “Is any place on the planet safe from these things?”
“In reality—no,” Relo says. “I bring some good news. We built a consensus and called for a vote to allow you into The Conversant. You accept the terms and conditions of membership, and you’ll be initiated along with several others, day-after tomorrow.”
“Is this the faction you and Rue alluded to before she disappeared? This is the group with the secrets?”
“Yes, but I came to go over the preliminaries with you now. Can you spare a few hours?”
“Yes.”
“Turn off all communicators, and if anyone comes to the door, don’t answer. I want your undivided attention—okay?”
“I agree.”
“I’m going to give you an overview of the document you must sign before I can continue. Listen with care—what I’m telling you is important.”
He nods his understanding and agreement.
“I’m going to ask you to pledge your unwavering conformity. If necessary, you’ll give your life before divulging the existence of The Conversant, the names of its members, its charter, or any of the affairs of the brotherhood. Do you understand?”
Jadan gets a chill and a knot in his stomach. A life-or-death pledge—is he ready for such a drastic action? He nods after several minutes of consideration.
Relo continues with the terms and conditions of acceptance into the Order. At the conclusion he asks, “Do you agree, without prejudice or reservation, to the rules of membership?” His raised eyebrow indicates compromise is not acceptable.
This is my first time to sign a life-or-death agreement. This is frightening.
“Okay.” He hands Jadan a small computer with the document on the screen. “Read and if you agree, scan your PIC over the light in the upper-right corner and place your left thumb print on the upper left. With that, you’ll mark your conformity. The data transfers at once to The Conversant Headquarters in the Hell Zone.”
Jadan takes his time and reads the document with care. He sweeps his PIC as directed and gets an error saying, ‘PLEASE RESCAN.’ He does as instructed and ‘SCAN ACCEPTED’ displays. He places his left thumbprint on the upper left, and a note pops up ‘ONE MOMENT WHILE THE DATA IS TRANSMITTED.’ Moments later, another message appears reading ‘YOUR TRANSMISSION WAS COMPLETED, THANK YOU.’
“Suppose I violate the agreement, what happens?”
“You don’t want to find out. Trust me.” The seriousness in Relo’s tone tightens the knot in Jadan’s stomach. “Let’s get started. Some of what I’ll tell you—you already are aware, but I must follow a format.
Two races or classes of people share Nibiru, the Annunaki and the rest of us. They possess a unique genetic marker identifying them, and the gene and others contribute to the unrivalled appearance and intellect of pureblooded designated the ‘Bloods.’ They make up between five to ten percent of the total population. Those of us without the genome are Commonuers, and of course, the Blendeds—part of each race.
Within the Blendeds, the marker shows up in some but not all, becoming weaker with each blending and as a rule disappearing after the fourth. They accept those with the genetics, but deemed inferior. They can’t reach the higher echelons of their society. Of course, the blended Annunaki aren’t told.” Relo pauses for a breath. He evaluates the expression on Jadan’s face.
“Bloods include blond, almost white hair—they possess strong leadership skills and want to be in command. A lot of friction within the class as you might expect.
Ten levels make up their society, and all except one is restricted to a defined number of persons. An opening occurs, and they select the replacement from the next down. Each higher rank has fewer members, but all individuals born with the genetic marker receive a status of one. The Bloods alone can advance past five. Questions?
Jadan shakes his head.
“A secret society within the Annunaki is designated as the NEX, and one must be a Blood to be inducted. Furthermore, none but a level ten Annunaki is admitted to the NEX, but attainment of level ten doesn’t guarantee induction. One hundred one members at level ten are also in the NEX. Each gets an equal vote. A Chair and a Co-chair preside over the affairs of the society, and the leadership is re-elected on scheduled intervals.” He evaluates Jadan’s expressions.
“The Annunaki controls the government and all phases of the day-to-day life of the inhabitants of Nibiru, and the NEX rules the Annunaki. Is Kava made?”
“No, but I could use some.” He goes to the kitchenette, and while he is gone, Relo takes the opportunity to go to the restroom.
They return, and Jadan asks, “NEX stands for what?”
“NEX is short for Nababbo Eccezionale Xanthochroid. A rough translation means the secret order of powerful and ultra wealthy men, from the royal class having fair skin, blond hair, and blue eyes. I think you can now understand why they’re called NEX.
THE ISOLATED PART OF THE DOME
Soon after meeting Renny, Kahnn realizes the difficulty of escaping. The bodies in the cell present another challenge. They will execute him if they learn what he did, but he understands he cannot escape alone. He will need an accomplice. From different backgrounds, he likes him instantly. He respects his ‘HERE I AM, TAKE IT, OR LEAVE IT’ mannerism. The others at the table go away. They talk for more than an hour until an individual with triangular insignias on his collar, and shiny boots tell them to go.
“We need to find you a place to sleep.” They depart the dining area, and he leads him to the stairwell. They descend two levels and enter a dim and dingy corridor. He takes Betta into a tiny room with two sets of bunk beds. “The one over on top is empty. Why don’t you stay here until they assign you?”
“Okay, but where’s the restroom?”
“Down the hall—the second door on the left.”
Kahnn walks in about two meters and stops. The odor is disgusting. A long trough along one wall serves as the urinal. Five stalls line the other. One retains a door, and few dividers remain. Through an open door at the opposite end, he glances at the showers. Ten showerheads adorn two walls of one large room. So much for our modesty.
The mattress on the top bunk is filthy and stinks of old sweat and dirty feet. No covers are on the bed, but Renny loans Kahnn use one of his sheets. He uses the clothes bag as a pillow and lies in the dark in full dress to stay warm. His mind begins to replay what happened to him. His immediate needs consist of disposal of the bodies and hide the men’s PICs and bracelets. He requires help—can he rely on Renny? He realizes he must take a chance.
The next morning at breakfast, they sit alone at a table in a far corner. The food and beverages, are bland but hot, and must suffice. In the chill of the morning, anything warm will do. They finish their meal and stay drinking a generic substitute for Kava, and Betta decides to confide in him. “Thanks for sharing your sheet with me last evening to cover the filthy mattress”
“Yeah—you’re welcome. Everyone assigned to the room takes the cleanest one available. You got the one no one else wanted.”
“Renny, I need to tell you some things, but you must promise me you’ll not tell anyone. You tell, and I’ll die.” He continues as he evaluates the expression on Renny’s face.
“My name’s not Zeta—I am Betta—Betta Kahnn.”
“Yeah, I recognize you,” he says, his face expressionless. “I attended when you gave a speech at the university.”
“You didn’t let on—why?”
“A man of your standing gets thrown into this place, means you pissed someone off in high places, and I like your style. You and I share a common problem, goal, and similar fate. Tell me, how’d you get here?”
A distinctive difference exists between the two. Betta is slightly less than two meters tall, muscular build, with brunette hair cut short, and his piercing hazel eyes are unique. His university degree and intellect stand out. By comparison, Renny is slender, with brown hair and blond streaks, and green eyes. His long hair he ties in a ponytail, and the stubble on his face reflects about two week’s growth. He is about six centimeters taller than Kahnn. His lack of formal education is offset by an abundance of cunning and common sense.
“I got kidnapped on the MagnaTranz on my way home from my office. Two thugs brought me here blindfolded. They had me in a cell on the fourth level interrogating me, but I didn’t cooperate, and they applied high-voltage electric shocks.” He pulls up his shirt and shows Renny one of the burns. The skin is peeled away from the blister showing a large irritated red sore with the early signs of infection.
“Damn, we gotta get you some medicine and sterile bandages on the raw patch. You stay in the room, and I’ll scrounge up the supplies.”
“Wait.” Kahnn motions for him to sit, and he complies.
“The wounds are the least of my concerns. I killed the two thugs, which brought me here.”
“Terrific…” he says, his excitement causes him to get too loud. Several people at nearby tables twist to listen. He glances at them with a sheepish grin and says,”…’scuse me. I didn’t mean to get so noisy.”
The others turn away, and he asks, “How’d you kill them?”
“I electrocuted them,” Kahnn whispers, as though the walls are listening.
“Hee—hee—hee. I can visualize the bastards frying.” The expression on his face turns cold and evil clouds his eyes. “The bodies are where?”
“They’re still in the interrogation cell. I need assistance disposing of them. Will you help me?”
“Follow me.”
They get up and leave the dining area. He struggles to keep up as Renny strolls down the corridor—his long legs taking huge steps. He hits the staircase in a run. Kahnn, carrying the bag of clothing and boots, is out of breath when they reach the third level. He continues his long strides down the corridor, stops at a set of double metal doors, and fumbles with an assortment of keys. He selects and inserts one into the lock. He opens one, steps inside running his hand along the dark wall until he finds the switch, and flips the light on as Kahnn walks in. The room, filled with steel barrels each with various notations painted on them. One attracts Renny. He takes an empty fluorescent yellow barrel with ‘TOXIC WASTE’ stenciled in large black letters on an orange background. He checks to make sure the lid is loose. Next, he grabs a hand truck and picks up the drum. “Make the two straps tight. We can’t allow nasty to fall off.”
Renny leaves the room with the container on the dolly, snatches a wrench from the wall near the door, and strolls into the hallway. The cask and the hand truck do not slow him down. He enters the corridor with the same long strides. Halfway down the passageway he stops at a set of unmarked sliding doors. He presses six digits into the dirty keypad, and they open with a sluggish yawn. Renny rolls the equipment into the freight elevator. They close as he pushes the button for the fourth floor. He steps to the side out of Kahnn’s way. “Lead the way, Captain.”
He peers up and down the hallway. With no one in sight, he hurries to the cell and unlocks the door. The stench of burning flesh rushes out to meet them. They hurry inside, close, and lock the door, and Kahnn puts the keys in his pocket.
“Don’t tell me they interrogated you in their underwear?” Renny laughs.
“No, I hid their clothes in a room down the hall. I secured them in a top locker with a mechanical combination lock. Their PICS and security bracelets are in this sack.”
“Not good…” Worry wrinkles his face. “We’ll need to hide the PICs and bracelets somewhere their signals can’t be read. Get the bag and let’s go to the room where you found the clothes you’re wearing.” He parks the drum beside the bodies, and they hurry down the corridor to the room. They enter, and Kahnn locks the door.
“The uniforms you brought here reek of burned flesh. We’ll need to put them in with the corpses. Renny’s eyes scan the room. In one corner, he spots a large metal urn. “Wrap the PICs and bracelets in cloth and place them in here”
“Are you sure the device will shield them?”
“Of course, I’m sure. The jug transports radioactive waste. This one is unused, or the surface would be covered with warning stickers.”
“Won’t they miss the vessel?”
“You worry too much, Kahnn.” He takes a bold marking pen and writes ‘DEFECTIVE-DO NOT USE’ on the container. “Which locker conceals the stinky clothes?”
“The one up top, the combination to the lock’s code is a mystery. I don’t understand how we’re going to get the lock open.”
“Don’t fret,” he says with a chuckle. “Hand me the ladder.” Moments later, He climbs up and puts his ear to the cubbyhole. “Cheap locks keep out honest people. For professionals, they present no challenge.” Several spins of the dial and the door opens. They take the clothes and go back to the cell.
Inside, with the door locked, Betta asks, “Now what do we do, Chief?”
“Let’s get these bodies and malodorous uniforms into the barrel.” Renny rolls over the body of deep-voice and says, “I’m familiar with this guy. He’s one bad dude...good riddance.” He dumps the body headfirst into the drum and arranges it in the fetal position on its side. He climbs over into the barrel and starts jumping up and down. “Packing a little dung,” he says in a joking manner. “The other one should now fit with ease, so put the stinking clothes in first.” They place the second body inside. Renny puts the lid on and climbs on top. He jumps up and down until the top seats. “Alright, secure the locking clamp and use the wrench to pull down tight and seal.”
He brushes his hands as he springs off. “We did a professional job, Mr. Kahnn. Let’s dispose of some waste.” He reattaches the barrel to the hand truck, and goes toward the door. “Make sure no one’s in the hallway.”
He opens the door a little and listens. No sound detected he peeks around the doorframe in both directions. “All clear…” he says. They hurry down the corridor to the freight elevator. Inside, he punches the button for the second floor. “Gotta stop and complete a Toxic Waste Manifest.” The lift stops, and he rolls the hand truck into the hallway by the elevator. “Stay here while I do the paperwork.” He disappears, leaving an uneasy accomplice to guard the bodies.
Stressed he stands in the hallway waiting for him to return. He spots someone approaching and soon realizes the man is not Renny. The man gets closer, and Betta recognizes the glossy boots and the triangle-shaped insignias on his collar. The urge to run is almost overwhelming, but he struggles to appear nonchalant. The man comes nearer and begins to sniff the air.
“You’re hauling some stinking stuff. Are you sure the lid is sealed?”
“Yes, sir. I got some of the splatter on me when we filled the drum.”
“Oh,” the man says and starts to walk away.
Kahnn’s heart is pounding, but he is relieved.
The man stops, turns, and comes back. “Show me the Toxic Waste Definition Stickers and the Manifest?”
“My sidekick’s gone to get them now.” Kahnn is nauseous.
“You aren’t supposed to move the drum until you display the decals and manifest and them displayed per regulations. What is in the barrel?”
“A couple charred bodies,” he says in a tone of defiance.
“Don’t get arrogant with me, or I’ll bust your arse. Show me your ID card.”
“Does a crisis exist here?” He walks up from behind holding the required paperwork in his hand. “Do I detect a problem?” he repeats.
“Your helper is a smart ass. You need to teach him some manners.”
“I understand. Excuse me, but I must get this drum down to disposal right away.” The man stands and stares as Renny puts the requirements on the barrel and attaches the Toxic Waste Manifest, according to regulations. With the documentation applied, he wheels the drum back into the elevator, with Kahnn in tow. On the lift with the door closed, he asks, “What did you tell smart arse the barrel contains?”
“A couple charred bodies—” He displays a crafty grin.
“You didn’t?”
“Yes, I did.” A few moments of silence passes before both burst out in hysterical laughter.
The elevator stops, and the men push the drum out. They continue down the corridor and come to a desk in the middle of the hall. He hands the man a copy of the Toxic Waste Manifest.
The man scans the paperwork and motions for them to go on. Soon they stop at a door a little larger than the drum. Renny pushes a button on the wall, and the door opens. The rush of heat takes Kahnn’s breath. Betta stands and gazes as he releases the straps and dumps the barrel through the opening and closes the door. “Well, that’s taken care of. Let’s take the hand truck back and go to the dining room and take a break.”
“The drum…”
“Into a three thousand degree furnace…by now your friends are nothing more than a few ashes in the filtration system. The molten metal is reclaimed and recycled.”
CHANCELLOR JERKA’S OFFICE
“Director Joanz’s here as you requested. Shall I make some Kava?” His assistant is standing at his open door.
“Yes, thank you, and send him in,” he says.
He enters the room. Jerka says in an uncivilized tone, “Close the door. I displayed tolerance, but my patience’s running low. Did your men learn anything from Kahnn?”
“We can’t find the men who abducted him. The Locator System can’t find their PICs. The logs show they entered The Inner Dome with a secret prisoner and hours later they disappeared without a trace.”
“Was the prisoner—Kahnn?” Jerka asks.
“Yes, sir. We can’t find him at The Inner Dome either. He arrived under an alias. His PIC never showed up. The men planned to remove his once inside and turn in the chip. They didn’t follow through. We didn’t receive confirmation of the PIC extraction.”
“Tell me what you’re doing to find out?” the chancellor demands. He can tell from the long pause and expression on Director Joanz’s face nothing of consequence is happening.
“We’re sure my men took him to The Inner Dome, with no way he can get out. The one entry point is all, as you are aware, and they staff the checkpoints around the clock with visual scanners as well as bracelet and PIC readers. Kahnn may try to get through the gate, but we’ll capture him. Having him incarcerated should be enough.”
“No—No—No. Being in the Inner Dome is not enough. Your men planned to extract certain information, and I want the info. Do you understand?” Jerka’s anger erupts.
“Yes, sir, you’re quite clear.”
“I thought I made myself understandable before, but without doubt I failed. Get out of my sight, and find him.”
He walks out and back to the Ministry of Law and Order. The operation with Kahnn is covert, and Rogg Jasen isn’t aware of the plan, but he is going to need his support. In a panic, he rushes into his office. He glances up and at once detects the terror on the director’s face.
His voice reverberates as he speaks, “I had oversight of a clandestine operation, and things got out of control. I need your help.”
“Another clandestine mission you started without my participation. The chancellor must be on a tear. Now what?” he asks.
“A couple of our operatives disappeared with a political captive.”
“Who’s the prisoner?”
“Betta Kahnn—”
“Betta Kahnn—” Jasen interrupts. “You took him into custody in a secret sting and kept the fact concealed from me? Are you aware his wife is offering a sizeable reward for his return or proof of death? I can’t believe you participated in abducting such a high profile individual and didn’t use legal channels. I suppose you’re going to tell me he is a spy or something. Tell me the accusations.”
“Well—in reality, reality no formal charges are defined. The chancellor pressured me.”
“I don’t want any part of your illegal operation. You made this mess so you can—”
Joanz interrupts. “I understand the maneuver is wrong, but I need your help finding him if Kahnn’s still alive.”
“Suppose I find him. What do you plan to do with him? Are you going to turn him over to the chancellor and his thugs without a trial?” A lengthy silence prevails, and he turns to Joanz and says, “I will not get pulled into one of the chancellor’s illegal power plays.”
“I’m giving you a direct order, Commander. I expect your full cooperation.”
“I’ll tell you what…you give me the command in writing, and I’ll comply.”
The director stands, glaring at him. He grits his teeth, wheels around, and storms out.
An hour later, Joanz calls Jasen to his office. “Read this and sign on the line at the bottom.” He presents him with a written reprimand for insubordination. The muscular security guard standing beside him provides him comfort.
JADAN’S APARTMENT
“Are you telling me all areas of our lives are managed and manipulated? How can they accomplish such a feat?”
“You’ll understand the truth as you study the evidence. The majority of the population is quite happy with the arrangement. They’re complacent as long as they get adequate food, shelter, clothing, and a few luxury items. Nonetheless, a growing number of people recognize the abuse of the government. Tariffs are becoming unbearable. Let me ask this way—why should five percent of the population control over ninety-five percent of the wealth, while the five-percent pay less than three percent of the levies?” Relo pauses to evaluate the expression on Jadan’s face.
“They shouldn’t, but I can’t discriminate the evidence. Everywhere I go, everyone appears to be equal.”
“Of course, you can’t—you’re not intended to. Here, let me show you this.” He presses a few keys on his portable computer. A file starts to play. In the distance, an enormous house comes into view. “The house is two hundred meters across the front. The outer walls, constructed of beige stones cut into a variety of large rectangular shapes and sizes...
The video, shot across a beautiful valley full of lush green, highlights a huge stream fed lake. The massive mansion sets atop a mountain with more of the range visible in the background. The special event is Milda Jerka’s birth celebration and the unique eclipses. Off to the right is a parking area with more than twenty AeroBuses of various sizes, shapes, and colors. More are arriving. The driver gets out and helps the occupants to the entrance of the mansion, after which they park with the rest and stay in the vehicles. The arrivals continue until about one hundred fill the parking area.
The elites of the NEX are in attendance...”
“One reason I had so much difficulty getting you into The Conversant is Kia. They believe your infatuation with her makes you vulnerable and a security risk. Raefell Nuggen will never allow her to unify with a Commonuer. With what we are aware, going against the Annunaki hierarchy or the NEX usually means death. Do you understand why we need to learn all we can about them?”
GRAMPS’ APARTMENT
Gramps is sitting at his computer scanning the network. He is doing research in the genetics database trying to determine who Jadan’s real father is. He spent many hours, but so far, success eludes him. He hopes a complete revelation of his history, including his genetic makeup, will cause Kia to lose interest.
The Broadcast is playing at low volume in the background and catches his attention.
“Good day ladies and gentlemen. You’re all aware the waal-baal season’s ending. The first round of playoffs will begin tomorrow afternoon and lasts into the evening.” The commentator continues. “You’ll recall, this reporter told you quite some time ago to keep an eye on an up-and-coming young lady by the name of Kia Nuggen. Well, fans, in the first set, she will enter the court matched against two veterans of many playoffs. I’m anxious to witness how skillful she is against them. She played neither during the regular season. We’re happy to present you with a special treat. She is in the studio with us for a live interview. Will you join me in welcoming the beautiful and talented Kia Nuggen?” The commentator stands and begins applauding as she walks across the stage to the desk. The audience applauds and cheers with vigor. “Later in the show, we’ll open the lines and let some of you talk to her in person.”
Kia’s face is burning. Her nerves are on the edge, as she enters.
Gramps reaches for the remote control and turns up the volume. He also hits the record button. He recorded all of her appearances. Someday, my great-grandchildren will enjoy witnessing their mother in her moments of glory.
“Kia, tell our live audience what you think about so much media attention. Every time I turn on the Tello you’re featured.” The commentator slides a microphone toward her.
“Well—I’m honored to be here. I must admit—all the attention’s a bit unnerving. I’d much rather be on the court competing.” She is brief and to the point.
A knock at the door breaks Gramps’ concentration, and he turns up the volume as he goes to the door. He stares at the screen and recognizes her standing in the hall. He opens the door and embraces her with a big hug. “Hurry inside,” he says, his excitement evident, “My granddaughter is on the Tello.”
On their way in, he asks, “How can you be here and on a live, real time sports cast on The Broadcast at the same time?”
“Come on, you’re aware everything on the programs is scripted and prerecorded. I read my lines from cue cards. The audience’s calls included cameramen and secretaries at the station.” Disillusionment is in her voice.
“The whole thing’s a lot of hype. We recorded the show this morning, and now you and I can witness me live on the Tello. I don’t want to do any more of these shows, but Coach won’t accept no as an answer,” she says. “With all the publicity, we can earn serious script points with endorsements, since we made the finals. I want the competition over.” Fatigue is evident in her voice.
“Did Klyn Joanz call you? He’s Director Joanz’s nephew.”
“Yes, he called,” says Kia in a jaded tone. “He wants to take me to dinner and a stage play.”
“Good—what’d you tell him?”