The Mystery Packages
Prior to leaving, Jadan decides to send Relo an electronic memo briefing him on the events since his arrival. He finishes and transmits the information. The chime rings on the computer, and advises him of an incoming encrypted message. He enters his password, and retrieves the communiqué from Relo. “I got a special delivery from somewhere in Bozza. The envelope contained a chip with stripped data—I believe Rue wrote the note—appears to be her handwriting, and I’m confident she’s alive, and the deliveries each contains one-half of the key for the encryption of the engineering and construction information along my ancient files. You need to come back at once.”
He clicks on the REPLY icon and enters. “I’m on my way soon.”
He searches her desk for a pen and pad and writes a short message. “Kedra, a personal crisis popped up back home, and I must return. Thank you for your hospitality, and please offer my apologies to Mr. Cazara. I’ll be in touch.” He places the note on the computer screen.
He takes his pack and locks the door as he leaves. He hurries to the train, scans his PIC, and boards. Forty-two minutes pass, and he gets off at the station and climbs the steps to the street above. He pulls the map from his pocket, after a quick review, he sets out, taking long strides. Thirteen minutes later, he knocks on the door of Balla and Lehad Xeon, but no one answers. He anticipated this might happen, so he wrote a note before leaving Kedra’s house. The message reads. “My name is Jadan Kanzz. I need to find Rue, and she understands how to reach me. PLEASE.” He folds the paper and wedges the document into the crack between the door and casing.
WAAL-BAAL COURTS AT ABYDOS SPORTS ARENA
“You can’t play Ridzer in your condition,” Coach says. “The doctor said another blow like last evening could kill you—wait for next season.”
“I believe you told me to, ‘take the game to them’.”
“What if you don’t pass the pre-game physical? What will you do next?”
“You always told me to take one step at a time. We’ll tackle that hurdle in time. Let’s get the pain and tautness worked out.”
A knock comes from the training room door, and Coach opens to bright lights causing her to squint and a microphone almost hits her in the mouth. “I’m—”
“Yes, yes, I’m aware of who you are, and NO. You can’t interview her. We’re busy getting ready for this evening’s game.” She closes the door.
Outside, the reporter turns toward the camera and says, “Now, you’re informed ladies and gentlemen. Kia Nuggen is planning to compete tonight. This correspondent predicts Ridzer will beat her with ease. She’s in no condition to play…now, back to the station…”
Coach gets her medical kit. “Lie down on the massage table. I need to medicate those scrapes and lacerations. I can’t do anything about your lips as swollen as they are. Do you think you can get the mouth piece into place?”
“I’m not sure, but we’ll try later. My front teeth ache.”
The hours pass, and the soreness and stiffness begin to subside. Another knock comes from the training room door, which Coach answers. Outside stands Gramps and her brother. They came to check on her. “Kia, guests are here.”
She recognizes the voices. “Tell them to come back after the match. We can’t spare the time now.”
He shrugs his shoulders and says, “Tell her we’ll be in the front row cheering for her.” They turn and leave.
Coach returns to the work area where she is doing leg stretches. “Three hours are left until game time. You need to lie down and rest a while.” Again, someone is at the door. Several tournament officials stand in the hall.
“May we come in?” one asks.
“Yes—please. What can we do for you?”
“This is Dr. Bodden, head of the medical staff. Donn Ridzer is calling for the disqualification of Ms. Nuggen for obvious reasons. He says he can’t find the heart to defeat someone as popular as she’s become who’s as battered—and—”
“He better find his,” she says. “I refuse to withdraw, and we’ll fight this out in court if you disqualify me. I intend to compete, and I mean to win.”
“The choice may not be yours. The doctor will make the decision—his decision’s final,” The official says, “He’ll give you a thorough physical examination and make his decision. Do you agree?”
“We wi…”
“We’ll consent on one condition,” Kia says.
“What is the stipulation be young lady?”
“My personal physician must be part of the evaluation.”
“Your answer is unacceptable.”
She turns to Coach. “The reporter from The Broadcast Sports—what is his name? His card’s on my dressing table mirror, and his number is on the bottom right corner. Call him and tell him I’ll give him the exclusive interview he requested…be here with his camera crew in half an hour. I think the media will find a lot of fodder in this.”
Coach and the officials are witnessing the defiant side of her. “Let’s not get rash, Nuggen.” The official is hostile to her insinuation. “We’re concerned for your safety and well-being—nothing else.
“My security and well-being are my worry as well, but I believe you’re more worried about the appearance of a battered female appearing on the Tello—resulting from an out of control competitor. Coach, call my doctor.”
“Unnecessary…approve this waiver—freeing us from liability should you be injured or killed,” says the official.
“Oh. You prepared the document for my signature. Is Donn Ridzer going to do one also?” Kia glares at him. “I must examine at his autographed copy—I’ll sign this one if he does.”
“Okay, but don’t say we didn’t warn you. Coach—be sure she’s in the ready room at 1900. Let’s go, Doctor.”
KAAMREN’S HOUSE
“Kaamren, Relo’s on the communicator,” Lee says from another room.
“Hello.”
“I thought about the meeting with Seth, Mika, and you, and I reached a decision. I want my files and a copy of the engineering and construction data. I’m resigning from Opaque, The Conversant, and The Commission effective now. The infighting is getting in the way of the mission, and I requested invitations from several high-quality resistance groups."
“Wait a minute—I can’t accept that. You’re an essential part of this organization—we need to work this out from within. I agree irrelevant issues are depleting too many resources. I need your help to get the organization reunited.”
“I understand—I bring too much baggage. The issue of the ancient files and Jadan’s membership to The Conversant are problems. Not to mention the fact I’m not a party animal with many of the others…I don’t fit.”
“Think things through with logic. I need you—call me back tomorrow evening, for a further discussion.
“Okay—until then.”
KREST OF BOZZA
Disappointed at not finding Lehad Xeon home, Jadan leaves the note and goes to the train. The trip down was two days, but he learned a MagnaTranz Mail Express departs at noon, and runs non-stop to Abydos. Twenty passenger seats are available and filled on a first-come, first-served basis. He must catch the northbound train to the station where the other one is filling. He arrives and hurries to the reservation window. He is in luck. Seat requests today are light. The total will be him and three other passengers. The travel time is twenty hours.
“Will we be able to listen to the Waal-baal tournament on the train’s intercom?” he asks the agent.
“The train can use one frequency at a time, but if the engineer wants to tune there, you’ll be able to listening. A few fadeout spots exist the first five hours into the trip. You can ask him. The loading is almost complete. You should claim your spot at platform A4—third car.”
“Thank you,” he says as he takes his ticket and pack, and rushes to the MagnaTranz. The other three passengers are seated when he boards. He picks a seat away from the others, puts his bag down, and walks up through the second car and into lead unit. He treks forward, and examines the engineer’s back as he approaches. “Excuse me, but—” His voice fades away as the gruff-voiced man from the boarding house turns to stare at him. He got in more punches than he realized. Gruff voice sports a black eye, a fat lip, and several bruises about his face. Jadan’s heart skips a beat. He gazes at the man and flashes a forced smile. “Guess what—I did examine the other guy.”
The man tries not to laugh, but Jadan amused him. They both burst into laughter. He regains his composure, and says, “I’m sorry about last night. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
“Kid…I leaned on you and your girlfriend pretty heavy. She’s a remarkable athlete, and I can appreciate why you’re enamored with her. Did you listen to the news?”
“No, I didn’t find the time. My morning became filled. Why—what happened?” He experiences a momentary flicker of fear.
“Seems the Tournament Committee tried to disqualify her. Ridzer said he couldn’t play someone so battered. Her answer—he had better find a way. One of the members leaked the tidbit to the media.” Gruff voice chuckles and says, “My name’s Ryner,” as he stands, and extends his hand. “I bet you came to ask me to put the radio on the championship this evening,” he says.
“Well—yes.
“Not a problem… I wouldn’t miss the match. I think this’ll be the contest of the century.”
“Thank you. I’ll go back to my seat so you can finish your checklist.” He turns and walks away. Jadan returns, takes a book, and his headphones from his pack. He sits down and buckles his seatbelt as the train starts to ease away. Soon the MagnaTranz reaches cruising speed, and the difference is obvious. He listens to the horn blow as they pass through a station without slowing. Time passes fast as they travel, not braking for anything.
Seven hours into the trip, the music on the intercom stops, and the Broadcast Sports pre-game show gets underway. The commentator is summarizing the events leading up to the ‘Match of the Season.’
“This is an eventful playoff. Nuggen set two records. She held last season’s winner to a negative score and put him out of the tournament. She allowed fewer points by her opponents than anyone in the history of the sport. Donn Ridzer said in a public appearance he’ll play this evening with no mercy. She could forfeit with class, but she refused. The odds makers are offering ten to one in his favor. They must believe Nuggen’s injuries will cost her the game. This reporter thinks they’re in for a surprise. I’m aware she and her coach are getting the soreness worked out, and her muscles limbered up.”
Chills of excitement invade Jadan. The anxiety is intense.
The commentator rambles on until he shouts, “Here they come into the arena. Listen to this crowd—they’re going wild.”
In the background, Jadan can overhear the audience chanting, “Keeeeeyah—Keeeeeyah—Keeeeeyah.”
“She brings the crowd to their feet. This must annoy Ridzer.” The camera zooms in on her face. “Ouch,” he says in a tone of surprise. “Both of her eyes are black and swollen—her nose’s bruised and puffed up—her lips are bloated and cut—A raspberry covers her left cheek—and a large purple lump on her forehead—she’s a mess. I wouldn’t recognize her if I met her on the street. She has real grit to compete in her condition. I’m told she’s ready to go.”
The crowd stares as she wrenches in pain as Coach puts the mouthpiece through her swollen lips. Bloodstains mar her fresh uniform. She stands at the center of the court stretching and swinging her arms as she tries to stay limber.
The referee enters, followed by Ridzer. He turns to the crowd in the observation deck, smiles, and waves to them.
The fan-shaped room can seat fifty people. Above the glass enclosure is a three-by-five-meter screen for watching the match. Even though each row is elevated higher than the one in front, play in the back of the court is viewed on the monitor.
The Sports Arena is a large spectator viewing area. In addition to the bleachers on both sides, ten thousand chairs are set on the main floor facing a twelve-by-eighteen-meter Tello. In total, the sellout crowd is fifty-five thousand.
Tickets to the observation deck are most difficult to obtain. High-level politicians and their guests are the ones who get them. Gramps gambled Kia would be in the championship match and got tickets for Kia’s mom, dad, brother, and himself. Theirs are for the front row. Admission to the Sports Arena is also hard to get.
He finished going over the rules with the contestants. Both nod they understand. Ridzer won the serve.
For the volley, the players must stand in the server’s box and hit the ball into the sweetspot. The objective is to get as close as possible without touching the rear wall. The closest wins the serve, and one precedes each set.
“Okay—sports fans here we go,” The commentator says. “Ridzer won the serve, and he steps to the box. He hits the sweetspot and off—bouncing off the right wall—Nuggen’s in position for an easy return—she puts her now infamous action on the ball, which strikes the wall—spins into the sweetspot and out to him. He makes a hard return off the spot into the left wall high and fast—Nuggen’s having to scramble to get—she’s facing the rear of the court—how’s she going to play this?” The reporter pauses for a quick breath. “She hammers the ball into the back wall—will there be enough to make the distance to the sweetspot? The ball hits the bottom of the line—Ridzer scores first—”
The announcer reminds the enthusiasts of the rules. “The scoring in two-player sets eliminates the middle player. The winner of a play earns three points and obtains or retains the serve. The loser gets none.”
“Okay fans, here we are at the end of set one with the score tied eighteen each. These two continue to compete with intensity, but both are showing signs of fatigue. Ridzer steps up and hits a slow serve—Nuggen scrambles—nope—she doesn’t make the return. The first goes to Ridzer—what a match. We’ll now take a thirty-minute intermission. We’re going to break away and go back to The Broadcast News.”
Jadan’s emotions crash. Kia played so hard, but she lost the first one. Can she hold out for another set or two? The commentator’s description of her face made him nauseous. She must be in terrible pain. I wish I could be with her, but me getting a ticket is impossible.
“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, the players are back in the court. Let’s find out who wins the volley—Nuggen gets the serve. The referee holds the ball while both get into position, and he hands off to Nuggen. She takes one bounce and strikes the ball—down the right side wall—touches and hangs in close—can Ridzer pull it away?
A scraping sound is audible as his glove slides along the wall when he attempts the play—he hits but—but—oh, too bad—he’s unable to get enough to get away from the wall—he misses the sweetspot. She puts the first score on the board.” The crowd in the Sports Arena chants Keeeeeyah—Keeeeeyah—Keeeeeyah. “She’s gathered a strong following.
She scores twelve points before giving up the serve. Ridzer in turn takes nine and loses the serve.” The commentator summarizes. “Let’s determine what she can do—she makes a hard overhand down into the lower left-hand corner of the sweetspot—the ball spins and hits the left wall above the floor—no way he can succeed—but he tries. Wait, he’s shaken up. The referee called an official’s time out. Ridzer went for the ball trying to make a shot—he slid head-first into the wall—ouch, will his neck hurt tomorrow?”
Kia wins set two with a score of twenty-one to nine. He is having difficulty containing his excitement. He glances up, and Ryner is walking down the aisle toward him with a grin on his face. “Well, what do you think? Can she last another?”
“She can.”
“Lunch in Abydos says she can’t win. What do you say?”
“You’re on—winner picks the spot.”
“Okay—yours is the side I prefer, but I’m sure you won’t bet against her,” he says and sits in the seat facing Jadan.
“Who’s running this thing?”
“No one is at the moment—ya got to love the autopilot. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and the nearest MagnaTranz is over one hundred kilometers from us. My copilot is sleeping since we left Krest. I’ll wake him soon to take us the rest of the way.”
The commentator starts again, “Okay, here come the players for the third and final. The entire season comes down to this, and we’ll soon find out who’ll be the new champion. I must say, she is playing much better than I thought possible after witnessing her walk into the arena. The big question—can she hang in for one more? Okay—here’s the volley. Ridzer goes first—not good. She should be able to beat his performance. Hers is not impressive, but she beats his. This is not going to be a dynamic set if the volleys are any indication. The referee bounces the ball toward her. Oh my, my, she executes a rare but legal move. The referee bounces the ball to her—she makes a rare but legal play and hits the bouncing ball into the sweetspot, and off the right wall. Ridzer’s out of position— he can’t make the play. Nuggen scores first—she steps into the server’s box, and without hesitation, serves—what a spin—where’ll this one go?” The commentator pauses and takes a deep breath.
“Wow, what a hook. I was sure he couldn’t get to that one. She leads—six to zip—here’s the next serve. Ridzer’s in position and makes the return, but she’s ready—yes. The hit is good—oh. He's off balance and falling as she strikes the ball—he’s going down—he misses the play but wait—he trips her in the process. Oh, no—she fell into the wall face first. She’s down. Both players are on the floor—another official’s time out.”
She rolls onto her back wrenching in pain. Blood is pouring from her nose and mouth. Coach and the medics rush into the court.
“Are you okay?” she asks, removing her mouthpiece with extra care.
“Get this bleeding stopped,” she says. “I need to win this set and don’t challenge the hit. He tripped me by accident.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes—is Ridzer alright?”
“He is a little shaken up—”
An official and the tournament doctor go to Kia. He begins his examination and treatment. “This is what I feared,” he says.
The official’s time out is over, and he shouts, “Play ball.”
Coach signals she wants to use one of Kia’s remaining time outs. Dr. Bodden continues to examine her. Her bleeding is down to a trickle from a cut on the left corner of her mouth.
“Put the mouth piece back in—I’m ready.”
Coach gazes at the doctor, who shrugs his shoulders, “This is against my better judgment, but—”
She mumbles with the mouthpiece in, “Let’s go.” She helps her to her feet, and she walks to the server’s box. The others cleared the court, and the referee bounces the ball to her. She repeats an exact replay of the first play of the set. One more time, he is out of position, and her serve hops un-returned across the room.
“Nine to zip—can she hang in is the question of the hour?” the commentator asks. “Can she pull this off—can you believe all the blood on her uniform and face—here’s her next—he positioned himself too far back—he runs and lunges for the ball—again he’s on the floor sliding face first toward the front wall—oh no. Did you detect the snap? I think he broke his arm—we’ll learn soon—he calls another official’s time out—Dr. Bodden hurries into the court. His forearm bowed when he turned over and must be broken—this game’s history. Let’s listen to what the doctor says—the official is calling for a microphone.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, Donn Ridzer is suffering broken bones in his lower-right arm. He’s therefore, unable to continue—the set goes to Kia Nuggen.”
She kneels beside him, and says with compassion, “I’m sorry—this didn’t end the way I wanted. I anticipate meeting you next year.”
“Thanks,” he says with a little chuckle. “I guess a broken arm isn’t as intimidating as having you beat me outright. I hope next time we’ll both be in better shape.” He extends his left hand to her and says, “Congratulations Champ.”
“We’re having dinner where?” Ryner asks with a grin as he gets up to leave. “I’ll talk to you when we get to Abydos.”
Jadan is overwhelmed with relief and joy. He is relieved the match is over, and she is okay. He realizes she is overjoyed with her victory. With all the interviews and endorsements, will she find time for me? He lowers his seat back and meditates.
MINISTRY OF HEALTH AND SCIENCE
Bannon Eas left his office for a meeting with Kizzie. He walks down the hall, and someone comes up behind him and asks, “Are you expecting an invitation?”
“Yes.”
“From who?”
“Eath.”
“Correct, come with me.”
“I need to make one quick call,” he says.
“To whom must you call?”
“My boss—I’m on my way to a get-together in her office, and I need to tell her something came up and ask her to reschedule.”
“Let me hold your things while you do. People are waiting for us now.”
He calls her, “Doctor, I must postpone our meeting.”
“Did you get the invite?”
“Yes, thank you.” He hangs up, gazes at the man, and says, “Lead on.”
They walk outside to an awaiting AeroBus. He follows the man, who turns to him and says, “This isn’t going to be comfortable, but this is protocol.” He puts a hood over his head. “You won’t wear the thing long.”
A brief ride and the vehicle halts. The man leads him into a nearby building, and once inside, he says to him, “You can remove the cover now.”
His eyes begin to adjust, and he stands peering down a long dark hallway. “Follow me.”
A short walk later, the man stops and opens a door. He motions for Bannon to go into the dim room. He can make out the silhouettes of about ten men and a table and chair are located under a bright light. “Come in and sit, Mr. Eas,” A familiar voice says, “My colleagues and I reviewed your Personal Profile and Request for Invitation. We can now understand how you may be an asset to us and us to you, but you must realize the seriousness of joining. We stand in direct defiance of the government’s tyrannical activities.”
He pulls out the chair and sits.
The voice says, “We’re a secret organization, but the governing powers suspect groups like us exist. Someone knowing or suspecting is serious enough, but having the name of any member, will mean death for the individual. You’re a stranger to many here, but should you complete the requirements of this invitation—each of us will protect your identity with our lives. We expect no less in return. Do you think you can live up to such a pledge?”
“Yes, I do.”
A lengthy question and answer session follows, and the voice says, “I would like for you to wait in the corridor until I send for you.”
“Yes, sir,” Bannon says as he gets up and walks to the door. The man who brought him sits in a chair across the hall, leaning against the wall. “They treat you okay?”
“I guess so. They asked a lot of questions.”
“They are aware of the answers to most of what they asked you. They’re evaluating your honesty and openness. We’re engaged in serious business, and we can’t afford to let the wrong people in. Each decision is a matter of life or death.”
He can sense the sincerity and concern in the man’s voice.
Soon, the door opens, and he returns to the room, walks to the chair, and sits.
“Mr. Eas, the consensus among this group is you are allowed to join us if you still wish.”
“Yes—yes I do.”
“Okay—here’s the oath you’ll be asked to take. I (state your name) of my own free will and accord do hereby swear and affirm I will not, under any circumstance or cause, betray the charter of this organization or the identity of any of the members, be they one—be they all. I pledge my life as collateral.”
“Mr. Eas—are you ready to be sworn?” another voice asks from the dark.
“Yes, I am.”
The man who let him in the door walks up. He holds a pad in his hand. “Mr. Eas, place your left hand, palm down, on the screen, raise your right hand, and repeat after me.”
Moments later, he executed the verbal oath and electronic signature. He hands the signed copy back to the man, and the lights come on. Dr. Marshon leads the others down to shake hands and welcome Eas. The doctor takes his hand, stares into Bannon’s eyes, and he says, “You’re now a member of the Organization for Governmental Reform and Truth—also recognized as OFGRAT.”
The introductions are completed, and they move to an adjoining conference room with a large oval table. “Here’s some of what we are aware. Two distinct races of people populate Nibiru, the Annunaki and the Commonuers...”
“In other words, all tall, blue eyed, blond headed, fair complexioned people are Annunaki?”
“Perhaps not,” Eath says. “Within the Blendeds, a return of pure Annunaki physical characteristics, designated as throwbacks, can occur even though the genetic marker is indistinguishable. We’re not sure how many exists, but a test must be performed to be sure. Several of them are in our organization. We want to pass them off as Bloods, but we’re finding difficulty getting their PICs modified.”
“In a place called The Escapades, deep in the Hell Zone, is where most of the NEX and other high-ranking Annunaki live in extravagant luxury. Their places here create the illusion they’re part of the Socio-Equal Order, but they’re vacant the majority of the time.” Marshon pauses, “I think that’s enough for now. Take our new brother back to his job. Later, we’ll talk more.”
MAIL EXPRESS TERMINAL AT ABYDOS
The train slows coming into Abydos. He gets his pack and makes his way to the lead car. “Is Ryner still asleep?”
“Yes, he’s in the sleeping compartment—behind the gray door. Go ahead and knock—he should be awake.”
He goes to the door and knocks.
A sleepy voice from inside says, “Yeah?”
“Get your lazy butt up—you owe me lunch.”
“Give me fifteen minutes to get dressed. Wait for me in the terminal.”
He meanders inside, dials Kia’s number, and gets her message center. “I’m back in town. I want to talk to you, Champ—congratulations. I hope you can carve a little time out of your busy schedule for me—bye.”
He calls Relo, and after several rings, comes an answer.”
“This is Jadan. Can you meet me at Tana’s Place in about half an hour?”
“Okay, but how’d you get back so soon?”
“I caught the MagnaTranz Mail Express from Krest to Abydos. Man—the thing’s fast. We just arrived.”
“Did you learn about Kia?”
“I’m aware she won the championship game last evening. I got to listen on the train.”
“Are you unaware of what happened afterwards?”
“No, what happened?"
“She collapsed last night following the Gold Cup Presentation. She’s at the Abydos Medical Center in a coma. They think a blood made it to her brain. I’ll tell you more when I get to Tana’s. Perhaps we can go retrieve your special delivery afterwards.”
“Okay,” whispers a stunned Jadan.
Moments later, Ryner walks up, and staring at the distress on Jadan’s face, he asks, “What’s the matter, sport—you appear to have lost your best friend?”
“Kia is in a coma.”