CHAPTER 20

The Age of Reason

 

The entire group teleported from the Oneiric Plane in New York and materialized in the command level of the Command Center.

“My God!” exclaimed Enoch. “What in the world happened? Kagan!?”

“Greetings, Commander,” said Kagan. “It’s been a long time.”

“Indeed,” said Enoch. “I see that you’ve grown quite powerful in your exile. It’s a pity that in that time you’ve still failed to learn that there are rules of engagement that bind us until the End of Days.”

“How can you speak to me of questionable tactics after sicking my wife on me?” Kagan replied. “All that I’ve done has been in the best interest of those we are sworn to protect, and given your lack of knowledge regarding the scope of the current Enemy plot, I hold fast to my belief that I did what had to be done.”

“What do you mean, Kagan?” asked the commander. “What imminent threat was averted by the slaughtering of those men by obviously supernatural means? Do you not realize that you endanger those we are sworn to protect further with such evidences of the metaphysical? The Enemy will just ramp up their efforts in an attempt to eradicate such knowledge.”

“That’s just it, Commander, the Enemy is behind the recent massacres in the Middle East,” Kagan replied. “They’ve cleverly made me their scapegoat, while in fact the killings have been of their machinations all along. It pains me to inform you that the Enemy has succeeded in creating their ultimate work, a materialist magician—a man beholden to and empowered by what he perceives to be naturally occurring metaphysical forces, yet devoid of any belief in the Almighty.”

There were gasps and murmurs from the assembly. “What!?” said Enoch. “Are you certain, Hans?”

“During my exile in the Golan Heights, I spent much of the time in deep meditation so as to augment my powers. I developed the ability to expand my consciousness to such a degree that I could achieve omnipresence within a limited radius in both the physical and Oneiric planes—an ability that also has combative applications, as the visitors to the pocket universe know firsthand.” There were grumblings from some of those still sour in the crowd and Kagan smirked and continued, “During one instance of so extending my consciousness, I was able to overhear portions of a conversation between two demons passing through my omnipresent sphere. They were headed toward Syria, unaware of my presence within Bental’s cavernous depths. They were moving fast, but I was able to catch one say, ‘and the primates’ intellects will remain opposed to belief in the enemy.’ By enemy, of course, I knew they meant our Creator.

“I may have easily disregarded his ranting, but as we know, there are no chance occurrences, and the boastful gusto with which the demon spoke compelled me to seriously consider his words. After much pondering, I recalled reading a passage in the Hall of Knowledge from a treatise on Demystification—the Enemy’s call for anonymity to deceive the masses. The passage spoke doubtfully of the Enemy’s ability, and willingness, to maintain such a statute, given their penchant for the carnal. It went on to describe possible methods for the Enemy to maintain anonymity while still allowing them to experience, to a degree, the material. The treatise describes elemental—”

“Forces,” Enoch interjected. “Elemental forces. Transphysical beings masquerading as elemental forces of nature, no more mythical or mystical than say, gravity or magnetism. With such deception, the Enemy could openly engage in their exploits of possession, or the imbuing of terrestrials with transphysical abilities.”

“Precisely, Commander,” said Kagan. “When I considered this as their goal, I rashly exploded from my place of exile in Mount Bental and considered confronting those demons then and there. You’d be pleased, Commander—I regained my composure and decided that subtlety would be the best approach.”

“You could have brought this information to our attention then,” said Enoch.

“Commander,” Kagan replied, “I said I thought subtlety would be best, not bureaucracy. I didn’t want to be held up in any way with banter over the proper course of action, for I still believed that the situation might call for my special methods; I’ve always been one who believes that sometimes it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.

“I chose to investigate on my own, believing in my gut that the Enemy planned to imbue terrorist cells with transphysical abilities that would allow them to overcome their much more technologically advanced enemies. I was wrong. I was able to conceal my movements from both the Host and the Enemy by phasing in and out of the pocket universe and the material, and I infiltrated the terrorist hierarchies by inhabiting various individuals. In my investigation, I found no evidence of any of the terrorists being imbued with any transphysical properties, or of any plans to do so.

“I was perplexed and beginning to believe that I’d misunderstood the demon’s words, but then I came across some enlightening information in the terrorists’ databases. It seemed that a major supplier of their illegal weaponry was the supposed philanthropist, physicist Francis Hitchkins. I figured that Hitchkins, being a worldrenowned scientist, would be the one to supply the terrorists with any so-called elemental enhancements, seeing that he conceivably had the technological know-how to promulgate such a farce.

“I sought to track him down, but found it impossible—as if his movements were being concealed by the Enemy. I increased surveillance of the terrorist cells, believing that they would contact Hitchkins for an arms deal, and made a terrible discovery at a terrorist camp in Pakistan. I found the mutilated remains of numerous men, all killed by what I concluded to have been giant insects—nothing else could explain the wounds. As I continued my search for Hitchkins, my theory was proven when I discovered a similar massacre in Lebanon. I discovered partially eaten remains of men in the sand in bowl-like depressions that could only be explained as spider burrows.

“I didn’t know why, but I believed that, for some reason, Hitchkins was killing off his terrorist clientele. I couldn’t find Hitchkins, but I could track the radical leaders. I followed Al-Laden to a hidden base in Syria for an emergency meeting of the heads of several terrorist groups. I’d concealed myself in the pocket universe and extended my omnipresent sphere to observe the surroundings.

“That’s when he came. Even concealed in the pocket universe, I could feel the miasma wash over me, over the entire expanse. It was Hitchkins—imbued with and augmented by the power of the Enemy himself.”

Many in the assembly gasped at this revelation and began to discuss it among themselves. Enoch had to call for their silence to allow Kagan to continue. “Go on Kagan,” said Enoch. “Then what did you do?”

“I … ” Kagan began, pausing briefly before continuing, “I did what had to be done, though not in the manner in which you are accustomed. I believe that if you monitor the terrestrial news, you will see why.”

“Uh!” said Darion, “Excuse me. This is all well and good, but I want some answers of my own. I want to know what you meant when you said, ‘Jacob will never be the same’? What did you mean by, ‘he’s never felt better’?”

Kagan smiled. “I like your attitude, young man,” he said. “Your fiery determination is truly an asset. Your friend Jacob possesses a similar … fire. Trust me, Darion. Watch, and you will have your answers as well. On the bank of the East River in Manhattan lay the historic UN Headquarters complex. It was a cloudless afternoon, and the grounds were filled with tourists from across the United States and around the world. In the circular hall of the General Assembly building, though, those gathered had more serious business to attend to. Republican President Buzz Coulter stood at the podium before the press and the many rows of desks occupied by representatives from across the globe.

“Yes,” said President Coulter, “my administration is committed, committed to uh, eliminating terrorizers, uh, those who perpetrate acts of terror across the globe. But … but, I say again, the United States had nothing, nothing to do with the killings of those men. Now, people, uh, people in the media, are repeating what the terrorists said in the recently released uh, terrorist Internet video, that ‘only the United States could have carried out such attacks.’ Now, I ask, who are you gonna believe—the president of the United States, uh, standing before you right now with nothing to hide, or, or, terrorizers who hide amongst, uh, innocent people, and make outrageous, uh, claims by way of video recordings?”

There was mumbling among the assembly and the representative of Iran spoke, President Khameneijad. “Liar!” he yelled. “More lies from the imperialists! You’ve developed some new weaponry in order to continue your oppression of Arab and Islamic societies. No doubt your Zionist cronies in Israel played a role in these cowardly attacks as well. Iran will not sit idly by while you … ”

The building began to rumble as if its very foundation was being shaken. Outside of the building, a large, saucer-like craft of glossy metal was touching down on the very roof of the General Assembly rotunda.

There were crackling sounds from below as if something was boring through the ground. “Earthquake!” Secret Service agents made for the stage to secure the president but were stopped in their tracks when two hideous beings erupted from below the very platform on either side of the stage—seven-foot, red, ant-like, humanoid creatures. The assembled diplomats scrambled to flee upon laying eyes on the beasts. Some dedicated journalists, photographers, and cameramen took cover behind anything they could, attempting to get footage of the strange creatures. The fleeing assembly members found that it was futile, for more ant-like beasts had erupted from before the exit doors, blocking the way. The UN security guards standing by the exits were promptly rent asunder by the beasts’ merciless claws.

The Secret Service agents drew their automatic pistols and let loose on the beings. Their armor piercing rounds riddled the insectizoids’ carapaces, but the bullets weren’t of a caliber sufficient to incapacitate the durable creatures. The insectizoids walked through the bullets and fell upon the agents, taking them in their pincers and thrashing them about, or ripping and slashing them with their claws.

The president stood helpless behind the podium as the insectizoids converged; one grabbed him by the upper arm in a viselike grip. There came a humming sound from above, and a circular section fifteen feet in diameter in the ceiling above the stage shone red hot and suddenly disappeared, revealing the open under-bay of the saucer. Hitchkins slowly descended from the hole with his arms held out to the side like some messianic figure, his flowing blonde hair dancing about his head. He had a smile on his face and his blue eyes were wide with jollity. He wore a white, formfitting, full-body suit over his lean, muscular frame. His lower legs were adorned with shiny golden greaves. Girding his waist from his diaphragm to his hips was a polished midsection band. On his shoulders he wore spaulders that covered his upper chest and back with a connected metal stand-up collar opened at the front to reveal the whole of his throat.

“Peace, peace,” he said in a reassuring tone as he descended to the platform. He landed beside the president, at which time the insectizoid holding him yanked him to the side to give Hitchkins the stage.

“Members of the General Assembly,” Hitchkins said, “please, return to your seats. My guards will do you no harm, for they are instructed to respond only to armed threats. Please.”

The members of the assembly reluctantly took their seats, none willing to question a man seemingly able to defy gravity as well as command such deadly monsters.

“Thank you all. I doubt that any of you can recognize me in my rejuvenated form, but I am Francis Hitchkins.”

There were gasps from the assembly, all knowing Francis Hitchkins to be an enfeebled, elderly man.

Hitchkins continued, “Astonishing, I know—but it’s true. Many of you are aware of my scientific prowess, for I have provided the world with many innovations that have been an asset to mankind. Now, I have made the greatest discovery in the history of mankind, a discovery that allowed me to transform from the geriatric patient you once knew to the being of unimaginable power standing before you today.

“I’ve discovered a new element, the very source of life and human sentience itself, a primordial element I’ve dubbed: hellium. Hellium, the catalyst of evolution. With it, the enfeebled can be restored to the vigor and vitality of their youth. With it, disease can be cured. With it, the world can sway from the dark road of history, the dark road of intolerance that led to nowhere but ruin. And I, the discoverer of hellium, the one imbued with the whole of its magnificent power, will be the one to lead the world into its golden age, an age of reason.”

“You’re responsible for the attacks in the Middle East!” President Coulter blurted before being silenced by a squeeze from the insectizoid’s powerful claws.

“As much as I loathe your administration, and enjoy hearing you stammer and mutter in ignorance to defend it, I cannot allow you to take the blame for the incidents. It is true, I was responsible for the disposal of the Islamic fanatics. President Khameneijad, described the incidents as ‘cowardly attacks.’ I beg to differ. I see it as a natural progression—the elimination of individuals who were detrimental to the advancement of life on earth by those representing a sustainable future.

“Unlike many of my colleagues, I do not restrict my condemnation for religious zealots to the Christian right. Out of what can only be some misguided sense of multiculturalism, they simply refuse to acknowledge the atrocities inherent in Islam, with some actually making calls for understanding in dealing with such societies. Well, I do understand—which is why I know that they must be marginalized, if not completely eradicated.

“You see, the destruction of the terrorists was only the beginning. It is such theocratic ideologies that have led the world to the brink of destruction, constantly pitting mankind against one another in disputes over ancient literature whose authors sought nothing more than the rule of the masses through fear of superstitious lore. It was ingenious, really, and at one time the unquestioning loyalty of the religious was perhaps even best to guarantee the survival of their civilizations. In modern times, though, with the rise of globalization, such ideologies and divisions should no longer be permitted, for they hinder the merger and progression of the human family.

“It was with such progression in mind that I did what was best for mankind as a whole. The radical Islamists were ideal specimens for the testing of my hellium-induced powers. Terrorists are single minded and fight with a determination unmatched by the professional soldiers of more technologically advanced societies. I knew that if I could defeat such determined, but deluded, men in battle, the soldiers simply seeking a paycheck of nations such as the U.S. would stand no chance against me.”

Hitchkins turned to President Coulter. “The time of theocracies and governments driven by religious ideologies is at an end: Your time has come to an end as well, Mr. President. You, the supposed, ‘most powerful man on earth,’ stand helpless before me. I do not blame you personally, for I know that your ideologies are but the result of millennia of promulgation of flawed religious doctrines. Still, your position is the apex, the culmination of such ideologies, and must therefore be eliminated to demonstrate to other nations—Israel, Iran, and others in the Middle East—the ultimate end of such thinking in this new age.”

Hitchkins effortlessly hoisted the podium and hurled it to the floor before the stage to ensure that nobody had an obstructed view. “Release him,” he commanded the insectizoid and the president stumbled forward. “I take no pleasure in this,” Hitchkins said as he began to raise his right hand.

The president, a tough-talking Texan, suddenly lashed out with a right cross to Hitchkins’s chin that had absolutely no effect, except for causing his own fist great discomfort.

“Hellium grants one extraordinary abilities, Mr. President,” said Hitchkins as he raised his arm, extending his palm toward Coulter. “The ability to rejuvenate the feeble … ” Hitchkins’s hand began to glow and a golden ray shot from his palm into the president’s chest. The president’s gray hair began to change back to its youthful brown and his wrinkles began to fade. “Or,” Hitchkins continued, “the ability to enfeeble the spry.” The ray seemed to reverse trajectory, actually pulling energy from the president. His hair began to turn gray, his wrinkles returned, and he collapsed to his knees—he was withering before the very eyes of the assembly.

At that moment, something blasted through the ceiling of the General Assembly hall, or burned through it, rather, with the smoldering edges of the circular hole raining embers to the assembly floor.

A being slowly descended through the hole to the astonishment of the assembly (to the astonishment of both the UN assembly and those in the Command Center on Polaris as well) and even to Hitchkins himself, causing him to cease his beam.

“What—in—the … Jarvis!?” Darion exclaimed at the Command Center, watching the events unfold on the viewing arc.

It was indeed Jacob Jarvis, but he appeared to be horribly burned, unnaturally so—far worse than he’d been in the fateful attack in Mosul. He had no hair on his head or body, and his skin was charred, as black as and resembling coal. His skin was cracked, with red-hot embers showing in the crevices. For someone who’d been bedridden for so long, he showed no signs of muscular atrophy, and was even more toned than before the VBIED attack.

His eyes were intense, his pupils shone like the embers in his skin. He wore no top over his charcoal-like torso, and was attired only in formfitting, brief-like trunks and boots that rose to just below his calves, both comprised of a smooth material as black as his charred skin.

The insectizoids, under orders to attack only armed resisters, held their ground.

“Uh, Francis,” said Jarvis, fighting back a chuckle after saying the name, “please step away from the president.”

“Who are you?!” Hitchkins demanded, stunned, believing that perhaps the U.S. government had somehow duplicated his work, producing a hellium-enhanced subject of their own.

“Who I am, doesn’t matter,” said Jarvis. “What I am is a United States soldier, and that is my commander in chief. I say again, please step away from the president.”

“If you haven’t noticed,” said Hitchkins, “you are outnumbered.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating his insectizoid guards—ten in all, including the two on the stage.

Jarvis smirked.

“Do you find something amusing?” asked Hitchkins.

“It’s just, all I see is a bunch of bugs,” Jarvis replied.

“Bugs?!” said Hitchkins. “Very well. Have it your way. Tear him apart!”

The insectizoids’ wings extended from their backs and they took off for Jarvis. Those gathered in the hall saw their opportunity and scrambled for the exits.

Jarvis’s eyes suddenly erupted with flame and the embers in his skin shone brighter. He extended his palms toward the two insectizoids approaching from the stage and streams of fire shot from his hands, blasting them both. Their wings incinerated, the two fell to the floor where they writhed momentarily, then nevermore—their red exoskeletons now charred, smoldering husks.

Jarvis spun in midair and backed in the direction of the stage. With thrusting motions of his arms, he blasted the approaching insectizoids with fireballs, sending them crashing to the floor in smoking heaps. One dodged the fireballs and managed to grab Jarvis by the shoulders and pulled him toward its chomping pincers. Jarvis’s eyes emitted a blast of flame rays that incinerated the insectizoid’s head, and it released him and fell to the floor.

“Aaahhg!” A concussive blast from Hitchkins’s palm blasted Jarvis in the back, sending him crashing to the floor through a desk.

Hitchkins hovered from the stage and touched down on the assembly floor, leaving the president on the stage praying on his hands and knees. Hitchkins stalked toward Jarvis, who lay motionless, face down in the rubble of the split table.

“Fool,” said Hitchkins as he approached the fallen warrior. “Whoever you are, your powers pale in comparison to my own … ”

“Mr. President, run!” Jarvis yelled while popping to his feet, having been feigning unconsciousness all along.

Hitchkins flinched, taking a stutter step backward at this revelation. Flame suddenly erupted from every ember-laden crevice on Jarvis’s body in a spherical blast fifteen feet in diameter, which incinerated all within its radius and burned a concave in the floor. The blast sent Hitchkins hurtling backward; the president dove to the assembly floor as Hitchkins went sailing into the wall behind the stage, smashing a crater in its facade just below the UN emblem.

Jarvis turned to observe. His fiery pupils changed to their normal brown, and sandy blonde hair emerged on his head in the high-and-tight style common of the military. The cracks in his skin closed as his body changed from charred black to its normal state—his body exhibited no scarring from the burns from the VBIED attack.

The president stood before the stage, looking back and forth between the crater and Jarvis.

“Mr. President?” asked Jarvis.

After looking back and forth a couple more times, the president snapped back to awareness and responded. “Ye … uh … yes.”

“You’re free now, sir, but I don’t think he’s done yet.” Jarvis motioned toward the crater in which Hitchkins was beginning to stir.

“Oh, uh, yes,” said the president. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

The president ran for the exit and Jarvis turned his attention to the crater. Hitchkins rose from the rubble and proceeded to walk to the front of the stage where he glared down at Jarvis.

When he spoke, Hitchkins’s voice reverberated as if spoken by two—the other voice was much more deep and raspy than Hitchkins’s usual one. “You foolish interloper. Somehow, you’ve managed to come into possession of the power primordial. It matters not, for this world is mine. Being the ruler of this world, I can extend to you great authority as well—wealth, women, and power. Join me. To refuse would be folly, for as you have witnessed, I can withstand your greatest efforts.”

Jacob smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry,” he said as his eyes erupted with flame and his body changed back to a charred state. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

“Very well,” said Hitchkins, his voice back to normal. His eyes began to shine golden, and he raised his arms to the sides with his palms up.

Rumbling came from beneath the floor and the entire assembly hall seemed to shake. Dozens of ant-like insectizoids began to burst from the floor, surrounding Jacob and filling the hall.

Even with his new powers, the sheer numbers of the insectizoids seemed insurmountable to Jacob. He maintained his composure outwardly, but his heart sank, and inside he said a desperate prayer. In the Command Center, the assembly watched the events unfold at the UN in quiet astonishment.

Sky broke the silence. “Uh, is everyone thinking what I’m thinking?”

All in the assembly turned and regarded him questioningly.

“His shorts,” Sky continued, “his shorts and boots are fire resistant!”

Clay slapped Sky on the back of the head.

“Cadet Conner does have a point,” said Enoch. “I mean, we wouldn’t want our walking inferno burning through his britches, right, Hans? I’m certain the fire-resistant clothing is another of your bestowments?”

“Indeed, Commander,” Kagan said with a smile.

The blue halo about Enoch’s head began to pulsate convulsively. “Well, what do you know?” said Enoch. “I’m getting some quite interesting instructions in response to many strange prayer requests, most pertaining to saving people from horrifying ant monsters.”

“Sir,” Darion said to Enoch, “Jacob is in trouble. He’s surrounded. Even with his fire powers, I don’t think he can defeat them all.”

“Yes, Jacob seems to feel the same way,” Enoch replied. “He made a prayer request as well … and we’re going to help him.”

“Already on it, Commander,” said Kagan. “His teammates are en route and should be arriving shortly.”

“Teammates?!” asked Darion.

“Hans?” said Enoch.

“I had to be certain that the terrestrials had a fighting chance,” said Kagan. “I went to Brooke Army Medical Center and found Jacob in a bad way, still horribly burned and being tormented by Zadadach and his goons. So, I scattered their Essences throughout the universe. Young Darion won’t be having to worry about Zadadach for quite some time.”

“Hughes!” Darion said abruptly. “Come to think of it, there was a boat at my marina that was painted with black and red flames. I think it had the name Fire Cracker, emblazoned on the side. Don’t tell me that’s … ”

Kagan continued, “I then approached Jacob in the Oneiric Plane. I told him that I was there to help, and imbued him with a fraction of the power primordial, specifically, the ability to transform into a denser, stronger physical state, with the power to manipulate and control fire. I granted these abilities with a stipulation—that he must always strive to do the right thing and protect those in need. I told him that his first test would be at the UN building and to get there ASAP, for the life of the president hung in the balance. I then materialized the shorts and boots and left them by his bedside for when he woke up.

“It came to me that I may have been sending Jacob to his death, for I didn’t know how powerful one imbued by the power of the Enemy himself might be. The Enemy has been imbuing terrestrials with ‘superpowers’ for millennia—vampires, werewolves, and sorcerers—so I figured it was time to start leveling the playing field. I then considered that there were others who had been wounded, but survived the attack that caused Darion’s death and left Jacob burned—”

“And ‘you did what had to be done,’” Enoch interjected.

“Precisely, Commander,” said Kagan.

“Who else did you imbue with powers?” asked Darion.

“Three others,” said Kagan. “Your teammates, Mitchell and Cervantes, as well as a female medic who was wounded trying to get Jacob and the others out of the Stryker.”

“You gave them all the ability to manipulate fire?” asked Enoch.

“Negative, Commander,” said Kagan. “I bestowed each of their abilities dependent on the predicament in which I found them. I figured that a team with an assortment of attributes would be best to counter whatever powers Hitchkins had been granted.”

“You know what, Hans,” said Enoch, “I think you did the right thing. When you have murderous megalomaniacs imbued with the power of Satan himself, making plays for world domination, perhaps it’s time to reevaluate our rules of engagement. Well, it looks like the Host is now in the business of insuring that goodnatured terrestrials with superpowers prevail against those with powers imbued by demonic forces.” Enoch sighed, “The Creator did say things would get a lot worse before he returned.”

“That may be so,” said Darion, shaking his head and trying to wrap his mind around the revelations, “but this just keeps getting better and better.”