Incarnate: Mars Origin "I" Series Book III (3 page)

The
collar tab in his black clerical shirt felt tight around his neck. He hadn’t
worn it in a while. He tugged at it, brushed off his black jacket and adjusted
his sleeves while he waited to be let in.

“This
is unexpected, Father.” The man spoke to him from across the sparsely lit room.
He was looking out of the window. “What can I do for you?”

“I
came to find out what you’ve been up to. It’s been a long time since we’ve
spoken. In fact, I think too long.”

“Or
perhaps, not long enough.” The man chuckled. “I do dread our visits.”

“Today
you should dread my visit.” The Father crossed the room and stood next to the
man. “How long has it been since your last confession, my son?”

“Haha.
Father. This is certainly not the place for a confession. And I don’t think a
Hail Mary would absolve my sins, no matter how many I was made to recite.”

“It’s
never too late to be absolved of your sins.” The Father stood with his hands
behind his back, not straying his gaze from the window he spoke slowly and
softy.

“What
is it that you want, Father Chandra?”

Nikhil
Chandra felt the presence of someone else in the room, but he didn’t
acknowledge them. He lowered his head. “It appears to me that you’ve changed
sides.”

“Did
you come here to try and get me to change back?”

“No.”

“Good,
Father, because you couldn’t. And if you tried to persuade me, I think that
you’d be outnumbered.” The man looked at the two men that had entered the room.
“Wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

The
man’s goons were both dressed in suits. One in brown, one in rust. The one
clad in rust stood at the door. The other moved in closer, standing between the
man at the door and the Father.

“They
look dressed and ready for church.” Nikhil laughed. “They don’t look scary at
all.”

“You
wouldn’t want to face them, Father. Anywhere. They’d show no mercy. Not even on
church grounds.”

“You
were put in charge. Put in place at the Bilderberg Group to listen out for any
noise about what they knew about our secret.” Nikhil’s voice stayed even and
calm. “Not share it. But quell it. Not perpetuate it. But put an end to it. You
failed.”

“How
do you know what I’ve done or said?”

“Seems
like you been saying things that are scaring the people that work for the
Senator. Someone named Elaina called a friend of mine. Then I spoke with her
directly a few minutes ago. Just to verify.”

“Well
she won’t be telling any more secrets.”

“You’re
the one that seems to have a problem with keeping secrets as of late.”

“Our
kind has been keeping secrets too long. It’s time something is done about it.”

“And
the money was right.”

“Yeah.
And the money was right.” The man took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket,
and pulled one out. He held the pack out. “Want one, Father?”

“I
don’t smoke. It’s bad for your health.”

“Maybe
you should take one. If you enjoy them. I don’t think protecting your health
will be a concern after tonight.”

The
Father shook his head and the man put the cigarettes back in his pocket.

 “I
came because I was curious to know what you’ve been up to,” the Father said and
smiled. “Now I know it was something you had no business doing.”

“Is
that what you think?”

“A
friend of mine has been troubled needlessly because of your actions.”

“We
know all about your Dr. Justin Dickerson. Archaeologist. Discoverer of our
thousand year old secret. Senator Cook needed information, we knew how to
provide it. If it wasn’t for me, Justin Dickerson would have never had an
audience with the Bilderberg Group. And that’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? You
should be happy about it.”

“I’m
not.”

“Look,
Father Chandra. Let’s just cut the crap. You won’t make it out of here tonight
if you insist on worrying me with this bull. She was going to let the cat out
of the bag, whenever she got the guts to do it. We just pushed that event
along.” He stared into the Father’s eyes and raised an eyebrow. “But once she hands
over what the Senator wants, we won’t need her anymore.”

“You’re
full of threats tonight.” The Father ran his tongue over his top lip and his
fingers through his hair. “Even threatening me.”

“Only
out of respect, Father. Anyone else I wouldn’t have warned them before I took
them out.”

“The
problem is Bruce Cook,” the Father said, not acknowledging the man’s comment.
“I’ve had a look at what’s he’s planning to do and it can’t happen. This can’t
happen through him. And after speaking with you,” he looked around the room,
“my other problem is your cavalier attitude toward Dr. Dickerson. I can’t have
that, either.”

“Too
late.” The man nodded at his dressed-in-Sunday-go-to-meeting clothed goons.
“Too late for you and too late for your Dr. Dickerson. I hope you’ve said your
prayers, Father.” He looked at the rust-colored-suit goon and said, “Not here.
Take him somewhere else.”

The
Father had tried hard not to ever have Justin in harm’s way, at least not from
his own people. He had initiated her contact with the Bilderberg Group. And
now, any danger she was in with them was because of him.  

“Our
secret was very sacred,” the Father said, almost in a whisper. “And I will be
sure to pray for your soul for breaking that covenant before I leave.”

The
Father took one step forward so that he stood in back of the unrepentant man.
He swept his leg underneath the man, dropping him to his knees, and in one
swift movement the Father wrapped his left arm around the man’s neck, and
placed his right hand on the left side of his head and jerked. The loud crack
of the man’s vertebrae breaking, ripping his spinal cord in half was a sudden
and unexpected move by a man of the cloth and made the suited-down goons
hesitate – a hesitation that gave the Father time to reach underneath his
jacket and pull his gun, fitted with a silencer, from his waistband.

The
guy that stood closet to Nikhil lunged at him, throwing his weight against him,
and they both slammed into the wall. The Father, struggling against the man’s
weight, raised the gun to the man’s temple and pulled the trigger. The bullet
hit, exploding into the side of his face, tearing away skin and bone. As the
goon started to collapse, the Father turned him around and lifted him up with
one hand to act as a shield. The dead goon took a shot to the chest from the
last goon standing that was meant for the Father.

Nikhil
Chandra pulled the trigger again. This bullet went straight through the goon’s
heart. The Father dropped the dead body shield, adjusted his collar and
straightened out his suit. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a
white stole with gold applique along the bottom edges. He gently unfolded it,
kissed it and placed it around his neck. Stepping over the man who had provided
him shield, he walked over to the man who had initiated all of this needless
bloodshed.

The
Father kneeled down on one knee, and kissed the dead man’s cheek.  He made
the sign of a cross on the man’s forehead with oil he fished out of the same
pocket he’d got the stole. He leaned in close and whispered, “
Through
this holy unction may the Lord pardon thee whatever sins or faults thou hast
committed . . .”
Then he crossed himself.

NASA Langley Research Center

Hampton, Virginia

He chuckled and
glanced up at Mark Phillips. “It does look like a thigh bone. You think those
little green Martians have an anatomy that similar to ours?” He flipped through
the next few photos.

Much to the
chagrin of Dr. Mark Phillips, the MastCam from the Curiosity rover NASA sent to
Mars had sent back a picture that a UFO blogger got hold of. He had posted it
on his blog claiming that the image in the picture was a human femur. Dr. Frank
Williams, whom he had asked to come by his lab to have a look at the photo,
wasn’t making things better.

Both were well-respected
NASA scientists. Mark Phillips had been in charge of the Mars’ Space Mission
programs for more than twenty years and team leader of the Mission Mars space
team. Frank was a well-seasoned biologist, who thought out of the box and had a
wealth of knowledge from which to draw.

 “I don’t
believe that there is such a thing as a Martian, Frank. And that’s not why I
asked you to take a look at these pictures.” Dr. Phillips reached out his hand
to retrieve the pictures.

Frank, leaning
across the table, stood up and pivoted away from Dr. Phillips, keeping him from
getting the photos. “I mean look, you can see it here.” He ran his finger over
the tip of the object in the picture. “It does resemble t
he head of the femur right where it articulates with the acetabulum
in the pelvic bone. It looks a little deformed, but. . .”

“You sound like
that crackpot blogger and his readers. We’ve already had to get a handle on
this - release some of our photos and put out an official explanation. We can’t
have one of our own on board with the UFO nut jobs.” Mark looked at Frank and
shook his head.

Frank’s face
showed the amusement he got from the conversation. “I think “enthusiasts” would
be a better term to describe them. ‘Crackpot’ is a little harsh, don’t you
think? What’s our official statement?”

“Quote. ‘NASA’s
Mission Mars science team members believe that the shape of the object in the
image is likely sculpted by erosion - either wind or water. And although the
rock does resemble a thigh bone it is unequivocally not.’ End quote.” Mark
raised his eyebrow as if asking for approval.

“That sounds
official, and believable enough to me.” Frank handed the pictures over. “So why
did you want to show me the pictures?”

“Well, I’m sure
in time, these images would have gotten to your department, but I just wanted
to get a leg up on what you think this thing could be.” Mark grinned. “No pun
intended.”

“No pun taken.
Your explanation sounds good. Rock that’s been eroded. What’s wrong with going
with that?”

“I don’t mean
an explanation for the public. I mean one for me. One for science. We do have
to look at the probability that it could be something else. Something other
than rock. Especially with some of the observations we’re getting back from the
soil analyses.”

“I don’t get
it. You have a problem with life on other planets? NASA is on board with the
possibility. How can you not be?”

“NASA’s stance
is that in the next fifteen to twenty years we will find evidence of life on
other planets. In other solar systems.” He looked hard at Frank. “And I’m down
with that. I believe that there is life out there somewhere. But not in this
solar system. Not on Mars.”

Frank laughed.
“Oh. Just not this close to home.”

“Exactly. Think
of the ramifications. Mars is only a billion years ahead of us. If in that time
it could have spawned life, evolved to the level of hosting intelligent beings
and then become the desolate, lifeless planet we know today, what will happened
to Earth? How long do we have? I don’t want to think like that. But to explain that
to the people on this planet – that would undoubtedly create a mass panic. And
I definitely don’t want to be responsible for anything like that.”

“I see your
point.” Frank stuck out his hand. “Let me see those pictures again.” Holding
them close to his face, turning the pictures at different angles, he squinted
his eyes and studied each one.

Mark pulled up
a chair with wheels, sat down and crossed his arms while he waited for Frank to
take a second look at the images. Clad in a white lab coat, pants shiny from
years of washing and pressing and rubber soled shoes, he spun around in the
chair and surveyed his lab to keep his mind occupied. He didn’t want to let on
to Frank his anxiety over the photos.

The lab was
large. It had high walls with large vents along the top. There were charts and
maps of Mars’ surface stacked on metal shelves. In the center of the lab were
prototypes and models of Mars’ vehicles –past and present. And covering
practically every inch of wall space were pictures taken by rovers from the
Mars program spanning the last seventeen years. Other than sharing office space
with two assistants, the lab belonged to Mark. He was good at what he did and
he didn’t often need validation. And while there was always a possibility of
finding some life form on the planet, human life had always seemed far-fetched.
At least he hoped it was.

 “What
kind of data have you got from the soil surrounding it?” Frank asked while
studying the picture under a magnifying glass.

“Inconclusive.”

“Inconclusive?”
He looked up at Mark. “What does that mean?”

“It means I
need to double check that ‘eroded rock’ is really what it is.”

“Tell me about
the soil analysis.”

Mark took in a
deep breath and let it out through his nostrils. “
Soil carbon and
some other stuff.”

“Stuff.”
Frank chuckled. He laid the pictures on the counter top and looked at Mark.
“Was it animal decaying
stuff
like phosphorus?”

Mark
nodded his head.

“Potassium?”

Mark
lowered his eyes and nodded again.

“Calcium,
maybe some magnesium?”

“Look,
Frank. I just want some ideas on what this could be other than an eroded rock.”

“And
other than a femur.” Frank said in acknowledgment. He picked the pictures back
up and glanced over them again.

“Right.
And I don’t want the increase in soil carbon and nitrogen or any of the other
‘stuff’ that was found to be used as a basis for what it could be.”

Frank
frowned. “You don’t want to use the
scientific
evidence you have to
determine what it is? That sounds a bit off.”

“Well,
I’m feeling a bit off. I’d rather get some ideas on what else it could be and
then work backwards from there to see if that’s what it is.”

“That
is the most unscientific thing I have ever heard.” Frank laughed hard. “You
sound like a ten year old with a new chemistry set rather than a NASA Ph.D. scientist.”

“Yeah.
Well.”

“Not
much to say on that, huh, Mark?” Mark didn’t answer. “You know, the more I
listen to you, the more I think it is a thigh bone.” Frank laid the photos back
down on the counter.

“I’m
sorry I asked for your help.” Mark gathered up the pictures and stuck them back
in the brown folder.

“Don’t
be. Send me a copy of the pictures and the soil analysis for the surrounding
area I’ll play your little unscientific game. I’ll see what I can come up
with.”

“Thanks,
Frank.”

“Don’t
thank me yet. If we’re ruling eroded rock out, I’m still leaning toward a thigh
bone.” He patted Mark on the shoulder. “I’ll stop by around one-one thirty and
pick you up for lunch. Maybe I’ll have some ideas for you then.”

“Sounds
good. I’ll see you then.”

Mark watched
Frank leave the room, then took the brown folder with the pictures and walked
over to a file cabinet in his office.

“Why didn’t you
tell him how the makeup of elements in the soil not only shows animal decay,
but it shows decay that is much more recent than when we believe any life could
have been sustained on the planet?” A voice came from behind him.

Dr. Phillips
pulled open the file cabinet. He laid the brown folder on top and reached into
the back of the drawer and pulled out a thick manila envelope.

“You know,” he
said not turning to look at the person standing behind him. “I haven’t looked
at this in years.” He laid the thick folder on a table near the cabinet. “I
mulled over it when we first got it. Not really putting a lot of thought into
the possibilities or the ramifications of those possibilities. I followed
protocol. I turned the information over to the Pentagon. But then I convinced
myself that it couldn’t be true and I shipped it out to the archives. I
instructed that it be put as far back, and as deep down in the unit as it could
go. Preferably to stay buried there forever.” Dr. Phillips finally looked at
his research assistant who had been in an office inside the lab throughout his
conversation with Frank Williams. Evidently, he had heard the entire
conversation.

“What is it?”

“After I got
these new pictures – the eroded rock . . .” He smiled. “I had this file brought
back over to my office.” He stroked the top page of the papers in the folder.

“What is it? Is
it more pictures of what you think are skeletal remains?”

“No. But it is
more evidence of life on Mars.”

“We already
have evidence of life on Mars. Microbial life and nothing more.”

“This may prove
that there was more.”

“Are you going
to tell me what it is?”

“Back in 1997,”
he looked at his research assistant and wished that somehow he could just make
this all go away. “Back in 1997 we found evidence of nuclear activity on Mars.”

“What?”

“Oh, and not
the kind you can explain away with atmospheric contents, or naturally occurring
reactions. Believe me.”

“Well what kind
was it?”

“The kind that
can only be explained with the intervention of some higher being.”

“Like humans.”

“Like humans.”

“Are you going
to do anything with that information?” The research assistant took the folder
out of Dr. Phillips hands and opened it up.

“Yes. I already
have done something.” He sat down at his desk and rubbed his hands over his
face. “I did the only thing I knew to do.”