Authors: Daniel Syverson
"Get me a satellite confirmation, and hook
me up with command, quick!"
* * *
The tables, with gifts, decorations,
honorariums, and tokens of appreciation, all which served to enhance the
impression that a king had taken his throne began rising. Zarin and Hans were
both waiting expectantly for the chest.
None of the rest mattered, but the chest - it
was time to complete the transformation, to finalize the taking of command. It
continued rising, slowly.
Hans was feeling the change more strongly now. He
could feel his blood pressure rising, his temperature rising, his sensation of
power increasing. Looking down, he thought he could actually see the changes in
his body, occurring as watched. Zarin now, also, was beginning to experience
the flow of energy, far more strongly than before. Not having had the
experience earlier, the feeling of raw power flowing into him was shocking, a
sharp flow of heat, seeming to enter through every pore of his being. At first,
it was painful, intensely painful, frightening, but almost immediately it
settled back. He looked at Hans, then he, also, looked down, thinking that the
intense flow of energy would have to manifest itself in changes to his body as
well. And he thought he might be right.
Was it in his mind, or could he actually see the
musculature of his already well-toned body increasing in size? Rather than
pain, now, he felt the energy entering his very being, not only physically, but
mentally. He felt sharper, more in control, more
alive
than ever before.
He felt as if he could do anything, literally anything. He could feel the heat,
not only pouring in, but emanating out.
* * *
"Yessir, we have confirmed launch. Multiple
missile launches, possible multiple warheads on each. With airbursts, there is
nothing we can do. There are too many. Israeli interception missiles will
probably take out some, but..." He didn't need to finish. It didn't
require a huge number of warheads to get through.
Rothstein slumped down in his chair. The rest of
his people had turned and were staring expectantly at him.
"What now, sir?"
He slowly looked up. He looked at each one. Mostly
kids. Some single, others with young families. Shit, there was Markeson sitting
there, with a photo of his new baby taped to the monitor.
"We do our job. There's nothing else we can
do. There's no way to land and get into cover - not in the next fifty minutes
or so. We still have a job to do – we still need to coordinate the responses
and all the aircraft still in the area. Passenger airliners of all nations.
Military. They depend on us. And when we do finish, we won't be able to get far
enough away in time.
"Besides, we don't run. Not from anyone. We
will do what we've trained to do. Direct aircraft and response craft for as
long as we can.
"Each of you, say a prayer, however you
wish, as you need. Then, we go back to work.
"One other thing. Just in case, I wanted
you to know that I am proud to have worked with each of you. It has been an
honor."
He could see tears forming in some eyes. Some
were losing focus, but it didn't really matter. Not that much. Not now. There
wasn't a lot more they could do other than monitor the events.
My God, out
of the blue. What just happened?
He turned back to his console.
He heard someone crying.
* * *
As the tables continued rising, both men were
correct - the changes were not only in their minds. Their bodies were both
being physically transformed. For both, the musculature had increased to the
point that the arms of their jackets were snug, the tailored shirts suddenly
way too tight, bulging across the chest, around the arms. Their skin color,
heat radiating from each from the intense amounts of energy being absorbed, had
turned a deep, ruddy, red. The changes were becoming noticeable to those near the
front, and obvious to those watching close-ups on camera.
The energy radiating from each, being broad
spectrum, was being radiated not only as heat, but as light, infrared,
ultraviolet, and into both higher and lower frequency ranges. As a result, not
only was heat radiated, but they both began to literally glow, first in a
healthy, deep red color, then more so, to the point that it seemed light was
literally leaking from their bodies.
The higher radiation frequency began to
interfere with the nearby electronics, causing the pictures being transmitted
to begin wavering, losing their clarity. The physical changes taking place in
both, not as obvious on the now-static filled cameras, was obvious, and
frightening to those in the first several rows, and on stage.
The tables were up, and both men stepped toward
the chest, opening it. Gerhard, remembering the initial exposure to the small
amount of material in the emblem realized what was in there, and the potential
effects of the sudden release, and began to move forward.
"Wait!"
Too late. The chest was open, with both men
standing immediately in front.
The energy struck suddenly. The force that had
taken Hans with but a couple of ounces from the podium in Zarin's office now
slammed into him with the full strength of multiple pounds of concentrated star
material. He felt a heat burning deeply, hotly within him, far worse, far more
strongly than before, to the point of pain, pain that was unrelenting,
building, insufferable. He felt the force building, much faster than before. He
looked over at Zarin. He saw the changes happening to him, and realized the
pain he was in as well by the excruciating look on his face. The same forces as
before, only hundreds, perhaps thousands, of times stronger.
The hair, earlier tousled with the energy
escaping, now was extending from the strong electric currents being created
within, a frightening distortion of an electric Don King look, with the hair
literally being forced from his head, a head becoming more swollen, discolored,
the body growing as well. The eyes, fiery red, bulged from skulls glowing from
escaping energy, filled with a brain made more powerful than any on earth,
filled with an unholy energy.
Both men looked at each other, energy feeding
not only from the lockbox, but now feeding on each other. Arcs of electricity
now bridged between the two and between each and the chest, sputtering,
crackling, launching a blue light, flashing throughout the room. The bodies of
each had expanded to contain the growing energy, and the clothing, first tight,
began to split and tear, then burst into flames.
From the front of the audience, the men were
hard to watch, and those nearby began to shield their eyes. Again, looking at
each other, then themselves, the two began to glow, waves of heat washing over
each. No, not glowing, those were waves or flames of energy emanating from their
entire bodies. The clothes were literally burning off both of them.
It didn't matter, they were becoming gods. Both
raised their arms in a spontaneous roar, an exclamation of victory. The
audience gasped. Many headed for the door, tripping over chairs and one
another. Others crossed themselves and dropped to their knees. Some wept. Dozens
were trampled. Who were these men?
What
were these men? What had they
done?
Gerhardt was frightened, too. Not of the changes
- he had resigned himself to that after the first exhibition. He was frightened
now because it was too much, too fast. The naked bodies, expanding, glowing,
flaming. He began to fear for his very life.
He stood, stepped behind the chair, holding it
for balance, stepping backwards. The heat, the heat was smothering. He looked
at the back of his hands, holding the chair. Blisters were already rising. He
covered his face, which he could feel blistering as well. Looking around him,
the stage was emptying, men screaming, covering their faces. One man, the
oriental sitting two seats to his left had collapsed where he sat. His clothes,
first smoldering, now burst into flames, the man never waking as he burned to
death.
Cameras were focused, but the pictures were
warped, static filled, flashing in and out, and the sound alternated between
roars of sounds and screams, and silence as the signal fluctuated. Crowds
everywhere were staring fixedly at their screens. What had happened? The two
men appeared to have increased in size, taller, wider, more muscular, and
glowing
.
How much energy could they take? Static electricity was snapping off each of
them, striking nearby objects - a microphone stand, the podium. The podium
burst into flames. One bolt snaked out in its jagged path and struck one of the
twelve behind them. With a scream, he went down, burning in place. Not dead,
the screams continued. Mercifully, not long. The picture snapped on and off,
getting worse and worse.
Now the bolts surrounded the two of them,
looking like a science project, or those glowing balls one buys that generates
plasma inside, controlled by the touch of a hand.
The screaming had grown louder, but was drowned
out by the buzzing and snapping of the electrical charges up front. People were
climbing over one another as they struggled for the door.
Hans saw this, but registered little. He was
becoming a god!
This
was his legacy! He turned toward his father. He saw
him grab his face, turning and running. Hans reached toward him, to call to
him, but all that came out was another unearthly roar, and a bolt of energy,
leaving his hands. In what seemed slow motion, the bolt snaked toward his
father, sending little shoots left and right, but heading inexorably toward his
father, striking him in the center of his back. The elder Richter arched his
back to scream, but the superheated air and moisture in his lungs caused his
chest to explode first, dropping a burning corpse on the ground.
It was all falling apart. People were running
away. Leaving him. Anger, pain, fear. His job, his legacy - The Proclaimer - it
was wrong, all wrong. Within the pain, confusion, deep within, still, more
anger, feeding on the energy already pouring from him. As he looked at one
running away, a single bolt of electricity shot from his hand, not just a few
feet, but the length of the room, striking the man. Other bolts fired off, some
intentionally, some not. Some aimed at people, others random strikes.
The noise had become deafening, people were
running, and still the changes occurred. It was starting to get painful. Very
painful. And getting worse. Hans let out a scream. People were leaving him! Leaving
him!
It reverberated across the room. As he did, the high voltage began
burning him, burning Zarin.
It was too much, too much, stop it, stop it,
stop it....
He was losing control. Zarin had lost all focus
already. He was stumbling on the stage, flames and electricity shooting from
his body. Areas of his body could be seen turning black, charred. He, too,
began having pain, pain as never before, pain as no mortal had ever endured. He
also screamed, a deep, throaty roar of a scream, deeper from his increased
size, louder and more terrifying from his own fear. The arc between the two had
turned to a solid, buzzing white-blue river of energy, connecting, drawing from
each, toward each.
The two were drawn toward each other and the
chest. Not being able to see any more, both stumbled from the stage, merging as
one fireball, landing onto the table next to the chest.
The two glowing men stood. Joined at the chest,
where the energy arcs had emanated, the connection began running both up and
down, glowing being completely absorbed, one within the other. Screams of fear,
pain, and terror emanated.
The cameramen had since vacated their posts. It
made no difference - the huge voltage and power bursts coming of their bodies
had created induction currents in their equipment, burning them out. Viewers
were treated to black screens, and within a few moments, the sound was lost as
well.
And the missiles rose higher, beginning to arc
away from Tehran.
The two men, now merged, tried to stand. The
screaming would have chilled the strongest man, but all were running for their
very lives. This angered the creature even more.
The energy began to rise above them/it,
swirling, forming an electronic vortex, an electric tornado. With a blast, this
expanded energy blew through the roof of the convention center. Chunks fell,
killing some instantly, other more slowly.
Then, with what seemed to be a final blast, like
a lightning burst that explodes in a burst of light, energy, and sound, the
Hans-Zarin were turned to pure energy, blasting out in a full circle, in a
power far and above that of any nuclear weapon. From a distance, the blast
could be seen radiating outward from the center, out mile after mile,
destroying every building, igniting them momentarily before releasing every
object into the atoms and molecules of its design, and then, even those atoms
having the very electrons ripped from them, leaving nothing but ions, and then,
-nothing.
The blast shot outward and upward, not in the
traditional mushroom cloud shape, but in a rounded, concentric hemisphere,
focused at the convention center, shooting up and out, changing shape as it
expanded, slowing near the surface, speeding through the air, turning into more
of a rounded, bulging cone. From hundreds of miles away people would see what
looked like a bright, white hot, electric tornado, miles high, miles wide at
the top, churning for a few moments, as if deciding what to do, then exploding
in a final blast.
This blast and expanding semicircle of light
caught the still ascending missiles, vaporizing them as the light passed
through, unimpeded. No secondary blasts; they were simply gone, as if they'd
never existed The flash continued upward and outward, perhaps two dozen miles
in radius, every direction, completely encompassing the city, and rising upward
towards the upper reaches of the atmosphere before slowing, dimming,
wavering...
The light went out.
The sudden loss of heat and explosive power left
a vacuum, and the air rushed back in to fill it. The sudden drop of pressure,
as any student in basic physics knows, also caused a rapid drop in temperature,
suddenly condensing what little moisture existed in the desert air, This
freezing condensation began to - - -