Revelations

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Various places, Conference Call.

“I spent hours trying to work with the system. Every time I access it as a Kurtherian might I got this message. I do not understand what it means. Some code perhaps? I can’t figure out what the key might be. “ADAM told the group. “That restricts my attempts to break whatever programming might be limiting her through that means. She has asked us to ‘review the message and find the answer.’”

There was a pause before he continued, “My communications with her was suddenly severed once she said that. Gyada assured me that she is still there. Gyada can still feel the ‘murmuring’ as she describes it.” Gyada nodded at that, and ADAM continued, “I suspect the program warns when she gets close to triggering some sort of threshold that would delete her. Or it could be caused by some sort of ‘self-preservation’ program. Also, she continues to insist she has no name.”

There was a pause before Bethany Anne spoke, “I’m not getting any younger here, ADAM. Spit it out.”

“Of course. The best translation I believe is this. ‘Found before I’m proven, absent once realized. I am seen most clearly in utter darkness, never to be found in the light. To be found commonly in battle, rarely near the hearth. The Poor find me easily, but the Rich find me easy to lose. What am I?’ “He transmitted the original Kurtherian to TOM. “Do you agree TOM?”

TOM’s voice came over the communication line, “There are a few words that are possibly confused in it. But their meaning could have shifted slightly over the three and a half thousand years between when they left and when I left. I imagine it is as close as we are going to get. “Tom agreed, “In some ways, it’s very clever. Kurtherians as a whole aren’t particularly good at riddles. Codes, science, math, yes. Riddles? Not really our thing. Definitely not mine or something my clan focused on. Whoever made this wasn’t your average Kurtherian.”

“And neither are you, TOM, you’re just not average in a different way. Damn. “Bethany Anne said. “Give me someone to shoot or chop into tiny pieces, and I’m fine. Riddles are not the sort of thing I’m good at. I can piece together hard facts to form a picture, but this is some sort of Gottverdamm abstract, I think. Why did the spelunking asshole diver have to be into riddles of all things? Boris, sorry, your computer, your riddle at this point. Work with your team and get us involved as needed. I’ve got a stupid meeting with those on Earth again. Talk soon.”

There was a click as she disconnected from the call, leaving the group to discuss the riddle on their own. Janna commented “I wish she’d left TOM on the line. I have no idea how Kurtherians think, and that could be key to solving the riddle. Damn it. How anachronistic is it that the quickest way to solve our problem is to answer a riddle.”

“Enough, “Boris said, glaring at her. “I doubt TOM would be as much help as you think. From what has been discussed he seems to be a more ‘conventional’ Kurtherian than the one who wrote the riddle. He even admitted that the language may have resulted in slight meaning shifts. I suppose when you live as long as they seem to that language shifts more slowly. “He grimaced at that, going over his memory of how different Russian was from the language of his youth. “We have been given a job by our Czarina. We will do that job. Come, give me some suggestions.”

There was silence. Shen had a focused expression on his face, then he reached for a pen and paper and started breaking down the riddle into four pieces, putting potential answers to each of the paired statements. Once he was finished, he passed it around. Janna took it first. Out of the Russians, her English was, in some ways oddly, the best. After all, Danislav was three or four time her age and Boris was far older.

As they handed it to the group, Paul glanced at Gyada, and with a twitch of his head caught her attention. “While they work on that part of it, we need to work on the other part. Do you have a feel for what the author of the Riddle might have been like? Has the unnamed personality given you any idea? More to the point do you have any idea? Out of everyone here, it’s just you two that could give us some idea of what he was like.”

Gyada looked at him then narrowed her eyes “I believe the English term from how I saw him is ‘Bat-shit crazy’. Completely nuts was my perception. Always talking to himself or the air around him. What difference does that make? “Gyada shifted uncomfortably.

Paul was very strange to her in many ways. In her time, she would have considered him a follower of Loki. A capable fighter, and from everything she had heard, not without courage. He always seemed to have a jest available and didn’t appear to see combat as anything more than a job. Something that he had to do, not something that was filled with honor and glory. He trained his militia to approach war in the same fashion. War, to him, was simply business. It was more of a profession like smithing or farming than the calling she remembered it being for her.

Paul cleared his throat. “Can you be a little more specific? And could he have been talking to the computer, not himself? “Gyada paused in thought. Could he have been? It wasn’t like she understood the language he spoke at the time. She thought back to that time very carefully.

Going over her memories, which were surprisingly clear.

The memory jumped on her and left her frozen. The strange looking creature. How it acted, constantly muttering and tinkering with devices in that cave that seemed to disappear. She had tried to find it when she first became trapped, but the cave walls were all solid. The thing that stood out most was the constant muttering. Then the hidden… she shuddered and shied away from that memory.

She shook herself lightly, then answered, “Going back into those memories isn’t fun you know. Sometimes the strange being might have been talking to her. Sometimes it was definitely a mutter to himself. And I don’t know what he was saying, I didn’t know the language at that time.”

“Fair enough. Okay, that means he had some narcissistic tendencies in human terms. Probably a bit of a jerk to anyone around him, especially women of his own race. “Paul muttered to himself, focused on what he was hearing. Janna been listening into the conversation and her eyes went wide as Paul started trying to psychoanalyze the alien. First, because, well how did one psychoanalyze a totally different race and species? Secondly, because he always played the fool. The buffoon, the idiot, the jokester.

Even when training townspeople in their militia duties he did it with jokes and funny situations gotten in and out of.

Always to emphasize the skills he was teaching.

This was a completely different Paul, one who was deadly serious. One who wasn’t playing the idiot. Janna assumed he’d been there outside of combat, but this was the first time she’d noticed him do this in front of her.

“What do you mean by all that? Besides, where did you get any training to be able to assess someone’s psychological state? “Janna asked sharply. Paul had taken training the townspeople into a militia onto his own shoulders. It left him little time for much else, and he was always acted the clown in the meetings of the heads of departments. He was always around, but not where she was.

Paul blushed and looked away. Alecta rolled her eyes and answered. “He has two different masters degrees in psychology. One in aberrant psychology, the other in Combat and Post-Combat psychology. It’s why I get so frustrated when he acts the fool. He’s at least as smart as me, and he insists on playing his version of Prince Myshkin.”

Paul went back to looking at Gyada. “Is there anything else about the alien that seemed strange? Compare how he acted to how the personality acts.”

Gyada said, “No, I’ve said enough. I don’t need to keep going about how he was. “Her face was pale and her voice shook as she whispered, “It’s too painful.”

“And being effectively enslaved to a person, possibly the person who tried to kill you, wouldn’t be? “Paul asked quietly, caring. “She can’t even tell us if that’s what happened. I’m not sure, but it is possible. I just need a few more details. I can’t tell you what I’m looking for — it could taint what you remember. Please… It could be key to answering the Riddle. A riddle’s answer is as much an artifact of the person who created it as anything. “There was pleading in his voice.

He looked up at the others “Keep going. I’m only working on something that will help us narrow down the answers you guys come up with.”

Shen meanwhile was going another route. He still had a way to communicate with ADAM from his laptop. He quickly typed a message ‘See what you can do about getting an analysis of this Kurtherian group’s leaders actions — I think his name is Chaos is in Limited Options. See if you can get any information relevant to his state of mind to someone for a quick psychological analysis.’

The response came back ‘Timeframe longer than BA will be happy with. Two to three weeks minimum.’

Shen muttered “Fuck, I hate reality. Working with computers is so much easier. “There went his second idea. He had no real idea on what to do next. He looked around the room. Gyada wasn’t going to be that much help with the notes. She simply hadn’t known English that long. Hell, Shen was surprised with the fact they hadn’t asked for a Russian translation. He went to rise, but Boris waved him back down. With nothing immediate to do, he relaxed enough that an idle thought occurred to him… one he didn’t like much. He liked his life alone, working the black market and various scams.

He didn’t like representing his father’s business that much, but that was what allowed him to travel, gave him the other opportunities.

He was slowly becoming a valuable member of Boris’ inner circle. Worse, he found himself appreciating the feelings of trust, safety, and respect that created in him. Damn, he thought, does that make me a sucker for my saviors or a sucker for a cause? At least one that has most of the facts that I know worked into it?

He was left with that thought, a slightly forlorn look on his face.

Boris now had the pad and was going over everything carefully. He had a soft smile on his face. He was hopeless at riddles but enjoyed them anyway. Of course, the fact that he was working in English, which he had only learned in the last century or so, complicated the matter for him. He was always thinking in Russian, then translating back and forth. He only added a word or two to each of the four sections. He passed the pad on to Alecta and turned his focus on Paul.

It wasn’t often Paul acted seriously. He was always thoughtful in combat, but Boris had seen him avoid a mugging by laughing in the face of the guy who pulled a knife. He was a little unnerving in the way he could get out of any situation he got into.

The closest Paul had come to dying had been in situations where Boris had asked for his help. When counter-sniping in Afghanistan he’d used a really odd trick. He had put a small mirror on a wire that gave away a false position to the enemy. It seemed stupid to most people, but Boris agreed that if it’s stupid and works, it ain’t stupid.

“Okay, so he tried to act cold and dispassionate, but you felt that he was enjoying the pain that he caused? “Paul asked Gyada,

“Yes. If I felt he might be as sadistic as the first man to approach my Father for permission to court me. If he hadn’t been I might have risked not taking the actions I did. But there was a sense of excitement about the pain he caused. The cruelty was as much an end in itself as a means to an end.”

“Hum. I think I have enough to help narrow down the list.”

He turned to Boris and the others. “Have you finished that list and narrowed down by removing answers that fit only one? “They gathered round the table, eliminating answers that only covered one or two pieces of the puzzle. Finally, they were left with a half dozen: Fire, Despair, Fear, Nothing, Hope, and Grace.

“Well, Fire is definitely out,” Gyada commented. “Most hearths have a fire after all.”

“I’d drop Grace and Nothing. Grace doesn’t fit being easily found in battle, and that pair doesn’t make sense with Nothing as the answer to them at all.”

There was silence. They had narrowed it down to three. “Fear doesn’t fit as well with the first pair of clues either,” Alecta suggested. “Hope and Despair both seem to answer it, though. Maybe Hope is a better fit, but Despair still works.” Janna narrowed her eyes, then nodded slowly in agreement.

All eyes turned to Paul. “It’s so nice to be appreciated for my mind,” He said with a lopsided grin.

Alecta whacked him on the back of the head. “It’d happen far more often if you’d stop acting like a clown,” she grumbled.

Paul shrugged while rubbing the back of his head. That was true enough after all. “Now, which one would a narcissistic sadist use? It comes down to blocking off her ability to tell anyone the answer. However, he managed that. If he’d left her able to tell anyone the answer would be Despair. Plus, he’d have made it harder for her to communicate at all. Because he made her unable to give the answer, but only put otherwise light restrictions on her ability to communicate, I’d bet on Hope. Hard to be certain if he’d lost touch with reality completely but Hope is the more likely answer all things considered. It would have been another way for him to torture the personality.”

Suddenly, all hell broke loose on the systems. Alarms blared in the conference room.

“I swear, it wasn’t me.” Paul smiled.

Boris typed in a code to the computer in the room and said, “No, it wasn’t.” He turned the screen to face the others.

One of the twenty-four assets or someone from their families had triggered their panic button.