Writer's introduction: Fellow Phoenix fans, I do not wish to seem presumptuous by rewriting the Phoenix pilot. After all, it is not 'mere words,' but something Judson actually acted in. However, he did not like its plot that much, either, and so there were many major changes made between the pilot and the series - so many, in fact, that it is fair to say that the series was 'based on' the pilot, rather than a true continuation of it.
What I have tried to do is recast the pilot to fit the series while keeping the basic idea. This means discarding almost all of it after he leaves the hospital, as both his having a love interest and needing “$500,000.00 worth of equipment to survive” don’t fit the series.
Futhermore, in the pilot, Diego de Varga was apparently to be the “bad guy”, although he really wasn’t in the actual pilot itself. I have therefore recast him (he reappears much later in my writings, too) into a good guy.
This results in a few unavoidable contradictions with the series - the idea that Earthmen could decode the memory chips in the computer of Bennu’s sleep chamber is totally absurd, anyway, and has been replaced by a different way for them to learn what they do about Bennu and Eldebran. Also, their knowledge of Yago - dependent on decoding a second memory chip - vanishes, but it is unnecessary for Earthmen to know about him, so soon would theoretically be replaced at Bennu’s first encounter with Yago by Bennu’s shocked “Yago! The Wise placed you in deep hibernation! How is this possible?”
Yago: “The Wise! ‘The Fools’, you mean, for they have greatly misjudged my power, and you, Earth, and finally Eldebran will pay the price for what they have done.” Thus the viewers would learn who Yago is.
Of course, as I have written it, Preminger soon learns about Yago the hard way ...
In the pilot, the ancient astronauts have landed “thousands of years ago” - read the printed promos for the show! Thus it is not utterly unreasonable for the ancient Egyptian motifs, or for the quote about the Bennu and Osiris, or his name, related to the Sun god, (and, in Greek, Phoenix). In my version, which, in keeping with the series, has them appearing about 1000 years ago, this does not seem possible, and some will undoubtedly regret the loss of this quote, but I could find no way to save it. Sorry!
Finally - and here I am asking for help - I am almost totally ignorant of Latin. I really do need some accurate translations, especially of the phrase “I am Bennu of the Golden Light”. Some of the wall inscriptions should also be rendered into Latin.
Of course, the first part is perhaps too long to think of as filmable - presumably the few survivors would relate what facts they knew to the investigators.
Even among Communist guerillas, the Shining Path had a well-deserved reputation for ruthlessness and cruelty. When they arrived in an area, the natives they could not convince they terrorized into cooperation - or killed. Yet, the various bands were not always successful, and sometimes the Peruvian army got the upper hand. It was the remnants of one such guerilla group, forced to flee their old haunts, who stumbled into history.
They fled many tens of kilometers into the trackless forest before considering themselves safe from pursuit. Finally, they settled down and began to set up a new base of operations. Indians lived there, of course, but it took little persuasion with machete and gun to gain the obedience of most.
As the months passed, the band explored its new home. There seemed to be little of interest - no legends of hidden treasure or lost gold mines, and, after all, one piece of rain forest looks pretty much like another. Still, there was something - a curious legend that spoke of a tribe deep in its most inaccessable part. They had been chosen by the gods to guard a site until the Time was Right - and, if the Legends spoke truth, what they guarded was, in fact one of the gods themselves, sent down to bestow great blessings on all of the people.
The guerilla commander, Pablo Sanchez, snorted. “A sleeping god! What are they supposed to do - kiss him to wake him up?” He laughed. Still, curiosity was a universal human trait. Just because nobody who had previously looked had found anything proved nothing.
He sent men out on occasion, but they found nothing, either. However “Gruppo 24”, as they styled themselves, was on the “got found” end of a military search - perhaps they really shouldn’t have tortured some of the local tribe in an attempt to learn about the Sleeping God - and came under intermittent rocket and bomb attacks. Some of Gruppo 24’s men were killed. Others were wounded. Some wounds healed. Others became infected with any one of dozens of nasty diseases that thrive in these climates. Most of those unfortunates died - often by their own hand as the pain became too great - but one young fighter named Ramon, more delirious than terminally ill at this point, wandered off into the forest.
His comrades let him go. He would die in some days anyway, and he had taken his weapon with him. It would not be wise to follow him too closely. Who knew what he might do under the influence of the visions that gripped him.
And who knows what path he took, or whether The Light - or perhaps one of the Demons many legends also spoke of - guided his steps, but he suddenly stumbled out of the forest and into a great circle of cleared soil. Dominating all were several obviously artificial mounds, seemingly of unremarkable Indian construction.
He blinked, unsure whether what he saw was real or yet another picture his mind had painted in his conscious. Well, perhaps this was real - an Indian seemed to be hurrying towards him. He feebly raised his weapon and demanded food. Something forced his hand to open and the rifle fell to the ground. He smiled and, gratefully giving into the demands of his body, collapsed into unconsciousness.
The not-so-mythical People of the Sleeper studied him. They had so far managed to stay hidden from the outside world and faithful to the task their ancestors had accepted so many generations ago. Yet, so many of them were Healers. What to do? They conferred and came to a decision.
Ramon awoke to find his pain lessened. He ate and drank and wished to return to sleep, but the voices he was hearing in his head again made it impossible. He tried to ignore them, but could not, for these Voices were real!
//You must decide!// they said. //We can let you die - it will be without pain, that is the least we can do for a fellow human - or you can allow us to Heal you. But, if you accept Healing, it must be of both body and mind, for there is as much sickness in the latter as the former. Choose now!//
Ramon was not a believer in Maoism, nor did he think the purpose of Gruppo 24 was to help the natives. He knew what he and most of the others did was purely for power. He was simply a person caught up in the movement in his early teens who, by now, had learned to torture and kill as part of a way of life. He gave a mental shrug. //Heal me, if you can.//
By the clock, days passed. To his mind it seemed like years - years filled with the horror of all the terrible deeds he had done. But, in the end, he found himself purged and cleansed, and harkened to the Light that surrounded him. He regained consciousness.
//Ramon, you are Healed.//
Ramon: //Truly, I am. But I am ashamed of my former life and would prefer a new name.//
His thoughts returned to the religious instruction he had had as a youth. There was Lazarus, of course, but to select such a name would be blasphemous. Still, why not “Lazar”? Lazar the Reborn he would be.
The Indians allowed him to leave their camp and offered to guide him to safety. They earnestly counselled him not to return to the guerillas, who would surely kill him, but the desire of his to try to save a few of the younger members, at least, was too strong, and he wished to make atonement for his past crimes.
His former comrades in arms ignored his preaching, of course, but they were most curious about his seeming state of perfect health. Not only were all traces of his infections gone, but his broken arm was healed, too. Even the scars from bullet wounds he had received years ago seemed to be gone!
Shining Path guerillas were quite incapable of believing in magic, but they were well aware of the seemingly miraculous healing powers of some rain forest plants, and the Indians who had healed Ramon - excuse me, Lazar - obviously had knowledge of some exceptionally potent ones. True, they seemed to be hallucinogenic, but that was a minor side effect compared to going from dying to full health - and better than that, in fact.
Initially they thought of it only for healing their own sick and wounded. But then Sanchez realized that, depending upon the effects, people might pay MILLIONS for a course of treatments. Why, cocaine would be as the dust of a peasant’s farm compared to this!
Then his second in command drew his weapon and fired. “Small-minded fool! We could demand the right to rule the whole country in exchange!”
Yes, if they could find the tribe and learn their secrets. Torturing Lazar provided a basic direction to begin searching, and teams were sent out. And so, as so often happened with men, Good was turned to Evil, and a simple tribe, seeking only to keep a centuries-old promise, had, through an act of kindness, become the target of a ruthless group with modern weapons.
The People had no knowledge of weapons more sophisticated than blowguns and bows and arrows. Weapons that could kill from afar, such as rifles with telescopic and/ or nightvison sights were unimagined by them, though if they had paid closer attention to the details of the deeds Ramon was purging, they would not have been as surprised at what happened next.
The Searchers of the People were extra vigilant in their telepathic scanning of the edges of the forest, but what took place was beyond their mental view. Eventually their site was found and a two-man team was sent out. The guerillas had climbed trees and were watching with high-powered binoculars when a native came into view. One sighted his sniper’s rifle and waited as the native approached. Weeds at the edge of the circle whithered as he walked by. When, task completed, he turned around to head back, the sniper fired at a leg.
There was a muffled crack! and the native, his leg broken, fell to the ground. The man was utterly baffled. How could he have been so distracted that a jaguar could come close enough for an attack? For that matter, where was the beast? He sensed no animal mind nearby. Shaking his head, he blanked out his pain and drew upon his Healer’s power. The injury quickly healed and he got up and hastened back to the camp. That wound hadn’t even looked like an animal bite ...
Some minutes later, he passed one of the Searchers and told his tale. The Searcher put forth his mind in a narrow beam - and found Evil. He reported in mentally and the tribe made preparations.
Meanwhile, the two just-detected guerillas had climbed down and walked over to where their victim should be. He wasn’t. There were the bloodstains and the disturbed soil where the man had fallen - and a bloodless trail of normal footsteps leading away. Medicines, no matter how potent, couldn’t cure a broken leg in a few minutes! They uneasily unslung their automatic weapons, radioed in - and soon had a target.
A huge snake seemed to appear from nowhere. It, being a creation of a few native Healers’ minds, was unaffected by both the fusillade of bullets and the hand grenades that followed, and it bit both attackers. They collapsed in agony and near-total paralysis, having just enough time and strength to radio for help. (They slowly recovered when it was repeatedly pointed out that there were no fangmarks, but they paid many times over for the pain they had caused.)
The People allowed the rescue, in order to mentally follow the rescuers back to their camp. Then they examined the site of the attack. One commented sadly: “They have learned to use Fire to hurl metal at their enemies. We face great Evil.”
For the next few weeks a low-level war broke out between the guerillas and the People. Occasionally the guerillas made a head or heart shot which even the Healers could not reverse, but the People had the bulk of the successes. Mysterious night attacks of shadowy figures - crawling, pouncing, or flying - as well as hallucinations during waking or sleep that were so terrifying as to cause insanity - gradually degraded both the numbers and effectiveness of Gruppo 24, and they were also under attack not only by the Peruvian air force, but were starting to be pressured by ground troops. The guerillas had to either flee, giving up their hopes for riches and power, or attack in force.
They massed and moved into the forest near the edge of the circle. Plastic explosives felled trees as they prepared mortar positions. Snipers took up their position high overhead ...
The People also prepared for the battle, though, as Healers, with great sadness. To use one’s Healing powers for destruction was a terrible thing to be forced to do, and it would take much Healing to relieve them of the guilt they would feel. So much Evil to fight! And not all were beyond redemption, as Ramon had proved. But they had no choice. The Promise of their ancestors bound them, as did their duty to protect the Sleeper. They joined minds and built mental charge for a full Terrorwave to radiate out in a vee from the circle they formed in front of the mounds.
Gruppo 24 was having its problems - their snipers had their sight blurred by the Healers and their shots flew wildly over the heads of the People, many pinging off of the mounds. And it was those mounds that were to be the doom of the People. They made an excellent aiming point for the mortars - hit them, then drop the next round about 15 feet short. Even though the spotters couldn’t focus well, either, THAT much they could see!
The first group crashed into their targets. To the horror of the People, two of the mounds collapsed. Worse, rock flew from a spot high up on the House of the Sleeper, though it did not seem to be seriously damaged. The People were so shocked that the Terrorwave was temporarily halted and they were forced to reset their minds, which they did hastily, before the House could be attacked again.
It must be stated here that a Joined Circle of minds was able to cope with the death of one or two of its members. But when the next string of mortar rounds crashed down into the Circle, killing most of the members, the Deathshock overrode the Terrorwave and blasted out into the rainforest.
Death reached out for all, People and guerillas alike. Monkeys fell out of the trees, and even the forest seemed to scream in agony. Then quiet returned. Even the birds were temporarily silent, and all that could be heard for many miles was the chittering of insects and the babbling of a few survivors.
The Peruvian soldiers approaching the guerilla site were on the fringes of the effective range of the People’s attack. No permanent harm was done, unless you count those who were to suffer a lifetime of nightmares, but many felt a temporary weakness. They moved cautiously forward - until they started to encounter dead monkeys and an occasional incoherent armed man who could only gesture wildly.
The commander worried about poison gas and called in the specialists. They heloed in (lowered on rope ladders - where would you find a landing spot?), checked everything out, found nothing, and shrugged. Then they heloed back out and left the soldiers to resume their approach. Oh, well. A 24 hour rest, even in the midst of a rain forest, was welcome.
On and on the troops marched. More dead monkeys and equally dead guerillas. As the commander said: “I sure hope the specialists were right. We’re the ones marching forward into ...” They had reached the main body (bodies) of Gruppo 24. “Mortar pits! What the heck were they attacking, anyway?”
They stepped forward and found themselves out of the forest and into a huge cleared circle. Indian mounds, two collapsed from obvious mortar hits, dominated the area. The area must have been painstakingly kept clear of vegetation, as it was only two days since that strange sickness has passed over the troops, and already plants were nibbling at the edges of the circle. (Actually, the People had used their Healers’ powers to keep the plants in check, the task the one the snipers had shot was performing. They would indeed have had little time for anything else if manual labor were required!)
As they continued towards the mounds, they began to find dead Indians. Some had obviously been the victims of modern weapons, but most had that same agonized look - and no apparent wounds - that the guerillas bore. Then they approached the mounds. THERE were a few living beings! No adult men - just a couple of women and children weeping uncontrollably over the mangled bodies of their dead fellow tribesmen. There would be nobody else to weep for them until much later, when the anthropologists realized that a completely unstudied tribe no longer existed ...
The troops had brought the surviving guerillas with them and were slowly piecing together a few events of the last couple of weeks, from Gruppo 24’s viewpoint. The tribal survivors spoke no Spanish, but a young soldier, originally from the area, understood a bit of the language. “They say ‘The House of the Sleeper, The House of the Sleeper’.”
The commander looked towards the mound they were pointing at. Where the stone had been blown away by a mortar round something glinted in the light. Briefly gold fever seized the men, and a few grapnels were tossed up. The commander climbed the ropes and looked. Metal looked back at him - not the yellow of gold, but a strange shiny substance. Aside from a several inch fracture, it seemed undamaged by the explosives.
Commander: “What on Earth ...”
He radioed in for both a full team of archaeologists and a metallurgist. He had to repeat that last request twice, especially since his reply as to why one was needed was: “If I told you, you would never believe me and so not send one. And we need one!”
The archaeologists began typical explorations of the other mounds while a scaling ladder was set up and the metallurgist climbed it. With difficulty, he removed a shaving from the crack and climbed back down. The commander looked at him in expectation.
Metallurgist: “Very strong and flexible - and lightweight, too. My guess would be a titanium alloy. Perhaps our North American friends or their enemies could have made this, but how could it appear INSIDE an Indian mound? What do the archaeologists say as to its age?”
Commander: “They won’t know until their samples are carbon-dated, but their guess is about 1000 years ago.”
Metallurgist: “So, unless somebody recently sneaked a LOT of equipment into the middle of the rainforest - which is utterly absurd - and impossible - to somehow build this for some even more absurd reason, then faked the rest of the physical evidence ...”
He handed the sliver to the commander, then took it back. “Congratulations! You’ve just had a close encounter of the second kind - physical evidence of aliens.”
The samples were sent to the experts. The carbon-dating results were no surprise - 1000 years ago, more or less. On the face of it, so were the metallurgical ones. It WAS a titanium alloy, though not one in standard use. Further questions to various American colleges and specialty labs also drew blanks. Not that a few of the labs were unaware of the alloy - they worked for the government, and it was a top secret experimental one. The US volunteered some specialized equipment - and some specialists, whom the Peruvian government was “expected” to cooperate with. Of course, they worked for the Agency, but everybody politely pretended that they were, in fact, only archaeologists. Also in attendance was Diego de Varga, head of the Peruvian National Museum, himself a highly respected archaeologist. He insisted on seeing the spot at once.
So he climbed the ladder, placed his hand on the metal, and waited. For what? The House of the Sleeper, like most of Peru, was in an earthquake zone, and occasional shocks which broke nothing - there were no circuits to be damaged in most of the upper areas - would not trigger alarms. Bewildered, he climbed back down and authorized the breaching of the mound.
De Varga (prophetically): “I doubt that this is a good idea, but we are men, and our curiosity must be satisfied.”
Once everything, including a heavy-duty ladder, was in place, the team was ready. A diamond drill cautiously bit into the exposed alloy at one end of the fracture. Suddedly it broke through. Everybody waited ... but again, nothing happened.
Drills started up, forming the corners of what was to be a “door” of removed material. Then the saws began their work, starting along the crack and gradually reaching out to the four holes. Care was taken to support the plate so that it would fall outside the mound, not go clanging to its floor, and, finally, it did what it was supposed to. It turned out to be some two inches thick and have an inner surface resembling highly polished stone.
De Varga insisted on going in first. One of the Americans insisted on accompanying him. One after another they descended a rope ladder into - history. They reached the floor and shined their flashlights around.
De Varga was stunned. Much of the inner surface was covered with designs and diagrams and inscriptions, some of them in a strange alphabet. But many others were written in the international language of 1000 years ago - Latin! (Though they were not to discover it, many of the “blank” spaces were either the touchscreens of computers or the doors covering equipment and machines.)
That was stunning enough. The observer’s beam had glanced off an oblong shape. He trotted over to it (nearly falling down a set of stairs) and brushed some dust away. “Hey, it’s Sleeping Beauty! Great art work, though. Looks like a typical Earthly Phoenix bird.”
De Varga turned hastily, nearly tripping over his own feet in his eagerness to start towards the object. He pulled rank, despite the man’s protests, and ordered the observer to step back. Then he began his observation.
The object certainly looked like a coffin, apparently also made of polished stone, though after the experience with the wall lining, it was just as likely to be metal. (In fact, it was, though a different - and much stronger substance - which would translate as “Impervite”.) And, as the observer had noticed, it was very skillfully decorated, the bird being set on a triangle-within-circle device. He rubbed his hand over the design - and froze.
Perhaps it required a certain psychic talent, or maybe just an ability to accept. Agency observers, after all, were trained not to believe in the evidence of their senses or memory if it lead to “stupid” conclusions, like magic, or ghosts - or extraterrestrials.
For whatever reasons, the mechanisms in the - object, it clearly was no coffin! - decided that de Varga was suitable. Golden characters seemed to form below the seal. Some were unreadable, but others were in Latin.
{space reserved for Latin version}
In English, that meant: “I am Bennu of the Golden Light.”
De Varga lifted his hand to his face and looked at his finger tips. They appeared unchanged, and the inscription faded away. He replaced his hand, but nothing happened. The artifact had communicated its message - and primed its native contact - and had nothing more to say.
Shaken, he stepped back. The observer asked: “What’s the matter - seeing ghosts?”
De Varga: “Maybe I am. Whatever that is, it isn’t completely dead.”
The observer snorted, but even he couldn’t ignore the strange alloy, or the inscriptions in an Earthly language. Both agreed - work had to be done. The permanent lighting was set up and serious exploration of the mound was begun.
The main doors were impossible to miss from the inside, though they were cleverly hidden from outside observation by a seemingly-natural rock face. The facing was studied and the edges located. Prybars and jackhammers did their work and the facing was levered back to free its locking pins from the mound. It was then allowed to topple and was hauled out of the way. The “clay” lining it was assumed to be waterproofing and ignored, perhaps wisely. Though the explosive was of necessity Sunpowered to stay functional over the centuries, abusing it certainly had its risks!
The doors were pushed open from the inside - not an easy task, even though they were well-balanced. They, like the lower walls, were some six inches thick, and quite heavy! Anyway, with the entrance cleared, finally the object could be removed, though, as it turned out, it had to be lifted straight up to free it from retaining pins set in the corners of the platform it rested on. They were some two inches thick and four long, and clearly were intended to hold the object in place in the event of an earthquake. That they had other functions was not so obvious ...
OK, the object was removed. Now, where to take it? The observer wanted to take it to a specialized research facility in California. De Varga insisted that it go to the National Museum. That was fine if it was to simply be an exhibit for the Peruvians to gawk at. But people were people, and the intention was to open it.
De Varga: “It CANNOT be removed from Peru! My government would never permit it, nor would our people. Word has leaked out and already many believe it contains a god.”
Observer: “Okay, you win. Open it. Then let your people worship a dead god. Be realistic. You have neither the personnel nor the equipment to do the job properly.”
De Varga sighed. The American was, unfortunately, right, much as he and his government hated to admit it. Still, there would be strict conditions, including the absolute right for somebody - presumably himself - to be present at ALL times. The US government wouldn’t like that, but they had no choice about it.
So the chamber was flown north. It arrived with no incidents, aside from the fact that an archaeologist with a significant international reputation refused to allow himself to be separated from it for anything but the briefest breaks for nature’s calls. But, though he didn’t realize it yet, de Varga had no choice in the matter.
De Varga had to concede - the Americans were thorough. They had begun work on modifying a lab room as soon as they had heard about the chamber, and they were already well set up. There was a room full of workstations next to the examination room. The room itself was fully equipped with microphones and cameras, and windows set high in it let observers peer in.
The possibility that this really was at least a “close encounter of the second kind” - physical evidence of extraterrestrial life - was strong enough to persuade the investigators to add an astronomer who had done serious speculation (“research” wasn’t quite the appropriate term) to the team. They chose Dr. Ward Frazier, who had a solid reputation as a serious and dedicated scientist, yet was not so distinguished that if it became necessary to assign him to the research site for some months his absence would cause his colleagues to start wondering why.
The object was X-rayed and subject to a variety of other non-invasive techniques. About all that could be observed through its inches-thick shell were the vague outlines of what, if they really were bones, was a humanoid some six feet tall.
De Varga: “For better or worse, it was brought here to be opened without doing harm to the contents. Does anybody have a suggestion - I’ll take one in English or Spanish - or do all we have is the scientific equivalent of ‘Don’t ask me.’?”
Oddly enough, it was one of the Agency observers who offered the solution. “If there is anything alive in there, surely the chamber must have emergency overrides to wake it up if necessary. Figure out how to trigger them and it will do our work for us.”
Yes, the answer really was that simple. And the “how” was probably not much more complicated. There were no obvious hinges, but there was a line between the lid and the bottom. Apply a slowly increasing pressure to a point on each side (because nobody knew if it opened right-to-left or the other way around) and, presumably, the increasing strain should be registered while it was still far below the point of danger.
And that was accomplished by building a strong metal “cage” around part of the chamber and using a pair of motor-driven chisels to apply the pressure, although there was a small complication. It was necessary to use diamond drills to remove a bit of material from around the line so each chisel had a place to seat itself, and THAT took a surprising amount of time. Whatever the chamber was made of, it was remarkably hard - much harder than the material that lined the walls of the mound.
Just to clinch things for whatever computer was in the chamber, de Varga’s report was provisionally accepted as fact, even though the observer had seen nothing. A loop antenna was placed over the Phoenix seal on the theory that if the seal communicated with de Varga, it would probably be able to detect modulated radio waves - clearly not a natural phenomenon - and understand that something intelligent was “knocking on the door”. (Intelligent, yes. Wise - that was arguable.)
Cameras and tape recorders were turned on and the pressure was applied. As for the radio waves, for now the sequences outputs were numerical sequences.
Well, it worked. The computer came out of rest mode in response to the pressure just as planned. It attempted to contact the other equipment in the mound through the communications links in the retaining pins. Nothing! And yet, the chamber was upright. Furthermore, it was receiving modulated radio signals - ones clearly the product of intelligence - and even the priming trigger in the seal had been activated. Clearly the natives had found and removed the chamber from the mound. Whether it was programmed to understand that its emergency override was being deliberately triggered or not was irrelevant. It woke the twin power supplies from their rest mode.
These were hollow rods some inches long which functioned as matter-to-energy converters (“total conversion” was the scientific name for the process). TC units that small were hard to build - something about the stability of small conversion fields - but ideal for uses such as this, where absolute reliability over very long periods was necessary, and they used only a little air (or water, if the chamber had become submerged) as fuel, emitting nothing but a little waste heat in the process. And, in an emergency, they could produce power at the rate expected from a true nuclear reaction. Those knocking on the door had better be on good behavior!
That having been accomplished, the computer rechecked its data - if anything, the pressure had increased - and reluctantly activated the awakening circuits. It chose to keep the touchscreen on the head end blank, though, leaving it up to the Sleeper to decide what, if anything, to reveal to the natives.
Unfortunately, those natives had no idea that their plan had already succeeded and continued to increase the pressure. Finally the computer had had enough. It drew a bit of energy from the supplies and gave the equivalent of “Enough with the knocking. I heard you the first time!” The cage blew apart in a flash of light and pieces flew in all directions. Not only was the overhead camera smashed, but one of the observation windows was shattered by flying debris. You’d think that this would have satisfied the natives, but forget it!
The loop antenna was left alone, as it seemingly posed no threat. And it wouldn’t have, except that one scientist decided to see if he could monitor the awakening process. If the creature - assuming it was a living being, not a machine - were human, his brain would begin showing alpha activity as his consciousness returned, and it should interact with the incoming signal, which would show up on the oscilliscope. Human alpha waves were normally at a frequency of 10 to 11 cycles per second. Even if an alien had an alpha frequency, it was sheer guess what it would be, so the human one was chosen.
Bennu did have one, and it was similar to an Earth human’s. No actual damage was done, but it did interfere with the function of the memory refresher circuits. Oops!
He returned to consciousness with alarm circuits pulsing in his mind. Removed from the mound and the emergency Awakening circuits forcibly activated? Immatures! He was supposed to help these creatures and this was NOT a good way to start. Fortunately, a native had activated the priming circuit. Bennu reached out for his mind.
De Varga’s face took on a look of intense concentration as Bennu began learning the languages he knew. Then Bennu tapped his memories of all concerning his discovery and Awakening - fortunately, this de Varga was an archaeologist and had read all of the wall inscriptions and diagrams.
While this was going on, one of the junior scientists impatiently strode over to the door to “have a look”. De Varga croaked: “Do ... not. ... enter. Not ... safe.” but he was ignored. The chamber didn’t ignore the intrusion, though, and the scientist found himself violently thrown back through the doorway. He glared at de Varga. “You might have explained who it wasn’t safe for!”
Bennu finished his first reading of de Varga’s mind and began making plans. First, how best to carry out his Mission after being Awakened early? Should he also Awaken his Partner, Mira? His Mission!! His Training memories were a jumble of knowledge and gaps. What on Eldebran - no, Earth, he was on a different planet (his sense of humor still worked, anyway!) had gone wrong? The computer had not signalled any problems with the refresher circuits. His mind reached out ...
It took little time to find the scientist who had controlled the loop antenna and determine what he had managed to do. Jamming his alpha waves during memory refreshing? Great Phoenix, this Mission was starting poorly! He would have to find Mira now, and, thanks to one of the wall inscriptions, at least he knew she was in a similar site on this continent north of the zone of tropical climates.
It clearly seemed best to conceal his Powers as long as he could, and also to fake a more serious loss of memory than he had suffered - and that was bad enough. He would indeed need de Varga’s help - but then, that’s why the seal on his chamber had a priming circuit built into it. Oh, well. The natives were getting restless - no, that wasn’t intended as a bad joke; he didn’t know the language well enough for humor in it yet - and it was time to introduce himself. The lid swung open and he stood up and stepped out of the chamber.
Everybody gasped. Why, he was a perfectly formed specimen of humanity - and, since he wore nothing except a large medallion whose image was the duplicate of the Phoenix seal on his chamber, clearly “anatomically correct”. {Alas, if this scene gets filmed, it will have to be from the waist up. Pity!} In fact, several people - all of the women and several of the men, some of whose heterosexuality was indisputible - stared in slack-jawed astonishment.
He was tall, definitely over six feet, with a well-muscled body (including a spectacular chest) and long, flowing blond hair which framed a remarkably beautiful face. Imbedded in that face were a pair of blue eyes seemingly designed to capture one’s gaze - and one’s mind, if the brain behind that face so desired.
The spell was abruptly broken by the same junior scientist whose overeagerness had earned him a short flight. He began laughing hysterically and pounding on his desk. Through it all, he managed to splutter out: “He’s from another solar system, and he’s been in hibernation in an Indian mound in Peru, of all places, for some thousand years. We wake him up, and what do we get? A Viking!”
A smile seemed to flit across the alien’s face, and his eyes twinkled. “Vi-king?” Well, that figured. He sounded human, too! In fact, his voice, if those two syllables were any indication, was as pleasant as his looks.
De Varga stood up, walked over to the still open door, and entered the room. Not knowing why, he approached the alien and held out his hand. “Diego de Varga.” The alien took it and replied: “Bennu”.
Doctors led Bennu out of the chamber, took swabs of the fluid still clinging to his skin, gave him a surgical gown, which, assisted by their gestures (and, in reality, by his telepathic powers), he put on, and led him into a medical examination room. There they measured him and ran various non-invasive tests. Not being obstructed by two inches of Impervite, they showed much. Mostly, they showed he seemed to be as human inside as outside, although a slightly improved version - no appendix, for example.
After a little while, he pointed to his throat and made a swallowing sound. The doctors were ready - they handed him a glass of demineralized water. He drank and nodded, and they said “water”. So he officially learned his first word.
A linguistics expert entered - clearly, it was time to start learning English. In this, Bennu proved remarkably proficient, and would have even without either prior knowledge gained from de Varga or telepathy. As he explained when asked later in the day: “My People control their minds, including their emotions - what might be translated as ‘Maturity’. We do not forget or make careless errors, nor waste energy in foolish emotional disputes that have no logic and lead only to misunderstanding and violence. It is much of my Mission here to give such Maturity to those on this planet who wish it. Had one of your scientists not set the radio to exactly the wrong frequency and so disrupted my memory refreshing, I would have known the full extent of my Assignment here. As it is, I shall have to seek my Partner. I have learned enough for now, and am hungry.”
That was the cue for a doctor with sample slides and tubes, and the equipment for obtaining them. Bennu’s head whipped around and the look in his eyes was fearsome to behold. “No cutting!”
“But,” protested the doctor, “how can we learn which foods may be safe for you?”
Bennu: “In that both you and I must trust in the wisdom of my People, who would not have put me here with no food supply if I could not eat that of this planet. I prefer not to eat meat. Though that is strictly a personal belief, it is common among those who wear the symbol I do - that of the Healing profession.”
Bennu chatted with various Earthpeople for a while, asking and answering various questions. (Yes, he believed in God, though he called Him The Light that is Love. Most, though certainly not all, on his planet did. No, they had no war - what a horribly Immature idea! and one Earth would be well freed of, and very little crime. The basic principle of any Mature mind was Harmony and Balance, which automatically lead to such things as a population in balance with the carrying capacity of the planet and a sensible use of its natural resources, and so on.)
He also requested de Varga’s presence - alone, for a while - and despite the protests of both scientists and Agency people, was given by him a plaque that had been found in the hibernation chamber. However, the Peruvian government was nowhere near as naive as had been expected. Not only did de Varga have diplomatic status as part of the conditions for allowing the removal of the chamber from Peru, but the government had cleverly given “any living, intelligent being that may reside therein” status as a Peruvian citizen before the chamber left the country, and many of de Varga’s “requests” were actually demands which the scientists had no choice but to obey.
Then Bennu became tired, just as you or I would, and announced that it was time for him to sleep. Sometimes that night, driven by curiosity (and no doubt urged on by an Agency observer), a scientist in stockinged feet sneaked into Bennu’s room. He bore a sample collection kit and a way to ensure cooperation - a hypodermic of a fast-acting and powerful anaesthetic.
Since he genuinely meant Bennu no harm, no warning signals were set off in Bennu’s mind until the last moment. After all, the man couldn’t help but think about both Bennu and the hypo if he intended to use it, and that was enough to awaken him.
Bennu certainly had no wish to reveal any of his Powers. Fortunately, he was both as quick and as strong as a member of an advanced race who looked like a Viking ought to be, and before the scientist knew what hit him, Bennu had slipped out of the bed, grabbed the man by the shoulders, whirled him over his head, and let go.
If the CRASH! didn’t wake everybody up, the emergency signal Bennu tripped did. With feet pounding, various personnel burst into the room. De Varga shouldered them aside and joined the crowd.
Bennu (genuinely outraged): “That man tried to poison me!”
One of the doctors examined the instruments scattered about. He was particularly curious about the liquid in the shattered syringe. The smell was distinctive. “He meant you no harm. All he wanted was -”
Bennu (about as angry as a Mature individual gets): “I can see what he brought with him - I know what he meant and what he intended! I am not a laboratory specimen, to be examined at your pleasure, but a human being with feelings and rights - both of which you ignore in order to satisfy your curiosity. You presume to inject a person from another solar system with brain-affecting drugs, confident that it will do him no harm. De Varga! You have the authority - see that this man is removed from the labs until I have left!”
Doctors carried the still-stunned scientist out of the room. Though Bennu knew that the man had a broken wrist in addition to the obvious concussion, he was certainly not about to reveal his Healing abilities. Besides, the pain the man was undergoing just might teach him to respect the rights of others.
Bennu continued: “It was meddling that led men to remove my chamber from the safety of its resting place, further meddling that caused you to deliberately awaken me, and yet more foolishness wiped out much of the knowledge I need to help your People in the first place. You are indeed an Immature Race - you should be glad that People of mine are willing to endure much hardship to try to help yours. Now, leave me alone for what’s left of the night. I need sleep just as you do.”
With most of the preliminaries, such as learning the language and answering the basic questions out of the way, the next day was much calmer than the first. Bennu had already decided that it would be unwise to remain at the laboratories for long and requested that de Varga get him some suitable clothes. A good set of denims were strong, easy to keep clean, and suited to tramping about the country.
Calmer, yes. For Bennu, not much nicer. Immatures were Immatures, and it was to be expected that his questioners, in their curiosity - or worse - forgot that he was a person. But then, much to his surprise and delight, a man entered and actually shook Bennu’s hand - something that had not happened after de Varga had done it upon his Awakening, and that was Linkage-driven.
The man introduced himself as Ward Frazier - “call me Ward, this is supposed to be a dialogue, not an interrogation” - and began. He was unfailingly courteous, seemed genuinely interested in Bennu as a person, and asked intelligent questions. Bennu would later be repeatedly told that he was “easy to talk to”. He found Ward easy to talk to, and would have answered some of the astonishingly personal questions others had asked but that Ward was too polite to. Bennu casually allowed his hand to fall across one of Ward’s and words seem to form in the man’s mind. //Would you be my friend? Immature worlds are dangerous and lonely places for the Healer, and I am without both my Partner and many of my memories.//
Ward: //I - am stunned by your offer. I would indeed be willing, and am deeply honored by your trust.//
Bennu: //You are not like the others. You respect me. At best, the others think of me as a laboratory specimen, a means to satisfy their curiosity. Some are worse, looking upon me as a means to fame or glory - or power. All wish to use me for their own purposes.//
Ward: //Like de Varga?//
Bennu: //His undermind already believes me a god. Necessary events will likely bring conscious acceptance. Though that would prove useful in the short run, as it is clear I will need his help to leave this place, and soon, I’m sure it will cause trouble in the future.//
Bennu then suppressed his next thoughts. //If the Peruvians don’t kill him first. How I wish I were linked to this man instead of him! But though I cannot change that, there is something I can do.//
Bennu: //You have agreed to be my friend. I will memorize your mental patterns and impress mine upon your mind. If you ever feel that “Bennu is in trouble”, believe! Perhaps you can help me.//
Though the pause in speech necessitated by this mental contact was quite brief, the Agency person monitoring the microphones found it enough of an excuse to keep things moving. He opened the door and, interrupting Ward in the midst of a complex question, said: “Really, Doctor Frazier! You have quite exceeded the time allotted to you. Have consideration for others.”
Bennu watched himself in astonishment as, for the second time in less that a day, he lost his temper. Even once was most unusual among the Mature, and twice in such a short period of time bode ill for his Mission. “How about consideration for me ? Unlike others, this man is respectful, polite, and has the wisdom to ask sensible questions rather that some of the most outrageously personal ones I’m sure none of you would consider asking anybody but a mate. I wish to continue speaking with him.”
Agent: “Now, now, remember that you’re our guest.”
Bennu’s fury was astonishing “GUEST?? I am the guest of the tribe whose ancestors agreed to protect me and my resting place, long, long before there was a United States, or a Peru, for that matter. You KIDNAPPED me! Get OUT!” He gestured angrily.
Bennu’s anger struck the agent “almost” as a physical blow and he reeled back out of the room. The door slammed violently shut behind him, leaving the man feeling physically sick, shaken beyond belief - and wondering who this tribe Bennu had been talking about was. There was no mention of it in their reports on the site, for the few survivors had fled into the rainforest before the scientists had arrived.
Ward (who had sensed the flow of power from Bennu’s mind): //Not nice, but effective.//
Bennu: //Even on our planet, the very young occasionally benefit from physical discipline. What was I supposed to do - give him a - excuse me, learning two languages requires some time to digest - oh, yes. spanking.// “Now, where were we?”
Ward restated his question ...
Unfortunately, the two incidents were reported by Agency observers, prompting the military to take action. That night they struck. They dared not attempt to grab Bennu - yet - but that hibernation chamber was another matter. It had been moved to a building some distance away from the room where Bennu slept, and before he was aware of it, the scientists keeping watch over it were overcome when sleep-gas cannisters were tossed in and it was loaded on a truck. Bennu had no choice but a frontal attack with all of his Powers - which still might get him killed - or to “watch” in helpless frustration as the truck sped away.
The next day, the scientists were most apologetic. After all, they wished to study it, and it did them no good to have it spirited away. Not that they would have learned anything - Bennu had set it on “full defensive mode” before stepping out of it, but they didn’t know that, of course. Neither did the military.
De Varga was furious and promised a full diplomatic offensive to have it returned. Bennu smiled. “And what do you plan to do when your demands are ignored - have Peru declare war on the United States?” Still, Bennu was quite annoyed. He had hoped to recover his missing knowledge by consulting the memory banks of the chamber’s computer. This Mission was going from bad to worse, and fast!
He put a hand on de Varga’s shoulder and words seemed to form in the man’s mind. //This time they were content with the chamber. They will learn nothing from it and will soon be back for me. You MUST help me escape. Where can we talk privately? This is too strange-looking for more than a brief time.//
An image of the roof formed in de Varga’s mind.
Bennu: // The roof! Excellent!//
De Varga: //The corridor leading to it has a camera, and the door is undoubtedly alarmed.//
Bennu: //That is something I can deal with. Let’s go.//
Bennu removed his hand and placed it under his shirt, and the two walked through a few of the corridors, chatting about Peruvian Indian legends. De Varga nudged Bennu and received a nod in reply. Bennu concentrated briefly and the camera continued to show an empty corridor. They entered it and climbed the stairs. Again they paused briefly while Bennu disarmed the alarm. Then they were on the roof.
Bennu gave a short list of what he needed - a backpack, some food, a filled canteen, a local map, and - though he truly hated to ask for it - some money. De Varga had a “better plan” - some airline tickets to Peru. He could have them waiting at the airport, courtesy of his diplomatic status. Bennu would have argued, but there was something he had to do first.
Bennu: “To all appearances, I am a normal, if fine, specimen of an Earth human. Such is not quite the case. You MUST promise never to reveal what you will see now.”
De Varga swore - and, in truth, meant it.
Bennu: “My People are Children of the Sun. We need its rays like we need food - indeed, it has only been two days, and already I start to feel the Sun-Hunger.”
De Varga watched as Bennu removed his shirt and allowed Sunlight to beam down on his exposed upper body. Because of the Linkage between the two of them, he could feel some of what Bennu did. De Varga found it quite pleasurable, and thought that this must be what a cat felt when sunbathing.
Then Bennu’s medallion began to twinkle and glow in the light. Brighter and brighter it shone. Suddenly, the Light formed a golden shell about Bennu and the feeling was almost sexual in its pleasure and intensity.
De Varga thought: //So this is Bennu of the Golden Light.// Then he remembered a common Peruvian legend. It had many forms, but in the areas nearest where Bennu was found, it translated thusly: “When the gods were very young, seeing that men lived like wild animals, they took pity on them, and sent to Earth a Child of theirs, that he might teach men the knowledge of the greatest of gods - The Sun.”
De Varga Accepted, and Believed.
The Light faded and Bennu redressed. Then he turned to de Varga, ready to insist on his plan - and saw the look in the man’s eyes. He sighed. Immatures were Immatures throughout the known Universe, and the Priming Circuit tended to have the same effect. Rational explanation would do no good - the man had had a “religious” experience and it was not subject to logical refutation.
They reentered the lab complex and de Varga drove off to do Bennu’s bidding. Bennu used the time to study the various security and power systems and was fully ready when he again sensed de Varga’s mind.
Again Bennu grasped his medallion. The cables powering the security cameras exploded, starting a smoky electrical fire, which spread with surprising enthusiasm. Bennu headed for the front door. Hmm. That fire was doing quite well - the corridor leading to the door was already getting unpleasantly full of smoke and heat. Again his medallion went to work and the smoke swirled around him, forming a cylinder of clean air.
A security guard who had just finished locking the door stared as Bennu, medallion glowing, strode toward him. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
Bennu’s hand reached out and the gun flew out of the guard’s hand. The man was then pulled out of the way - Bennu was having to reveal far too many of his Powers! - and Bennu went to work on the door. Even he couldn’t blast a steel door down, but he could easily disassemble a lock and then slide the bolt aside. He opened the door and raced for de Varga’s car. He slammed the door and they sped away.
De Varga: “I still say that returning to Peru would have been best.”
Bennu: “Do you think that your diplomatic status would be of any use? They would never have let us leave.”
Bennu studied the map while pursuers closed in. De Varga reached for something else he had brought - a gun.
Bennu: “Put that away! Violence is a tool of the Immature. Do what I say and I will escape.”
De Varga: “Yes, my lord.”
Bennu: “A side road is just up ahead. Make a sharp right ... NOW!”
Bennu then guided de Varga away from the main roads and, eventually, away from the roads entirely. Satisfied, he said: “This will do. Stop here.”
He then got out of the car, put on the backpack, and started to walk away.
De Varga: “Bennu, you must come back to Peru with me. My People need you!”
Bennu: “De Varga, I know that you, and many others, believe that I am a god. I am not. I cannot be what you want me to be. All I am is a man from another planet, sent here to help ALL of those on Earth, and to do that, I must find my Partner, who is in North America, and then finish my Mission here. Believe me, I will return to Peru some day - but as a Friend, not a god. Good-bye, and thanks for all of your help.”
With that, Bennu cut the Linkage. De Varga burst into the bitterest of tears - those of someone who has been abandoned by his god. As Bennu walked away, de Varga cried to him: “You WILL come back to Peru with me. I will find a way to bring you back. I WILL!”
Bennu continued his walking. Soon he reached a road. Whatever people might think of the average “long-haired hippie”, six-foot three staggeringly masculine men just didn’t look the part, and, anyway, Bennu could use his facial expressions - and those eyes - to persuade people he really needed their help. Soon enough, he got a ride to a decent-sized town and started his research. Several books on Indian sites and a US atlas were quickly memorized, and it was on the road again for him.
A long-haul trucker was the next to pick him up. Well down the trucker’s route was an Indian site, and so later Bennu found himself in Tullner. The rest is history.
As for his sleep chamber, the military was frustrated. Sure, they could blow it up with explosives, but that wouldn’t let them learn any secrets. And, after several unfortunate incidents involving determined soldiers and the chamber’s defensive systems, the military gave up. The chamber’s power supply had to be some form of matter-to-energy conversion device, and what would happen if they got too insistent and tripped a self-destruct circuit? Hiroshima was destroyed by the conversion of matter weighing about a nickel - 5 grams - into energy. The chamber weighed around half a metric ton - some 100,000 times as much! Perhaps it was best to leave well enough alone.
They decided to return it to the scientists - IF it could be persuaded to allow itself to be moved. After a few encounters, it seemed to have gotten unhappy with the mere presence of people near it. (Actually, it had, in accordance with its “full defensive mode” setting, switched over to “battle mode”, and no longer required the presence of such things as energy-rich chemicals (explosives) or high temperatures (cutting torches, etc.) to cause it to react violently. After all, it was only a machine.) Well, perhaps it would “listen” to de Varga. He was requested to return to the US to deal with the matter. And it worked - the chamber remained quiescent as de Varga approached, then touched it, and it was loaded into a truck.
HIS first thought was to take it back to Peru with him. That might have worked if it was to be put in the National Museum, but naturally, he wanted it back in the shrine he was making out of the House of the Sleeper. Then he thought about the Shining Path, who might attempt to steal the chamber and hold it for ransom - or sell it to the Communist governments. They had wiped out the tribe protecting the House DESPITE its use of godpower, something the priests of the Nativist Church didn’t have. A religion with a living god active on the planet which could not protect its holiest shrine without the use of soldiers armed with ordinary weapons would not be credible.
True, the chamber couldn’t be removed and would defend itself, but it COULD be threatened with destruction by explosives. And then he thought about being captured and tortured. He had courage and Faith, but the guerillas had cruelty. Suppose they learned that it could be moved if he accompanied it? He sighed sadly. Let Bennu decide when to return it! Best to put it where it had first been taken and let the scientists spend the years fruitlessly prodding it.
The diplomats would spend the time in equally fruitless arguments ...
Copyright May 8, 2001 Three Cheeks Productions (Richard Kaplan)