B THE PYRAMID SCHEME: CAPSTONE B EBU #3 - Fall! EBU REBUS copyright 2001 by Dave Van Domelen, Tony Pi, Marc Singer REBUS ============================================================================ An ASH Universe Event! ============================================================================ [cover shows that the Sun has set behind the Great Pyramid. Shadows conceal the identities of bodies strewn on its sides.] [Above Egypt - 3:00 PM, September 22, 2024] As JakZak triggered the boosters built into his powerful external armor to rise into orbit, he decided that while he could certainly imagine things being worse, that was entirely due to his active imagination. And a touch of paranoia, he supposed. Rebus was a god now. None could approach the Great Pyramid without losing their powers, except for those few Rebus permitted to remain superhuman. He'd raised his mummified father and an army of retainers from the dead, and this undead force kept the United World strike team at bay. The only reason everyone on the Giza plateau wasn't already dead or enslaved was that Rebus was toying with his enemies. To make things worse, the doomsday device that had been activated in a vain attempt to stop Rebus by destroying the world...well, it had failed in that, but now it was working just fine. A Coronal Mass Ejection large enough to scour all life from the planet in a storm of ionized plasma was hurtling towards the planet at a significant fraction of light speed. Dan "Grind" Tracey, leader of the superagent team STRAFE, had a plan, one that would snatch victory from the jaws...no, more likely the other end...of defeat. A year ago, JakZak might have trusted his old friend implicitly, but lately Dan had suffered a number of episodes of questionable mental stability. So maybe the plan really was as crazy as it sounded. It was always darkest before a big chunk of the Sun fell on you.... * * * * [Near Earth Orbit - September 22, 2024. 3:13 PM Giza local time.] It must be eating Jakky alive, I realized. Here we were, on the doorstep of oblivion, and I was an integral part of the plan to Save The World And Defeat The Bad Guy. I was probably the person he hated the most in the whole world, and not only was he not able to try and remove significant parts of my anatomy, but the high and mighty Solar Max had to work side by side with the EEEEEEVIL Chancellor of Khadam, Derek Radner. Well, side by side in a metaphorical sense, anyway. My retrofitted Lunar Crab was carrying me into low orbit crossing over the People's Republic of China, while Maxy was grabbing space and trying to get as far out towards the Sun as he could manage. The real irony was that I was following orders from Nose, though. I don't know if I hate him MORE than anyone else in the world, but I've hated him for LONGER than anyone else. Pedigree counts for something in ths hate business, after all. But his plan made sense...or, at least, as much sense as any plan that involved newborn gods did. I looked at the stardrive controls on the Lunar Crab. There's nothing Nose or JZ could do to stop me from just high-tailing it out to the stars, maybe hook up with some of my Pranir business contacts. Heh. Nothing those two could do, no. But Lorenzo Archangeli makes the three of us look like saints when it comes to the arts of hate. With the power of a god, nowhere in any reality would be safe for me. Or for the mother of my child, who I'm sure would live just long enough that I could see her die in front of my eyes. Or maybe Rebus would kill her quickly and then leave pieces of her body around the galaxy for me to find, a puzzle that would end in my death. Thankfully, the radio burst into activity to interrupt my ever more gruesome reverie. "This is Star Knight," Ritter's voice was ragged with exhaustion that was audible even over the crackling hiss of static. He'd just done a Big Thing, so he was entitled to sound less than fresh. "I've done all I can, the rest is up to you guys. The leading edge should hit in..." he paused, as if doing a quick mental calculation, "...ten minutes. Good luck." Ten minutes. I hefted the powerless Astro Spear in the cramped confines of the cockpit. Time enough to check the seals on my armor one more time, then head out into the uncaring vacuum and steel myself for the fury to come. Time to rend asunder the vault of the heavens.... * * * * [Giza Plateau, Egypt - September 22, 2024. 3:16 PM] On the ground, Dan Tracey, Arc, and Peregryn coordinated the final phases of the hastily-improvised plan. While Dan and Arc radioed commands for the last push against Pino Archangeli's forces, Peregryn scanned the dais atop the Great Pyramid. "The boy is growing tired," he said, watching the tiny forms of Warden and Rebus collide. "You'd better move quickly." Arc caught Dan by his sleeve before he left. "Are you...sure you can remember it?" she asked him. He knew what she really meant. As soon as he reentered the battlefield, maybe even as soon as he attracted Rebus's attention, he'd be Anchored again. Here, outside the area of effect, Dan knew that he wouldn't be the same when it happened. "Failure isn't an option," Dan said. He hopped onto an abandoned motorcycle that had been buried and raised along with Pino's troops...all normaltech. Arc and Peregryn watched nervously as he gunned it towards the Pyramid and the battleground. The cycle wobbled visibly when he hit the edge of combat, but Dan kept pressing forward...weaving through the battle lines, hopping over dunes, leaning heavily to one side to duck under enemy fire. Racing up the side of a toppled Khadamite APC, Dan vaulted over Pino's lines and out onto the open sand. Then Arc and Peregryn could only follow Dan by his dust trail as he arrowed across the sand, hit the Great Pyramid, and slowly zigzagged the cycle up its broken, treacherous slope. Then Arc's radio crackled as the ground battle took a turn for the worse. Richard Hendrick shouted that Morgan Adams was tiring rapidly, while the resurrected Pino was not. Arc watched as the undead commander kicked Adams's legs out from under him, then pounced on the aging adventurer. She grabbed her rifle and ran to join the fight, but Pino was already sitting atop Adams, his jagged blade held back only by one quivering arm. * * * * [Orbit. 3:25 PM] Solar Max struggled with equal parts awe, fear...and irony. Awe at the almost delicate beauty of the Coronal Mass Ejection. The very fringes of it were hitting the Earth's magnetic field now, charged particles flaring with aetherial light as they bent to swarm down to the magnetic poles, forming the largest aurora ever seen. Fear because it could very well be the last aurora ever seen, at least by humans. With only the thinnest fingers of the CME already lighting space up in sheets of flame, it didn't take a solar scientist to realize that the main body would scour the planet in far more deadly flame. And irony? Well, the first to bear the name "Solar Max" had been a satellite that, among other things, observed solar flares. Well, THIS Solar Max was certainly observing the granddaddy of solar flares. Even with so much of the charged plasma diverted away from Earth by Star Knight, there was more than enough to destroy all natural life on the planet...it would just take a few years for the radiation effects now, rather than a few seconds of total annihilation. It was up to Solar Max to spare Earth from a slow death...assuming this plan also helped stop Rebus from inflicting whatever kind of death suited his whims. "Get ready for spike in ten seconds," he said into his radio, shouting over the static. As bad as the electromagnetic interference was, neutrino communication would be even worse for the next few minutes as solar neutrinos overwhelmed receivers. "...nowledged..." spat Triton's voice through the noise. Solar Max started to concentrate, bending spacetime to his will. But he was not to deflect the incoming energy, as Star Knight had done. He was to *focus* it. Send as much of it as possible howling directly at a man he wished dead more than anyone else in the world. Not Rebus. Triton. Yet, there was more irony. As he strained to grab as much of the solar flame as he could and send it ravening towards Triton, he knew this was not going to kill Triton. Was not intended to...had better not, or the world was doomed. But it felt good to pretend. In space, no one can see you sweat, Triton mused as he readied himself. All systems *seemed* to be operational, as if he'd gotten out of the range of Archangeli's "Super-Anchor" field. But Derek knew better. The one-eyed bastard was a god now, and even an inexperienced god wasn't limited by a little barrier like a few hundred or thousand miles. At any second, Rebus could smirk and reach out to disable all of Triton's systems, leaving him defenseless against the incoming solar power. Of course, only one system really mattered, and Rebus wanted Derek's death to be slow...he wouldn't want his former partner to enjoy a quick and easy death. Ribbons of fire, the precursors of the true inferno, washed across the armor that was now the only thing standing between Derek and the vacuum of space. He touched a stud on the AstroSpear, and exhaled in relief as the growing river of power was drawn into the head of the otherwise drained weapon. Inert since the Lord of Living Light, Doublecross, had been drawn from it, the AstroSpear started to hum to life again. A small part of Derek's mind made a note to find and re-absorb Doublecross if he survived the day. NOW! Power slammed into the 'Spear, driving Triton back even as he triggered thrusters in an attempt to stay in place. Even a fraction of the Sun's fury was more than the AstroSpear could quickly absorb, and warning lights immediately flared red inside his helmet as temperatures shot up to lethal levels. Triton adjusted his grip, ignoring the paint boiling off his armor and trying to draw in as much of the elemental energy as possible. Hours passed in Derek's heat-tortured mind while only seconds passed in the world outside of his skull. Then, just as suddenly as it had slammed into him, the raw fury of the Sun ceased to torment the Chancellor of Khadam. The AstroSpear had been recharged to the point where it could once again protect him from any overflow, and he felt his armor's systems frantically shed heat into the shadow cast by the plasma shield emanating from the 'Spear. Another long moment passed, and Derek could feel the force of the focused flare abate, the last of its energy past the insiginificant rock that spun around the star it came from. Triton said nothing. There was nothing to say, just something to do. He focused his sensors on the region of space he had come to find, confirming he was still near it. Then he pressed all the buttons on the AstroSpear at once, firing a steady stream of reality-rending singularities into the tear in the Barrier. * * * * [The Great Pyramid. 3:25 PM] The power suddenly surges, overwhelming me. I feel my strength grow, the power of five sphinxes, and my temples throb with godly intoxication. Warden combines his Tiger Blossom Strike with a roundhouse kick, and I am too dazed to counter his attacks. But I barely feel his strikes, and with a flick of my fingers, propel him down the pyramid. Like swatting a fly. Another of the mortals approaches, but keeps his distance. Dan Tracey, also known as Grind. I laugh. Here, in the presence of my power, he is the least of my self- proclaimed rivals. "Mister Tracey. Abandon hope. If the eyeless one cannot defeat me, what chance have *you*?" "Little, but I'll take the risk. Do I puzzle you, Archangeli? Let me clue you in." He takes a deep breath, perhaps wondering if it will be his last. "I offer you the greatest, most boggling riddle of your life: the truth about your parents." His audacity moves me to laughter once again. "And then what, Tracey... you expect me to pluck out my own eyes in agony? End up like our hapless young friend down there? I think not. Besides, you've forgotten my old role within the Conclave: I can hardly play Oedipus when I am already the Sphinx." The brash mortal pauses, tentatively feeling around for the one argument that might prolong his worthless life. "Then as the Sphinx," he says, "you already know the answer to my riddle." "I have attained my own divinity, Tracey. I could pluck the answer from your overtaxed brain and leave you gibbering in the dust." And then Tracey...cocky little grave-worm that he is...permits himself the slightest smile. "But you wouldn't really have solved your parents' riddle, would you?" It is almost impressive, the desperation with which he clings to false hope. Smiling no less faintly, I nod my indulgence. One final game, then, before the time for all games is put to an end. "I know my minutes are numbered, so I'll make this count. See if you can figure out the speaker. Ready for the cipher?" I nod again, impatient now, and with a twist of reality I force the prattling boy to speak. His voice is hollow, no longer his own, oracular. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he intones, "I sliced matriarch a tomb, o scion." ...and he returns to his senses as I strike him. The gall of this worm, to speak ill of my mother's demise! ("Numbered," "make this count"...?) I could fling him from these heights, push him past the brink of insanity, bludgeon him to death... ("Figure," "cipher"...) ...but for the _numbers_. "I sliced matriarch a tomb, o scion." One letter, six letters, nine letters, one, four, one, five. A mixture of squares, products, and primes; a possible set of latitudes and longitudes; or a numerical code...? I transpose them onto the letters of the English alphabet, in ascending order, because in his divinely-inspired stupefaction Tracey is capable of little else. The numbers translate to AFIADAE, an acronym of uncertain derivation or a word of no meaning. But no; Tracey, fool that he is, has forgotten to discriminate between decimal places; the numbers might be 16 9 1 4 15, PIADO, or 1 6 9 14 1 5, AFINAE, or 16 9 14 15... PINO. "I sliced matriarch a tomb, o scion." PINO. Father. "No." Grind cannot be right. It cannot be true. My mother was taken by Hathor at the time of the great ascendance. My father loved my mother. He couldn't have killed her. It would mean my *own father* murdered her in cold blood, and *lied* to his own child. The seed of doubt is planted, and I forget Captain Tracey. I look towards my father, and through his mummified flesh as though it is glass. It is a simple thing to pry the truth from my father's soul. And what I see shocks me. Grind has the truth of it. The betrayal. My father's wrath behind the facade. The calculated precision of her death. Sacrificed here within this very pyramid, where he had also sacrificed the followers who now formed his mummified army. I see images of the knife flashing down, the prayers chanted out...the ritual failed. And then the photographs, pictures taken for the sole purpose of taunting the man who truly loved my mother, loved her as father never did. I realize that I have known the truth all these years. All the clues were there, a simple murder mystery that I might have solved if I had not been in denial. I locked the terrible truth of my mother's death behind layers upon layers of conundrums inside my own psyche, puzzles my subconscious designed to bar the truth from me. But now that I possess the power of a god, such trivial self-deceptions are no more a barrier than two- letter anagrams. Denial, as they say, is more than just a river in Egypt. "YOU. MURDERER." All I can think of is revenge against my 'loving' father. I focus my rage against my father, for the selfish act he committed, for single-handedly destroying our family when I was but a child. I coalesce all my godly might into a shaft of divine retribution, and throw it like a thunderbolt to impale him. I realize it is a mistake, too late. The bolt strikes him at the tip of his white Osirian crown, then courses down his body. His flesh turns bright and transparent, flashing the image of his bones across the sands. Streams of lightning burst forth from his fingertips and feet, burning the flyspeck Adams but sparing my mother's beloved a fiery death. My father's blackened heart explodes in a bolt of electricity, erupting from his chest and rejoining the stream that is rooted to his crown. A chain of energy crackles between us, father and son. It grows brighter, and taut. In the blink of an eye it snaps, and releases a wave of godly wrath that robs awareness from all who had it within in a ten-mile radius. I struggle to stay conscious by sheer force of will, but it is futile. I sink into unconsciousness, a single word on my lips. "Dendera...." Mother.... * * * * [3:35 PM] Solar Max deployed the airbrakes on his "god armor" to bring his speed below Mach 1 as he screamed over the outskirts of Cairo. He wasn't sure why he was flying so low...reflex, he supposed. After all, you couldn't get under the radar of a god. The eastern cemetary of Cairo flashed beneath him, one of the so-called Cities of the Dead flanking the bustling metropolis. Once, people had lived there, either as squatters or as tenders of the tombs. But even the squatters didn't try to take up residence in the necropoli after the events of 1998. Too many gods and their servants had walked the earth then, and like the slaughter in Manhattan that year, there had been many deaths in Cairo prior to the Big One on July 6, 1998. Hah. Too many gods. Right now, *one* was too many. In seconds he would reach the Giza plateau, the colorfully flashing skies reminding him that even if this all worked, the world would pay a terrible price. An aurora visible in the day in Egypt meant bad news for the ecosphere. Too much of the Coronal Mass Ejection had reached the planet, too much had not been diverted by their desperate plan. And then he was there, hovering tentatively over the Great Pyramid. When he'd last been there, it had been the site of pitched battles on many fronts as a new god flexed his muscles and settled old scores. Now it looked the part of a City of the Dead. Bodies lay scattered about in the sand, whether living or dead he could not tell. The mummies had fallen in jumbled heaps, the unnaturally preserved flesh already showing signs of decay. Human soldiers and Vivarium monstrosities lay side by side, as if in peaceful slumber. Even the machines of war had gone still, leaving only the howling of the rising wind to fill the silence. His helmet sensors careted a number of figures, identifying them as either allies or enemies. A number of both were nowhere to be found. Then warning lights flared to life on his helmet display, and he snapped around as best he could in the bulky exo-armor. Rebus was standing up. Rebus had SURVIVED. And so, no one else would. Solar Max desperately reached out, hoping to blast Rebus into nothingness before the new god could recover his wits. But the light that now shone from the Great Pyramid itself was not of Solar Max's doing. Rebus's face was twisted by an unfamiliar and unexpected expression: blind panic. "NO! I AM NOT READY!" Rebus shouted in anguish. "NOT YET!" The light intensified, and Solar Max had to engage filters to keep from being blinded. Then, incredibly, the light expanded and coalesced into the form of a titanic woman with winged arms. She reached down and took the comparatively tiny form of Rebus into one of her hands. "You have been judged...wanting," an aethereal voice echoed across the plateau. And then the light exceeded any filter's ability to block, and Solar Max was blinded for several long moments. When his eyes stopped throbbing with afterimages, he saw that the woman...the goddess...and Rebus were no longer there. A single feather made of light drifted slowly towards the top of the Great Pyramid, where it vanished like a popped soap bubble. Rebus had lost. But had anyone really won? * * * * [5:30 PM] Two hours later, the auroras had vanished as completely as Rebus... although the effects of his mad plan would linger for years to come. The sandy streets of Giza were piled high with the bodies of slain soldiers, and mummies who'd fallen where they'd stood when Rebus disappeared. Their bodies were putrefying more rapidly than they should have, and the stench was rapidly becoming unbearable. Even the carrion birds avoided their corpses. The situation was somewhat better among the living paranormals, for whom the effects of the ritual and its disruption were not entirely negative. For instance, several of the combatants seemed somehow different from before... one of the most mindless Vivarium mutations had even been heard speaking in perfect iambic pentameter. The Vivarium creatures were joining the rest of the tattered Khadamite forces in a long, shambling retreat out of Egypt. The orders had been given by Chancellor Triton, who had already freed his beloved Sultry and disappeared, as had the other surviving Conclavers, to points unknown. Radner had claimed he was calling the retreat in order to attend to his injured subjects...but Dan Tracey hoped that some part of his old nemesis simply didn't want to fight ASH or STRAFE any more. Only time would tell if Radner's cooperation had stemmed from self-interest, or some long-buried sense of heroism. In the absence of the Khadamites, the CSV, and Rebus, however, a new political crisis was rapidly brewing. Egyptian and Moslem Confederation forces, which had retreated so quickly before the CSV onslaught, were already massing in the west in an attempt to reoccupy the Nile before the Israeli forces could make any territorial claims. The Israelis, for their part, insisted on remaining until the last Khadamite forces left, waiting out the slow evacuation to see where the diplomatic chips fell. But that was a matter for the United World to sort out; sighing, Dan Tracey limped into the tent of the mobile command post to begin his debriefing. The tent held the agents of ASH, STRAFE, and EUROPA...virtually all of the paranorms except the Warden, who had already vanished. Many of the heroes were nursing wounds; Morgan Adams sat at the center of the circle, fussing at the medics who tried to treat his burns. "I'm not going *anywhere*," he growled, "until somebody tells me what happened to Archangeli." Teller, Scorch, and Hotspur all murmured their agreement... although Dan figured they meant *Lorenzo* Archangeli. "Pino is dead," Dan said, "incinerated. It's finally over." Adams nodded his head and closed his eyes. "Rebus...that's slightly more complicated." "Ponce que ye kin tell noz 'zactly wot's arrivay?" "Yes, Mr. Keane, I think I can." Dan briefly leaned on Jen Kleinvogel's shoulder, finally admitting that he relished in the return of his encyclopedic mind. "For once, we set Rebus up. We played him like a gamepiece." Arc turned to Hotspur and explained, "We designed Grind's riddle hoping that it would drive Rebus to attack his father. And in the heat of passion he did so, forgetting momentarily that Pino was the keystone of his ritual. Raising Pino, raising Osiris, made Rebus a god on Earth. Remove him, and..." She waved her hand, mouthing a _tres_ Gallic "poof." "But why?" the Green Knight asked, from the back row. "And *how*?" Dan was ready to defer to Peregryn, but the mage looked rather preoccupied. Instead Dan began pacing around the inside of the tent, ticking off points on his fingers. "You see, despite the godlike powers Rebus displayed, the ritual wasn't quite finished. Its purpose was to elevate him to godhood, push him beyond the Barrier. And yet he was occupying us with mummified soldiers, unnecessary fistfights...why else but to stall for time? And perhaps also to keep his *own* mind focused here on Earth, so the ritual couldn't complete itself. Rebus desperately wanted to stay on this side of the Barrier, leading him to postpone his own ascension...and that gave us an opening. "We had two theories on what would happen when he killed his father," Dan continued. "One was that slaying Pino would disrupt the ritual completely. Strip Rebus of his powers, perhaps even kill him with feedback. But we weren't terribly optimistic about that happening." "So as a backup plan," Solar Max added, "and as a means of saving the Earth from Delta Rose's paranoia..." he looked pointedly at Bill Cook, "...Ritter, Radner, and I fed energy from the Coronal Mass Ejection into a weak spot in the Barrier that insulates our planet from the realms of the gods. Specifically, the weak spot Devastator and, ironically, Delta Rose created last year. This widened the rift and flooded Rebus with power...just in time to make his feedback loop that much worse. When he slew Pino, Rebus not only broke the ritual that was anchoring him here on Earth, he pushed himself through the weakened Barrier...and hopefully out of our hair forever." Cook was furious, leaping out of his folding chair. "You mean your big plan was to go ahead and MAKE HIM A BLOODY GOD?" Dan Tracey was unperturbed. "He already was a god, Cook. We just made him go somewhere else." "I don't know," said Christina Li. The memory of the dying Anchors made her shudder, as it had been all day. "It still feels like we just...gave him what he wanted." "Yes and no," Dan said. "Based on Solar Max's testimony, I believe I've identified the female figure who materialized immediately prior to Rebus's disappearance." And then Dan permitted himself to smile. "She was Ma'at, the Egyptian goddess of morality and justice. In her time, she was also associated with the Utchat or Eye of Ra." He turned to address Morgan Adams. "Just like Hathor. Did we give Rebus what he wanted? Perhaps...but I'd guess we also gave him what he *deserved*." * * * * [6:00 PM] It never fails. Once victory has been assured, no matter how terrible the cost of the war, human beings celebrate. They celebrate winning. They celebrate the fact they survived. They carouse to the memory of those who didn't. Essay smirked as she threaded her way through the rapidly spreading celebrations. Egypt may have been a Moslem nation, and most of the soldiers here may have been Israelis and theoretically enemies of the locals...but somehow only half an hour after victory had been declared the victors had found large amounts of alcohol to party with. She supposed that in a country without a prohibition against hootch the soldiers would have had something to crack open the instant the fighting was over. Here, they just had to be a bit clever about it. True, the morning would bring sticky political issues over whether the Israelis were still welcome, but for the moment they were liberators. To the common folk, if not to the politicians. For now, the soldiers were as golden as the late-day sunlight that angled across the shattered suburbs of Cairo. She pulled open the flap of the command tent, and saw her quarry sitting within, staring at a computer screen. "Hey, querido," she pulled a canvas chair over and sat down next to her lover. "Not in a party mood?" Peregryn looked over, his gaze latching onto the bandages covering her arms. "Your arms, are they...?" "They itch like el conyo, may Glyph rot in hell," Essay spat. "But the medics say the burns are minor, should be healed by morning. Now don't change the subject...why are you hiding in here when everyone else is out there?" she waved in the direction of the tent flap. She thought she knew at least part of the reason, the deaths of so many Anchors from the plague Peregryn thought he had cured. A subsonic trigger activated the second phase of the seemingly harmless organism that had insinuated itself into the inner ears of Anchors around the world, and their deaths en masse had been a major element of Rebus's ceremony. "The news from elsewhere in the world," he nodded towards the computer screen, as if that was explanation enough. "Aside from the Anchor Plague," he amended a heartbeat later. Essay paused. "What? Did the doomsday device do more damage than we thought?" He shook his head. "That is one of the few pieces of good news. The weather will probably be a bit more violent for a year or two, but Earth weathered the Solar storm. No, I'm talking about what I have done to the world." "Now I'm totally lost." "When I banished the Viaus, I did not consider how deeply their spirits had been intertwined with the spirit of the world." He called up a picture of a clearly European city, seemingly cut down the middle by a wall of smoke, fire and debris. "The banishment shattered the network Yvan had created using pieces of the Berlin Wall. Every fragment of the wall exploded at the same time, and the detonation of its foundations has turned Berlin into a disaster area. But it gets worse." Another picture, this time of what seemed to be a small lake formed by the widening of a river. Only...all around the lake there were remnants of the outskirts of a city, and the river was flowing into the lake from both directions in a torrent. "Montreal is gone," Peregryn said simply. "Gone...where?" "I do not know...." * * * * [6:30 PM] I'd had a choice. I could have sought revenge on Rebus while he was weak from the cosmic backlash. Or I could have taken my beloved to safety, and let Solar Max take care of the Archangeli mess. I could have had the fame for possibly killing a god, or taken Sultry and my children. Hobson's choice, really. There would always be other gods to kill. So, I had taken Sultry away from the pyramid, and far from Egypt. The Moslem Coalition would not be a safe place to hide my wife, nor Khadam. My children could be used against me, if my enemies knew. There was only one place I could think of to take them. They would never think to look for us in Monaco, in Tiara's secret sanctuary. Here, my son...I hoped at least one of the twins would be a son...could be born in peace. I owed the Princess yet again. I laid her down among the soft pillows. She was life itself. I removed my helmet and my gloves, and knelt beside her. Her eyelids fluttered, and I saw her dark, beautiful eyes and the smile that crept into her face. "Angeline. My love." "Derek," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "Hold me. Hold us." And I did. I had gotten what was mine. I only hoped Lorenzo had gotten his.... * * * * [Elsewhere. Elsewhen.] I smile and step sprightly as my guide leads me down the stone-cut hallway. The regular portals set into the hieroglyphed walls afford me glimpses of a shimmering and sinuous valley of black sand, black river, black mountains, all set under the howling stars of the twelve hours of the night. Demons jabber in the shadows outside, fearful of my power. My guide escorts me through a great temple that spans the night river. I was, I admit, somewhat surprised when Ma'at appeared before me in Giza; I had expected a herald of greater prominence, at least that whelp Anubis, but I now recognize her significance as a celestial blessing...a sign that my apotheosis is right and just. Still stunned by the feedback of my own power, I had not been able to make out what she said as she drew me through the Barrier, but no doubt it would be repeated on my arrival in the vault of heaven. My only regret is that I did not quite complete my earthly business. Father suffered for his crimes and suffered well, but I had not finished toying with the others. Tracey, Taylor, Radner, Adams, Marx...all of them will one day pay. And already my unparalleled mind seeks to test the boundaries of my new existence; I am secure in the knowledge that one day I shall find a way to return to the Earth, and bring it under my just and logical rule.... Ma'at...a rather minor goddess if truth be told...leads me into a cavernous chamber lit by torches and oil that mankind buried five thousand years ago. Recessed in the walls, forty-two mummified men lift their dried and lolling heads, sway their crumbling necks to regard me. In the midst of the judges another mummified body, ten times my height and holding the royal scepter, crook, and flail, gazes down upon me. A rekindled fire sparks deep in his dried eye sockets, but divinest Osiris says nothing. At his feet a jackal-headed bastard holds a pair of scales. Far off in one corner, the chimaerical Devourer...lion at one angle, crocodile in another...lazily smacks its jaws by the flickering firelight. "The judgment shall begin," Ma'at announces, "with the recitation of the Negative Confession." I stare at her incredulously. That is a test for the souls of mere mortals...she cannot expect me to recite... At my silence the forty-two judges burst into speech, reciting the charges that I am to deny. Their cacophony fills the chamber: 4. I have not committed theft. 13. I have not acted deceitfully. 32. I have not multiplied my speech beyond what should be said. I scream for them to be silent, but the confessions ring in my ears. 5. I have slain neither man nor woman. The great Osiris gazes down on me and for an instant, I am reminded of my father's harshest lessons, his training, his judgment... 26. I have not made myself deaf unto the words of right and truth. "This is an outrage!" I bellow. "I am no dead soul! I did not perish on those sands! I am your PEER!" And divinest Osiris inclines his head, ever so slightly...flakes of skin the size of my torso falling from his neck...and the bastard child Anubis reaches forward with his outstretched hand. The Judgment Hall stretches away before me and behind me and yet I am somehow rooted to the spot as Anubis rips open my chest and removes my heart. I bark out a laugh, just one, because as Anubis places my heart upon the scales, weighing it against the most insubstantial ibis feather, I feel lighter than I ever have before. Have I not acted in these gods' names? Have I not been their most right and faithful servant? Am I not fit to be one among them? And then I see my heart...shriveled and black...sinking on the scales, weighing them down with my deeds, and I open my mouth to protest, but before I can say anything I hear a noise behind me and I turn, just in time to see the Devourer lunging forward. Its polymorphic jaws are wide, and wet with hunger.... ============================================================================ THE END ============================================================================ Authors' Notes: See the individual titles for more denounment and aftermath as mortals are left to pick up the pieces left by Rebus's ascension.