Day of Power

Prologue:

The cave of the Massi, A long, Long time ago.

Llealthuh stroked the Massai's casing with his long, delicate fingers. Sigils glowed briefly under his touch, then faded back into the Masai's bio-mechanical casing. All was in readiness. There was a rustling behind him, and he turned to find novice Sealquith, bowed in deference.
'Master,' Intoned Sealquith.
'Speak, novice. I would know your words,' Said Llealthuh in the ritual address to a novice.
'Master, why do we do this? Why do we put every Race through the ritual of the Daleth Nolah Massth?'
'because,' said Llealthuh, 'We where first.'
Sealquith had expected something like that from his Master. Llealthuh conformed to all that was expected of a Master of the order of Massai Massth. Every answer he gave was absolutely correct, and absolutely useless.
'I do not deny that universal truth, oh Master Llealthuh Nolah Massai,' said Sealquith, using the full, ritual form of his master's name. 'But I seek to know why it must be done.'
'It is done to protect the health of the universe, Novice Sealquith Nolah Llealthuh,' replied Llealthuh, using his novices ritual name. 'We must place the Massai Massth on every world which shows signs of developing sentients. In this way, we protect the universe from destruction by up starts. It is our duty to do so, because we where first.'
Sealquith bowed his long head deeper in respect for the truth of his Master's words.
'But does being first give us the right to do this?'
Llealthuh ran his fingers through the downy fur which covered his chest. It was a sure sign that he was thinking. He ignored Sealquith, and went back to his inspection of the Massai. He ran one final check, and everything was right. Every thing was as it should be. He squeaked in appreciation, and connected the Massai to it's power conduit. As of now, the Massai would draw in energy endlessly, until it was the correct time to release it. The Massai would know when to release the Energy. It had a semi-sentient brain as part of it's Bio-Mechanical matrix. It would monitor all things that happened on this planet,. And finally, when the time came, it would act, as it had on so many other worlds. And then? Well, by then Llealthuh would be dead, and it would no longer be his concern. The current Master of the Massai Massth would deal with it. It was the way of things, and Sealquith had no right to question it. No one had ever questioned the Mortality of the Massai Massth for hundreds of thousands of years. In fact, no one had questioned it's morality as far back as the records went. And the records spanned millions of millennia. Lights flickered over the Massai's surface. It was working perfectly. Llealthuh turned to go. He gathered up his long robes, inflated his flotation sacks, and floated down the passage way. This world would be an excellent addition to the Empire, when it was ready. It's gravity was just right, so that a well developed Llumrathae could easily float, and have no need of the legs which seemed almost superfluous, since the race had left it's homeworld, and taken to the stars. Silently, Sealquith floated after him. As they went, the lights blinked out in the tunnel, leaving only a faint iridescent glow in their wake. Behind them, the door of the Massai's chamber fused itself shut. The pair of strange, robed figures floated up a vertical shaft, and reached the planet's surface. It was good to be in the sun again, thought Llealthuh, even if it was the sun of some alien world. But then, as a Llumrathae, he had no sun to call his own. The sun of their homeworld had died so long ago that no one could be exact about the date any more. Yes, they where an ancient race. They where the only race to have out lived their sun. The pair floated over the rocky ground, an approached their craft. It was shaped like a clam shell. Almost. It had long protrusions from it's broad end, which looked like the legs of the strange Arachnids that Llealthuh had found on this world. As they approached, the colour of the hull changed from a neutral greenish grey, to a blinding pink in greeting. Both creatures laid their palms flat on the sentient ships skin in greeting. The hatch slurp open, like a flap of skin peeling back, which in effect it was. The aliens floated through, and up the hallway to the ships bridge. The bridge was situated between the two central 'legs', as Llealthuh had come to think of them. A technician had once explained that they where used by the Goolah ships to sense their where abouts. As they looked out through the hardened transparent bubble of the bridge, the legs twitched ever so slightly. They both descended onto couches, and deflated their air bags. Sealquith strapped himself in carefully. He had no desire to be thrown about during take off. Llealthuh followed his example, their Goolah, which they had named Beoluthae was reckless. Recently, he had begun to suspect tit's sanity.
Sealquith spoke up again.
'What gives us the right to perform the Daleth Nolah Massth?'
'We have the right of being the First,' Said Llealthuh, as he always did. "do not question the morality of the Massai Massth, it is a necessary evil. We must do it.'
'Yes, I understood why we do it. We must prevent dangerous races from entering the Empire. We must stop them from spreading. If they survive the Daleth Nolah Massth, they are fit. So it says in the book of Massi Massth. But is it true?'
'Of course. Our ancestors decreed it, and they would have had good reason.'
'It must have been a good reason, Master,' Said Sealquith impertinently, 'Because failure incurs total destruction.'
Llealthuh instantly slapped one fist into the open palm of his upper left arm to ward off the sacrilege inherent in those words.
'We cannot have unfit races populating the universe. They are dangerous. Very Dangerous. We must protect the universe for the races which are to come.'
'Yes Master. But is this the way?'
As Sealquith spoke, he gestured out at the mountains of the planet they had landed on. 'Should we destroy all this which the Universe has created for our Benefit?'
Llealthuh groaned. 'What the universe makes is not always what it knows us to need. It must test us constantly, thus it gives us imperfect places, and sends us to find them. In this way, it cane ensure that we shall always be true and pure.'
Llealthuh passed a hand over a control pad, and Beoluthae began to lift slowly into the air.
'Come, we have other worlds to attend to. The temple of Massai Massth had sent word of a further three in our area. Let us go. Put aside all thoughts of this place.'
'It's easy for you,' Said Sealquith, 'You'll be dead by the time this place hits Daleth Nolah Massth. You are already into your Twelfth Millionth year of life. You will have passed on. I am not over two million yet. I shall be the Master sent to deal with this place. I can't just set it aside.
'Set it aside, Sealquith. You must, it is the way.'
Beoluthae lifted out of the atmosphere, and shot away from the Blue green globe which it had rested on for the past six months.

The Temple of the Massai, 10 thousand years latter.

Sealquith sat with his legs crossed, and all four arms spread in the attitude of prayer. Before him, Llealthuh rested in his tomb, which he had been locked into ten years previously. Sealquith Leant forwards and lit another of the primitive candles made form animal fats, which his people still used for rituals, and sank back. He was pondering. Since he had joined the Massai Massth, Two Million years earlier, he had planted the Massai on over fifteen thousand worlds. The rest of his time, he had spent travelling in Beoluthae in the company of his Master. Now he was the master, and he was not yet used to it. He had not been assigned a novice yet, so he was temporarily free of his duties. He knew that it would only last for a few millennia, so he would have to act fast. He had come to a decision. It was a momentous decision. Nothing like it had ever been even contemplated in the entire history of the Massai Massth. But now, it was the time, and he was the right being to do it. He believed it was the will of the Universe. He would alter the rules of the Daleth Nolah Massth. He would do it only slightly, as an experiment at first. It was not entirely against the rules of the Massai Massth. It was just a slight advantage to the races that would be subjected to the Daleth Nolah Massth. Sealquith rose, and went to his chamber. There, he pulled out a ancient storage crystal. He slipped it into his console, and read the flickering Sigils that danced across the holographic display. It would be difficult to plant a single clue in the history of Fifteen thousand separate worlds. He would need to analyse each Planet's people, and history. Then, he would need to find a way to plane the clue. He decided that he would make a start. He would start with the first world he had attended to. Back in those early days, when he had been bold enough to openly discuss the morality of the Massai Massth with Llealthuh. He set to work. The history files amassed and sent to the Temple by the resident Massai were long. They where very confused, and convoluted. It took him many years to finish reading them, and longer to decide what to do. But finally, he settled on a single time. It was a primitive form of Data storage, made of compressed vegetable pulp between covers made of animal hide. He would write a prophecy into this storage device, and dispatch Beoluthae to plant it. Sealquith set to the business of writing the clue. It was complicated. The planet had so many languages, and it seemed that they where all in a state of constant evolution. Eventually, he had crafted his warning. He travelled through the long, long passages of the Temple until, miles from his starting point, he entered the vast hangers where the Goolah ships where stored. Several days passed before he final located Beoluthae, and dispatched him. Then, he returned to his room to start the next warning.
It was one morning period, as Sealquith was sitting staring at an incomprehensible file on a race called the Nolamgua-toranthae-cor'furzan, that it happened.
The door of his chamber disintegrated, and tree figure entered. They wore armour. This was a sinister sign. No member of the Temple of the Massai Massth had worn armour for at least three hundred million years, since the last holy war. The Leading figure raised his weapon, a small mass driver, and pointed it squarely at Sealquith's chest.
'Master Sealquith Nolah Massai, you have been found guilty of interfering with the way of the Massai Massth. You have sent a message of warning off to a world scheduled to under go the Daleth Nolah Massth. Therefore, I have been authorised to destroy you. Those who would interfere with the methods of the Universe must be punished.'
The creature pressed the firing stud, and Sealquith's chest exploded, shredded tissues and greenish blood spattering his room. But it was too late. He had already interfered in the way of the Universe, and the Universe would never be the same again. It was impossible to trace his message. They would never find out who had received it, and there was the possibility that an unsuitable race would enter the Empire of the universe. As the enforcers left, their leaders eye fell upon a picture. It was faded and old, but it had text along it's bottom edge. It showed Sealquith, and Llealthuh with Beoluthae on Sealquith's first assignment. It had no value but for sentiment, but the back ground was one of surpassing beauty. There was a strange creature in the back ground. The enforcer looked closer. It was a hairy creature, dressed in furs, carrying a flint tipped spear, and peering out of a cave. It's race would probably not amount to anything. He doubted they would even master fire.

Wildfell Abbey, North Yorkshire, England, December 14th, 1089AD.

The fire raored in the grate, sending tounges of flame to stroke the chimney, and smoke which billowed out into the winters air. Sparks flew, and a flickering, constantly moving and rater sisnter light filled the dark little room.
Abbot Mathew stared at the book which lay before him. It had been brought to his attention by one of the Novices. It was obviously very old, but there was something wrong about it. And he hadn't even read any of it yet.
'Where did this come from?' Asked Brother Mathew.
The novice squirmed under his steely stare. 'A peasant…' He mumbled.
'A peasant,' Said Mathew with overly full emphasis. 'And what, prey was a Peasant doing with a Book?'
'I don't know, Brother Mathew,' The novice mumbled.
Brother Mathew looked back at the book. It was bound in leather, and very expensive leather it looked too. He opened it, and fingered the high quality parchment. It felt silky smooth, nothing like the rough parchment that had been used and reused in the cathedral so many times that you could read four books simultaneously on it. There was defiantly something wrong with the text as well.
'Did the Peasant tell you anything, Novice?'
'He babbled a lot of sacrilegious filth, Brother. I think he has been touched by the devil.'
Mathew looked d at the book again. It was all wrong, he thought. This needed to be looked into.
'Take me to this peasant.'

The peasant was called John, like so many of his kind. He stirred the straw which covered his cottage floor with a foot, and looked embarrassed at having an Abbot in his home.
Mathew brought forth the book, and showed it to the peasant.
'Where did you get this?', he demanded.
'From the devil, sir,' the peasant muttered.
This was curious, mused Mathew. 'And what form did this devil take?'
The peasant stared at the floor. 'Spider,' He muttered.
'Spider? Describe it. Fear not, afterwards I will absolve you and your immortal soul will not be tainted. Now describe this devil.'
'Spider. It looked like a giant spider, and it floated down through the air. I was looking out my window, for I could not sleep, and it floated down across the moon. I was afeard of it, so I fled back to my bed. The next morning, curiosity got the better of me, and I went to look. It was in the woods. A huge Spider, with a single glowing eye. When it saw me, it dropped this, and flew away. It were the devil, I swear it, the devil!'
Mathew mused. It was indisputable that something inexplicable had happened, but was this talk of the devil real, or had the Peasant made it all up to explain something he could not.
Mathew thanked the man, and quickly performed a confession on him.

Abbot Mathew could still not explain the book, but he began to read it. It was very easy to read. It was so much clearer than any other book he had ever seen. The letters where so regular, not at all like the work of his Monks. In fact, when he looked closely, the letters where all perfectly formed, the exact replica of every one of their fellows. No illuminator could achieve such perfection. And the pictures. They where of a style he had never seen. They where so real. They where nothing like the stylised representations drawn in current books. It was as if the illustrator had captured reality and put it on the page. But that was impossible. There could be nothing in the world which looked like that surely? His attention had been caught by a drawing of a creature, possessing four arms, as pair of spindly, thin legs, and large flaps of skin around it's waist. It must be a devil. And then, there was a picture which matched the peasant's description. Under neath this picture was a single, incomprehensible word: Goolah. It was most perplexing. And then, there were the actual words of the text. They were mysterious at best, incomprehensible at worst. There was a lot of sacrilegious filth about life outside of earth, creatures more powerful than God, and a strange entity called 'The Universe.' Mathew under stood none of it, so he pulled out a quill pen, and piece of rough parchment. He carefully wrote on his parchment:
'Thies Booke is Sacriligios ande must be destroyed or it shalle anger Godde.' And, because he was a meticulous man, he sated it: 'Forteenth Day of the Month of Gune, The year of our lord, 1089'
Then he went to his troubled bed, and tried to sleep.

In the Morning, A novice removed the book, and took it to be burned. He left it, with it's note, for the servitors to take care of. However, he had forgotten that very few people could read. The Servitors found the book, but did not understand the instructions. They slipped the note into the cover, and took the book to the Monastery library, where it was promptly lost amongst the thousands of hand written tomes.

I

The Home of Titus Smith, Melbourne, 21:54 April 5th, 2013.

Wang's deep blue Turbo charged 2011 Toyota Supra stood purring on the ashfelt. The sun glinted of it's low, sleek form, and it's chrome side pipe exhaust system. It vibrated slightly, as Wang revved the Engine. I was coolly confident in my ride. The 1934 Ford Cabriolet had never looked so good. The sun was glistening on it's hand re-shaped body work, and the quietly restrained chrome work. I had the roof rolled back. The big Super charged Chevy 350 throbbed gently. Wang glared at me.
'Now Mistah Smith, I will ploove to you that Eastern technology is bettah than any thing made in the West.'
As he spoke, the starting lights came on. I revved the engine. The lights changed from red to amber. We tensed up. Then... The lights were green, and our cars screamed forwards. A dense cloud of smoke was all that was left. I threw the old car into the first corner, trusting in my custom built suspension units. The car skidded slightly, but accelerated out of the corner ahead of Wang's heavier car. Then Wang had the advantage. Even after all the customisations I'd done to the car, it was not very aerodynamic. His was. It cut through the air like the proverbial hot knife through Butter on a February afternoon in Darwin. Wang's car roared ahead, but I was just behind. He braked to take a corner, and I slewed past him, bounced of the wall, and burned off down the straight. I'd had the entire car worked over so it handled beautifully. My foot was glued to the floor, and my eyes to the road. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a metallic blue shape catching up, but he was to far behind, and braking. I hurled the car into the next corner, and came out with the tyres screeching. Behind me, there was a crunch as Wang side swiped the wall. I accelerated down the long straight, then braked violently to handle the Hair pin. As I came out, Wang was catching me. We streaked down the Start/Finish straight neck-a-neck. Just on the line, Wang drew ahead. There were two more laps. I was roaring towards the first corner again, when a noise distracted me. It had no place on a race track. For a moment, I was disorientated. I lost control, and the beautifully painted car smashed into the wall. It flipped over, and over and over, until it crashed into the Grandstand, upside down.
'Damn it Wang,' I roared, hurling my Control Pad down, 'You conspired to have a friend prank call me during the race, didn't you?'
'No Mistah Smith,' Said Wang, swithcing of the Playstation 3's Holographic screen. 'I have no time for fliends. I assume it is for you…'
'We'll finish this latter, Wang, and I expect you to take back those comments about '32 Ford Highboy convertibles,' I said, as I headed for the Games room door.
The nearest phone was in my 'Study', along with my collection of over a hundred modified model car kits, the model making table, the super Glue vat, and the scalpel blade press. I removed it's dust cover, and picked it up.
'Hello,' I said in a falsetto voice, 'This is Mrs. Elizabeth Andrews. What is it?'
'Stop fucking about Titus,' growled the Commander's voice, 'And get your arse into my office yesterday. And bring Wang. This is not a drill, I repeat, in case your in an abnormally thick mood, this is not a Drill!'
I burst out of the door, and bellowed 'EMERGENCY MOBILIZE! REPEAT EMERGENCY MOBILIZE!'
Then, I sprinted down the passage, and flung myself down the stairs. AS I exploded out the front door, the garage was just opening. Both doors. The one in front, and the one in the roof. Wang caught up with me, and we dashed in the front door, which slammed shut behind us. We dodged over and around my junk, and dived for the Work Car. The car's doors were already open, and we hurled ourselves in. As the doors automatically closed, I shoved the gear into Drive, and kicked the Fusion Reactor in. The Kingswood X-2000 Series II Flight Type lifted off. Fast.
AS I hit the four-hundred mark in the direction of Collins street, Wang was just picking himself up from the foot well.
'Excuse please, Mistah Smith, but is seven Gee take off leally necessary?'
'This is an Emergency Mobilisation, and this is not a drill. We are needed, as the worlds only shield against Psychic Weird Shit, so we gotta move fast.'
'I should never have accepted Job as your Butlah,' muttered Wang.

Unfortunately, there was no time to test the Kingswood to it's full. We where in Collins Street far to fast. I dived the car.
Through pure accident I managed to avoid smashing the car on four separate occasions, as I weaved through the parking lot at over 60 (Or was it that some one up their had plans for me. The way my life goes, I'm willing to believe that) I crash dived into my reserved parking spot, barely clipping the roof of the FBI chevy Suburban that was trying to steal it. Our doors hissed up, and we stepped out.
'What the fuck der you think yer doin' you piece of shit Aussie?', roared the FBI's muscle leaping out of the Suburban.
I coolly pointed to the sign which informed every one that the spot was reserved for 'Special Agents of esoteric agencies'. The Muscle stared at it. Obviously, he had only noticed the 'Special Agents' bit. Wang and I escaped while he was still agitating his dandruff. We forced our way into the lift, barging aside a plethora of secretaries in tight skirts and heels (The yanks seem to attract the best lookers, although nothing compares to my Lady Love, Ivadenov, who unfortunately, doesn't love me.) I hit the button for the lobby level, then hit the emergency override switch, which only I knew the location of, seeing as I installed it. The lift rocketed up to ground level, and braked hard. Wang and me have gotten used to it, so we calmly walked out from between the fallen secretaries, who where trying to get their stilettos back in contact with the floor. They looked like a herd of inverted, very prickly, and extremely pissed off beetles. We crossed the lobby, and I let us into the secret base section of the Building. We walked down the bewilderingly long corridors, until we reached the door designated as CPA head Quarters. Under neath was a sign: Beware of low-flying filling cabinets, exploding sandwiches, and falling paper work. Ignoring the sign, since we had put it up, we entered the outer office. The Commander was buried under paper work. Literally. We excavated him, and sat him back down on his seat.
'G'day,' Said I, since I don't stand on ceremony
'Hello, most honourable commanding officer, May your concubines (Pre-supposing you have some) bling you gleat joy, and your wifes bear you nothing but sons,' Said Wang, who does.
'G'day,' Said the commander, who's on my side with regards to greetings. 'I want you to look at this.'
He handed me a book. 'It was just found at New Wildfell Abbey, in the Dandenongs. I'll have to fill you in on a few details,' And so saying, he plunged into lecutre mode. 'Wildfell Abbey was originally foundered in Yorkshire, England. In 1850, the Abbot decided that they could serve God better by going to the new colony. So the entire Abbey shifted over here. One of their Monks found this book last night. They figured we'd be able to work it out.'
It was obviously an old book, but in extremely good condition. It had been well bound, and as far as I could tell, none of the pages had so much as shifted from it's designated position. Across the red leather cover where written the words 'The book of Sealquith.' I opened it, and a scrap of extremely old parchment fell out. I gingerly picked it up, and placed it on the desk (no mean feat in itself). It said: 'Thies Booke is Sacriligios ande must be destroyed or it shalle anger Godde.' Under neath it was the date, June 14, 1089.
'Fuck…' I said, realising that I was handling a paper almost one thousand years old. 'Is this real?'
'Yes,' said the commander, 'Quentin had it carbon dated. It checks out.'
'But the book…'
'I know, it looks brand new. We had it dated, and it's older than the paper.'
Words failed me, and I resorted to fainting.
Wang kicked me in the ribs, and I shot upright, and into a fighter's crouch. Before I could punch him up the conk, the commander grabbed me.
'What the book says is more important, Titus.'
I opened the book again, and skim read a few pages. It was confusing, as it was written in an archaic form of English, for about one sixth of the book. The rest was devised between Arabic, what I think was Latin, Chinese, Some sort of Indian dialect, and what could just possibly have been Inca. It was confusing to say the least.
'Um…,' I said, finally, 'What's all this mean?'
'Doom! We're all doomed!', cried the Melodramatic at heart Quentin bursting into the outer office, or at least trying to. There just wasn't enough space for four people.
'Quentin! Kindly explain yourself,' Roared the commander.
'Sorry,' apologised Quentin, rubbing his straggly beard. 'You know that thing you gave me? Well, I figured it out.'
'What thing?' I asked.
'It came with the book. Quentin will show you,' Said the Commander. And from that Point, my day started to go down hill.