Covering History

Aelius shook his head and sighed. This meeting had been nothing more than a waste of time. The Charian scientist was clearly a fool captivated by wild flights of fantasy. Nothing he had spoken of had any credible scientific value. Clearly his contact had massively missed the mark in believing this man had an interest in the clandestine workings of the Concordium. He rose from his seat and made his way for the exit, not interested in hearing any more.

"What about the markings? The old ones found on some of the gates?” the Charian cried out, desperation lacing his voice.

“If my findings are correct, then there was, in fact, something far more ancient than the Concordium overshadowing us all!"

Slowly Aelius turned back to the Charian scholar, his interest piqued. He frowned at what he saw. The alien was leaning over the desk, his wasted arms reaching out to him, pleading to be heard. The scholar’s eyes were bloodshot and sunken into the flattened skull normal for that race. Aelius had dealt with addicts many times before, but these were not the symptoms of one hooked on Pandeus. No, this one had seized on something else.

“We are not the first to achieve such unity. Before us there was a race of giant elemental beings with great control over fire and water, even electricity.” The Charian continued to babble, eager to say something which would attract the interest of this potential financier.

“Giant fire breathing elementals?” Aelius replied, laughing at the stupidity of the suggestion. “You may want to check what the assistant puts in your coffee, professor.”

“Is it so hard to believe? You are a Gervian. Your kind can manipulate fire well enough. Is it such a stretch to imagine that you evolved from something else?”

“Do you have proof?”

“Of your evolutionary ancestors? No...” the Charian said, falling back into his chair and scratching at a fluorescent tuft of yellow hair.

Shaking his head, Aelius turned for the door once more. Reaching it he put a hand on the scanner which was followed shortly by the soft hiss of the doors opening.

“There are other signs though,” the scholar called at his back. Aelius paused once more, growing tired of the pathetic entities of the scientist.

“Take for instance the markings on the gates. They bear a close resemblance to your own language, Gervian. An older, more ancient form, perhaps, but it is of a distinctly familiar nature. Are you not curious? Curious as to what secrets the history of your race truly holds?” the Charian called out, seizing on the pause.

“Before the coming of the Emperor Apovlitos, we were not even a space faring race. How can you refute that simple fact? I think you have fallen for an elaborate hoax, professor.”

“Then how do you explain the same markings on all the gates I have studied? Here in Irenicus and in Garguntun and E687B?” the Charian exclaimed. His desk flickered to life, revealing a massive inlaid screen. He began to swipe a finger over its surface, flicking through picture after picture of the famous gate. Each photo was zoomed in on some mostly ineligible inscriptions, the faded lettering annotated by a flurry of neat handwriting which surrounded them. Seeing that he had the attention of the Gervian, the Charian continued.

“The markings are not on all of them, this is true. However I have found them to be present on the majority of the older gates. The significance is clear; your people were in space far before your history leads you to believe. I am fully aware that at this juncture this is entirely conjecture. However, once this paper is published, the scientific interest in this project will be exceptional as will the funding which is surely to follow such a revelation.”

“Are you sure you have the determination to see this through? Remember that there are those who would wish to silence such suggestions,” Aelius remarked, returning to the desk and looking down at the examples as they flashed by. The evidence before him was startling, but he kept his features carefully neutral. He was quickly coming to the realisation of the Charian’s true addiction. This was one far more dangerous and much more damning than any drug found in Concordium space. What the Charian said next would decide everything.

“Of course! Truth can never be silenced. We stand here on the cusp of understanding something hidden from us all. Doesn’t that excite you?” the Charian replied hastily, breathless now with anticipation. Aelius, however, let his shoulders sag; there was no other recourse. He raised his eyes and locked them on those of the Charian.

“Let’s discuss this project in some more detail. This could be a long night... smokestik?” Aelius finished, fishing into his jacket’s inner pocket and withdrawing two small packets.

The Charian reached out eagerly for what was being offered and Aelius leant in with his lighter in hand. He could already feel his eyes glowing red with anticipation, a warning his victim missed.

“Don’t you know just how dangerous history can be?” Aelius said quietly. He relished the widening of his victim’s eyes as realisation dawned in them. Slowly, almost casually, he let out a long breath, while touching the small ignition button as he did. Air from his lungs mixed with the little flame of the lighter. It increased dramatically in force, becoming a fan of fire which burst directly in the scholar’s face.

The stricken Charian screamed as flames engulfed him and Aelius angled his spray down to the desk, its intensity melting the glass and causing the screen to flicker and die. Aelius stepped away quickly to avoid the growing conflagration. He rushed for the door, slapping the scanner to open it, pausing at the threshold momentarily to look back on the Charian. The professor was already convulsing and Aelius knew he would not last much longer.

“Do not belittle the achievements of the Emperor. May his flame burn forever bright...”

by Gareth Kay