Mesopotamia - The Redeemer Read Free

less Gnostic. Thus
he was able to have a sincere relationship, devoid of the hypocrisy
and cruelty that were the norm at the Gnostic compound.
    The sun tilted toward the horizon
and he prepared for the long jog back to the Uruk compound. Smoke
poured Spot more water into the makeshift dish before returning it
to his pack and lowering the cup back into the cistern. He began to
run toward the compound, Spot skipping by his side with his lanky
legs and large steps. They ran together until the red boulder,
which Spot knew marked the point where he must bid farewell to his
companion and return to his pack.
     
     

CHAPTER 2

    D ozens of
aircrafts dozed in the hold of the father ship like tiny scorpions
in the mother's body before spawning. On the deck of the ship,
which was the size of a small city, the elite pilots completed
their last preparations, sat in their cockpits and anxiously
awaited their orders.
    They had waited many long months in
anticipation of this moment. Although no real battle would be
waged, this ceremonial exercise would determine each of their ranks
in the Gnostic hierarchy, headed by their commander, Truth. Their
muscles were taut and their breath was quick, their entire bodies
poised like a spring in anticipation of takeoff. Everything was
conducted in utter silence.
    Smoke scanned the instruments with
his coal-black eyes. He shook himself and attempted to settle his
gaunt frame into the pilot's seat. For the thousandth time, he
mentally reviewed the procedure he had planned. The knuckles of his
long, delicate and tanned fingers blanched as he grasped the
controls. He was Truth's favorite cadet. Everyone would be very
surprised if his chief rival Flash would succeed in defeating
him.
    A split second after the green
light lit up on the display before him, Smoke was thrust against
the back of the seat with overwhelming force. The acceleration
eased after a few seconds as gravity disappeared. He leaned back in
his seat and tilted the aircraft to the right to join the other
pilots in a formation that advanced in a winding twisting motion,
as if following a twisted thread.
    Truth's gaze passed several times
over each of the displays that projected what each pilot saw. Data
detailing the vessel's location, speed, ammunition levels and
system functions flitted across the bottom of the screen. He
studied the data displayed by Smoke's aircraft with special
intensity. With a deep breath, he removed the audio-visual device
that had been hanging from his ear, closed his brown eyes and
rubbed his hands over his cheeks, eyelids and temples, then back
over his cropped graying hair. The ship's father, commander in
chief of the Gnostic warriors in Uruk, was about forty five years
old, roughly twenty years Smoke's senior. His Semitic origins were
apparent: round eyes, hazelnut colored skin, fleshy lips and a
bulbous nose. His body was that of a warrior, solid like a case of
ammunition, clothed in a tight black plastic suit covered in thin
armored plates made of gleaming titanium. He knew that despite the
Gnostics' yearning for death, they must not die unless in the
service of a Gnostic mission.
    In addition to the opportunity to
demonstrate their prowess at attacking, defending and evading, each
of the pilots participating in the ceremonial exercise reserved the
right to die in an accident and his soul would still be included in
the pleroma: his would be considered a martyr's death and his soul
would forever reside in the pleroma in the company of Gods—he would
join the aeons, exactly as if it had been a real battle—from which
none of the Gnostics could save him. During the ceremonial Walk
Along the Abyss, which was conducted during childhood, the guides
abstained from rescuing those children who slipped, rolled or
plummeted to their deaths. Truth had already lost many of his
pilots and warriors to the pleroma during the course of his
position as commander. He too longed for the day when death would
come to him, but