Danilo Clementoni
Back To Earth

Nasiriyya – The dinner

The colonel and Elisa were already draining their third glass of champagne, and the atmosphere between them had become decidedly less formal.

“I must say, Jack, this Masgouf is divine. I won’t be able to finish it. It’s huge.”

“Yes. It’s truly wonderful. We should send our compliments to the chef.”

“Maybe I should marry him so he can cook for me,” said Elisa, laughing a little too excessively. The alcohol was already beginning to take effect.

“No. He will have to wait in line. I was first.” He risked making this joke, hoping it would not be too inappropriate. Elisa pretended not to notice and continued to nibble at her sturgeon.

“Are you really not married?”

“No. I’ve never had the time for that.”

“That’s an old excuse,” she said, giving him a sly look.

“Well actually, I came very close once, but the military life doesn’t work too well with marriage. And you?” he added, changing a subject that was still painful to him. “Have you ever been married?”

“Are you joking? And who would put up with a woman who spends most of her time going around the world digging underground like a mole and enjoys desecrating thousands of year old tombs?”

“I see,” said Jack, smiling bitterly. “You’re obviously not cut out for marriage.” And raising a glass, he offered a melancholy “To us.”

The waiter arrived with a few more Samoons¹³ fresh from the oven, which fortunately interrupted that moment of sadness.

Grateful for this interruption, Jack tried to quickly banish a series of memories that had suddenly come into his mind. It was water under the bridge. Right now he had a beautiful woman sitting with him and he had to pay attention to her. This was not proving too difficult.

The gentle background music around them was just right. In the light of the three candles positioned at the centre of the table, Elisa looked wonderful. Her hair had gold and copper highlights, and her smooth skin was bronzed by the sun. Her penetrating eyes were of the deepest green. Using her soft lips, she was trying to pull a piece of sturgeon off the bone that she was holding between her fingers. So sexy.

Elisa was certainly not going to let the colonel’s moment of weakness go by. She placed the bone on the edge of her plate, and sucked the juice from her thumb and fingers with apparent nonchalance. Lowering her head, she gazed at him so intensely that Jack feared that his heart would leap out of his chest and land on his plate.

Realising that he was no longer in control of the situation, the colonel tried to pull himself together. He was much too old to behave like a lovesick school boy, but there was something about her that he found irresistibly attractive.

Taking a deep breath, he wiped his face with his hands and tried to say “Do you think we can finish this last piece?”

She smiled, gently took the last morsel of sturgeon and, leaning forward in her seat, moved it towards his mouth. In that position, the neckline of her dress fell away slightly, revealing her generous breasts. Jack, visibly embarrassed, took only a bite. He did not, however, manage to avoid her touching his lips with her fingers. He felt a growing sense of excitement. Elisa was playing with him like a cat with a mouse, and Jack was unable to defend himself.

Then, with the air of an innocent girl, she sat back in her chair as though nothing had happened and signalled to the tall, thin waiter, who arrived promptly.

“I think it’s time for some nice cardamom tea. What do you say, Jack?”

Still recovering from the previous incident, he stammered something like “Er, yes. Okay...” Straightening his jacket, he tried to adopt a more casual tone, adding “I believe it’s great for the digestion.”

He realised he had said something ridiculous, but at that time nothing else came to mind.

“This is all very pleasant, Jack. It’s been a lovely evening. But we mustn't forget the reason for our meeting tonight. There's something I have to show you, remember?”

In that moment, the Colonel was thinking of anything but work. She was right, however. There were more important things at stake than a foolish flirtation. The truth was that, to him, the flirting did not seem foolish.

“Sure,” he replied, trying to recover his authoritative expression. “I can’t wait to find out what you've discovered.”

At this point, the fat man in the nearby car, who was listening to everything, shouted “What a bitch!” Women are all the same. First they make you feel like they're going to take you to the moon, then they drop you as though nothing had happened.”

“I think your ten dollars will soon be lining my pockets,” said the thinner guy, following up his comment with a hearty laugh.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t give a damn who gets into bed with the professor. Don’t forget that we’re only here to find out what she knows.” While he was trying to find a more comfortable position in his seat because his back was beginning to ache, he added, “We should have found a way to place a camera inside that damn restaurant.”

“Yes, under the table, even. That way we’d have got a good look at her thighs.”

“Idiot. Which asshole picked you for this mission?”

“The boss, my friend. And I advise you not to insult him. He knows about bugging devices and he may even have bugged this car.”

The big man winced. For a moment he thought his heart had stopped beating. He was looking to build a career, and insulting his immediate superior was not exactly the way to get ahead.

“Stop talking bullshit,” he said, trying to sound serious and professional. “Just think about getting on with the job, and let’s get back to base with something concrete.” As he was saying this he was staring at a point in the night darkness, not well-defined through the slightly steamed up windscreen.

Elisa removed her beloved computer from her bag. Placing it on the table she began to scroll through the photos. The colonel, whose curiosity was aroused, tried to focus on something, but the angles did not allow it. Having found what she was looking for, she got up and moved to the seat next to him.

“Now,” she began. “Make yourself comfortable. It’s a long story. I’ll try to summarise as much as possible.”

Scrolling rapidly down the screen of her computer, she found a picture of a tablet engraved with strange drawings and cuneiform writings.

“This is a photograph of one of the tablets found in the tomb of King Baldwin II of Jerusalem,” Elisa went on. “He is thought to have been the first to open the Cave of Macpela, also known as the Cave of the Patriarchs, in 1119. This is where Abraham and his sons Isaac and Jacob are believed to be buried. These underground tombs were found beneath what today is called the Mosque, or the Sanctuary of Abraham in Hebron on the West Bank.” At this point, she showed him a picture of the mosque.

“Inside these tombs, in addition to many other things, the king found a set of tablets that would have belonged to Abraham. It’s even believed to represent some kind of diary that he kept, where he recorded some of the most significant events in his life.”

“His travel notes,” Jack suggested, hoping to make a favourable impression.

“In one way, yes. For someone of that period of history he wrote a lot down while he was travelling.”

She scrolled to another photo and continued to explain. The greatest experts on the language and graphical representation of the time have tried to translate what has been recorded on this tablet. Obviously, opinion is divided in some respects, but everyone agrees that this,” she continued, enlarging a detail on the photo, “may be interpreted as ‘vessel’ or ‘amphora of the gods’.” Then there are the words ‘burial’, ‘secret’ and ‘protection’, which are also quite clear.”

Jack was beginning to feel a little confused, but he kept nodding his head to convince Elisa that he had understood perfectly. She looked at him for an instant, then continued. “This symbol, on the other hand,” she said, adjusting the screen to make the image as clear as possible, “would, according to some, represent a tomb, and the tomb of a god. Whereas this part probably describes one of the gods warning or even threatening the people gathered around him.”

The colonel, partly due to the alcohol and partly due to the intoxicating perfume emanating from Elisa, and perhaps partly due to his being lost in her eyes, was no longer following what she was saying. In spite of this, he went on nodding, as if all was clear.

“To put it simply,” said Elisa, who had noticed that Jack was becoming ever more perplexed, “experts have interpreted the contents of this tablet as being a depiction of an event confirmed as having occurred during the time of Abraham, in which the alleged god, or broadly-speaking gods, would have hidden or buried it near one of their tombs. It was something very valuable, at least to them.”

“That seems like a bit of a leap of logic,” Jack began, trying to have some say in this matter. “Saying that something valuable was buried near the tomb of the gods. It’s not as though they provided GPS coordinates. It could refer to almost anything, anywhere.”

“You're right, but all inscriptions, especially those dating from so long ago, have to go through a process of interpretation and contextualisation. That’s what the experts are there for. And I’m one of them, by the way.” As she said this, she pretended to be a model posing in front of paparazzi cameras.

“Ok, ok. I know how clever you are. But right now, try to make this clear to us mere mortals.”

“Essentially,” Elisa continued once she had composed herself, “having analysed and compared all kinds of historical finds, including facts, legends, rumours, and so on and so forth, the consensus of the greatest minds in the world is that there is an element of truth in this reconstruction. On this basis, they unleashed archaeologists from all over the world to search for this mysterious object.”

“But where does ELSAD fit into all this?” The colonel was beginning to regain his cerebral function. “What they told me was that this research was aimed at recovering some imaginary alien artefacts.”

“And maybe that’s exactly how it is,” replied Elisa. “It’s now widely believed that these ‘gods’, who in ancient times were wandering around Earth, were none other than humanoids from a planet outside our solar system. Because of their technological superiority, particularly in medicine and science, it’s quite possible that they were mistaken for deities capable of performing miracles.”

“I see,” interrupted Jack. “If I appeared in front of a tribe in the middle of the Amazon in an Apache combat helicopter and started launching missiles, even I could be mistaken for an angry god.”

“This is precisely the effect that they would have had on the people of that time. There are some who even believe that it was these aliens who implanted a seed of intelligence into Homo Erectus, thus transforming them, in just a few tens of thousands of years, into those we now call Homo sapiens sapiens.”

Elisa looked carefully at the colonel, whose expression was one of astonishment, and decided to sink a low blow. “To tell the truth, as the person in charge of this mission, I’d have thought you’d be better informed.”

“I'd have thought so too,” Jack blurted out. “Obviously, those in authority follow a ‘less said the better’ philosophy.” Anger was beginning to take the place of his former schmaltz.

Sensing this, Elisa placed her computer on the table and brought her face so close to the Colonel's that for a moment he held his breath, thinking that she even wanted to kiss him. “Now for the best part,” she said.

Returning to her seat with a swift movement, she showed him another photograph. "While everyone’s been throwing themselves into the search for this notorious ‘Tomb of the gods’, by going off to rummage through the Egyptian pyramids, the tombs of the gods par excellence, I’ve been formulating a different interpretation of what’s engraved on the tablet, which I believe is the correct one. Look at this,” she said, complacently showing him an image that depicted the text according to her own interpretation.

The two cronies listening to the conversation of the diners would have given anything to be able to see the photos being shown to the Colonel.

“Damn!” cried the larger one. “We have to get our hands on that handheld device.”

“Let’s hope that at least one of them reads it out loud,” replied his thinner companion.

“Let’s hope that this ‘romantic dinner’ is over soon. I’m sick of sitting outside in the dark, and what’s more, I’m starving.”

“Starving? What d’you mean? You’ve just eaten my share of the sandwiches.”

“Not all of it, my friend. There’s one left and I intend to gobble it up.” Smugly, he turned to remove it from a bag on the rear seat. In turning, however, his knee hit against the power button on the recording system, which gave out a faint beep and died out.

“You clumsy idiot! Are you trying to attract attention?” The thin guy hastened to switch the instrument back on. “Now I’ll have to restart the system and that will take at least a minute. Just pray that they’re not saying anything important, otherwise this time I’ll kick your fat ass to the Persian Gulf!”

“Sorry,” said the fat guy in a quiet voice. “I think it’s time you went on a diet.”

“The gods buried the vessel with precious contents to the south of the temple, ordering the people to stay away from it until they returned, for fear that some terrible calamity would otherwise befall all nations. Four blazing guardians were stationed there to protect the site.

“This is how I translate it,” said Elisa proudly. “In my opinion, the correct name for it is not ‘tomb’ but ‘temple’, and the Ziqqurat of Ur, where my research was carried out, is none other than a temple erected for the gods. There are certainly a number of Ziqqurat in this area, but none of them are this close to the house belonging to the person who, presumably, was the one who inscribed the tablets: dear old Abraham.”

“Very interesting.” The Colonel was scrutinising the text. “The place that everyone has identified as the ‘House of Abraham’ is only a few hundred metres from the temple.”

“Also,” Elisa continued, “if these beings really were aliens, imagine how interesting this ‘vessel’ could be to the military. Perhaps even more so than the ‘precious contents’.”

Jack was pensive for a moment, then he replied, “that’s the reason for all this interest on the part of ELSAD. The buried vessel might be much more than a simple earthenware container.”

“Well done. And now for the moment of truth,” cried Elisa theatrically. “Ladies and gentlemen, I now present what I found this morning.”

She touched the screen and a new photo appeared on the device. “But it’s the same symbol as the one on the tablet,” exclaimed Jack.

“Exactly. But I only shot this photo today,” replied Elisa, feeling pleased with herself. “Apparently, Abraham used the same symbol to represent the ‘gods’ as the Sumerians had already used: a star with twelve planets around it, and, incidentally, it’s the same as the one I found engraved on the cover of the ‘container’ that we are in the process of unearthing.

“That might not mean anything,” remarked Jack. “Maybe it's just a coincidence. That symbol could have hundreds of meanings.”

“You think so? How about this one? What do you think it is?” she asked, showing him the last photo. “We took this from the outside of the container, using our portable X ray equipment.”

All Jack could do was stare in amazement, his eyes wide open.

Theos spacecraft – Data analysis

Petri was still absorbed in his analysis of the probe when Azakis returned to the bridge. “They said they’ll get back to us,” he said.

“Which means they’re going to discuss it amongst themselves,” remarked Petri bitterly.

“More or less what we expected, eh?” replied Azakis, patting his companion on the back. “So what can you tell me about this hunk of metal?”

“Apart from the fact that there is very little of the hull that hasn’t had the paint scratched off, I can assure you that no message has been sent from our three-bladed friend. The probe seems to have been designed for the sole purpose of studying celestial bodies. A kind of lone space traveller, recording data and transmitting it periodically back to base.” He pointed out some details of the antenna in the hologram that hovered in the room.

“We probably flew by too quickly for it to record our presence,” ventured Azakis.

“Not only that, old friend. Its on-board instruments are programmed to analyse objects at distances of hundreds of thousands of kilometres. We passed so close that, had we not been in a vacuum, our slip stream would have left it spinning like a top.”

“And now that we’re further away, do you think it might reveal our presence?”

“I really don't think so. We’re much too small and quick to be of any interest to them.”

“Good,” said Azakis. “At last we have some good news.”

“I tried to analyse the data transmission method on the probe,” continued Petri. “It doesn’t seem to be equipped with ‘light vortex’ technology like ours. It’s still using an old frequency modulation system.”

“Isn't that the one used by our predecessors before the Great Revolution¹⁴ ?” asked Azakis.

“Exactly. It wasn’t too efficient, but for a long time it enabled us to exchange information throughout the entire planet, and it definitely helped us get to where we are now. "

Azakis sat down in the command chair, chewing his finger in a moment of reflection, then he said “if this is the communication system currently in use, maybe we could also pick up some transmission of theirs.”

“Are you hoping to see what porn films they’re making?” joked Petri, sticking his tongue out to the left of his mouth.

“Cut out the bullshit. Instead, why not try and adapt our secondary communication system to this technology? I want to be as well-prepared as possible when we get there.”

“I understand. I expect I’ll have to spend several hours in that cramped compartment.”

“What about getting something to eat first?” suggested Azakis, anticipating his friend’s next question, which, he imagined, would have followed soon after.

“That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say today,” replied Petri. “All this excitement has given me an appetite.”

“Okay We’ll take a break, but it’s my turn to decide what we have. That Nebir liver you chose yesterday got stuck in my poor stomach so long that it seemed to be taking root.”

Ten minutes later, while the two travelling companions were still busy consuming their meal, a young engineer in the NASA Mission Control room on Earth was picking up a strange alteration in the course of the probe he was monitoring.

“Sir,” he said into the microphone attached to his headset, which hung a few centimetres from his mouth. “I think we may have a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” the engineer in charge of the mission asked anxiously.

“For some unknown reason Juno has suddenly shifted slightly off its set course.

“Shifted?” By how much? Due to what?” Already he was feeling a cold sweat. The cost of this mission was exorbitant. Nothing should be going wrong.

“I’m analysing the data right now. The telemetry is indicating a deviation of 0.01 degrees with no apparent explanation. Everything seems to be functioning normally.”

“It could have run into a rock fragment,” ventured the older engineer. “It's not actually that far from the asteroid belt.”

“Juno is pretty much in Jupiter’s orbit now, and there shouldn’t be any,” said his younger colleague, tentatively.

“So what’s happened then? There must have been some kind of malfunction.” After a few moments of reflection, he said, “I want a couple of checks run on all on-board instruments. I want the results on my computer in five minutes,” he ordered, closing communication.

The young engineer was suddenly aware of how much responsibility he had been given. He noticed his own hands trembling, but chose to ignore them. With the help of a colleague, he carried out a differentiated check-up on the probe, keeping his fingers crossed. The computer began to run the programme controls sequentially, and within a few minutes the results of the analysis appeared on the screen.

Check-up complete. All instruments operational.

“Everything seems fine,” remarked his colleague.

“So what the devil happened? If we don’t find anything in the next two minutes, the chief will have both our asses.” Feverishly he began typing commands into the keyboard in front of him.

Nothing. Everything was working perfectly.

He absolutely had to come up with something and fast. He began to drum on the desk with his fingers. He continued for about ten seconds, then decided to resort to the first unwritten rule of the workplace conduct manual: never contradict the boss.

Switching on the microphone, he said “Chief, you were right. It was a small Trojan asteroid that sent the probe off course. Luckily, it wasn't a direct hit. It just passed close by. Evidently, the asteroid exerted a small gravitational attraction on Juno, making it alter its course slightly. I’m sending you the data now,” he said, holding his breath.

After an interminable length of time, the proud voice of his superior reached his headset. “I was sure of it. My dear boy, you can’t out-do the instincts of an old salt.” Then he added, “Try to activate the engines on the probe and correct its course. I won’t accept any errors.” So saying, he switched off. A moment later, he came back, adding “Nice work, son.”

The young engineer noticed that the blood had begun to flow around his body once again His heart was beating so hard that he could hear his pulse in his ears. After all, this could actually have been the correct explanation. Turning towards his colleague, he gave him the thumbs up. The other relaxed, and winked at him. They were in the clear, at least for the time being.