xterra conspiracy - chapter 1

7/29/2019 XTERRA Conspiracy - Chapter 1

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Book One In

Ivis Bo Davis

www.hispubg.com

A division of HISpecialists, llc



The sun had never shone directly in the elegant boardroom, although it was brightly

illuminated during the day by solar radiation. Massive fiberoptic cables attached to objects

d’art, unrecognizable as solar collectors, were mounted in gardens a half kilometer above

and carried the entire healthy range of the broad spectrum of natural light into this

mammoth room, permitting plants to grow and flourish.

It was effectively a massive vault, excavated from solid stone deep under the immense

foundation of the architecturally imposing World Treasury Bank tower. They had learnedwell the lesson taught in New York, when the World Trade Center collapsed after terrorists

destroyed the Twin Towers using commercial aircraft as weapons. If for any reason their

own massive building collapsed, they would be in no danger, whatsoever.

They’d planned for everything. Even nuclear weapons could not penetrate deep enough

to affect this room. The boardroom, opulent apartments, and the elegant office complex that

served them had their own nuclear power generator, filtered air and water supplies, and its

foundation floated on shock-absorbing hydraulic columns.

No one in the building above was even aware that these subterranean offices existed.

An elaborate network of tunnels, carved from native stone deep under the surface of the

Earth, extended for hundreds of kilometers in several directions—and served to provide thecomplex with access, exit, and supply. One such escape tunnel extended far out beneath

the ocean, to a private and ultra-secret submarine depot, where at least one of several large

submersibles was always ready to carry its owners to safety. By every standard, they were

safe. No danger could reach them here.

The opulence of the room was beyond imagining for most of the world’s now eight-point-

five-billion souls. Centered in the floor and carefully crafted from marble and semi-precious

stones was a fantastically beautiful mosaic pentagram in brilliant colors, which served to

reference the pagan god Lucifer. Directly atop it sat a massive, oval teak table made from

the ancient timbers of King Henry the VIII’s royal yacht. It was the first royal European ship

built exclusively from the newly discovered oriental wood. Ten identical high-backed

executive chairs covered in soft oxblood leather surrounded the table. The walls were highly

polished, pure white marble with recessed and lighted alcoves to display art treasures.

Every ten meters along each wall stood a pair of exquisite blue, lapis lazuli columns, footed

and capped with intricately carved, rare transparent quartz containing large veins of visible

wire gold. The white marble ceilings arched up as perfectly as any carefully crafted

cathedral in the world, their green malachite beams artfully inlaid with intricate designs in

pure twenty-four -carat gold. Healthy, living plants strategically placed about the room

managed to give just a perfect hint of casualness to the rich atmosphere.



Superb paintings by the great masters, most considered to have been destroyed in

World Wars I and II and believed to be lost forever by the most knowledgeable of art

experts, casually adorned the walls. Ancient artifacts of gold, silver, and stone—some inlaid

with the most precious of jewels—sat unguarded in their lighted alcoves and within arm’s

reach of those who came to this place. Perfectly preserved treasures and small statuary

from millennia of every major culture were placed about as mere decorations. These

artifacts were of such cultural significance that archeologists all over the world would have

been outraged to see them in this private collection. It bore silent witness to the contempt

that its owners held for the laws they enforced upon everyone of lower social strata.

At the end of this magnificent room, a massive arched doorway led into a private library,

where the greatest treasure on Earth resided. It, too, was perfectly illuminated by indirect

solar radiation. The Amber Room, decorated entirely in intricately carved amber stone and

trimmed in twenty-four -carat gold Russian baroque, was stolen from Pavlovsk, the Summer

Palace of the Russian Czars, in World War II by Adolph Hitler’s Nazi regime. Lost to the

nation of Russia and the world of art, the coveted amber now adorned these perfectly white

marble walls with an ethereal golden glow.

This estuary had been excavated precisely for this purpose. An ancient black marble

bar, pearl and gold inlaid, resided in a near corner of the room, replete with the most costly

of vintage liquors and wines. Comfortable leather furnishings, ancient Russian baroque

antiques, priceless Persian rugs, and yet more ancient statuary completed the decor. Off to

each side of the Amber Room were immense libraries, four meters tall and with each wall

covered floor to arched white marble ceiling with walnut shelving encasing hundreds of

thousands of supple, leather -bound first editions of classic literature. Comfortable seating

was provided around sturdy oak study tables illuminated by fully adjustable spotlights for the

reading comfort of those who (seldom) came here.

Set dead in the center of each of the three connected wings of the library was a massive

circular rostrum populated by a single librarian who knew by name and location each

printed volume available. At their command was a computer terminal connected to the

mainframe system that served the entire complex. These three servants of knowledge (two

extremely comely ladies and one elegantly discreet elderly gentleman ever dressed in a

black tuxedo who presided as master over this treasure) knew how to retrieve at a

moment’s notice any printed work here or anywhere in the world. A subterranean vault

beneath the center section of the Hall of Libraries contained a “print on demand” printer

system that could print and bind a new leather -bound edition of any document or book in

any requested language within five minutes and place it in a specially designed elevator that

would shortly present the new volume to the librarian.

Within the Hall of Libraries, additional elegant doorways led to private computer terminal

rooms where electronic access was instantly available of the national archives of literature,

movies, songs, and entertainment of every nation on Earth. There wasn’t a single

copyrighted work of any type (in addition to a lot of very private material that was not) that

couldn’t be viewed from this place. Other than their tiny staff of utterly dedicated personal

servants, only the Board of Directors of the World Treasury Bank themselves ever entered

here. Frankly, it wasn’t necessary, as the gentlemen of the Board had equal computer

access directly from their elegantly appointed personal apartments.



The boardroom was an awe inspirig church, a cathedral in which the triune gods of

Lucifer, Money, and Power were worshiped. At that particular moment, the high priests of

greed were in session.

“Will the secretary please read the minutes of the last session?” asked Mr. Nathaniel

Black, Chairman of the Board of Directors for the World Treasury Bank. He was a

handsome man with classic, finely chiseled features. Tall, powerfully built and athletic, with

wavy black hair that was slightly graying at the temples, he was impeccably dressed in a

perfectly tailored Armani suit and positioned at the head of the table of these very

distinguished men.

In total, they numbered ten and were the most powerful men in the world. They

controlled the world’s economy, politics, news media, shipping, industry, and military might.

Whatever they wanted, they got. The United Nations, heads of state, and politicians

answered only to them. No one, including U.S. President John F. Kennedy and his brother

Senator Robert F. Kennedy, had seriously opposed them and lived. Yet very few people

actually knew who they were. Fewer still could imagine the awesome power they wielded.

Their purposes and goals were of the utmost secrecy, as were their identities and those of

their families, who would someday inherit this phenomenal power.

For nearly five centuries, the families represented here had cooperatively worked to

establish, maintain, and increase their dictatorial international control. These men, who lived

in absolute social superiority as a birthright, presented themselves to lesser men as utterly

fearless. It wasn’t really true, though. They all shared one and only one fear: the loss of their

anonymity. They operated in utter secrecy; it was their lifeblood. For the people to rise up

against them would be unthinkable, so they clothed themselves in secrecy and placed

expendable proxies in the vulnerable positions of visible power. No king was crowned,

president inaugurated, or war fought without their express prior approval—and they did not

like surprises.

Using weapons of political extortion, bribery, heavy taxation, narcotic drug distribution,

prostitution and pornography, entertainment and news, public education systems, and other

forms of social corruption, they kept virtually every country and individual on Earth in

relative poverty. Only minor politicians and junior military leaders were not on their payroll,

and even they were used to nurture the idea of political liberties that simply did not exist.

Their power was established and maintained with unimaginable riches, so they kept a

close and cautious eye on everyone who accumulated any significant financial wealth,

rightly viewing each as a potential enemy. They brought all such persons under the

umbrella of their control, breaking them or casually and permanently disposing of them. The

Bankers were utterly without opposition. Among themselves, they laughingly referred to

anyone who dared oppose them as the “virtually deceased.”

“Mr. Chairman.”

“The Chair recognizes the Secretary Treasurer.”

The secretary, in this circle referred to as Mr. Beta, stood as tall as possible. He was a

frail man, middle aged and slender, with a brown receding hairline and a slight stoop to his

posture. Indelicately put, years of inbreeding had rendered his genetic heritage with a

predisposition to scoliosis at a young age, and his spine was already irrevocably collapsing,

but his mind was clear and sharp. “At the last meeting, we determined that the time was



optimum to finalize the process of bringing all national militaries under our direct

administration via the U.N. We assigned Mr. Gamma, our Sergeant at Arms, the task of

preparing a report on the progress toward development of a plan and a timetable for its

execution. I request we hear that report from Mr. Gamma.” Mr. Beta spoke with a clear,

refined voice, and having finished, he nodded toward the chairman and returned to his seat.

“Thank you, Mr. Secretary,” the chairman replied quietly. “Mr. Sergeant-at- Arms, what is

your report?”

Mr. Gamma stood to his feet, and in so doing, took a bit of time due to his massive bulk.

He was not fat, but powerfully muscled, and stood a couple centimeters over two meters

tall. He shaved his head bald, and his facial appearance was striking, having the battered

and unsmiling features of a prizefighter. Despite his size, it was his eyes that demanded

one’s attention. They were solid black and glittered with icy malevolence. Although he

laughed often, his eyes never smiled. He was, in fact, even more ruthless than he

appeared. He delighted in his position as the enforcer of the Board’s decisions, and he took

particular pleasure in removing “unprofitable political assets,” a task he often undertook

himself simply for the sheer pleasure of watching them die.

“Mr. Chairman, there are only a few holdouts that have refused to give up their national

militaries—primarily, the U.S., Russia, China, Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Israel, and Columbia.

We developed a plan to bring the world population into unanimous agreement, making the

world safer when all national armies come under our direct control.” With that, a collective

chuckle rippled around the table. Mr. Gamma grinned, his cold pleasure failing to warm the

atmosphere of the boardroom, yet a curious feeling of eager anticipation grew with his

words. “This would happen via the administration of the United Nations,” he continued.

“That plan is now ready for immediate implementation, subject to the approval of the Board.

Are you ready for me to reveal details of the execution stages of our plan?”

“The Chair agrees to hear the details,” smiled the chairman at his massive friend.

Mr. Gamma completed his report and recommended immediate adoption. Without

discussion, the Board unanimously accepted his proposed course of action.

The chairman slammed his gavel, “Is there any new business for the Board’s

consideration?”

“Yes, Mr. Chairman.”

“The Chair recognizes Mr. Epsilon.”

“Mr. Chairman, I wish to discuss the status of one Edward Todd Ward the Second. The

boy’s patents have now earned him one-hundred-thirty-billion credits!” The bald man at the

center of the table stated in a gravelly voice filled with frustrated annoyance. “That

represents a lot of power! Don’t you think it’s time to bring him into the club?”

“No, sir, I do not,” answered the chairman evenly, leveling his gaze at Mr. Epsilon. “He’s

just a kid. Granted, he’s very wealthy, smart, and, therefore, potentially dangerous, but he’s

just a kid. He’s only sixteen, and is a colonist aboard the Ark. The height of his childish

ambition is to be a taxi driver in a space shuttle! He and his little sidekick have been

studying engineering, geology, astrophysics, and astronomy, and taking piloting courses for

years. They will ignorantly serve our interests perfectly. We will use these bright young men

to find, establish, and secure interstellar real estate for the exploitation of our future

generations!”



“Okay, we all agree on that, but what’s the potential that they may choose to interfere

with our colonization policies or directly oppose our plans here on Earth? They have the

funding to create real problems if they so choose.”

“Young Mr. Ward has demonstrated absolutely no interest in politics, little in business,

and none in banking. They represent no threat to us. Besides, they’re leaving Earth on the

Triznov a month from now. His attorney has invested most of his assets in various

manufacturing interests, or in bank accounts that we control. That leaves the Ward kid’s

wealth in our hands. So... he’s not a problem, but I’ll have the SS keep tabs on him in the

interim, just to make certain.”

“I still don’t trust the smart little brat,” growled the bald man. “I’d feel a lot better if he

were a member of the Order so we would have direct control of him.”

“Although Mr. Ward seems to demonstrate significant leadership ability, he apparently

doesn’t have either the character or interest to wield real power, so he wouldn’t be an

excellent candidate, and since he’s leaving soon on the starship, we don’t have time to

groom him. He’s become something of a cult hero to the world of young people, and that

makes him very visible. Since he’s made his intentions to emigrate public, we can’t just

snatch him off the colonist list or make him disappear without generating a lot of adverse

publicity. There’s no advantage in forcing him to remain here for political indoctrination.

Therefore, we’ll just keep an eye on him. Only one more month and he’s gone. Get serious.

What could even a very rich teenager do in that time that could upset the established order?

Is everyone agreed on this?”

Ten heads nodded silently, one of them grudgingly, and they moved on to the next order

of business. They had the entire future of humanity to plan, and one rich kid who wanted to

be a shuttle pilot just wasn’t worth the use of their time. Just the same, the chairman

discretely wrote his name on his scratch pad. He’d look into Todd’s business very carefully...

just to make sure.

What no one in the Order’s boardroom knew was that Todd had been a member of the

Internet Security Research Programming Team at the University of Colorado, the

developers of SEC-NET—the network security software the Board used to secure their

computers. Interestingly, Todd’s name had somehow mysteriously vanished from all

development team rolls. SEC-NET was deemed so secure that in less than two years it had

become the de facto network security standard and was deployed by nearly every

government agency and company in the world, including the corporate computer systems of the World Treasury Bank and its director’s personal computer systems.

Todd had carefully included in the program several very tiny, very sophisticated, and

very undocumented pieces of code that gave him a variety of powerful software tools useful

as “back doors” or ”invisible moles” into the program. They allowed him access to look at or

even change the World Treasury Bank’s secure data... if he really wanted to. Worse, he

could have examined every secret document and file on their computers and even

accessed their corporate and private security cameras—all without leaving a trace he was

ever there. It was a very good thing that Todd knew little of the Board’s existence... and an



even better thing that they knew nothing about the power Todd held over their computer

systems. Had he known of their power, he might have been tempted to take a peek. Had

they caught him peeking, their displeasure would quickly cost him his life.

The secure phone rang only once. The quiet man picked up the receiver, and the perfect

diamond in his elaborate platinum ring sparkled brightly. “Yes?”

“I want updated records on Edward Todd Ward the Second and his friend Randolph

Daniel Long. I’m particularly interested in their financials, political views and contributions,

money transfers, Internet access history, and e-mail. See if they’re up to anything. If so, I

want a full detailed investigation. If not, send me your initial report and keep a close eye on

them. I want the reports on my computer by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir. Are we looking for something in particular?”

“Nothing specific. He’s just accumulated a lot of financial power, and I want to see if he’sbuying any political assets or leveraging it in any other way.”

“Yes, sir. How deep do you want me to go?”

“All the way.”

“You’ll have the preliminary data on your computer by midnight.”

With a staccato “click,” the instrument went dead in his hand. The diamond sparkled

brightly as he dropped the receiver into its cradle. He turned to his computer. He would put

his best researcher on it… she’d have a busy night.

It was 16:30 and nearly time to leave for home when a Priority One assignment began

flashing on her computer. Sandra didn’t frown at the unplanned interruption of her private

plans, but using her right pinky she pulled her lustrous black hair back with a flourish and

tucked it neatly behind her ear for a better view of her screen.

She was utterly dedicated to her job, believing without reservation that the U.N.—and,

specifically, the SS or Secret Service—was the guardian angel of all humanity. She worked

tirelessly around the clock to enforce the laws that she believed ensured the safety of every

man, woman, and child on the planet. Among her career accomplishments, she’d

successfully broken an unauthorized terrorist cell in Bolivia and an unlicensed cocaine

cartel in Mexico. She’d also uncovered, prosecuted, and disbanded a politically subversiveChristian church denomination based in Iowa; and had identified and prosecuted hundreds

of individuals with anti-U.N. sentiment. In every case, these actions had resulted in the

imprisonment of the people and confiscation of their financial assets. She considered

anyone who opposed or even questioned the purposes of the United Nations a threat.

Because of her successes, Sandra was a greatly valued and highly decorated SS agent.

She was rewarded with a lavish commission on the value of all financial assets recovered,

which were, of course, tax exempt for the first year. Sandra was now quite wealthy in her

own right, but a few mere millions of universal credits wasn’t enough for her lavish lifestyle.



Her eyes flashed with greed as she read her new assignment. She was tasked to

investigate Edward Todd Ward the Second and Randolph Daniel Long, who were both

successful young businessmen. Her orders were to do a thorough investigation of their

backgrounds, associates, and financials, especially recent transactions. Without question,

this investigation was going to be a lot of work. She smiled at the financial prospects and

settled comfortably back into her chair. A thorough, preliminary report was required by

midnight. No problem. She didn’t have to call home—there was no one waiting for her, and

the auto feeder would take care of the Dobermans.

Sandra pulled up their current files and began to read. She licked her lips and smiled.

Their combined net worth was a hundred-thirty-five-billion credits, and increasing by more

than fourteen-million a day! She would do a very thorough investigation. If these kids were

doing or had done something, she was going to become very, very wealthy... nothing would

escape her attention!

xterra conspiracy - chapter 1

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