by Platt, Sean
Heads shook. Lila wiped her eyes. Peers stared at his feet.
“Please, then. Return to your rooms. All is well. We’ll summon you in the morning.”
But nobody moved.
“Really, it will be fine. We will handle what needs handling.”
Still, nobody moved.
“Very well.” Kamal sighed, tapped his device again, then extended a hand toward the great room. “I suppose we’ll have midnight tea while we wait.”
Lila wrenched herself from Meyer’s embrace and pushed back through the knot of people, past Cameron and Charlie. Piper watched a flash of motion beyond, then Charlie staggered back a step, now struck by Lila from the other side as if she were a pinball and he was a rebounder.
There were six Titans outside the room, blocking the hallway.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mara Jabari put a hand on Cameron’s shoulder. It was almost sensuous, not like the annoying tap of someone mining his attention. He turned to see her perfectly smooth dark skin and exotic facial features then watched her slowly nod and purse her lips, putting one finger of the other hand in front of them.
Cameron nodded to acknowledge her request for quiet then tipped his head toward Piper and Lila, who’d finally fallen asleep — collapsed from nerves and exhaustion.
What about them?
Jabari’s nod was equally simple, but Cameron heard her oath as if spoken: They will be fine.
It was a meaningless assurance, seeing as Cameron was easily as emotionally threadbare as Lila and Piper and only awake due to adrenaline and a sense of duty: If the girls must sleep, he must stay on guard. They were all in a strange place under decidedly strange circumstances, and Cameron trusted nothing. Ember Flats wasn’t the bloody, chaotic dictatorship they’d all been led to believe it would be, and Mara Jabari wasn’t the dictator portrayed. Even Peers had stories of the woman standing above him, and only providence or uncertainty seemed to have kept him from finding something sharp to slit her throat. But then again, he didn’t entirely trust Peers, either.
Of all the people Cameron shouldn’t believe about who’d be fine under which circumstances, the Ember Flats viceroy was top of the list. But something in Jabari’s soft brown eyes swayed him. He did believe her even if he shouldn’t. And though he’d never admit it to anyone, her simple touch was reassuring in a way nothing else could have been. The woman had elegantly managed this fucked-up situation. Clara had been gone for hours, now certifiably missing. And yet Jabari’s hand on Cameron’s shoulder said, Clara will be fine. They will be fine. You will be fine. All of it, Cameron, will be fine.
He looked up at her before finally rising, reminding himself that even if circumstances had changed with much time passed, this was a woman his father had admired. A prodigy. She’d studied the Astrals, same as Benjamin had, and Peers at his London institute. She claimed to be on their side. It was probably folly to believe her — but honestly, was believing Jabari any worse than any other option?
Cameron stood and followed the viceroy, leaving Lila and Piper slouched in their side-by-side easy chairs by the cool fire, their hands on adjacent armrests, fingers touching. His eyes found the clock. It was after 5 a.m., and he’d barely slept.
The palace was graveyard quiet. Jabari’s feet were bare, and she made no sound on the plush rugs or hard wood. Cameron was in socks, padding behind, feeling chronically underdressed next to the elegant viceroy.
They entered a medium-sized room with a desk. Jabari closed the door. Kindred and Meyer were already seated in enormous plush chairs that made even the large men appear small.
With the door shut, Jabari sat behind the big, dark-wood desk and spoke in her normal voice. It took several words before Cameron’s ears adjusted to what sounded like sacrilegious volume in the early hours.
“I’m very sorry. I’d have come to you earlier, but Kamal decided to let me sleep. With the State of the City address coming up, I’ve been too thin. He promised that the situation was handled and that my presence would have added nothing. But I’m sorry nonetheless. We should have spoken hours ago.”
Cameron looked at Kindred and Meyer. They seemed less disoriented than Cameron felt, but not by much. This wasn’t like last time, when she’d spoken to the pair at length before summoning anyone to join them. But they both looked beyond exhausted. They acted half-Astral sometimes, and Kindred often struck Cameron as void of emotion — not because he’d once been a Titan but because that’s how Meyer Dempsey, according to Piper, had always been. Without two years of wrenching captivity, the real Meyer would probably have still been the same way.
“Spoken about what?” Cameron asked.
Jabari’s eyes flicked around the room. She seemed to be deciding whether to speak frankly. Cameron noticed a shimmer when he followed her gaze then spied the privacy jammer already idling on the desktop.
“I’m concerned about Clara’s disappearance.”
“We are, too,” said Meyer.
And Kindred added, “Obviously.”
“It’s more than what you’re probably thinking. Kamal told me that guards have searched the house, and the grounds, though I can’t imagine how she’d have slipped out considering there are sensors on all the windows and guards at every door. I know he’s told you there was one left unattended by mistake, during a shift change.”
“He said she may have been waiting and watching then run out into the city after they left,” Cameron said.
“It isn’t the truth,” Jabari said.
Meyer sat up. “What? Then why would he say it?”
“Because you needed an answer. Lila needed an answer. Even if Clara wasn’t found right away, she had to have some idea of where the girl might have gone. But we know she didn’t leave the house, or the grounds.”
“Because of surveillance?”
“No,” Jabari said. “Because there are only so many ways out, and they were guarded at all times, completely accounted for. There are motion-sensing lights across the grounds, and none were triggered. Surveillance is suspiciously out. We have no record, and nobody has any answers.”
“Then we’ll go to wherever the videos are recorded,” Meyer said. “We’ll check them even if we have to copy the raw logs over and watch them on a tablet, one at a time. How many cameras are there? I know it will take forever, but …”
Jabari sighed. “That’s just it. There are no cameras. Only the tiny droids used by the Astrals, and I suspect the Astrals themselves.”
“‘Suspect’?” said Cameron.
“Ember Flats has an excellent facade. It seems like a place of harmony, and for the most part, it is. We do work hand in hand with the Astrals. The new monoliths, the terraforming and irrigation, even our Apex — all handled cooperatively. Everything but our government buildings, which they allowed us to construct ourselves, either to establish trust (proving they don’t want to peer over our shoulders into delicate affairs) or because they want to create the illusion that we remain in control. They let us have our government, and they stay out of it. But there are some matters they do not let us handle, and their position is absolute. Surveillance is one of those matters. Kamal and his people are usually able to operate everything fine despite not being entirely sure how it works or where their eyes are watching. So no, we don’t know what replaces the cameras, but Kamal has theories, and he says it seems almost like experience and memory — of the Titans, of our few Reptar guards, or maybe of those like you, Kindred, who’ve been transformed.”
Meyer shifted in his seat. The topic of why he’d been replaced by a Titan while Jabari hadn’t didn’t seem to sit well with him, but so far he’d said nothing.
“Any of this ringing true for you?” Cameron asked Kindred.
“I don’t know. I only get a feeling, but it makes sense.”
“And your combined mind? The two of you working together?”
“It’s not a question we’ve asked,” Meyer answered, his arms crossed and eyes hard.
Jabari waited for the Meyers to say more. When nothing came, she continued.
“Now the system isn’t responding. It’s like trying to access a computer with a missing hard drive. Kamal can’t tell me more. I only know we have access to nothing. The house has gone dark, and we have no record of anything Clara may have done or where she might have gone. I’m sorry. But she could be anywhere.”
“You said she didn’t leave the house,” Cameron said.
Jabari nodded.
“So …”
“There are tunnels. They connect each of the buildings in our government center. These tunnels aren’t secret; you’ve seen their entrances on our tour. But it’s curious about the tunnels, and these buildings in general: I don’t know exactly who built them, how, or when.”
“You said humans built them,” Cameron said.
“Yes. But which humans? And when? I came to Ember Flats immediately, same as I understand you went to Vail, Meyer. I felt the same pull. Back then, it was Giza. Nothing but desert. Lawless. The only people who came — and more all the time — were apocalyptic types, appropriate given that the end times seemed to have arrived. The first year was hard. The first occupants required a firm hand. An iron fist, perhaps. And what your friend Peers describes having experienced was, I’m afraid, not terribly uncommon. I moved around a lot back then. I think the Astrals kept me in motion. Sometimes I wonder if they were deciding whether to abduct me or not then create a clone — no disrespect intended.”
“None taken,” said Kindred.
“Why didn’t they clone you?” Cameron asked.
“I don’t know. As far as I can tell from meeting each in person, the other seven viceroys are all copies. There are subtle ways to tell, having to do with the way their memories handle emotion. I’m the only one they allow to assume the position as a human.”
She took a breath, glanced out the window, and continued.
“By the time I was finally returned here, to the city’s center, the buildings had been erected, including the tunnels. But you hear things inside them. The echoes are a bit off. It makes me feel like there must be hidden branches.”
“Why? The Astrals can move about wherever they want. They have their ships.”
Jabari looked at Cameron.
“Cameron. Your necklace?”
Cameron looked down. The coin and its lanyard were under his shirt, and even the lump was hard to see. “What about it?”
“Would you mind telling me where you got it?”
Cameron looked at the Meyers. There wasn’t a reason not to tell her given that Jabari’s pointed way of asking suggested she somehow already knew. Still he hesitated.
“Then may I guess?”
“Go ahead.”
“Here. In Giza. From one of the pyramids. If my orientation is right, it’s that one right there.” She pointed, and Cameron could just make out the monolith’s sloping side in the city’s light.
“My father gave it to me. We were … exploring.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“A coin?”
“It’s called a mau, after the ancient Egyptian word for cat. If you hold it up so the square cut in the middle is like a diamond, it looks a little like a cat’s eye.”
That sounded familiar; Cameron seemed to recall his father looking it up after their return to the States. But that had been the beginning of the end between father and son, and ancient objects hadn’t mattered much to Cameron at the time.
“But they’re not Egyptian. They were used — though nobody’s sure what for — by a sect called the Mullah.”
Cameron felt a chill. He looked at Meyer and Kindred, who seemed equally surprised.
“As you know, we had a strong alien focus at the da Vinci Initiate. It’s fascinating to look back through the historical record and see that the times between alien epochs didn’t resemble invasions. It’s obviously impossible to know how it happened thousands of years ago, but we’ve always imagined it as arrival instead.”
“It was an invasion this time around,” Cameron said.
“Maybe. But maybe not. I have theories about that, too, but if you remember, all the panic in the first months came from humans reacting to the approaching ships and then taking up stations. Eventually they began their abductions, and narrowing the field to people like me and Meyer: the Nine. They destroyed Moscow, and the shuttles caused a lot of smaller destruction. But I don’t think that was them ‘invading.’ I think they expected something different, and what they found surprised them. They had to adjust on the fly.”
Cameron thought of his long-ago trip to Heaven’s Veil. About the shuttles and BB devices responding to wires carrying bandwidth for the Internet.
“Still,” Jabari went on. “An arrival required different steps, taken in advance, than an invasion. Invasions are about brute force and do not require more preparation than loading weapons and massing troops. It was our theory, at the Initiate, that the way was always paved. Earth had previously prepared for their arrival in advance.”
“What does this have to do with my …” He touched his upper chest, felt the bump there. “My necklace?”
“Do you mind if I ask when you got your mau?”
Cameron shrugged. “Twenty-ish years ago?”
“There was a cave-in about that time. We’ve excavated a chamber that—”
Cameron raised a hand. “I know. I was there.”
Jabari paused. Then, deliberately: “You were there.”
“We were looking for a chamber, too. My father and I. We didn’t find it. The …” He trailed off then decided there was no point in evasion given that Jabari had already said the word. “Mullah came when we were inside. Then the structure shook, and sand fell from above. I was sure we were about to be crushed. We got out fine, but the Mullah didn’t come out behind us. We counted ourselves lucky at the time, but they’ve been following us since Heaven’s Veil was destroyed.”
“Do you know why?”
Cameron shook his head. He assumed it had to do with the Templars, with the Ark, with some duty the Mullah had to defend against both. He’d chalked up meeting Mullah back when he was sixteen to coincidence, to a simple case of go to the same place, see the same faces.
“We theorized that the Mullah have always handled that advance preparation. They guard something — something we heard rumors about but never found anyone willing to divulge. They might be like emissaries. They could be with the Astrals, or they could be their enemies. We only felt sure that the Mullah had deep knowledge of the aliens and preserved some sort of records they passed down from endless generations. They were somehow in contact, however distantly. When we learned that the Ark had been stolen and hidden, the Mullah seemed the obvious culprits. That made us think they were trying to thwart the Astrals, seeing as the aliens apparently needed the Ark before they could do what had to be done. We knew a key had been removed, and it made sense that the Mullah would follow them, to try and recapture it. But we didn’t know why. Did they want to steal the key to open the Ark and help the Astrals, or keep it safe and assure that it was never opened?”
Cameron thought back to their years-long game of cat and mouse. They’d spent as much time hiding from the Mullah as from the Astrals. He hadn’t stopped to ask why each was following or why. They only knew it was time to run whenever they saw either at the rear.
“The Mullah are in everything, Cameron, the way food acquires the taste of the air around it. I was never a random woman chosen to head a city. I was a student of ancient aliens theory like your father, and Peers Basara. I knew all about alternative archaeology and the epochs and the Astrals. I knew about the Mullah. So when I returned and saw that someone had built me a palace, I knew whose hands were behind it. And most importantly, I am not so naive as to believe there are no Mullah here today.”
“Here in Ember Flats?”
“Here in my employ. In the house where I welcome friends, eat my meals, and lie down to sleep.”
�
�Is that where you think Clara went? Into the tunnels? With the Mullah?”
“They wouldn’t be so bold as to take her from bed, not with such a mix of humans and Astrals about. But if she went to them for some reason? Then yes. The Mullah would not look a gift horse in the mouth. They are not proud and will accept any advantage or point of leverage that offers a shortcut to the upper hand.”
Cameron felt something off about what Jabari had just said but couldn’t quite place it. Meyer seemed to have no such trouble.
“Shortcut? You make it sound like there’s something they wanted to do all along, and Clara is a shortcut.”
Jabari nodded and met Cameron’s eye.
“Tell me something, Cameron. Be as honest as you can possibly be.”
Cameron hesitated then said, “Okay.”
The Ark must be opened, by you. So if we hadn’t stopped you yesterday, would you have done it? Once finished with the errand I’ve asked of you—” She nodded to Kindred and Meyer. “Will you do it? Are you convinced it must be opened? Tell me, honestly, with your heart: Will you open it as the others have said you must?”
In his mind, Cameron saw the ghost of Morgan Matthews, his hole punctured with the slug Cameron delivered in Vail.
He saw the dark cave, heard the gunshot.
He saw Grace gripping her chest, looking at him with eyes that pleaded, Why?
And he heard Morgan’s echoing voice, calling him to judgment: There’s a whole lot more where I came from … if, that is, you’re not quite as sure as you thought that you’ve always done right.
The visions that followed. The replay of Grace’s death. The heavy feeling of his hands and the slipping sensation of draining time, wishing he could rewind the clock. The iron sensation that gripped his chest. The Ark’s prying tentacles entering his heart, his soul, his mind — the very core of every one of them. The cold certainty — the absolute, total, bones-deep surety — that if he was judged, he’d be found guilty … and that the same would, of course, be true humanity.
If he never turned the key, the jury would never go out for deliberation. The current epoch would never end, and they’d hang in the balance forever. The Astrals might stay, even if they had to enslave the planet. And if Cameron was truly this time’s King Arthur but died too soon? Well, the deed might never be done.