Assault on Atlantis

by Robert Doherty

  Earhart closed her eyes as Rachel came to a halt, lifting her gray body a third of the way out of the water. Earhart felt the connection with the dolphin, a soothing presence flowing into her mind.

  “Taki is gone,” she whispered.

  “He knew he had a duty,” Asper said.

  “Duty.” Earhart slowly got to her feet.

  “When are they coming?” Asper was looking out over the Inner Sea at the dozen portals that were visible.

  “Soon. Very soon.”

  LAKE BAIKAL: THE PRESENT

  There were dozens of boats grounded on the dry lakebed. A zodiac had picked up Dane and Kolkov from a hastily rigged wooden dock and brought them to a large fishing boat that held a submersible steady with one of its booms. They transferred directly from the zodiac to the submersible.

  A man in a wet suit and sporting a thick gray beard was seated on top of the submersible, directly behind the hatch. He had a small cup in his hand, and while Dane climbed onboard, he tossed it into the water muttering something in Russian.

  “This is Captain Gregor Kalansky,” Kolkov said.

  Kalansky grunted an acknowledgment.

  Kolkov indicated for Dane to precede him into the craft. He slapped the metal hatch as Dane slid by him. “Mir I, just like the space station. Not very imaginative. It is the same submersible that went down to the Titanic for the filming of that movie by the same name.”

  Kalansky came in next, pushing past Dane and taking his place at the controls and ignoring his two passengers.

  “How deep is the gate?” Dane asked as Kolkov pulled down the hatch with a resounding thud.

  “At the very bottom,” Kolkov said. He nudged Dane to · take one of the small jump seats directly behind the pilot.

  Kolkov handed Dane a piece of paper. “A map of the lake bottom. Baikal is the deepest lake in the world. The oldest, too. It holds--held--one fifth of the world’s fresh water. More than all your Great Lakes in America combined.” He pointed back and forth. “Seven hundred kilometers long.” Then he pointed down. ‘’Three tectonic plates join right below us. Plates that are spreading away from each other and have been doing so for about thirty millions years. That is why the fault below us is so deep.”

  “How deep is the fissure?” Dane asked.

  “Forty kilometers. It’s the deepest depression on the face of the planet.”

  “We’re going down forty kilometers?” Dane had never heard of a submersible capable of going that deep.

  “No,” Kolkov said. “The water only goes down a kilometer and a half. The rest of it has filled with sediment over the years. There are more than three hundred rivers and streams feeding the lake.” He indicated the imagery. “The gate is just above the sediment layer--after all, they want water, not dirt.”

  The submersible rocked as the captain released it from the crane that had been holding it. The engines whined as they moved out into the lake.

  “This gate has been active a long time,” Kolkov said. “We think the Shadow has been draining it for a long time, although not at the rate we see now. Just enough to keep the water level steady. Years ago scientists knew there was something strange here because although there are more than three hundred fillers to Baikal, there is only one visible outlet, the Angara River.”

  Dane was looking at the muonic imagery. The circle indicating the gate was large, very large, but he had no idea of the scale. “How big is this portal?”

  “Just under a kilometer and a half in width.”

  Dane wondered if they could bring the sphere back through this gate-it was large enough. He knew his plan, as outlined to Foreman, was weak:, but he had to trust that if he had been “given” one piece of it, others had parts also, and everyone was working to make it happen. His experiences so far in fighting the Shadow had brought him many strange allies, from a Roman gladiator, to a Viking warrior, to a Greek Oracle.

  “Another reason I think this gate has been open a long time,” Kolkov continued, “is that there are life forms here that have never been found anywhere.”

  “Kraken?” Dane asked, remembering the strange squid like creatures with jaws at the end of their tentacles.

  “There are legends of such.” Kolkov said. “although no one has seen any recently. The people who live around the lake, the Buryat, believe that gods dwell in the lake. They have ones they call the Doshkin-novon who steal ships and men during times of storm and fog.”

  Kalansky spoke for the first time. “I made a toast to the water gods. I asked some of the locals, and they said it is what they do before venturing out onto the lake. Very good vodka.”

  Dane didn’t think the Shadow cared much about the quality of vodka tossed its way. “How long until we’re at the gate?”

  “Forty minutes,” Kalansky said. “We pass the point of no return in twenty minutes.”

  “’Point of no return’?” Dane repeated.

  “Where the flow of water into this hole will be stronger than my engines,” Kalansky said. “Once we reach that, we’re going in no matter what we do. So you have--” he glanced at a chronometer--“slightly over nineteen minutes to make sure you want to do this.”

  “We’re going in,” Dane said.

  “That is what I was afraid of,” Kalansky said. “You really do not need me. The current will be piloting this ship soon.” “You don’t want to go?” Dane asked.

  “Oh, I’m going,” Kalansky said. “I have heard there is a place through here where there are many lost ships. Old ships. Ones of legend. I would very much like to see that.”

  Dane remembered the graveyards he’d seen--one through the Bermuda Triangle gate and one through the Devil’s Sea gate--the former holding many craft lost in the Atlantic, the latter those lost in the Pacific. It was an eerie sight, seeing hundreds of craft ranging from ancient rafts to modem jet fighters drawn up on the circular shoreline surrounding the Inner Sea. Many of the craft had been scavenged, parts and material taken by the Shadow. All the people had most definitely been taken.

  “1 don’t know if we’ll see one of those places,” he told Kalansky.

  “But you do not know for sure where we will end up, according to the professor,” Kalansky pointed out.

  “That’s true.”

  “Then we shall see what we shall see,” Kalansky said, expressing the Russian sense of fatalism that had guided them through czars, Stalin, and communism.

  “I have a question for you:’ Kolkov said to Dane.

  “Yes?”

  Kolkov tapped the side of his head. “You have the sight? You hear the words of the Ones Before?”

  Dane nodded.

  “And you’ve met others like you?”

  “Yes. Some here, some when I pass through the portals.”

  “What do you think: it is? Why do you think you, and only a few others, can do this?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Kalansky interjected.

  When Dane had been recruited by Foreman to go into Cambodia to back into the Angkor Gate, he had been accompanied by a woman named Sin Fen who had explained as much as she could about the voices and visions. Ever since he was able to remember, he’d been different from those around him. He’d always be able to sense things others weren’t aware of. At first it had surprised him that he was different, then he’d learned to hide it.

  “There was a woman who worked for Foreman,” Dane finally said. “Her name was Sin Fen. She was the first person I met who was like me. Foreman recruited her out of Cambodia. She was the descendant of the priestesses of Kol Ker.”

  “Twelve minutes,” Kalansky announced, but both Dane and Kolkov ignored him.

  “I could speak to her with my mind. She told me what she knew of our ability. She said it was a genetic aberration.” Dane shook his head as he remembered. “No, not an aberration, but a throwback to early man. Do you know of the bicameral mind, that our brain is separated into two hemispheres ?”

  Kolkov nodded.

  Dane held up his left han
d. ‘’This is my dominant hand, which means I’m right-brain dominant, as all our nerves switch sides just before –the brain stem. They say the right side of the brain is the creative part while the left is the logical. The majority of the population is left-side dominant. Only three percent of the population is right dominant.

  “But Sin Fen said--” Dane paused as the submersible rocked.

  “We’re close to the current,” Kalansky announced. He had his hands on the controls. “I’m just trying to keep us steady.”

  “Sin Fen said,” Dane continued, “that she and 1 weren’t right dominant, but both--side dominant. Both hemispheres of our brains worked together much more efficiently than most people’s. And she said that was the way the minds of man’s ancestors worked.”

  Kolkov frowned, not following. He was a physicist, definitely left-brain dominant, and this was outside his field. “Our ancestors? What do you mean?”

  “When did we part ways from the other animals?” Dane asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Most people say it’s our ability to think, but that’s an abstract. As a scientist you study what you can measure, what you can see. The manifest examples of thinking are present in many creatures--the ability to learn, to conceptualize. Dogs can learn,” Dane said, thinking of Chelsea and the rescue missions he’d been on with her.

  “But can they conceptualize?” Kolkov argued.

  “When hunting in packs, lions can conceptualize what the prey will do. Some might say that’s a genetic trait, but each hunting situation is somewhat different, so there is some degree of conceptualizing going on. It’s an arbitrary line so we don’t know where to draw it.”

  “Language then? The ability to communicate? That is what makes us different, is it not?”

  Dane thought of Rachel. “Dolphins can communicate. Monkeys can respond to signals. Those are forms of communicating. What no other species can apparently do, though, is communicate as extensively as we can with a verbal language. Many scientists believe that is when we parted ways with the rest of the species on this planet, when we began to act as individuals, rather than as part of a group. And that was not necessarily a good thing,” Dane added.

  “Why?”

  “We’re the only species that wars amongst itself at the level we do. We’ve lost a lot of our intra-species empathy. In the beginning, humans didn’t have a verbal language. Sin Fen thought that early man communicated telepathically. Not-” Dane held up his hand to keep Kolkov from interrupting--”in the way that we could read each other’s thoughts, but rather we could sense each other’s emotions. If one member of the tribe saw a lion, the fear that person felt was transmitted to the others in the tribe.

  “This made for effective tribal interaction but retarded overall progress because the tribe had to stay together. Developing a verbal language allowed man to explore more, to act as individuals and have more initiative. This change occurred inside our brains and was a major trade-off.

  “We have two hemispheres that, to a large extent, are redundant. There are people who have had an entire hemisphere removed and can still function relatively normally in the world. But there’s one part of the brain that is similar but not redundant. We have speech centers on both sides, yet in the vast majority of people, it is only active in the left hemisphere.”

  “What does their right speech center do?” Kolkov asked. The ride was getting bumpier, and Kalansky was muttering to himself in Russian.

  “It’s there, but it doesn’t seem to do anything in most people.” :Except you,” Kolkov said.

  Dane nodded. “Mine is active. Sin Fen said that is where our primal telepathic ability, or more appropriately, you might call it our empathetic ability, resides. There are three parts in the brain that produce speech: the supplementary motor area, which is the least important; Broca’s area, in the rear of the frontal lobe; and Wernicke’s area, in the posterior part of the temporal lobe, which if you remove it, produces a permanent loss of meaningful speech.

  “All three work in the left hemisphere to produce speech, but they are also present on the opposite side, but apparently nonfunctioning in most people. Initially, man’s brain was more connected between the two sides and the speech centers worked in harmony so all humans could ‘talk’ to each other in a telepathic way. In fact, the strange thing is that early man might have been able to ‘read’ each other’s minds, except they didn’t have a language to read.”

  Seeing Kolkov’s frown, Dane tried to explain. “Do you think in words, or do you think in pictures?”

  “I’ve never really considered it,” Kolkov said. “I suppose in words.”

  Dane nodded. “Most people do, although some think in images. But if you had no words. No language. You would have to think in pictures. Also, what do you think is stronger--thoughts or emotions?”

  “Are they necessarily different” Kolkov asked.

  Dane found it strange to be having this conversation as they were being sucked into a portal that would take them from the planet they knew. Despite their fronts, Dane could sense both men’s fear. He was the only one of the three who had been into a portal before. He’d been to the Space Between and beyond. He knew that Kolkov wanted the discussion to keep going as” much to keep his mind off where they were going as to learn.

  “Maybe not so different,” Dane admitted, “but isn’t emotion more powerful? Doesn’t all art revolve around emotion rather than intellect? Sometimes I think artists are trying to bring us back to our roots. The development of a verbal language allowed us to advance as a species, but when we lost our telepathic abilities we also lost something important.

  “Sin Fen believed that people like her and me have come full circle. We have both--the verbal language and the telepathic ability. I could speak to her and hear her without saying a word.” Dane tapped his head. “My speech centers are equally developed, functional, and more developed than a normal person’s. Sin Fen had MRIs done of her brain and they verified this.

  “Physiological psychologists have” long theorized that Wernicke’s area on the nonspeech side of the brain--the right side--is the center for man’s imagination. It is also where I get my visions from and where I hear what Sin Fen called the voices of the gods, which I think is some sort of transmission by the Ones Before. Psychologists have long theorized there is indeed a God center in the brain.”

  “Five minutes until we cannot go back,” Kalansky said.

  “In ancient days, Greeks and Romans called people like me Oracles. They were the seers of their tribes.”

  “And what do you see for us?” Kolkov asked as the” submersible rocked in the strong current. “If the Shadow is draining this water because it needs it, won’t we go through this portal directly to the Shadow’s world?”

  Dane shook his head. “I don’t think any portals to our world lead directly to the Shadow’s world. The Space Between is a buffer between parallel worlds. There are portals that go to other places on the same world, but not to other worlds.” At least, Dane thought to himself. That’s my best guess based on my experiences.

  ‘’There is something ahead,” Kalansky said.

  The ride was getting rougher as the submersible was being tossed about in the torrent of water being sucked into the portal.

  “We cannot go back now,” Kalansky announced.

  Dane leaned forward and looked at the radar display. It indicated what appeared to be a solid wall directly ahead. “That’s the portal. Radar can’t penetrate it.”

  “Are you sure we can?” Kalansky asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And then’?” Kalansky pressed.

  “We should be in the Inner Sea of the Space Between,” Dane said.

  “And then?” Kalansky looked over his shoulder. “If you have a plan it might be good to share it with me, as we will reach this portal in less than two minutes.”

  “We land on the shore and link up with Amelia Earhart.” Dane said.

  “And where is all this water going?�
�� Kalansky asked.

  ‘’Most likely to another portal and then on to the Shadow’s world.”

  Kalansky’s hands were fighting the controls, trying to keep the craft relatively stable. “If this volume goes from one place to another in this Inner Sea, the current in this Inner Sea will be tremendous. How do you suggest we get out of the current to the shore?”