by A. G. Riddle
The flight had been like riding a roller coaster for hours: one second the plane was plummeting, diving into the dark unknown, the next it was coasting, sunlight shining through the windows. He and his six soldiers were strapped in tight, and no one had said a word since takeoff. Three of the men had thrown up about an hour in. Two still dry-heaved every fifteen minutes or so, when the turbulence was especially bad. The other three stared straight ahead, gritting their teeth.
At least he knew whom he could depend on now—when the fight began. And it would start soon. Somewhere under the vast sea that consumed more and more of his planet, David Vale was waiting on him.
Dorian had almost killed David twice—once in Pakistan, again in China, and Dorian had killed him twice: both times in the Atlantean vessel in Antarctica. The first time, David had resurrected in Antarctica, directly across from Dorian, thanks to David’s Atlantis Gene, which Kate had given him. David was stronger, but Dorian was smarter. Or rather, willing to do things David wasn’t. David wasn’t a survivor. His moral compass had been his weakness. Dorian had killed him for a second time, but David had resurrected in the Atlantean structure off the coast of Morocco.
Today would be their final conflict.
But Kate Warner was smarter than both of them. She was sublimely clever, and she had knowledge Dorian didn’t. That was their advantage: David’s strength and Kate’s brains. But Dorian had the element of surprise. And something else—the willingness to do what had to be done to save his people. He was the march of human history, embodied in one man. A survivor, standing against impossible odds, doing the things others, like Kate and David, turned their backs on. He was the essence of human survival.
A part of him was nervous about the final confrontation with David. That would be the true test—whether Dorian could win.
If he could, he would turn his sights on Ares. The Atlantean was a snake, a manipulator. Dorian didn’t trust him. He would have to go next, after Dorian had learned the full truth, especially about this “enemy” Ares was so frightened of.
“Sir, we’re at the drop zone,” the pilot called into Dorian’s headset.
Dorian peered out the narrow window. Water stretched out as far as he could see.
Dorian marveled. What he saw used to be the coast of Morocco.
“Drop the probe,” he said.
He raised the tablet and watched the telemetry on the split screen, which showed a contour of the new sea floor on the right-hand side and a video feed on the left. Dorian recognized a mountain top, completely submerged. He tapped the tablet, directing the probe. A few seconds later, the Atlantean ship, the Alpha Lander, came into view. It was buried deep.
“Mark it,” Dorian said.
They would find the airlock entrance after the dive.
“Form up for jump!” Dorian called to the six soldiers.
On the next pass, they spilled out of the aircraft, falling to the pitch-black sea at terminal velocity, their bodies formed into a dart, their hands held at their sides, oxygen tanks on their backs. Just as they reached the surface, the most recent storm receded and sunlight broke through, showering their entrance to the watery unknown with light.
Dorian plunged into the water and instantly spun himself about, searching for his men. One of them had veered too low and collided with the rocks just below the surface. His now broken body floated in the lighted murkiness.
The other five figures spread out, the sunlight carving their outlines in the water.
“Form up on me,” Dorian called over his intercom.
As the soldiers swam toward him, Dorian surveyed the dark water between them. Something else floated in the space. Not debris.
The silence in the water shattered. An explosion, then an eruption of white bubbles and air engulfed him, throwing Dorian into the submerged mountainside. He rolled across the rock, trying to grasp a handhold. Finally, he came to rest. His hands instinctively reached for his oxygen tank. It was intact. He was safe. He turned, peering into the water. The chaos was clearing. Four of his men still floated in the abyss. They called over the radio, sounding off, then awaited his order.
“Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll guide you around the mines.”
One by one, Dorian directed his men down through the water, using his vantage point to spot suspected mines. He couldn’t afford to lose any more men. When they were safely at the ship below, he followed them, pushing through the water, careful to avoid anything that could be a mine.
The darkness slowly consumed every bit of light from above, and the dark shapes that could be mines grew harder to spot. Dorian had only his memory and the narrow beams of light from his helmet to guide him.
Ahead, he saw the four soldiers floating. Forty feet. Thirty. Twenty.
He was there. The airlock control was similar to the portal in Antarctica. It opened for him as he drew close, and he and his men rushed in, out of the darkness.
The airlock flushed the water out, and Dorian shed his suit and approached the control panel. The green cloud of familiar light emerged. Dorian worked his fingers inside it, and the display flashed.
General Ares
Access Granted
Dorian pulled up a schematic of the ship.
It had been badly damaged, either from the nuclear blast Patrick Pierce, Kate Warner’s father, had unleashed or by the mines. Entire sections were decompressed and flooded. The ship was on emergency power, and most importantly, there was only one route to the portal room.
Dorian pointed to the map. “Arc 1701-D. South entrance. That’s our destination.” Dorian chambered the first round in his automatic rifle. “Shoot to kill.”
CHAPTER 18
David was covered head to toe in dirt. His muscles had ached, and now they burned, but he kept digging, throwing shovel after shovel of dirt and rock down the tunnel where Milo, Mary, and Kate waited to haul it out, pail after pail.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to find Sonja. “Take a break,” she said.
“I can go another—”
“And then you’ll be exhausted, and I’ll be exhausted, and Paul will be exhausted, and we’ll all have to wait.” She took the shovel from him and began digging into the hard-packed ground, maintaining the upward slant they hoped would lead to the surface—an opening into the arc.
Kate had been right: the contents of the arcology had shifted over the last thirteen thousand years and not in their favor. The door was underground now, the earth having slid to one side. How far under, they didn’t know. It could be ten feet or a hundred. David wondered how long their meal rations would last, and what they would do if they didn’t see the arc’s artificial daylight soon.
At his and Kate’s bedroom, he collapsed on the chair by the small metal table and dug into the MRE Kate had left out for him.
He was famished. He stopped eating only to breathe.
Kate entered and threw another MRE on the table.
“I’m not eating your ration,” he said.
“Me either.”
“You need your strength.”
“You need it more,” she said.
“I wouldn’t if you could get that quantum cube Janus gave to Milo to work.”
“We’ve been over this. Gaps in my knowledge. Big ones.”
David held the fork up defensively. “Just saying.” He finished the first MRE and eyed the second. “I feel like Patrick Pierce tunneling under the Sea of Gibraltar.”
“That’s a bit dramatic. I don’t see why you don’t use the explosives.”
“Don’t have enough. We used half to get in. Barely broke through. We’ll need the other half—assuming we ever make it across.”
Kate opened the second MRE. “Eat it, or it will go to waste.”
She left before David could say a word. He exhaled and continued eating. He would pull a double shift next go round, whether Sonja stopped him or not.
The door slid open, and Milo rushed in. “Mr. David!” The teenager smiled. “We
’re through.”
“Water break!” David called, halting the line of six that snaked through the dense rainforest. All of them took out their canteens, some drinking more liberally than others. They were all exhausted from the three-hour march, which had been mostly uphill.
David handed the machete to Paul, who took the lead position, ready to continue cutting their path through the thick green, red, and purple plants and vines that webbed between the trees which stretched to the dense canopy, blocking out much of the artificial sun. Or two suns in this case.
David studied the shadows on the forest floor, trying to get an idea of how much daylight they had left. Night will be dangerous, Kate had said.
“What do we call the flying invisible reptiles?” David asked her.
“Exadons.”
“If we make camp here, will they attack us? In the thick forest?”
“I don’t know. Possibly.”
David sensed that Kate was holding back. “Tell me.”
“They are predisposed to attack any new species in their habitat. It’s an evolutionary response, a learning method for them. It’s one of the reasons the scientists were interested in them.”
“Wonderful.”
David took his pack off and slung his sniper rifle around his shoulder.
“Where are you going?”
“To climb a tree.”
The view from the top of the forest’s canopy was breathtaking. The arc was an arena unlike any David had ever witnessed. He sat there for a few minutes, simply taking it all in. The ceiling of the dome simulated a sky with clouds and radiated heat. In the center of the floor, the rainforest stopped, and a green plain spread out, maybe a mile wide and slightly longer, followed by a smaller forest, this one more rocky and on declining terrain that ended in the exit. David was relieved to see that it wasn’t blocked. The bottom layer of soil had completely shifted in their direction. In fact, they would need to build a ladder or stairway of some sort to even reach the door. And they’d have to blow it up, but there was another bright spot: they could use fewer explosives, which gave them a little extra to work with out here.
The green plain was surrounded on three sides by rainforest, but its right side ended in a wide stream with a slow-moving current. A herd of large, four-legged animals similar to hippopotamuses bathed and congregated where the water met the plain. Above the pool, a rock face covered the entire right side on the arc.
There, on one of the highest ledges of the rock face, David got his first look at the exadons. He counted eleven of them, spread out on the rock, unmoving, their eyes closed, their bodies glistening under the sun like silvery glass pterodactyls. Most exadons were entirely silver-glass except for two, who were covered in bright-colored tiles like a stained-glass window. He made a note to ask Kate about that. He estimated their wingspan at twelve feet, but from this distance, he couldn’t make out any other details.
The first sun was setting now, and the edge of the forest cut two distinct shadows: one pointing to the open plain and the last stretch of forest before the exit, the other back into the forest, in the direction they came. And those were their options.
If nightfall arrived as they crossed the plain, the exadons could pick them off easily.
“What did you see?” Sonja asked him.
She had continued hacking at the path during David’s surveillance, and he was glad for that. She was every bit the leader he was, maybe more so: she had led her Berber tribe, composed of fighters and elders from the remnants of many disparate factions, to victory against the Immari in Ceuta. She was the definition of a self-starter.
David related their situation, and the six of them stood there in the dense, shaded forest, waiting for a decision. To David, the group looked like a motley crew of superheroes.
Milo, Mary, and Kate carried large packs that held the food and what Kate had only described as the scientist’s expedition gear. It remained a mystery box to David, a surprise for the end of the day—if they lived that long.
The real question was Paul and Mary. They had been exhausted when they arrived, and David and Sonja had given Paul the shortest digging and machete shifts.
Paul seemed to sense the eyes on him and Mary. “We can keep up. I agree that we should make for the other forest at best speed.”
“Sonja and I will take the packs when we cross the plain.” Milo smiled, excited to keep his pack. The young man seemed to be a well of energy. David continued. “We’ll hug the far tree line in hopes the exadons won’t see us.”
About an hour later, they cut the last of the plants and vines that held them in the rainforest and exited onto the plain. The packs came off Mary and Kate’s backs, and the six of them began their march across the green plain to the trees in the distance. Everyone's focus was on the rock face to the right, and the predators that would soon take flight, hunting, invisible in the night. David had never dreaded nightfall so much.
Kate pulled up even with him. “I can take the pack.”
“Not happening.” At the back of his mind, he wondered how her condition was affecting her, if she was in any pain, if the exertion would limit her prognosis. Four to seven local days. He had tried not to think about that.
He nodded toward the exadons. “Why are two brightly colored?”
“It’s the point in the pride’s cycle. When food is plentiful, the colors come out. When living and hunting is easy, the members focus on mating, distinguishing themselves. But some conserve their power—opting not to waste it on colors. When the cycle ends, the members who were more flamboyant die out first, and those who stored up energy can out-hunt them and pick them off. There’s been a recent population decline.”
“So those are the survivors. The best hunters.”
“Yeah. And they’re probably hungry.”
“Fantastic.”
As the march wore on, the “water breaks” became more frequent, and they drank less and less water, most panting and massaging leg muscles, some stretching while they set their packs down for relief.
David and Sonja resumed the lead each time, setting the best pace the group could manage. They reached the tree line of the forest just as the second sun was setting.
David led them a little further into the forest, to an area where the trees were close and the underbrush was thick.
“We’ll camp here.”
Kate opened the first pack and laid out a black rectangular box. The familiar blue light rose from it, and Kate worked her fingers inside it.
Seconds later, the box began unfolding tile by tile, making a square floor about twelve feet by twelve feet, then a small opening that jutted out. Tiles continued unfolding, upward this time, forming walls with no windows until the walls formed a smooth circular dome at the top. The front of the… tent, David assumed, had a shimmering black portal. He stuck his head in. Amazing. He entered, and Kate followed. A queen-sized bed rose out of the floor in the upper left corner, and there was even a small desk and stool along the right-hand wall.
“Not bad,” he said.
Kate laid out a tent for Milo and Sonja. David had never seen Milo move so fast.
Kate stuck her hand in to configure Paul and Mary’s pop-up dwelling but hesitated. “I can configure it with two double beds or one larger.”
Paul squirmed.
Mary glanced away but quickly said, “I think two beds… probably gives us…”
Kate nodded, and the tent began to take form.
David lay on the bed, which was some kind of adaptive foam similar to their bed in the lander. It felt like heaven, and he had to force himself to sit up. He couldn’t let himself fall asleep. Time was running out.
Kate sat on the bed and smiled at him.
“These Atlanteans weren’t exactly roughing it,” David said.
“Take you back to your youth?”
“Somewhat.”
“Were you a Boy Scout?”
“Tried to be. Dropped out.”
“I thought you
never gave up on anything you loved,” she teased, using his words against him.
“Well I didn’t love Boy Scouts. We didn’t have Atlantean camping gear. I bailed out after Webelos.”
“What’s Webelos?” She took out a tin of cream and sat next to him on the bed.
“It’s… not important—what is that?”
“Take your pants off.”
“Hey lady, I don’t know how camping works where you’re from—”
“Very funny. This is a topical anti-inflammatory for your legs—”
“Wow, you are a sweet talker, but I’m gonna have to stop you right there.” He sat up, grabbed his gun, and tried to sound casual. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need to take care of something. I’ll be back,” he left before she could stop him, and walked quickly out of the camp. As he reached the edge of the forest, he heard someone following him, quietly.
He turned to find Sonja, her gun slung over her shoulder.
“You should head back.”
“You should stop giving me orders. Let’s get this over with. We both know what must be done. It’s them or us.”
CHAPTER 19
Dorian marched down the dark metallic corridors of the Atlantean ship, his rifle pointed forward, his boot laces tied together, cutting into the back of his neck as they hung across his chest.
His four men also padded along in bare feet, careful not to make a sound that might echo in the empty corridors, which were almost pitch black.
Dorian couldn’t decide if that was to his advantage or not.
David could be waiting around any corner. The fight that loomed thrilled and terrified Dorian. This was the end, his final battle with David. If he failed and Kate and David reached the beacon, his world would fall.
Dorian had tried to determine Kate and David’s location, but the ship’s computer was mostly offline. Dorian wasn’t sure if it had been damaged or if it was a power-saving measure. If it was power-related, he didn’t want to risk exposing himself by activating the ship’s systems. But after he disposed of David and Kate, he certainly would. That opened another possibility, one Dorian had considered on the flight here: answers. The Atlantean ship recognized him as Ares. Perhaps it held clues about Ares’ plan, or the enemy he feared so much. If Dorian could learn the full truth, maybe he could shift the balance of power and take control of the situation on Earth. It could be humanity’s only hope.