by Sean Ellis
“You’re absolutely right about that, Captain. I’ve been briefed on this matter, and I’m aware of your claims to be some kind of divine emissary. But you are also an officer of the United States Navy, and as your Commander-in-Chief—”
“No, ma’am, I’m not.” For just a moment, Collier’s self-assurance slipped a little, and his shoulders sagged beneath an intangible burden. When he began again, there was an air of something—desperation perhaps—that had not been there previously. “I’ve resigned my commission. One cannot slave for two masters. While I still love my country, my message is for everyone on planet Earth. Please, you must listen to what I have to say.”
“Captain Collier…Eric.” She shook her head, as if embarrassed for him. “You’re asking me to believe you have a message from God? Think about the optics on that.”
“Madame President, look around.” Collier stabbed his hand at the frozen figures in the room. “How do think this was accomplished? Do you need more proof than that? Moses had to bring ten plagues down on Egypt to get Pharaoh’s attention. Do I need to do something that dramatic to get yours?”
Mira looked over at Booker, noting his discomfort. Maybe Collier was willing to sacrifice his career for this higher calling, but the younger SEAL evidently had some reservations about his now-former commanding officer threatening the President of the United States.
“Just tell her,” Mira growled. “Say what you came here to say. She’s not going anywhere.”
Collier seemed to regain some of his imperturbability, and extended a beckoning hand to the president. “Let me show you.”
Reluctance was writ large on the president’s face. After a moment’s hesitation however, she sat up and squared her shoulders, perhaps trying to project the authority of her office and the personal strength that had put her there. She would comply, not because this would-be prophet had taken over the Oval Office, but because it was her choice. She reached out for his hand….
And then just as quickly let go with a gasp and fell back into her chair. For a moment, Mira feared that the experience had injured her, but the look on the president’s face was not one of pain; it was an expression of pure joy.
“Is this true?”
Mira knew from personal experience that physical contact with the Trinity could result in a sort of instantaneous ‘download of information, and Collier now seemed to be a sort of living conduit for the Trinity’s power. The only mystery was the exact nature of the memories that had been transferred. Had he shown her the world as it once was, the fall of the Ascendant Ones, and the rise of the ancient cities? Or something else?
“It can be,” Collier answered reverently. “If all mankind submits to the will of the Wise Father, and finishes the Great Work that was given to our ancestors.”
A hint of skepticism returned to the president’s eyes. “I’m afraid that’s easier said than done.”
“It need not be.” Collier stood a little straighter, as if this was the moment he’d been waiting for. “We must bring together the leaders of all the world’s religions. They will be made to understand that their beliefs are but echoes of the one original ancient way of truth that unites us as humans and will guide us into that glorious future.”
“That’s been tried. Interfaith movements and ecumenical conferences never work. People who claim to belong to the same religion, worship the same God and read the same holy book, can’t even agree to get along—Sunni and Shi’ite Muslims, Catholics and Protestants…don’t even get me started on the evangelicals. They all think they’re right, everyone else is wrong, and they’re willing to kill to keep it that way.”
“I will show them what I have shown you. Not words, but the true power of the Wise Father, and a glimpse of his purpose. They will understand, and they will instruct the believers.”
Mira was more inclined to second the president’s assessment, but that was none of her concern. For her part, the president seemed quick to put aside her reservations. “It may take some time to get everyone to agree to come together.”
Collier wasn’t finished. “Forgive me, ma’am, but there is another matter that is of more immediate concern. It involves the artifact, NLAL 770…the Trinity.”
Mira felt another tingle of apprehension. Collier’s talk of a message from God and bringing the world’s religions together, had merely been bait for the switch that he was now about to make.
“What about it?”
“I have shown you that it is from an ancient civilization, a tool given to our ancestors so that they might make the will of the Wise Father a reality. They used it to build a magnificent empire, but it originally had a much different purpose.
“Thousands of years ago, humanity as we know it today, did not exist. The world was the domain of a very different race of humans called the Ascendant Ones. They possessed incredible mental powers, and incredible cruelty. Our ancestors—normal people like you and I—were the oppressed outcasts, unable to compete with the Ascendant Ones, and slowly spiraling into extinction…until the Wise Father gave them the Trinity; three devices that gave our human ancestors powers to rival the Ascendant Ones. When the three segments were joined together, the Trinity created a psychic dampening field that blanketed the entire globe and deprived the Ascendant Ones of their power, forcing them to live as equals among those they had once rejected.”
Mira already knew all of this, but was fascinated by Collier’s somewhat sanitized version of events. He seemed to be intentionally avoiding language that might characterize those events as anything but a heroic revolution on the part of the underdog outcasts. “Forcing them to live as equals” had meant taking away their chief survival mechanism—effectively leaving them blind, deaf and naked in the middle of a wilderness—and thousands had died in what amounted to a wave of ethnic cleansing. Regardless of whether the Ascendant Ones deserved such a fate, an atrocity was an atrocity. That was evidently a part of the story that Collier didn’t want to weave into his divine narrative.
“While the Trinity was whole,” Collier continued. “The dampening field prevented the Ascendant Ones from using their abilities, but it did not completely take those abilities away. They were humans, physically the same species as we, and many of the children born in subsequent generations possessed the same powers, though they did not know it. And just as bacteria can become resistant to antibiotics, from time to time, there have been some who were able to manifest those abilities in spite of the dampening field. In some cultures, these were shamans, priests and miracle workers, but more often, such people used their powers selfishly. Is it any wonder that that we have an almost universal fear of sorcerers and witches?”
Collier gave an odd smile and pointed at Mira. “She is just such a throwback.”
Mira’s tingle of anxiety blossomed into something approaching panic. What the hell is he doing? She felt the president’s eyes on her, looking at her as if she were a suicide bomber. Booker, too, had fixed her with an appraising stare.
“She can sense things before they happen, and while her ability is raw—merely a shadow of what her ancestors, the Ascendant Ones possessed—if the dampening field created by the Trinity were to fall, there is no telling what she might be able to do.” He turned back to the president. “There are thousands of others out there who have caught glimpses of their true potential, and perhaps millions more who are completely unaware of their heritage. But that may soon change.
“The Trinity has been damaged. Four months ago, a segment of the device was destroyed beyond its ability to self-repair. Now, the dampening field is weakening and may soon fail altogether. If that happens, the results will be…catastrophic.”
The president was evidently having trouble managing the sudden shift in the tone of the conversation. “How so?”
“It will be like handing out loaded guns at a preschool. Tens of thousands of people will suddenly awaken to latent psychic powers, over which they have no control. They will be able hear the most intimate thoughts of t
heir neighbors, and kill with an unguarded, angry thought. The world will be plunged into chaos. And then, when the survivors of that initial disaster discover how to control their powers, it will mark the return of the so-called Ascendant Ones, and the extinction of the human race as we know it.”
Despite being discomfited by the implication that she herself was an unwitting sleeper agent for the Ascendant Ones, Mira was impressed at how adroitly Collier had played the emotions of his audience. She wasn’t the least bit surprised when the president, in a small awed voice, said, “What can we do?”
“The Trinity must be repaired,” Collier announced flatly. “The means to remake it can be found in the cities of the ancients.”
Mira finally found her voice again. “You mean Atlantis?”
Collier inclined his head in what might have been a nod. “And the others. They have been lost to history, but perhaps not completely destroyed. In each city, there is a,” he paused groping for a word, “a matrix that can generate a new Trinity segment.”
“Matrix? Like a computer?”
“Not exactly. In Latin, the word matrix literally means womb. It is both a device and a source of power than can give birth, as it were, to a new Trinity segment.” He turned to Mira. “You can make the Trinity whole again, Mira.”
“Me?”
“Why did you think I wanted you here, today? You have been to one of these ancient cities, and the Trinity has already shown you where the others can be found.”
She shook her head. “It’s not like I was given GPS coordinates. I saw those cities as they were ten thousand years ago. The world has changed a lot since then. Hell, two of the cities are probably at the bottom of the ocean.”
“Then you may want to start your search with the one that is not. The matrix you seek is in the tomb of the ancient ruler of the city, in the highest tower of Shambala. I know that you can do this. Your prescient abilities and your familiarity with the Trinity makes you the perfect choice for this mission.”
Mira shook her head. “This is crazy. We have to go fix the Trinity for…for God? Can’t he just snap his fingers and make it happen?”
“You of all people should know that it isn’t that simple. God does not play dice with the universe, and he does not cheat his own rules. The Trinity is not magic. It is a profoundly advanced piece of technology, bound, as are all things, by the very laws that make our existence possible. The means to repair it are there, in Shambala, or one of the other cities, so that is where you must go.”
Mira’s first impulse was to protest, but everything Collier had said was consistent with what she already knew to be true. She had seen the world of the Ascendant Ones, and the effect of the Trinity’s dampening field. For better or worse, the present world was a direct result of the Wise Father’s interference, and upsetting that balance by unleashing widespread psychic powers on unsuspecting billions of people would be an atrocity of even greater magnitude than that which had started it all. She couldn’t just bury her head in the sand and hope for the best. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone was really giving her a choice.
Collier again turned his attention to the president. “Ms. Raiden works for the CIA. Petty Officer Booker is still a member of SEAL Team Eight. I am confident that they can accomplish this task, ma’am; you need only give the order.”
“Absolutely. I will make it happen.”
Satisfied with that answer, Collier clasped his hands together, gave a deferential bow. “I will contact you again soon.”
Then he wasn’t there anymore.
There was a faint rustle and then the room filled with the low hum of people talking and breathing, resuming conversations that had been on hold without any sense of time having passed. It took a few seconds for people to notice that there were now two more people in attendance: a rough looking man in jeans and a leather jacket, and a petite young woman with spiky auburn hair in a Navy physical fitness uniform.
Collier had ditched them.
Mira groaned. “Damn him.”
The president’s secret service bodyguards abruptly started forward, but their boss gave a stern command for them to stand down. She then turned back to Mira and Booker. “Don’t you two have somewhere you need to be?”
22.
Booker let out the breath he’d been holding—holding for hours now, it seemed—in a low whistle. He and Mira had finally gotten out the White House—a process that was far more dramatic than their entry—and were now back on the closed section of Pennsylvania Ave. Only a presidential vouchsafe had made it possible for them to get through a gauntlet of bodyguards and staffers, all of whom seemed to take their intrusion as a personal affront, and Booker suspected even that wouldn’t shelter him from the shitstorm that would be waiting for him back at headquarters.
“So, uh…wow.”
She stifled a laugh. “No kidding.”
“I imagine this kind of stuff happens to you a lot, what with your mutant-X powers.” He had meant it as a joke, but could tell by the set of her jaw that it had been a misfire. He mentally scrambled to recover, and attempted his best Dan Akroyd dead-pan. “‘We’re on a mission from God.’”
That seemed only to mystify her.
“No? ‘We’re getting the band back together.’ Don’t tell me you’ve never seen the Blues Brothers?” Something about the look in her eyes told him to let it drop. “Anyway, what’s next?”
“Oh, so now someone cares what I think?” She put her hands on her hips defiantly for a moment, then turned and started walking west, back in the direction of her hotel. “First, coffee. Maybe breakfast. Then some new clothes.”
Booker chased after her. “Right, but then we have to go find that lost city, and get the Trinity fixed?”
She didn’t answer right away, and when she finally did, she sounded weary. “Who says that’s what we have to do? Your boss, the prophet?”
Booker was taken aback. “Well…”
She stopped and turned to face him. “What do you really know?”
“When I touched it, back in Libya, I saw the past, just like he said. The Ascendant Ones and the Wise Father. I know that much is true. And the rest, well, it just makes sense.”
“Something about this feels wrong. The Trinity has been around for ten thousand years, but now all of a sudden, the Wise Father wants to come back and save us all? Why now?”
Booker didn’t have an answer.
“What about your boss, Collier?”
“What about him?”
“When somebody claims that God is talking to them, usually—”
“No.” Booker’s rejection was unequivocal. “Listen, I didn’t always like the way he ran the team, but they don’t come any saner.”
Mira pondered his answer for a moment, and then shrugged. “I don’t know where the ancient cities are. Shambala was close to Mt. Everest—to Agartha—but the search area could still be hundreds of square miles. And if it was easy to spot, someone would have already found it.”
Booker closed his eyes and searched his own implanted memories of the ancient past. “The city was partly underground. And there were mountains...south,I think.”
She shook her head; evidently that wasn’t news to her. “It’s in Tibet,” she said, dismissively. “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down. Then there are other considerations. Political considerations.”
“Whatever. We’ll deal with it.”
She gave a resigned sigh. “That’s usually how it works.”
23.
Beijing, China
Deputy minister Xu Yongyue tipped the teapot and decanted a thin stream of the steaming liquid into his cup. He glanced across the table at his guest. “Tea?”
The Westerner smiled, but his eyes betrayed his impatience. “Thank you, no.”
Xu set the pot down, picked up his cup and took a slow, deliberate sip. He was not normally so meticulous, nor was he, for that matter, much of a tea drinker, but this charade served his purpose well.
Though just
thirty-five years of age, with the lean good looks of a Hong Kong movie star, Xu was actually a rising star of a different sort—in the Communist Party, and his success owed in no small part to his ability to manage a scene. He had a talent—some called it an uncanny ability—for reading people, subtly manipulating them, and it served him well in his dealings with higher-ranking party members as well as during interviews and interrogations. He could often get people to divulge their deepest secrets without even asking a single question. Now, as deputy minister in charge of the Ministry of State Security, Science and Technology Department, responsible for cyber- and industrial espionage operations abroad as well as overseeing the domestic Internet surveillance program, he had become one of the most powerful men in the Middle Kingdom.
He set the cup back on the saucer, and then adjusted it so that the fine bone handle was perfectly parallel to the set of his shoulders. “I am not a man who believes in coincidences.”
“Minister, I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
Xu smiled patiently, and continued adjusting the teacup, moving it back and forth like someone tuning a musical instrument to pitch perfection. This had the desired effect of goading his visitor to fill the silence.
“Do you doubt my sincerity? Do even understand what it is I am offering you?”
“I do not doubt your sincerity for a moment, Mr. Atlas. What I am suspicious of is your timing. You don’t give us enough credit, I think. We knew about the destruction of your compound in Libya almost as soon as it happened. And now, here you are, asking for the help of the People’s government.”
The man across the table seemed more irritated than embarrassed by the revelation. “Minister, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that I have a compelling reason for wanting to establish a strategic partnership with the People’s Republic. Yes, one of my research facilities—one of several that I operate around the world—was destroyed in an unfortunate accident—”