Most important, the obelisk looked exactly like the scepter held by Osiris in that royal seal he had seen on the floor of the geothermal chamber. Historically the king’s scepter connoted awesome power, the very power his father the general was looking for and afraid somebody else would capture.
This is the Scepter of Osiris, he thought. This is the key to P4, the geothermal vent and everything else.
Conrad leaned forward to take the obelisk when a hidden door began to rumble open—a series of doors, really. Four great granite slabs began to part from the bottom up.
Conrad stepped back as the last door opened to reveal a lone figure standing in a corridor that seemed to lead to the Great Gallery.
“Conrad.”
He knew it was Serena before she stepped into the chamber. Behind her emerged a big Russian, holding an AK-47, its laser sight glowing.
“Doctor Yeats, I presume?” The voice carried a thick Russian accent. “My name is Colonel Kovich. Where is Leonid?”
Kovich shoved Serena toward him, and Conrad caught her in his arms.
“Thank God you’re OK,” he breathed as he pulled her close.
But her business-only stare froze him. Then she glanced at the obelisk. She also took in the corpse on the floor and, much to his horror, connected it with the blood on his hands.
“Eureka, Conrad,” she told him. “You’ve found it. I hope it was worth the price.”
He said, “I can explain.”
“You killed Leonid,” Kovich said.
“Actually, he tried to kill me,” Conrad said. “That was just before he fell down a shaft without a line. In case you hadn’t noticed, your officers aren’t the best-equipped in the world.”
At that moment a gruff voice from behind the Russian said, “You can say that again.”
Conrad turned to see Yeats march into the chamber pointing an AK-47 at Kovich. “Damn piece of shit jammed on me twice. Now drop your rod, Kovich.”
Kovich frowned and placed his AK-47 on the floor next to Leonid’s corpse. “Please, General Yeats,” Kovich chided. “We are soldiers.”
Yeats walked over to Kovich and gave him a good swift knee to the groin. The Russian doubled over in agony. “Put your ass on the floor,” Yeats ordered. “Then cross your legs. Don’t screw up unless you want to look like your comrade here.”
Kovich stared at the massive hole in Leonid’s chest, then slid down the wall like Humpty-Dumpty. Yeats whipped the butt of his gun against the Russian’s skull. Conrad heard a crack and Kovich crumpled to the floor, moaning in pain.
“He’ll live,” Yeats said. “But we’ve got dozens of armed Ivans crawling all over this place, so we don’t have much time. What have you found?”
“This obelisk,” Conrad said. “It’s the key to the pyramid.”
Yeats looked at the inscriptions on the sides of the obelisk. “You know what these mean, Doctor Serghetti?”
“They say that Osiris built this thing,” Serena said, surprising Conrad by how easily she could translate the writings. “The obelisk is his scepter. It belongs in the Shrine of the First Sun.”
“What’s that?” Yeats demanded.
“The ‘Place of First Time’ I was telling you about back at Ice Base Orion,” Conrad said excitedly. All of which made sense to Conrad, because the figure of Osiris he had seen in the geothermal chamber was sitting on some kind of seat or throne. The Seat of Osiris was obviously located in this Shrine of the First Sun—along with the Secret of First Time itself.
“So then we’ll grab this Scepter of Osiris and put it where it belongs, in this so-called Shrine of the First Sun,” Yeats said.
“Not a good idea, General.” Serena pointed to the markings on the south face of the obelisk, which included a series of six rings. “The inscriptions under the six rings say the machinery controlled by the pyramid was set in motion by Osiris in order to keep a check on humanity—a sort of cosmic ‘reset’ mechanism designed to wipe the slate clean six times before the end of time.”
“A check on humanity?” Yeats said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means the Atlanteans built this thing to prevent us from getting too advanced,” Serena said. “Kind of like the Tower of Babel in Genesis. The idea is that technological advancement is meaningless without moral advancement. So humanity is constantly tested to prove its goodness or nobility.”
“Six times,” Conrad said. “You said humanity gets six chances before the end of history. Where did you get that?”
“The six Suns, Conrad.” She read the inscriptions within each ring on the south face of the obelisk. “The First Sun was destroyed by water. The Second Sun ended when the terrestrial globe toppled from its axis and everything was covered with ice. The Third Sun was destroyed as a punishment for human misdemeanors by an all-consuming fire that came from above and below. This pyramid was built at the dawn of the Fourth Sun, which ended in a universal flood.”
“So we’re the children of the Fifth Sun, just like the Mayan and Aztec myths?” Conrad asked. “Is that what you’re saying? That we’re condemned to repeat the sins of the ancients?”
“No, that’s what your precious obelisk says,” Serena said. “And as for repeating the sins of the ancients, if the past century of human history is any guide, then we already have—in spades.”
Conrad was quiet for a moment. She had a point. Finally, he said, “And just when exactly does the Fifth Sun end and the Sixth Sun begin?”
“Just as soon as you remove the Scepter of Osiris from its stand.”
“Seriously?” Conrad said.
“Seriously.”
“She’s lying,” Yeats said.
“No, I’m not.” She glared at Yeats. “It says here that only ‘he who stands before the Shining Ones in the time and place of the most worthy can remove the Scepter of Osiris without tearing Heaven and Earth apart.’ Anybody other than the most worthy will trigger unimaginable consequences.”
“Shining Ones?” Yeats said. “Who the hell are they?”
“Stars,” Conrad said. “The Shining Ones are stars. The builders could read the stars, which foretell a specific moment in the space-time continuum, a ‘most noble’ moment. This is humanity’s ‘escape clause,’ so to speak, the secret that breaks the curse of the ancients once and for all.”
“How convenient for you, Conrad,” Serena said. “The answer is written in the stars, and you can interpret those however you want.”
“You mean like the wise men and the birth of Christ?”
Serena wasn’t biting. “That’s completely different.”
Conrad pressed her. “Or the fish symbol of the early Christians, which just happened to coincide with the dawn of the Age of Pisces and which, coincidentally, is about to end with the dawn of a new Age of Aquarius.”
“Meaning what, Conrad?” Serena demanded.
“Meaning the age of the Church is over, and that’s what’s got you and your friends at the Vatican in a tizzy.”
“You’re wrong, Conrad.”
“The stars say I’m right.”
Yeats pointed to one side of the obelisk. “You mean stars like those four constellations on the scepter?”
“No, the ones up there.” Conrad pointed up at the engravings on the domed ceiling. “This chamber is a kind of celestial clock. Watch.”
He put his hand to the obelisk and heard Serena gasp as he twisted it like a joystick, moving it one way and then another. As he did, a dull rumble began and the geodesic dome overhead began to move in sync.
“If we want to set the skies for a certain time, we begin with the cosmic ‘hour hand’ or age, which corresponds to the zodiac,” he said. “We’re at the dawn of Aquarius, so that constellation is locked over there to the east.”
As he spoke it, the dome reverted to its original position.
“The ‘minute hand’ of the clock comes from a location, such as the Southern or Northern hemispheres.”
Here Conrad moved the obelis
k, and an entirely new pattern of stars rotated up from beneath the chamber floor. He rotated the dome farther, however, until he could lock the original pattern overhead.
“A third, more precise setting comes with the various equinoxes of the year.”
Conrad made his final adjustment and completed his demonstration by locking everything as it was before he started. The rumbling ceased.
“So you see, Serena, the obelisk and altar around which we stand represent the earth at a fixed location. The constellations on the dome above us are the heavens. Together they ‘lock’ at a fixed point in time.”
Serena, apparently still shaken by what she obviously perceived to be his reckless meddling with an artifact, said, “And how are the stars in the chamber aligned right now?”
“They’re aligned to the obelisk like the heavens over Antarctica in the present day,” he said conclusively, as if there could be no debate.
“Which I suppose must surely be the most worthy moment in human history,” she said, “because the great Conrad Yeats is alive and he discovered it.”
Conrad smiled. “Finally, we agree on something.”
Serena looked at him with scorn. “Has it dawned on you that maybe you’re the biggest jackass of all time and that this is humanity’s most ignoble moment if you remove that obelisk?”
It had indeed dawned on Conrad, and now he was getting annoyed with her.
“Think about it, Serena,” he told her. “If what you’re saying is true, then P4’s builders knew that only an advanced civilization with sophisticated technology could even locate this pyramid, much less penetrate it. It’s our advancement that makes us noble. So this moment simply must be the most worthy time, and this obelisk is the key to the knowledge of the origins of human civilization.”
“Or maybe it’s a Trojan horse,” she said. “Maybe that obelisk is like the hour hand of a clock, the pin in a grenade. You remove it and our day is over, Conrad.”
“Or maybe you’re afraid the Church is going to lose its place as the arbiter of Genesis,” he said, having heard enough of her hysterics. “Maybe it’s time to let go of ignorance and fear and make way for a new day of enlightenment.”
Conrad looked at Yeats, who gestured to the obelisk.
“Just pick up the goddamn scepter, son. Because if you don’t, there are dozens of armed Russians outside this chamber who might, and God knows how many more UNACOMers on the ice.”
Conrad glanced at Serena and approached the Scepter of Osiris. He could feel her fear as he placed his hands on the obelisk. It felt smooth, as if the inscriptions were beneath its surface.
“You’re dreaming, Conrad, if you think your father is going to let you walk out of P4 with that scepter,” she said. “At least within the context of the United Nations, there’s a chance the rest of the world will know about your find.”
Conrad hesitated. He felt a weird floating sensation inside, something he couldn’t explain. Reaching for the obelisk, he could feel tiny vibrations radiating from it. But then he pulled back.
“What in God’s name are you waiting for?” Yeats demanded.
Conrad wasn’t sure. This was a once-in-a-millennium chance to make his mark in the sands of time and turn history on its head with a spectacular discovery. It was his one shot at immortality.
“I’m telling you, Conrad, don’t rush into this,” Serena urged him. “You might unleash something you can’t undo.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Sister,” Yeats said. “Somebody is going to remove this obelisk, and it had better be Conrad. Because he’s the only one who can do it. If anybody is worthy, it’s him.”
“Allow me to be a character witness and tell you that you’re completely wrong,” Serena said. “Just because he’s your son doesn’t mean—”
“Conrad’s not my son.”
Conrad stopped cold. So did Serena. Even the Russian held his breath. A heavy silence filled the chamber.
“Fine, you’re his adoptive father,” Serena said quietly, apparently sympathetic to Conrad’s sensitivity to the subject.
“Not even that.” Yeats shed his supply pack and started to rummage through it.
Conrad stared at his father, wondering what sort of revelation he was about to produce. Why now, of all times? Conrad thought. Why here, of all places?
“He is.” Yeats held up a digital camera.
“You have his picture?” Conrad looked at the digital image in the viewing screen. It was a picture of the Seal of Osiris from the floor of the geothermal chamber.
“This is your father,” Yeats said.
Conrad stared at the figure of the bearded man inside the mechanical-looking throne and felt something stir deep inside him, from a place he never knew existed.
“What are you saying?”
“I found you in a capsule buried in the ice more than thirty-five years ago,” Yeats said in a grim voice that rattled Conrad to the bone. “You couldn’t have been more than four.”
Conrad was silent. Then he heard a giggle. It was Serena.
“My God, Yeats,” she said. “How dumb do you think we are?”
But Yeats wasn’t laughing, and Conrad had never seen the look in his father’s eyes that he did right now.
“You don’t need anyone to tell you what’s true, son,” Yeats said. “You know it.”
Conrad’s mind was racing. Yeats had to be lying. After all, Conrad had his DNA tested in search of his parentage, and there was nothing that would suggest he wasn’t a red-blooded American male. On the other hand, setting aside its utter implausibility, it explained everything about his lost early years.
“If this is a lie, then you’re one sick son of a bitch,” Conrad told Yeats. “But if it’s the truth, then everything else is a lie, and I’ve never been anything more to you than a science project. I’m damned either way.”
“Then save yourself now, Conrad,” Yeats said. “I was the same age you are when Uncle Sam scrubbed the Mars mission and took my dream away from me. I never had a choice. You do. Don’t be like me and regret losing this opportunity for the rest of your life.”
The dirty trick worked. As Conrad stared at Yeats, he could behold a cracked reflection of his future self should he fail now. It was a visage that made him shudder.
Serena seemed to sense she had lost the battle. “Conrad, please,” she begged.
“I’m sorry, Serena,” he said slowly as he began to twist the obelisk in its socket. As he did, the curved walls of the geodesic chamber began to spin and the constellations above them changed. With a dull rumble, the floor itself began to rotate.
“We need more time to figure this out,” Serena screamed, lunging for him. “You just can’t make a decision for the rest of the world. You’ve got to wait.”
But Yeats stopped her cold with the barrel of a Glock in her face. “Like Eisenhower stopping on the banks of the Elbe when he should have beat the Russians to Berlin in 1945?” he said. “Or Nixon pulling the plug on the Mars mission in 1969? I don’t think so. Decisive force was required then, and it is now. I’m not stopping anywhere short of my mission’s objective.”
Conrad glanced at Serena trying to squirm out of Yeats’s arms. “Don’t do it, Conrad. I swear—”
“Stop swearing, Serena,” he told her. “You’ll only break another vow.”
Reaching for the obelisk with both hands, he told himself that this opportunity was simply too irresistible to pass up. And if he let this moment go, then he might as well count his life as over.
“Please, Conrad…”
Conrad could feel the obelisk easing away from the altar as he lifted it free and clear. He smiled in triumph at Serena.
“There,” he said with a trace of relief. “That wasn’t so—”
But the rest of his sentence was cut off by an ear-splitting crack.
“Oh, my God,” Serena breathed as a great rumbling overhead grew deafening.
The domed walls of the chamber spun at fantastic sp
eeds like some cosmic coil ready to snap. Then, suddenly, the spinning stopped. The constellations locked, and an explosive shock wave rocked the pyramid.
19
DESCENT HOUR NINE
ICE BASE ORION
INSIDE ICE BASE ORION ON THE SURFACE, Colonel O’Dell was playing poker with Vlad Lenin and two other Russians in the mess hall module when their plastic cups of vodka began to shake and the Klaxon sounded.
O’Dell looked at the puzzled Vlad. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the Russians. He darted out of the mess module, Vlad right behind him.
A group of Americans and Russians were already huddled around the main monitor screen inside the command center when O’Dell ran in. The display was blinking SOLAR EVENT.
“That can’t be right,” said O’Dell, stepping into the circle of concerned faces.
A lieutenant called up the computer display for CELSS, the Controlled Environmental Life Support System that kept the crew alive in space and in Antarctica. He located the sensor that was giving the abnormal reading.
“The readings are coming from below, sir,” he said, holding on to the console as the shaking intensified. “The only other explanation I can think of is the SP-100.”
O’Dell cast an involuntary, nervous glance at Vlad, who did not seem to comprehend what the lieutenant had said. The SP-100 was Ice Base Orion’s compact nuclear power plant, a hundred-kilowatt system buried a hundred yards away behind a snow dune.
“My God.” O’Dell took a deep breath. “Dosimeter readings?”
“I’ve got penetration of the outer wardrooms at two hundred seventy rems, sir. I’m recording sixty-five rems here in the command center, with each of the crew absorbing fifteen rems. We’re still below the safety threshold.”
But it was the shaking that was scaring the daylights out of O’Dell and the Russians. “Now what?”
“No choice, sir,” the lieutenant said. “We’ve got to retreat to the doghouse.”
The doghouse was an Earth capture vehicle under the command center and supply tanks, shielded from the SP-100’s high-energy protons by the command center’s aeroshell.
“Get as many of the crew inside as possible,” he ordered.
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