Ocean of Storms

by Christopher Mari

  Benny cleared his throat. “You mean those ape things we saw.”

  “Australopithecines,” said Donovan.

  “Do you think so?” asked Zell.

  “The crew said as much,” Donovan answered. “I’m inclined to believe them since they probably had uncovered more fossil records by their time. And there was no mention on the logs of toolmaking or any other kind of higher thinking that would put them in the Homo genus.”

  “You’ve lost me.” Benny shook his head. “You guys really need to speak in something other than scientist.”

  Donovan stood up, pacing the floor in an effort to jog his mind. “Let me backtrack,” he explained. “There are two classifications for ancient hominids—australopithecine and Homo. Homo, meaning man, are creatures which closely resemble human beings. They had higher intelligence that came from larger brain cavities—fifty percent bigger than earlier hominids in relation to their body size. Some of them could make tools with their opposable thumbs, communicate through symbols, interact socially. Australopithecines were basically still apes—upright-walking apes but apes nonetheless.”

  “But you don’t know for certain,” Benny interjected. “You seem confused by what you saw.”

  Donovan shrugged. “We’ve never seen a live one before, Benny, just fossils. There are only slight variations in the bone structures of some of these creatures, so slight that we’d have to dissect them to figure out where to place them on the evolutionary tree. Add to that the fact that many of these creatures lived at the same time, and it becomes pretty damn hard to guess the right one by looking at a few seconds of fragmentary images.”

  “In fact,” Soong said, sobering up, “there were at least four different species of hominids living together in Africa when the first stone tools were forged. Any of them could’ve been candidates for the first toolmakers.”

  “But they were apes, these creatures,” Zell noted. “Walking upright, yes, but five feet tall at best. But they had all the classic traits of australopithecines—short legs, a pronounced forward-leaning gait indicative of the fact that they sometimes used their knuckles to walk. They couldn’t possibly have been any of the early hominids, especially not Homo habilis.”

  “The first toolmakers,” said Donovan, “the first creatures to show signs of a higher intelligence.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” said Soong, waving her arms, as if the gesture might clear her mind. “There’s a missing link between the australopithecine genus and the Homo genus. Somehow these small semi-intelligent apes gained a knowledge they never had before and eventually evolved, ultimately becoming modern man. If we believe what we’ve seen on those logs from the Eos, the crew mingled their own DNA with that of these primates and enabled them to make that leap in knowledge.” Soong gulped down some coffee. “Maybe it’s conjecture, but it appears the crew of the Eos is the missing link. They gave rise to the human race.”

  Zell chuckled and blew smoke into the air. “Alpha and omega.”

  Benny glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Alpha and omega,” Zell said with a smile. “The first and last letters of the Greek alphabet. The beginning and the end. Without realizing it, the crew of the Eos made the human race with their genetic manipulation . . . and brought about its destruction by the same means.”

  Benny massaged his temples with his palms. “My God, is that possible?”

  “More like playing God,” Zell exhaled. “The poor bastards were so desperate to save themselves that they probably didn’t realize what they were doing. They probably figured on killing their primitive specimens once they realized the genetic mingling would take. Only they got themselves killed before they realized what they had done.”

  “And their weakened immune systems—” Soong began.

  “Proved no match for the germs produced by this new species,” Donovan concluded.

  “And so,” Benny continued, “Homo habilis went back out into the wild with this modified DNA, that ability for higher learning, the ability to make tools and all that crap, and—”

  “Began the chain of reproduction that led to modern man,” Donovan said quietly.

  Benny shook his head. “But how can we be so sure that these couple dozen apes caused the evolution of the human race? How could that even be possible?”

  “Evolutionary theory holds that humanity began in a central location,” Donovan explained. “Most theories point to Africa as being that location. Only up until this point, nobody knew how it came about.”

  “Also,” Soong noted, “the entire human gene pool has less diversity in it than a single troop of chimpanzees. Despite the fact that there are differences in appearance—what we term different races—there’s very little difference between anyone on Earth at the genetic level. Differences, then, being only skin deep, we have to conclude that we all share a common point of origin.”

  “And this is the place,” Benny mused. “The point of origin.”

  “The pieces fit,” Soong said. “Let’s take what we’ve seen on the logs and compare it to what we know. At some ambiguous point two and a half million years ago gracile australopithecines evolved into the first of the Homo species. Until now we had assumed that they developed larger brain cavities by scavenging for meat, eating the carcasses of animals, and smashing open their bones to suck out the marrow.”

  “Yes, of course. Bone marrow is essential for brain development,” Zell said. “These australopithecines were too small and weak to combat large animals like predatory cats. Because they were desperate for proper nutrition, they cracked open the bones, ate the marrow, and placed themselves on another evolutionary path.”

  “At least that’s how the theory went before now,” Donovan addressed Benny. “With what we’ve seen on the logs, however, we know that they likely had a big push in that direction through the DNA they received from the crew of the Eos. This advanced DNA enabled them to develop those bigger brains, the ability to make tools—”

  Soong’s face brightened. “And the capacity for travel.”

  The men turned their attention to her. “Look at the fossil records. Two and a half million years ago all branches of hominids lived in Africa. Each of these lines eventually died off with the exception of one, our direct ancestors, and they eventually spread across Africa and Asia.”

  “My God,” Zell exclaimed, “she’s right. The crew of the Eos not only gave these creatures the capacity for higher thought, they gave them the desire to explore. Before that they were confined to their immediate surroundings by their mental and physical weaknesses.”

  “It’s all making sense!” Soong said excitedly. “In 1960 Mary Leakey found the skeleton of a one-point-eight-million-year-old creature—Homo habilis—which she nicknamed the Handyman. And where did she find him?”

  Zell and Donovan looked at each other. Donovan rubbed his chin and smiled at Soong. “In the Olduvai Gorge—not far from the Ngorongoro Crater, where the Eos crashed.”

  “Holy shit,” Benny muttered. “Then Leakey’s skeleton was the descendant of those apes that they screwed with?”

  “Looks like.” Donovan stood up and began pacing around the room. “The new species had the ability to adapt to new environments and situations—a fundamentally human trait.”

  “And before long Homo erectus was in China,” Soong observed.

  “And eight hundred thousand years ago, man’s ancestors were in Spain, Italy, and Georgia,” Zell said, wide-eyed. “And roughly four hundred thousand years ago, he was as far north as England.”

  “Homo heidelbergensis,” Donovan said, sitting up. “And they were more like us than any creatures who had come before. They used advanced wooden and stone tools and were able to kill their prey at a distance. They were able to communicate with one another through language; they had family groups. However, they still weren’t quite like us—no evidence of symbolic communication or rituals.”

  “But that eventually changed.” Soong turned to Donovan. “Eventual
ly our ancestors communicated symbolically and displayed a talent for art, as evidenced by the numerous cave paintings that have been found over the years.”

  Benny sat back in his chair and looked at each of them. “So that’s it. The only reason we’re all sitting here is because those nuts from the future went back in time and screwed with our ancestors’ DNA.”

  Donovan, Soong, and Zell looked at one another. A growing disquiet filled them. Evolutionary theory had seemingly been turned on its ear: humanity had in fact a prime mover. And that mover was man himself. For several minutes none of them could say anything, but each of them was thinking thoughts along the same lines. Could this possibly be true? Was humanity’s story not a line but a circle? If they could hardly stand to accept this theory, after all their experiences, what would the world at large think?

  Donovan, never a religious man, found his thoughts turning in that direction. “I guess this proves that there’s no God.”

  Benny scoffed. “Or maybe just that he’s got a sick sense of humor.”

  “I wouldn’t say either of those things. None of this accounts for the origin of the universe or of life itself,” Zell said, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Just because we know this now doesn’t mean that the design of the human race is either an accident or a sick joke. Who are we to question the means of the Almighty?”

  Donovan stared at him. “I never took you for religious, Elias.”

  Zell grunted a laugh. “I’ve been praying all night.”

  “I think we can debate the religious significance later,” Soong noted with some irritation. “We need to ask ourselves what we’re going to do with this information.”

  “Are you kidding?” Benny asked. “We’ve gotta get on the horn to Washington and let them know.”

  Zell shook his head at Benny. “And how do we know that it wasn’t Washington that was trying to prevent us from finding this information out in the first place?”

  “We’ve gotta do something, Doc,” Benny roared. “For all we know they might not have a frigging clue as to what’s been going on here. We’ve gotta notify—”

  “I say we take it to the United Nations,” Donovan said firmly. “This is information for the world, not just one country. Elias, could someone in the British government provide us with safe passage to New York?”

  Zell rubbed his beard. “Possibly. I’d have to call in some big favors. And we’d have to make certain that His Majesty’s government isn’t working in concert with your own.”

  “Okay,” Donovan replied. “Do what you’ve got to do. But we’ve got to remember one thing: whoever was trying to keep us from the Eos wanted to keep its secrets for themselves. Can you imagine how valuable their genetic techniques would be to a single government—or worse, some private company? The world deserves—”

  The doors to the three main stairwells crashed open. A number of armed men dressed in black poured in. Benny jumped behind the couch nearest him and pulled his service sidearm from his shoulder holster. He got off two rounds, but they went wild, lodging themselves in the doorframe. Damn, Benny thought as automatic weapons fire flew around his head. Computer screens exploded and shed their glass and bits of hot metal all around him. Singed papers drifted around his head. The smell of gunpowder and fried electric circuits filled the air. He poked his head above the couch and fired off another round. This one found its mark in the thigh of the man nearest him, who went down with an agonized screech.

  At the same time, Donovan had grabbed Soong and leapt behind the banks of computers. Zell ran toward the conference table and tossed it over on its side with a single massive shove. They were all in a group near one another. None of them was close to an exit, and even if anyone was, at least a dozen men were blocking their escape. They had circled the wagons, but there was no way they were going to hold off the hostiles without more firepower. Donovan looked around the immediate area for his backpack. He saw one of its straps poking out from underneath an overturned chair. He slid across the floor and pulled it out from underneath the chair. In a moment he had his gun and had flicked off the safety. Two pistols against a dozen fully armed men, he realized. After a pause in the weapons fire, he stood up. Part of a doorframe burst into splinters just above the head of his intended targets. More rapid automatic fire burst around them. Somewhere under the noise Donovan could hear Soong screaming. Suddenly another voice cascaded over the din.

  “Cease fire! Cease fire, goddamn it! Who told you sons of bitches to fire?”

  Donovan and the others kept their heads low, not knowing what to make of the command. Donovan had protected Soong from most of the flying glass. He glanced through a bullet hole in the desk and saw that Zell was in one piece, though half-buried in debris.

  “Dr. Donovan? Dr. Alan Donovan?”

  Donovan held Soong’s head to his chest as he leaned against the back of a desk, his gun drawn. “Yeah?”

  “We’re not here to hurt you, Dr. Donovan. We’ve come to take you home.”

  “Sure,” Donovan muttered, then yelled: “Dead or alive?”

  “Dr. Donovan, trust me,” Casey said from his position in the stairwell door nearest the elevator. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt. My men were just reacting because you started firing.”

  “We started firing? You burst in here and now—”

  “Donovan, would you shut the fuck up!” Benny yelled. “Who’re you, asshole?”

  “Colonel Mitch Casey, US Special Forces. From the mouthpiece on you I’m guessing you’re our Lieutenant Commander Benevisto.”

  Benny laughed as he pulled two spare clips from his pockets. “Pardon me for not saluting, sir.”

  “Benevisto,” Casey said from his corner, “you know better than anyone else here that if we wanted to take you out we could’ve done so already with ease.”

  “Tell that to your advance team,” Benny smirked. “We took pretty good care of them.”

  “Advance team?” Casey wondered.

  “Let’s not play cute, Colonel,” Zell called from his position. “We spent most of yesterday fighting off your men.”

  “There’s a misunderstanding here,” Casey said flatly. “We didn’t send an advance team.”

  “Prove it, pal,” Donovan replied. “There are two dead bodies in the Ngorongoro Crater that say otherwise.”

  Casey laid down his rifle and pulled his sidearm from its holster and held it away from him. “Donovan, I’m unarmed. I’m ordering my men to stand down. Don’t fire. We don’t want anyone else hurt.”

  “If this is a trick—”

  “It’s not.” Casey stepped away from the doorframe and into the center of the room. “I’m approaching your position now.”

  Donovan peeked out from between the computers and watched a silver-haired burly man of about sixty years of age make his way through the shattered bits of furniture and glass and computers. His steps crunched the debris as he approached, giving both him and Benny an obvious target if they wanted to take him. Slowly Donovan stood up, his gun gripped in a sweaty but steady hand.

  “I’m not going to just stand here and let you kill us,” Donovan rasped.

  “I’m not here to kill you, Donovan.” Casey held his gun out to Donovan. “Take it if you don’t believe me.”

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Benny nod. Donovan took the gun from Casey. Its barrel was cool. It hadn’t been fired.

  “Who sent you?” Donovan asked.

  Casey smiled, his hands still raised. “Friends.”

  Donovan kept his gun trained on Casey’s head. “What friends?”

  “Jim McKenna, for one.”

  Donovan laughed. “I wouldn’t necessarily call him a friend. Name another.”

  “The President of the United States.”

  Donovan squinted at him. “The President?”

  Casey nodded. “On her authority I am to give you safe conduct to Washington. She asked me to inform you that she will use all the power of her office to help you and our nat
ion through this crisis.”

  Donovan smirked. “I’m supposed to trust a politician with what we’ve got? They’re the ones that got us into this mess!”

  “Then trust in the guns you have. I promise you my men won’t relieve you of them. Consider me your prisoner if it makes you feel more secure.”

  Donovan glanced around him. The computers were smashed. Zell’s digital recorder had been crushed by a broken chair. His notes were in charred fragments. All their proof, gone.

  “You won’t believe us,” Donovan muttered, his voice cracking. “You’ve destroyed everything. You don’t know—”

  “About the ships you found?” Casey asked with a slight smile. “About the ship here in Tanzania and the one on the Moon? I’ve been briefed on the generalities, Dr. Donovan. I know.”

  “You can’t,” Donovan said with disbelief, finding it harder and harder to keep his guns trained steadily on Casey.

  “I do, son,” Casey said, dropping his hands slowly. “Please trust me.”

  Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe he was tired of fighting, or maybe, he thought, he actually did trust this guy. Whatever his reasons, Donovan slowly let his arms drop to his sides.

  Chapter 24

  September 28

  Pennsylvania Avenue

  Washington, DC

  3:43 a.m.

  A late-model hybrid town car sped through the early-morning quiet down rain-slicked streets. The only sound penetrating the armored vehicle was the rain beating a soft tattoo on the tinted bulletproof windows. In the backseat sat Benny, Soong, Zell, and Donovan, all puzzled as to why they had been called out of their hotel rooms at this ungodly hour. Of course, the blank-faced federal agents who were escorting them proved to be of no help whatsoever. Since arriving back from Tanzania, they had been subject to so many debriefings and depositions that they had almost become used to being at the beck and call of the powers that be. So here they were, bumping along the streets of DC on another rendezvous with God knows what.